#she's taken the brain hostage i got nothing else | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jjsmaybank20 · 2 years ago

Note

Hi May I please request, In the season 7 finale of CM, it's reader that is shot by the bank robbers and taken, instead of Will. (JJ reacting the same way, only Reader is her best friend. And when they're in the hospital, R's freaking out to JJ about leaving Henry with Izzy and JJ kisses her to shut her up?) Jennifer Jareau X fem reader.

my first request! hope you like it.

Confessions

Jennifer Jareau x Fem!Reader

Summary: You would do anything to protect JJ. You love her, as more than just your best friend. Problem is, you put your life on the line before you can figure out if she feels the same.

Warnings: Reader gets shot, angst, very slight steaminess at the end

Word Count: 2.8k

navigation criminal minds masterlist

---

It was a bank robbery. Not a common call, but not uncommon enough that you hadn’t been sent to one before. The robbers known as the “Face Cards” have been robbing banks all over the DC area, and this time, you happened to be called to the scene.

You and your partner Tyler were driving around on patrol when your police radio went off, “All units in the vicinity of Penn and Southeast, robbery in progress at Colonial Liberty Bank. Shots fired. Repeat, shots fired at the Colonial Liberty Bank. All units.”

Tyler and you looked at each other as you grabbed the radio, turning the steering wheel to make a U-turn, “433 responding,”

Tyler flicked on the sirens as you started to speed up. The two of you parked around the side of the bank so that they couldn’t escape through the side doors, “Better pull back and see if they respond-” Tyler was interrupted by a shot ringing out and a bullet narrowly missing his head.

“Shit! Cover!” you yelled.

The two of you took cover behind the car as you fired at the man who tried shooting Tyler. The bullet ripped through the man’s shirt and went into his shoulder. You watched as another man grabbed him and pulled him back inside.

You called for assistance, and went around the side of the bank to see who else had responded. As soon as you rounded the corner, your best friend JJ came running towards you, embracing you in a tight hug, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine, Tyler over here got pretty lucky,” you said with a smile on your face, patting his back.

JJ held you out in front of her, scanning you for injuries. You pulled her back into a hug, trying to reassure her that you were fine. “I’m okay, let’s just try catching these guys okay?” you whispered and she nodded letting out a sigh.

You spent most of the day talking to Chris as you all watched Oliver die. The team's only goal was to get the hostages out of there without anyone getting hurt. “No more feds. I want the cop who killed my brother,” you let out a sigh, placing your head in your hands. As soon as you started talking to Chris, you knew that he would at some point come to this.

You, Morgan, JJ, and Hotch all stood there in the van, “Well, I gotta go to him, don’t I?”

“No, absolutely not!” JJ exclaimed.

You looked at your best friend with a sad smile, “What other choice do we have?”

“Something! Anything else! They will shoot you the second you walk in! Why is that not going through your brain?!” she yelled.

Hotch and Morgan met your eyes, nodded, and then left to give the two of you some space. Once they had gone, you looked at JJ and ran your hands through your hair.

She paced back and forth until you finally grabbed her and pulled her into a powerful hug. You wanted to show her how much you love her and care for her even if you’re about to run into a bank full of robbers who probably want you dead.

Once you pulled away, she noticed the determined look in your eyes, “No, no, no! You can’t do this! What about us? What about Henry?”

“Four people are dead because I killed his brother,” I whispered.

You pulled away from your short embrace, walking backwards towards the door of the van, “No please! Please don’t leave me!” she exclaimed, tears running down her face as she slid her back against the wall.

You wanted nothing more than to run up and hold her, and tell her how you truly feel about her, but you knew that this needed to be done. So no one else could die for your mistakes. “I’m so sorry. I don’t have a choice,” you whispered again, “I love you and I love Henry. I love you so, so much. Remember that, always,”

Hotch. already knowing what you were going to choose, had SWAT members hide behind the cop cars, already pointing their guns inside. You took a deep breath as you started to walk towards the bank.

You could hear JJ’s screams as you slowly walked towards the bank, “Morgan! Let go of me! Y/N! Y/N stop!”

You raised your hands up immediately, walking into the bank, “C’mon Chris, you got what you wanted. I’m here. Now please, let them go,”

“You go,” Chris said, forcing a mom and her children out of there, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you told him.

There was no response from him as he pointed his gun at you and shot twice. The noise echoing throughout the entire building and outside. JJ collapsed in Morgan’s arms, her eyes widening, “No!”

The team sat there in the van with JJ. They knew how much she cared about you, as more than a friend, even if she didn’t say it to them. They are a team of profilers, after all. If one wrong thing was said, she could break down right there and then. “Where was she shot?” she asked. Garcia just stared at her with a helpless look in her eyes. “Where was she shot?!”

“We don’t know,” Garcia muttered.

JJ couldn’t take it anymore. She punched the wall in frustration. Everyone just stared in shock, unsure of how to comfort her, and not knowing if you were alive, but hoping you would hang on.

Luckily, he didn’t shoot to kill.

As you laid there, you could feel yourself getting weaker. Your shoulder was bleeding out and your vision was going blurry.

All you could think about was JJ and Henry. The way Henry would run up to you when you’d go over to their house and hug you tightly.

Or the nights where both you and JJ were off, and you would go to her house, Henry would lie in the middle of you as a movie played. Eventually, Henry would fall asleep cuddled up next to you both. Then you would wrap you arm around the both of you. Once you made sure they were both sleeping soundly, you’d carry them each to bed.

“I need to cause a distraction while you guys get out of here,” you told the man, who was applying pressure to your wound, “But I need you to tell someone something for me. Tell Agent Jennifer Jereau that I love her so much and I’m so sorry,”

The rest of the time you spent at the bank was a little fuzzy. You were more focused on trying to get Chris to turn on the woman and trying not to pass out from blood loss. You knew that if you let yourself drift off, it would be over.

Before you knew it there was an explosion and you were getting pushed into a car. The whole car ride, you focused your breathing, trying your hardest to stay awake.

The only thing keeping you going was JJ. What you would do just to hold her one last time.

Your thoughts came to an abrupt stop when you arrived at a fire station. The fireman helped patch you up as Izzy had instructed. You watched as she shot him multiple times before sneaking into the firehouse to grab you a change of clothes.

“You didn’t have to kill him,” you muttered.

“He was a witness, he needed to go,” she shot back without an ounce of remorse.

She put you back in the car. Everything seemed calm, until Izzy suddenly started opening fire on Chris.

“Detective Y/L/N, take Chris out of the car and get in the passenger seat. We’re going on a little drive,” she told you, the gun pointed straight at you, “Stop here,” she muttered after a little bit.

The backdoor opened to reveal the Joker himself. He was the former Marine who helped keep pressure on your wound. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight before ultimately remaining your composure.

“Hey Y/N!” he patted your wounded shoulder and you tried your absolute hardest not to wince, “Sorry, forgot about that,”

“Drive,” she said again.

“Where?”

“Take me to see her son,” Izzy said and you shook your head. Henry wasn’t your son, but you had been there for JJ since day one, and you had been made his Godmother. You had always dreamed of becoming a family with him and JJ. “I said, drive!”

You took a deep breath in before driving towards JJ’s house. You were tense the entire drive, your knuckles turning white from gripping the steering wheel too hard. You just hoped and prayed to whatever type of God there was that they could keep Henry safe.

JJ would be able to get over the loss of you, but the loss of Henry. That’s a different kind of loss she’ll never be able to survive.

You finally parked across the street. You smiled softly at the sight of Henry playing in the front with Miss Kate and her daughter.

“He’s a cutie,” Izzy told you and your smile quickly faded, “Looks a lot like Jennifer. Where’s the hospitality Y/N? Come on, introduce me!”

You got out of the car slowly walking up to the house, “Y/N!” Henry yelled, running towards you as he wrapped his arms around your legs.

You crouched down so his tiny arms can wrap around your neck. “Hey, Buddy!” You held him tight and close, sucking in a deep breath. Just for a moment, you were transported back to one of your favorite parts of the week. Just for a moment, he was safe in your arms.

Until he wasn’t.

You told Miss Kate that it was okay to go as Izzy followed you into JJ’s home. Once Henry ran off to grab some toys, you turned your head and looked straight at her, “You lay one finger on him and I will kill you!” you say with teeth gritted.

Izzy clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth, making a tsk noise, “Now do you remember the deal Y/N? You touch me and both you and Jennifer die. Who’s gonna take care of Henry then?”

“Y/N! Come play with me!” he exclaimed, running back in.

You crouched down again, ruffling his blonde hair, “I would love to, but I can’t right now buddy. You see, I have to go back to fighting bad guys, okay? Izzy over here is gonna take care of you until your mommy comes home,” you could feel the tears start stinging your eyes as you tried to stop them from falling.

“So you’re gonna be a good boy for Izzy, okay? Listen to everything she says, okay?” you ask him.

“Okay,” he replies innocently.

“One more thing bud,” you pull him close to you as you hug him tightly, “I know I am not your mom or dad, but I love you so much. Did you know that?”

He nods and you smile softly, “I will never let anything hurt you. Everything is going to be okay,”

“Everything will be okay,” he mumbled back, “I love you Y/N,”

You sniffled, “I love you too, Buddy,”

You take a deep breath and back away from him. Before you walked out of the house, you looked Izzy dead in the eye, pushing your shoulder against hers on the way out.

You sung open the car door before slamming it shut, “What the fuck do you want?!” you asked.

“Woah, easy tiger,” Matthew told you, “You’re going to listen to everything I say. If you even thing about saying no, your boy is as good as gone. Or should I say Jennifer’s boy is as good as gone because he’s not yours. He will never be your own kid,”

Matthew made you drive to the train station where he dragged you down, chained you to a chair, and strapped a bunch of bombs to your chest.Then he ran, like the coward he is.

You thought you were a goner. But that didn’t matter to you. All that mattered to you was that Henry was safe. He was stuck with the psychopath that is the “Queen”.

Just when you thought all hope was lost, Prentiss came running in, “I found Y/N!”

She ripped the duct tape off your mouth, “Izzy’s got Henry. Forget about me! Make sure Henry’s safe, please!”

“JJ’s there right now. She’s gonna keep him safe,” Emily tried calming you down, “I’m not leaving your side, I’m gonna get you out of here so you can be with your family,”

Emily was panicking as she tried to find a way to keep you from blowing up into bits. She punched in one passcode and it beeped, showing that she only had two tries left.

You shook your head, knowing that in a minute you’ll be gone, and Emily could not be here to be included in the damage.

“Emily, just go. Get everyone out of here,” you pleaded.

She shook her head, “No, I told you you’ll get to be with your family and that’s what’s going to happen. You need to finally tell JJ how you feel. I’m not going to leave you,”

When she finally unlocked the code, another box opened. 30 seconds flashing and taunting you. This is how long you have left to live.

“Emily, tell JJ that I love her and that I’m sorry,” you whispered, “Now leave please! There’s still a chance that you could save yourself so go!” you yelled.

She sat there looking at the wires before out of nowhere without speaking she just cut one, “fuck!” you exclaimed, shutting your eyes.

After a couple seconds, nothing happened. You opened one eye and looked down at the timer. It stopped. You let out a breath and a hollow laugh, leaning your head against the pole.

“Emily, I love you and I love that you’re JJ’s other best friend. But let me just say, I didn't think we’d get this close to where I trust you with my life...literally!” you joked and she let out a soft chuckle.

“Let’s get you to your family,” she told you.

As soon as the bomb squad came to disarm you, you wrapped your arms around Emily, pulling her into a tight hug, “Thank you,��

“Of course,”

Then, just as suddenly as the relief had hit, a wave of pain washed over you. “Oh, shit, Y/N! You're bleeding!” Prentiss exclaims, as she sees blood leaking through the bandage on your shoulder and through your shirt.

“Huh, I guess I am.” You say just before you pass out.

When you wake up, your shoulder is numb. You try to gain your bearings, and when you look down, you see a sleeping figure with her head on your lap.

“That can’t be comfortable.” You rasp out, trying to clear the pain and the sleep out of your voice. JJ shoots up and pulls you into a bone crushing hug.

“Ow, ow, ow! Watch the shoulder!” You yelp when she squeezes you a little too hard.

“Sorry, sorry.” She winces. Then she turns around and starts pacing.

“How could you do that to me?! You can’t just run into danger like that. This is how you end up in the hospital with an almost fatal injury! I cannot live without you in this life. You are my best friend and I can’t do this without you.” She yelled.

You laugh dryly. “And there it is. Sometimes I get my hopes up because we flirt, but I guess that's just all in my head. We say I love you to each other all the time, but I mean it so differently than you do. Because it is becoming incredibly clear that you don't feel the same w-” You are cut off when JJ grabs your face and pulls you into a passionate kiss.

“Never say I don’t mean it the same way. Cause I do, I love you so much it makes my heart hurt because I know there is always a chance I will lose you. You are the most beautiful, kind, funny, chaotic person I know, and… I really want to kiss you again.”

This time, you are the one who pulls her into a kiss. This time, instead of breaking it off, JJ straddles your lap and kisses you deeper. You put your hands on her waist, while she tangles hers in your hair.

“Woah! We can come back later if we are interrupting something.” Emily exclaims as she walks through the door. You and JJ jump apart, faces bright red.

“Yes, finally! Babygirl! You owe me $20!” Morgan yells to Garcia after striding into the room. JJ hides her face in your neck while you laugh at the team filing into the room.

While an unfortunate circumstance got you two together, you knew that nothing would ever be able to tear you apart.

---

Join my taglist!

#Jennifer Jareau x reader #Jennifer Jareau x you #Jennifer Jareau x y/n #Jennifer Jareau fluff #Jennifer Jareau angst

182 notes · View notes

justpostsyeet · 8 months ago

Text

Mîr Vin Universe : Origin story

Chapter 5 : Maybe I've made a friend

A/n - Mîr just exploring her surroundings. Critical appreciation and questions are always welcomed 😊

~•~•~•~•~

Mîr was tired. They were acting strangely since she had pointed towards the map. She didn't even get the chance to see where she pointed. Not that she would have understood it anyway. They had been talking to each other completely ignoring her. "Yes, ignore me," she pouted to herself. "Well," she thought, "let me get this straight until they're talking to themselves. I was traveling from university to my home to meet my parents. I was in the train, then I'm here. Everything felt so hazy." She tried to summon the face of her parents, but it was too hazy. It felt like 2-3 different faces colliding into itself when she thought of her parents. It started giving her a headache when she thought of them too much."Maybe I just had a whiplash from this sudden travel, so my memory is hazy. I need more time." She tried to convince herself, but she knew something was wrong, so very, very wrong.

Was she being held hostage in a cult? But for some reason, it feels like she knows this place. Why does she know this place? It seemed familiar and not familiar at the same time. It had been happening with a lot of things she saw since she had woken up. She thought again, "Maybe I just need to rest my brain. Then I'll be fine."

They all had left her alone in the room. She kept sitting on the sofa, waiting for them. She was afraid that if she pointed at anything else, it would bring trouble to her, but slowly she got bored. It was almost evening as she could see from the window. She hadn't moved, nor had anyone come. She got up and began walking, exploring the room.

The room was finely made. She could see that. Even the ceiling had beautiful paintings on them. Mostly, they were geometric shapes and scenes of the sea, some symbols of the sea. It was beautiful, as if she had been transported to a palace. "No cult will have such a beautiful palace," she thought. "Not based on what I've heard about cults, but you never know; these people have a lot of money."

"Hey, Mîr, why don't you think anything positive?" she taunted herself. "You're always out thinking some serial killer or demon is out there to get you." She began looking around. Even the furniture was so well-made. These old furniture pieces reminded her of her grandparents' home. It was an old home where three generations of her family had lived; it had many old antiques. It also reminded her of Mandos Hall. Serene and beautiful.

As she was thinking, something clicked in her brain. She had a memory of two people in her brain. The thought made her shocked, but it was true; her memory was overlapping with someone else's memory. There were two distinct memories that came into her mind when she looked at the furniture, but which memory was her own, she didn't know. But it was still progress from her hazy memories. Maybe if she kept thinking without panicking, she would be able to figure it out.

After exploring the room, she just sat on the bed. She dared not to go outside. She didn't want to risk it. The less you know in this situation, the better. The less interested you are when no one is looking, even better. Who knows if she shows too much interest these people begin seeing her as a threat. By the look on their faces, it seemed like they were as shocked to see her as she was to see them. She might be a threat to them too, so she must act carefully. She needed their trust if she needed to know what is happening.

Mîr realized something else too. She was hungry. Her stomach was grumbling. She hadn't eaten since she had woken up, not even had water. She didn't even know how long she had been asleep. She had nothing of her own right now except her glasses. These people had taken away everything she had with her. She had no way of communication. "Well," she thought, "how will I tell them I need to go to the washroom? It'll be embarrassing." She began thinking about it when someone entered the room. She was hit by the smell of food. "Food first, shitting later," she said to herself aloud. The person, Fearon, looked at her and smiled. She kept the food on the table and gestured for her to come. She obediently came. She looked at the food. It looked like a mix of European and Eastern food. There was sliced bread-like thing, but there was also some spicy food that looked suspiciously like Korean stew. They had some freshly cut apples and something that looked like whipped cream. They also had a water jug and a glass, more like a goblet actually.

She drank water heartily. She whispered to the goblet, "You know how much I've missed you. Water is the best beverage."

"Fancy," Mîr thought and began eating. The food was food. The back of her brain was nagging at her for trusting the food so easily, but she was very hungry right now. She didn't even know she was this hungry until she began eating. Now, there was no going back for her, she'll finish her food like a good girl and think about the consequences later. She was a little embarrassed by how quickly she ate the food. "Well, hunger makes you a little pathetic," she thought. She looked up and could see Fearon smiling at her. He put the tray away and came back again to take her to an adjacent room. It was a bathroom. "Good, now I don't have to come up with an embarrassing way to tell them I need to pee. Good," she thought.

Fearon tried her best to explain everything and how it functioned in the room. It was not hard to remember how to use it, but it was hard to remember the names. Fearon was speaking too quickly. She realized it was a bathroom without indoor plumbing. It was very similar to a medieval bathroom, with very intricate design too. There were basins to wash, a huge tank to store water, and a bathtub. The saddest thing was that the toilet seat was just a fancy chair with a pot attached to the bottom. It made her realize that someone had to clean it every day. It made her a little sad to think about it. She had taken a lot of things for granted. Now she could see how hard it had been for people who didn't even have indoor plumbing, which she takes for granted.

Feanor painstakingly told her the names of the bottles near the bathtub. She was too much into her musings about the perils of not having indoor plumbing that she could barely remember the names. But she remembered how to use it and which order to use it. They basically had everything she used: shampoos, soap, even bath bombs, oils, and conditioners. "Something doesn't change at all, does it?" she thought, almost smiling. Seeing her smile, Fearon gave her a smile. Then she began taking water from a huge tank in the bath and started to fill the tub. Mîr couldn't let her do it alone. She grabbed the nearby small bucket, same as Fearon was using, and began helping er. Fearon looked at her as if she had two heads. Mîr just shrugged and smiled and continued helping him. It was a little hard for her. She had never carried buckets of water. She was spilling them a little, but she was trying. She was getting a little out of breath, but she decided to help anyway. By the time the tub was filled, Mîr was visibly panting. Fearon looked at her and gave her a strange smile and took her hand in her hand. Her hand had red marks from holding the handle of the bucket. Fearon patted Mîr's head, saying something Mîr couldn’t understand.

Then Fearon began motioning her to undress."Oh," Mîr thought, "this water must be for cleaning myself." She stripped off the two gown-like things she was wearing and plunged into the water. It felt strange being naked in front of someone. She hadn't been naked in front of anyone since she was a child. She dunked herself in quickly. Fearon was still there. She smiled and began putting oils and bath bombs in the tub. Then she repeated all the instructions to use the bottles' contents again and left. Mîr was left alone. She decided to enjoy her bath. She never knew preparing a bath would take so much time. While she was in the middle of cleaning her long hair, Fearon came again. She couldn't see, due to her lack of glasses, but she assumed she had brought her some clothes. She left again so, Mîr continued washing herself. The cool water on a hot and very confusing day was like a balm to her very tired soul.

She came out of the bath feeling extremely refreshed. Whatever was in those bottles was really good, she thought. She looked at the clothes. A long strip of cloth, maybe a towel. She patted herself dry. Then small clothes like a sports bra and boy shorts, but none had elastic. The bra thingies were a little small, and the shorts were a little loose, but it was still better as they were made of really soft cotton. Then she had similar two gowns, one was very similar, a shade lighter than the other gown that seemed to have intricate embroidery of sea waves on the bodice. She wore them; they were very long on her, but they were really pretty. She liked the green color with blue embroidery. She wrapped her hair with the towel thing and walked out. Fearon was waiting for her.

Fearon looked at her and rushed towards her, immediately bent down and started folding the hem of the gown. It was solid 5 inches longer than herself. Fearon seemed to be personally offended by the length. She looked at her, embarrassed, as if it was her fault that the gown was too long. Mîr immediately said in English, "It's okay, it's okay. I didn't think you would have gotten the right size just by looking at me." She knew Fearon might not understand her, but she still thought maybe the tone of her voice would help. Fearon said something, and she sounded very apologetic. Mîr wanted to tell her that there was no need for apologies. She flayed her hands and head in a no sign. Fearon, this time, got up, started walking, made herself look like she tripped on her dress, then put her palm on her nose. She pointed at her nose and then squeezed both her hands.

So Fearon was thinking she'd trip on her dress and her nose would be....mushed? Are these people's noses so soft? Suddenly, Mîr started laughing. She flayed her arms again to tell her she would be okay. Fearon, too, flayed her hands almost comically, saying something. She was so serious when she repeated the nose-mushing action again, this time pointing at Mîr's nose. Mîr couldn't help but laugh more. She moved at her, but she tripped,tried to hold Fearon making both her and Fearon fall. They both looked at each other and began giggling. Feanor kept giving her looks of "see, I told you," and giggling. Mîr giggled at the irony. It felt good laughing after a stressful day.

After the fit of laughter, Fearon took her to the sofa and began drying her hair with a towel. Mîr tried to stop her but Fearon looked at her like she had killed Fearon's puppy. "Okay, she really wants to dry her hair. I shouldn't make her sad," she thought. She stopped interfering. It felt uncomfortable having someone else touching her hair, but Feanor was gentle. Maybe she had made a friend. Just maybe. But at least it's the little steps that matter.

~•~•~•~☆•

Taglist @asianbutnotjapanese @bobitoo08 @crazed-flower

#mîr vin universe #Glorfindel x mîr x lindir #the lord of the rings #lotr #hobbit #the hobbit #silmarillion #the rings of power #Glorfindel x lindir #lindir x mîr #Glorfindel x mîr #Glorfindel #lindir #mîr

11 notes · View notes

stellewriites · 2 months ago

Note

hey stelle! I’m still thinking about the johnny western horror au you wrote and was wondering if I could ask some questions that have been rattling in my head??

does the new ‘johnny’ visit ghost/does this johnny even know about ghost? since he doesn’t have the same memories as the original Johnny, it’s making me think of how isolating it might be for the reader to be stalked by this ‘johnny’ and how she thought she was already free of this marriage. Like she if she does close the door on him and doesn’t let him, I can just picture him showing up every night and hearing his horse when she tries to sleep and the sleep deprivation turned into paranoia 😵‍💫😵‍💫 I picture this ‘Johnny’ as more like a body snatcher or something looking for a new body to inhabit, doesn’t matter who so she’s just the most technical option for him

But also! what if reader goes to ghost thinking he’s also getting stalked baring her soul on Johnny harassing her but ghosts not and he almost gets jealous? And angsty, not clicking that this isn’t the real johnny but just hearing that Johnny is back sends his brain in a spiral and that he has to back to him, flash forward some time and Johnny stops showing up at the house and ghost starts walking a bit weird

Okay sorry for the word vomit but I really liked this story hahah you did a great job on it!!

of course!! i love questions about my fics 💓 i’ve got to be honest tho and admit that i haven’t fully thought about the ins and outs about this oneshot further than what was written lmao so this might be all over the place

does he know about/visit ghost?

i’d say no

you’re right that he doesn’t have the same memories, i’d say whatever has taken his body might be going off vague recollections of places and where the scent of johnny is strongest. this was johnnys home before he got his wife, he’d have likely stayed there with ghost often until reader arrived, so it’d make sense to the parasite (?) to go there first. i’d argue that johnny and ghost travelled and camped all over once he had his wife move in, hence the long time spent away

how does reader feel being stalked by johnny?

stalking is the least of her worries - parasite johnny IS getting inside her home that night whether she likes it or not. he’s not fucking around waiting for her to let him in after she shot at him, he’ll force his way in if he has to. it just might’ve been easier for him in the long run if she’d gone along with it all sweet like he’d originally tried to play it.

reader knows this isn’t her johnny either (if he could’ve ever have been considered hers) so the pressure of a marriage holding her hostage again isn’t even on her mind - she’s got bigger fish to fry.

yes absolutely similar to a body snatcher to me too! i left it open in case people prefer possession or ghosts or zombies - but to me it feels very ‘supernatural parasite has taken over the freshest body in the graveyard’.

does reader go to ghost?

ghost isn’t in town anymore! he left as soon as johnny was buried since there’s nothing else there for him, just too many memories.

gaz or price would still be there but after they suggested medical help (read: getting her institutionalised for ‘hysteria’) i don’t think she’d be willing to go back and tell them an undead version of johnny is walking around 🥴

BUT!

i’m a sucker for aus of aus,, so i think if she survived the night (maybe she made a break for it out the back and got on her horse) and she found ghost on the outskirts of town while he was laying low after the train robbery then he’d know straight away from her story that it wasn’t his johnny too. however i think he’d want to confront whatever wasn’t letting the love of his life rest peacefully and would be off like a shot to reader’s house despite her protests.

idk if i think the parasite would move bodies or not - i like the visual of simon wandering the dusty roads acting like edgar in men in black and the concept that the parasite logically wants a bigger healthier body - but i also like the thought of parasite johnny managing to convince simon it is him. and that he just needs simon’s help to get back to normal 🥺 won’t he help him, his johnny? and simon would just cave (even if that means killing strangers to feed him or whatever,, simon can justify it to himself given the people they’d hurt before - he’d killed for money, he can kill for love)

and thank you lainey!! i’m so glad you liked it :D

#i love all of your ideas so much!!!#like reader was absolutely already sleep deprived by time johnny made his appearance tho like he’d been rattling around and causing trouble #in and around the house as a build up for a while before he came to be on her step #tho that leans less parasite and more into ghost or demon theories for him #stellewrites asks

3 notes · View notes

the-firebird69 · 8 months ago

Text

Freya Ridings - Lost Without You (Live from King's Cross Station) 🚂

youtube

I went back and listened I heard about it later what you're saying and she's really psyched did the show is from the old death stars which they put back the new ones are gone they couldn't take over the fleet they couldn't take over on the ground and they lost their solid state Network and moving to fiber optics and then falling back all the time you don't think they're going to have enough armaments they have to take it and put on ships and get the ships out and the ships are hard to get out we think they might not get our room and talk there if they don't they only have a few things they can do if it goes behind the Sun they fired the sun it might not do anything and they're not holding their hostage even if they're holding there they might not fire him so this year is important now I understand it he's been falling back and Garth got it out that's how I was hearing you that's how he's hearing it

Bja

We know this is important and we understand that you want us to move away even though we're having to do it they give her a lot of Hope and she is afraid of us and nervous doesn't trust us and she probably shouldn't we're being real mean but we understood what it meant it would actually really sorry for what was happening so it was my idea and had him do it and they suck but they always sucked and people should have known that I did all more than nothing which is what was going to happen they're not really heroes they're kind of ass munches but they kind of understood it at the beginning. So she got really happy and said that's ridiculous you're awesome you're just being mean and people are trying things to try and stop us from doing the wrong thing and Terry cheesman is doing a great job and we hear him too we have to run certain things while they're maxing and start bothering to poop out of us then we're getting to what an amazing girl she really loves him he's mad and hell and think he's gone

Trump

I'm okay I got taken out no out of my brain case damn it all I go in and grab your head and I take off somehow you put back together and you come back and yeah Jason is company this might be a little piggies but I don't know what happens to them and I think it's before because you can see in his and there's someone there and I get this and Tommy f is threading our bodies for the max plan to be threatened and is threatening our friend here and the max got really mad

Sarah

Yeah there's an angel fanatic sorry about this movie she wants to make a b rated movie and our company is b rated she's kind of a fanatic and it is her running around saying I'm not the one up there you idiot Becka and my two cents finally it's kind of your speed for information and such and he's thinking Rosemarie and if you know he has a thing for her and she's chasing us around and we're like we don't have any money so you won't be able to do anything with it if she don't do something with it and grow somewhere else so growing food in this s*** so I took your word for it if she's going to try and make scary monster movie and your gags and your jokes and other people and you requested that Cheech and Chong me in it that's actually us there's another business brownies but yeah kick the dog it goes around the guy and he can't move and the dog says good got you now get the leash on you that's ridiculous you can't kick the dog everybody gets mad you do it all the time for Christ's sake

Trump

So he's probably alive good

Freer writings and have more to say but this is intense I've never heard anything like this says he doesn't have it all figured out but he thinks they're alive up there this might be just a video and they might be on earth as you see one ship going off when they're there which might be them trying to escape the people who came on board not knowing what's up to or looking like aliens and they're afraid and we get that too so we're moving on to things but boy I think we figured it out together he says yeah I'm kind of a boy and you might be growing up one inch at a time for crying out loud

#Youtube

0 notes

mediocre-writerr · 3 years ago

Text

safe and sound [jennifer jareau]

jennifer jareau x reader

requested by anon: Hi! I love your Criminal Minds fics and was wondering if I could make a request? Where JJ and reader are dating and it’s set during the season 7 finale where reader is the one who shot the robber and is the one who was taken instead of Will. JJ and reader reunite with a fluffy ending.

*not my gif*

Kings and Queens. Jacks and Jokers.

Sound familiar, right? When you hear that you think of the playing cards, not some bank robbers who have been robbing internationally.

It was a bank robbery. Something that you have been reported to at least five times throughout your career, but this time it was different. The robbers known as the “Face Cards” have been robbing banks all over the DC area, only this time were you called onto the scene.

You and your partner Will were driving around on patrol when your police radio went off, “All units in the vicinity of Penn and Southeast, robbery in progress at Colonial Liberty Bank. Shots fired. Repeat, shots fired at the Colonial Liberty Bank. All units.”

Will and you looked at each other as you grabbed the radio, turning the steering wheel to make a U-turn, “426 responding,”

Will flicked on the sirens as you started to pick up speed. The two of you finally parked on the side of the bank to prevent them from escaping through the side doors, “Better pull back and see if they respond-” Will was about to go on went a shot rang out and a bullet narrowly missed his head.

“Shit! Cover!” you yelled.

The two of you took behind the car as you fired at the man who tried shooting Will. The bullet ripping through the man’s shirt and through his shoulder. You watched as the other man began pulling him away from the door and back inside.

You called for backup and not too long after JJ came running towards you, embracing you in a tight hug, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine, Will over here got pretty lucky,” you said with a smile on your face, patting his back.

JJ scanned your face, her hands never leaving your cheeks. You grabbed a hold of her hands, pressing a kiss to the palm of them, “I’m okay, let’s just try catching these guys okay?” you whispered and she nodded letting out a sigh.

Most of the day was spent talking to Chris as you all watched Oliver die. The only goal was to get the hostages out of there without anyone getting hurt, “No more feds. I want the cop who killed my brother,” you let out a sigh, placing your head in your hands.

You, Morgan, JJ, and Hotch all stood there in the van, “Well, I gotta go out there, don’t I?”

“No, absolutely not!” JJ exclaimed.

You looked at your girlfriend with a sad smile, “What other choice do we have?”

“Something! Anything else! They will shoot you the second you walk in, is that not running through your brain?!” she basically yelled.

Hotch and Morgan met your eyes and they took your face to give the two of you some space. Once they left, you looked at JJ and placed your hands on her waist.

She finally leaned in to your touch and placed her hands softly along your neck. You placed your forehead on hers as she sighed. You pressed your lips on hers, kissing her intensely. You wanted to show her how much you love her and care for her even if you’re about to run into a bank full of robbers who probably want you dead.

Once you pulled away, she noticed the determined look in your eyes, “No, no, no! You can’t do this! What about us? What about Henry?”

“Four people are dead because I killed his brother,” I whispered.

You wanted nothing more than to run up and hold her, but you knew that this needed to be done. So no one else could die for your mistakes. “I don’t have a choice baby,” you whispered again, “I love you and I love Henry. Remember that, always,”

Hotch already knew what you were gonna choose, SWAT members hid behind the cop cars, already pointing their guns inside. You took a deep breath as you started to walk towards the bank.

You could hear JJ’s screams as you slowly walked towards the bank, “Morgan! Let go of me! Y/N! Y/N stop!”

You raised your hands up immediately, walking into the bank, “C’mon Chris, you got what you wanted. I’m here. Now please, let them go,”

“You go,” Chris said, forcing a mom and her children out of there, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you told him.

There was no response from him as he just shot you twice. The bullets firing echoing throughout the entire building and outside. JJ scrambled in Morgan’s arms, her bright blue eyes widening, “No!”

The team sat there in the van with JJ. All eyeing her like she was about to just explode. One wrong word would just cause her to go crazy, “Where were they shot?” she asked. Garcia just stared at her unsure of what to say, “Where were they shot?!”

“I don’t know,” Garcia muttered.

JJ picked up the stack of papers that were lying next to her and threw them at the wall of the van. Smacking her hands down onto the cool metal. Everyone just stared in shock, unsure of whether you’re alive or dead.

Luckily, he didn’t go for the kill shot.

You laid there as you could feel your body going cold. Your shoulder was bleeding out and the hostages who were helping you started to get a little blurry.

All you could think about was JJ and Henry. The way Henry would run up to you when you’d go over to their house and hug you tightly.

Or the nights where both you and JJ were off, Henry would lie in the middle of you as a movie played. Eventually, Henry would fall asleep cuddled up next you. Then JJ’s lazy arm would wrap the both of you. Once you made sure they were both sleeping soundly, you’d wrap your arms around both of them safely and securely.

“I need to cause a distraction while you guys get out of here,” you told the man, who was applying pressure to your wound, “But I need you to tell my girlfriend Jennifer and her son Henry that I love them so much and I’m sorry,”

The rest of the time you spent at the bank was a little fuzzy. You were more focused on trying to get Chris to turn on the woman and trying not to pass out from blood loss, than anything else.

Before you knew it there was an explosion and you were just getting pushed into a car. The whole car ride, you focused your breathing, trying your hardest to stay awake.

The only thing keeping you going were JJ and Henry. What you would do just to hold them one last time.

Your thoughts came to an abrupt stop when you arrived at a fire station. The fireman helped patched you up much to Izzy’s choice. You watched as she shot him multiple times before sneaking into the firehouse to grab you a change of clothes.

“You didn’t have to kill him,” you muttered.

“He was a witness, he needed to go,” she shot back without an ounce of remorse.

Then the next thing you know you were transported back to the car. Everything was going fine or well okay for being a hostage to two psychopaths. Until Izzy just started opening fire on Chris.

“Well Detective Y/L/N, take Chris out of the car and get in the passenger seat. We’re going on a little drive,” she told you, the gun pointed straight at you, “Stop here,” she muttered after a little bit.

The backdoor opened to reveal the Joker himself. He was the former Marine who helped keep pressure on your wound. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight before ultimately remaining your composure.

“Hey Y/N!” he patted your wounded shoulder and you tried your absolute hardest not to wince, “Sorry, forgot about that,”

“Drive,” she said again.

“Where?”

“Take me to see your son,” Izzy said and you shook your head. Henry wasn’t your sign biologically, but the longer you and JJ dated the longer it felt like he was. Like your entire life he was actually yours, “I said, drive!”

You took a deep breath in before driving towards JJ’s house. The drive was tense as your knuckled turned white from gripping the steering wheel too hard. You just hoped and prayed to whatever type of God there was that they could keep Henry safe.

JJ would be able to get over the loss of you, but the loss of Henry. That’s a different kind of loss she’ll never be able to survive.

You finally parked across the street. You smiled softly at the sight of Henry playing in the front with Miss Kate and her daughter.

“He’s a cutie,” Izzy told you and your smile quickly faded, “Looks a lot like Jennifer. Where’s the hospitality Y/N? Come on introduce me!”

You got out of the car slowly walking up to the house, “Y/N!” Henry yelled, running towards you as he wrapped his arms around your legs.

You crouched down so his tiny arms can wrap around your neck. You held him tight and close, sucking in a deep breath. Just for a moment, you were transported back to one of your favorite parts of the week. Just for a moment, he was safe in your arms.

Until he wasn’t.

You told Miss Kate that it was okay to go as Izzy followed you into JJ’s home. Once Henry ran off to grab some toys, you turned your head and looked straight at her, “You touch my kid and I will kill you!” you said with teeth gritted.

Izzy clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth, making a tsk noise, “Now do you remember the deal Y/N? You touch me and both you and Jennifer die. Who’s gonna take care of Henry then?”

“Y/N! Come play with me!” he exclaimed, running back in.

You crouched down again, ruffling his blonde hair, “I would love to, but I can’t right now buddy. You see, I have to go back to fighting bad guys, okay? Izzy over here is gonna take care of you until mommy comes home,” you could feel the tears start stinging your eyes as you tried to stop them from falling.

“So you’re gonna be a good boy for Izzy, okay? Listen to everything she says, okay?” you ask him

“Okay,” he replies innocently.

“One more thing bud,” you pull him close to you as you hug him tightly, “I know I am not your mom or dad, but I love you so much. Did you know that?”

He nods and you smile softly, “I will never let anything hurt you. Everything is going to be okay,”

“Everything will be okay,” he mumbled back, “I love you Y/N,”

You sniffled, “I love you too buddy,”

You take a deep breath and back away from him. Before you walked out of the house, you looked Izzy dead in the eye, pushing your shoulder against hers on the way out.

You sung open the car door before slamming it shut, “What the fuck do you want?!” you asked.

“Woah, easy tiger,” Matthew told you, “You’re going to listen to everything I say. If you as dare mutter the two lettered word, your boy is as good as gone. Or should I say Jennifer’s boy is as good as gone because he’s not yours. He will never be your own kid,”

Matthew made you drive to the train station where he strapped a bunch of bombs to your chest and chained you up like you’re some random zoo animal. Then he ran, like the coward he is, he ran.

You thought you were as good as gone. But that didn’t matter to you. All that mattered to you was that Henry was safe. He was stuck with the psychopath that is the quote on quote “Queen”.

Just when all hope was lost Prentiss came running in, “I found Y/N!”

She ripped the duct tape off your mouth, “Izzy’s got Henry. Forget about me! Make sure Henry’s safe, please!”

“JJ’s there right now. She’s gonna keep him safe,” Emily tried calming you down, “I’m not leaving your side, I’m gonna get you out of here so you can be with your family,”

Emily was panicking as she tried to find a way to keep you from blowing up into bits. She punched in one passcode and it beeped, showing that she only had two tries left.

You shook your head, knowing that in a minute you’ll be gone, and Emily could not be here to be included in the damage.

“Emily, just go. Get everyone out of here,” you pleaded.

She shook her head, “No, I told you you’ll get to be with your family and that’s what’s going to happen. I’m not going to leave you,”

When she finally unlocked the code, another box opened. 30 seconds flashing and taunting you. This is how long you have left live.

“Emily, tell JJ that I love her and that I’m sorry,” you whispered, “Now leave please! There’s still a chance that you could save yourself so go!” you screamed.

She sat there looking at the wires before out of nowhere without speaking she just cut one, “What the fuck?!” you exclaimed, shutting your eyes close.

After a couple seconds, nothing happened. You opened one eye and looked down at the timer. It stopped. You let out a breath and an empty laugh, leaning your head against the pole.

“Emily, I love you and I love that you’re JJ’s best friend. But let me just say, I did not think we’d get this close to where I trust you with my life...literally!” you joked and she let out a soft chuckle.

“Let’s get you to your family,” she told you.

As soon as the bomb squad came to disarm you, you wrapped your arms around Emily, pulling her into a tight hug, “Thank you,”

“Of course,”

You were finally discharged from the hospital after a couple hours. Rossi reassured JJ that she could stay home with Henry and that he’ll drive you to the house. She was hesitant at first, but Rossi basically forced her to stay home.

Rossi parked in front of JJ’s patting your shoulder softly, “Enjoy your time off,” he joked.

“Oh trust me, I will,” you fired back and the two of you let out a hearty laugh.

You walked into the house slowly. Henry’s little voice echoing throughout the foyer was like music to your ears,��“Y/N! You’re back!” he yelled.

You kneeled down as he made a bee line towards your arms with your arm that wasn’t in a sling, you hugged him tight. Even with one arm you could tell that he was struggling to breathe at how tight you were hugging him.

“I am! Did you pick out a movie tonight?” you asked, raising your eyebrows up at him.

“Yup!”

“Which one did you pick?” you asked and he showed you the DVD case of Shrek 2, “Nice choice bud!”

You looked up to the sound of footsteps to see JJ walking towards the two of you, “How about you brush your teeth and change into your PJ’s and me and your mom we’ll get the bed and movie all set up? How does that sound?”

“Great!” he replied with a big smile.

“Great!” you responded, ruffling his hair, pulling him into another hug, “I love you,” you whispered to him.

“I love you too,” he told you before running off.

You stood back up to face JJ. At first she looked angry before her anger turned to sadness. You took her into your arm as she buried her face into your neck, “It’s okay,” you whispered, “Everyone’s safe. I’m safe, Henry’s safe, you’re safe. We’re okay,”

JJ took your face into her hands, running circles on your cheekbones, “I know Henry’s not biologically mine, but he means the world to me Jay. I wasn’t going to let anything bad happen to him,”

“You’re just as much as a parent as I am,” she whispered.

“But he’s not mine,” you told her.

“Then let’s change that, Y/N Y/L/N, marry me. We’ll get married in front of all of our friends and family. Henry will be your son, blood or not. And I will be your wife,” JJ whispered.

You smiled at her softly, “You know, I always wanted a wife and son,” you whispered to her.

“So is that a yes?” she asked.

“In every single language,” you murmured, pressing your lips upon hers.

You and JJ stood there for a minute, just relishing in each other’s embrace. Your lips moving in sync. When all of a sudden you hear a little, “Ewwwww,”

The two of you pulled apart and you saw Henry all dressed up in his Captain America pajamas, “Who are you ‘eww-ing’ Mr?” you asked him and he giggled as he ran away from you.

You immediately ran after him, JJ yelling after you, “Y/N! Be careful of your arm!”

Henry squealed as you picked him up with your one healthy arm, spinning him around the bedroom before dropping him onto the bed. You crashed in your usual spot next to him as JJ put on the movie.

You felt Henry’s little arm wrap around your body and once his grip loosened you knew he was asleep. Your eyes glanced over to JJ who was sleeping safe and soundly, her chin resting on top of Henry’s blonde head of hair.

You sighed contently, as you turned on your side, wrapping your arms around the two of them. Henry’s head close to your chest as your forehead rested on top of JJ’s.

Just for a moment, everything was right where it needed to be.

#jennifer jareau imagines #jennifer jareau x reader #jj criminal minds imagines #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds

408 notes · View notes

socially-awkward-skeleton · 2 years ago

Text

WIP List

Thanks @funkypoacher for helping to expose my growing list of WIPs and random ideas I have for fics (The ultimate callout post lmao)

As I'm sure most folks are aware I've got two major long form fics I am currently working on as the mood strikes:

1) Only You - FC5 Soulmate AU (Kit x Jacob)

Currently working on Chapter 10. This one is on a bit of a hiatus, the plot outlines for each chapter are more or less figured out its just having the words and ideas to craft anything that makes sense and that is remotely worth reading.

All I know for sure is that Kit will have an issue with one of the hunters who will very quickly be put on both her and Jacob’s shit list, and that Burke will be joining the story sooner than later. The Reaping is right around the corner now and Staci’s about to get a first hand look at what Kit’s been up to since being taken hostage (sorry Pratt)

2) The Animal in Me - FC5 Werewolf AU (Kit x Staci, Kit x Jacob)

Chapter 2 is being reworked because I am a slut for making Staci a more popular character and I will put in the work to make more people fall in love with him. Chapter 3 is already written and includes a reworked version of the scene I posted for writer’s month that really kicked this whole fic off in the first place. Plot outlines for each chapter are more or less decided on and I know how I want the fic to end so at least there’s that.

There will be silver bullets, much blood spilled and definitely a “Who did this to you?” moment thrown in for good measure.

Honestly though, this is such a self indulgent fic and I don't even care anymore. Kit's getting a werewolf throuple and there is nothing anyone can do about it.Kit’s getting it all, baby (Mostly i just can’t let go of her and Staci because they make such an odd pair and I want them to be happy and somewhat normal while also letting her be feral with Jake under the full moon)

The Kinktober fics:

1) Breaking Pratt 2: Electric Boogaloo

Was going to post this one today but decided to wait and rejig it a tad. It's missing that je ne sais quoi that the thigh riding fic had.

2) Housebroken

The collar fic. The actual smutty part is all stage action and needs the details added still but the brain isn't exactly in a smut writing mood.

Then there are the fics that have stalled or are just a random collection of ideas that need a lot more time to stew before they are even worth writing:

1) The Hunter Becomes the Hunted

This one has been sitting on the back burner for a while. I’ve posted two chapters of it to AO3 but not much more work has been done on it since. It's Kit's background fic as a soldier so it means I have to be in the mood to do some research on the war in Afghanistan and I just haven't had the energy to do that as of late.

2) New Dawn AU

I have ideas, aesthetics, and a pinterest board and not much else. tbh, I haven't even finished playing the game but I know I gotta write the Canon divergent fic where Jacob is alive and well with Kit living that barbarian life in New Eden.

3) a million and one ideas for bunker fics. IDK what I specifically want to do with them yet. I need to write the one where her and Jake adopt the two kiddos in the bunker (whose parents Kit just happened to kill in the Trials...oops) and then the birth of Haven and her growing up. The plan is to get Kit a bit of her soul back and have her be less of the murderous monster that she is so she can become a good mama bear to her kiddos. The ideas are there, but the energy to write it is not.

4) and contemplating writing Kit's main timeline story out in full. I was going to go the short fic route (which is what all of her fics are so far) and just make them a series, but now I want to fill in the gaps especially after writing out the fic with her and Joey for the angst prompt. There's lots of stuff about Kit before she falls prey to the Seeds that I'd like to tell, stuff that might make her a little more sympathetic before she crashes and burns into becoming the monster I know and love.

5) and on top of all that are the random drabbles I've spewed forth about Homelander and Nightingale that really have no story or logic to them yet and aren’t yet ready to see the light of day

#wip list wednesday #i got more ideas than I can shake a stick at but most of them I just cant bother to write currently and so i suffer #tagged

15 notes · View notes

fruitydiaz-archived · 3 years ago

Text

safe (with you)

s5 speculation based on the new bts because idk how to be normal about this

3,049 words

AO3 link

By the time they pull into Eddie’s driveway Buck’s hands still haven’t stopped shaking.

He vividly remembers that day he spent driving around Los Angeles with Abby, searching for her mom, the day they saved the little girl in the pool. He remembers the way he lined his hand up with hers and told her that the first couple of weeks on the job he couldn’t keep his hands from shaking with the adrenaline. But Abby was good at compartmentalizing; her hands never shook.

Buck still hasn’t learned how to do that with the people he cares about. He’s beginning to think he never will.

Eddie had been held hostage for under two hours and made it out unscathed, and yet Buck couldn’t get his fucking hands to stop shaking. He felt like a wire with the coating stripped off, ripped down the middle, frayed open, ready to spark and catch fire at any moment. But he’d been feeling like that a lot lately if he was being honest. Not that anyone asked.

And he didn’t expect anyone to because everyone else had their own problems and it was his job at the moment to just pull his shoulders back and keep it together. That was all he was supposed to do. He could do that.

“Uh, let me get your bag,” Buck mumbles as Eddie opens his side door to climb out. He switches the engine off and jumps out before he can see the glare Eddie shoots in his direction.

He still feels it anyway.

“I can get my own bag,” Eddie says, his tone flat. He feels too tired to argue but there’s an energy vibrating under his skin that he hasn’t been able to shake since they pulled up to the scene and he found himself staring down the barrel of someone else’s gun. It’s making him irritable and jumpy and all he wants to do is climb into bed and forget.

Buck doesn’t even grace him with a response, pulling both of their bags out of the back seat and slinging them over his shoulders, glancing once at Eddie before marching towards the front door.

“Nothing even happened to me, Buck,” Eddie calls after him, following on his heels. “I’m fine.”

Buck still doesn’t say anything as he pulls out his ring of keys and unlocks the front door. He slips off his shoes in the entryway and drops both of their bags by the couch. Eddie follows him into the kitchen.

“Buck - Buck, come on man you don’t have to take care of me I’m-“

“Stop telling me that you’re fine,” Buck growls suddenly, spinning around to face Eddie. “I am sick and tired of hearing it. You got shot, Eddie, okay? Five months ago you got shot and you started having panic attacks and you hid it from me.”

Eddie blinks at Buck for a second, shocked, before his brain kicks back on. Being around Buck is one of the easiest things for Eddie to do, but the moment Buck starts to care too much, when he starts to push - either with wide eyes full of nothing but love and care that make him want to crawl into himself and never come back out - or like this, with venom and anger that coat the underlying fear and worry, it becomes hard.

He defaults to anger. He wishes it wasn’t so easy but it’s the one thing he’s been prepared to do his whole life; fight.

“I wasn’t hiding it from you. I was managing it on my own.”

“You’re my partner.”

“Yeah, and it wasn’t about work,” Eddie stresses, feeling antsy. He turns away from Buck and takes a couple of steps around the corner. He needs to put some space between them. “It was personal, okay? And I dealt with it.”

“Right,” Buck said, voice dripping with the kind of bitterness that Eddie can feel creeping onto his own tongue. “Because you don’t panic anymore, right?”

Eddie’s eyes flick down. The familiar sensation of bile laced with the accusation of liar rises in his throat and he struggles to swallow it down. He still panics; he just didn’t think anyone noticed.

“I can handle it on my own,” Eddie says quietly.

“When are you going to realize that you don’t have to?” Buck pleads, leaning against the counter opposite Eddie. “When are you going to let me help you?”

“I don’t need help,” Eddie says, retreating back and looking anywhere but at Buck. God, he was just trapped at gunpoint for nearly two hours can he catch a fucking break? He feels like he can’t breathe.

“Eddie.”

“I’m fine.”

“Eddie, you got shot.” Buck is begging him to talk about it, screaming practically. And he’s been screaming for weeks, months, doing all but dropping to his knees in front of Eddie and begging him to open up and talk to him about it and Eddie gets it but ultimately. Ultimately.

Eddie wishes Buck would shut up.

You got shot, remember?

He wishes he could make him shut up. He wishes he could make Buck leave his apartment and get back into his jeep and drive to his own place and never fucking talk about any of this again. Because of course he remembers getting shot. He remembers all of it.

He remembers standing out in the middle of the street thinking about hopping into the ambulance with Charlie right before a bullet ripped through his one good shoulder. That’s four times now. He remembers hitting the hard cement and feeling the blood pool under his body, remembers the familiar sickly feeling that comes with the realization that you’re losing too much blood, before you start to lose your grip on the world around you. He remembers staring across the pavement at Buck and thinking it would be okay, because Buck was okay.

He remembers waking up in the hospital, drugged up and confused and searching for blue eyes and a blood-splattered face. He remembers waking up to Ana smiling down at him with watery eyes and he remembers the way she barely concealed her disappointment when he immediately asked for Buck - but he was passed caring at that point. He remembers the day he had to wait, slipping in and out of consciousness, Ana making occasional small talk, until he was finally cleared for more visitors, and Buck came rushing into the room like a vision of something holy, his face clean, his smile bright.

He remembers the moment Buck said he wished he had gotten shot instead and when Eddie slipped back into another drug-induced sleep the only words on his mind were no, not you. Never you.

He remembers sitting on the edge of the hospital bed with Buck, the distance between them too much and not enough at the same time. He remembers struggling to find the right words, fumbling to find his footing, feeling stripped bare as he told Buck that he loved him. But the words came out you act like you’re expendable, but you’re wrong instead.

He remembers never feeling so cracked open and vulnerable in his entire life and it was terrifying. So he did what he does best and he retreated into the shadows and licked his wounds in private and put himself back together as best he could so that the next time someone saw him they didn’t look at him as if he were about to break.

And maybe it was a shit job and he still felt like he was barely held together by string most days but he was doing fine. He was back at work and Christopher was still happy even without Ana around and he was making it work.

So he didn’t give a damn if Buck thought he wasn’t doing enough. He didn’t want to relive the shooting again, he had moved on. He was fine.

He was fine.

Or at least, he was fine up until 7 hours ago when they got a call to an office building that turned into a goddamn hostage situation and Eddie spent the better part of an hour with a gun to his head.

He was fine.

“Eddie, Eddie,” Buck’s voice is loud and sudden in his ear and Eddie startles, staring up at him. He blinks a couple of times before he realizes that he’s on the floor and that Buck’s kneeling over him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Buck’s saying over and over again. “I shouldn’t have pushed you, fuck, I’m sorry.”

Fuck. Another panic attack.

Maybe he can’t pretend that he’s fine anymore.

“Buck,” Eddie says. Buck’s eyes fly to his and Eddie feels the bile rise again when he realizes Buck is crying.

This isn’t the first time tonight that Buck has cried. Over him.

“I’m so sorry, Eds,” Buck says again, his voice worn, and Eddie remembers him screaming. For him. “I just almost lost you again and I’m so fucking sick of it. I can’t keep doing this.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Buck stares at him for a second, eyes wild, before he squeezes them shut and stretches his legs out in front of him, settling down on the floor across from Eddie.

It’s dark in Eddie’s apartment, the only light spilling in from the entryway, cloaking the two of them in warm dim light.

Eddie always found it easier being honest in the dark.

“I’m scared too,” He admits quietly. Buck’s eyes look too blue in the dark.

“I know. I’m sorry I’ve been so pushy. I just…I never wanted to make what happened about me…but I can see you struggling and it’s like - the only thing I know how to do is push. I can see it eating away at you.”

“I want to forget it ever happened,” Eddie says quickly, honestly.

Buck licks his lips. Nervous. “I get that. But…ignoring it doesn’t mean it never happened, you know?”

“It just…feels easier.”

“It’s killing you, Eddie.”

I was never meant to live this long anyway, is on the tip of Eddie’s tongue - but that’s too dark. Too much. Too honest. He shoves it back down.

One day something’s going to take him. Maybe it’ll be a bullet, maybe it won’t. Maybe it’ll be the crushing guilt he’s carried ever since he was a kid, too young to learn what that kind of guilt felt like.

“At least Chris will be taken care of if it does,” He says before he can stop himself, before he can remind himself that that’s something he shouldn’t say out loud. The pained look on Buck’s face feels like a slap in the face.

“What about you?” Buck grinds out, voice still hoarse. “Who the fuck is gonna take care of you - now?”

Eddie shrugs, “I can take care of myself.”

“Bullshit,” Buck snaps. “Full offense but I’ve seen the way you care for yourself.”

“It’s what I do, Buck,” Eddie says, leaning his head back against the cabinets and squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s - I can handle myself. I can’t…do this to anyone else. It was too much for Shannon - hell, even as a kid I was too much for my parents. I can’t.”

“Let me take care of you,” Buck says quickly and earnestly and the words shoot straight through Eddie’s heart. He couldn’t.

“No,” Eddie starts, sitting up straighter.

“Eddie, I can’t lose you,” Buck says with enough conviction to shut Eddie up for a second.

Because some part of Eddie has always been aware of the lengths to which Buck would crawl through fire and rain for him - because that’s who Buck is. Buck is the guy who puts everyone else before him, who will always put his life on the line first. Not because he wants to be the hero - but because he never thinks his own life is important enough to stop and consider the consequences.

Or at least, that’s what Eddie thought. But Eddie’s seen him hesitate more lately. He’s seen him pull back, actually listen to Bobby. And Eddie thought it was the will that was holding him back. And that was almost enough to soothe the constant ache in his chest.

But then Eddie got taken hostage. And it was like they were on that street again. And Eddie watched the fear strike Buck like a bolt of lightning, lighting him up from head to toe, nervous electricity in his veins. He saw the raw determination in his eyes, the devotion and instinct at war with responsibility and promise.

For a second, among the buzz at the base of his skull and the shrill ambiance of police cars, swat, and the ambulance, it hit Eddie. It wasn’t Buck being Buck. It was Eddie. It was Eddie that turned off every switch in Buck’s brain but his inherent instincts. It was Eddie in danger that broke him.

Eddie had never seen it before. And he’s been trying his damned best to shove it in the box labeled DO NOT TOUCH along with all of the other shit he’s been ignoring for the last five months.

It seems like it’s all coming out tonight.

Buck continues, “I don’t. I don’t want to do this without you. I can’t. Five months ago you sat with me in the hospital and - everyone always tells me that I’m reckless, you know? Or that I’m dumb or that I don’t think or that I want to be some hero. But you…you didn’t say any of that. And - and you made me feel like I was important. Like my life…was important. Is important. And I needed that, Eddie. So bad.

“Let me do the same thing for you,” Buck’s on the edge of begging again. “What do I have to do for you to realize that you’re important? That I need you? Because I do. God, Eddie, I need you…”

Eddie stares at him, wide-eyed and frozen in place. He’s never been loved like this before, has he?

Because that’s what this is. There’s no denying it anymore. That’s what Buck and Eddie do. They love each other. With some sort of deep-running unbreakable devotion that wraps around them constantly and pulls them closer and closer together.

That’s what Eddie’s been fighting all these months. The closeness.

Because it was easy before - to keep getting closer to Buck because it was safe, it meant they cared about each other, it meant that Buck would do his best to get Eddie home to his son and if all else failed Chris would have someone who loved him, who would look after him. That was good. That was safe.

But when the shooting happened and I have your back turned into I can’t live without you and Eddie realized that what he thought was a contingency plan that he had been slowly and methodically setting up was actually a living breathing family that they’d built - and all of a sudden the only way he ever wanted to live his life was with Buck and Christopher safely by his side - it wasn’t safe anymore. It was dangerous.

Eddie had been fighting so hard to keep Buck at arm's length so he could protect this system that he had come to rely on. Because now when he looked at Buck all he could see was the love and devotion reflecting back at Eddie. And that was terrifying.

Because Eddie had opened himself up to being loved before. And that ended in years of separation, divorce, and ultimately Shannon’s death. Maybe Eddie didn’t believe in signs - or maybe he just wanted to keep pretending the signs weren’t there. Because he was fairly certain that if the universe did send signs then Shannon’s death was the ultimate sign of them all, a symbol of what Eddie did to people.

He didn’t want to let Buck love him because he didn’t want to risk losing Buck.

But he is risking losing Buck the more he pushes him away…he’s risking breaking Buck. And ultimately he’s risking breaking himself. Because he can’t do this without Buck either.

“I need you too,” Eddie says, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to - I’m sorry. I’m just - I’m scared, Buck. I’m so scared.”

He’s crying. It’s like a dam broke loose with the quiet admittance and now it’s all coming out. He’s scared. He’s frightened. He’s terrified. He’s in love.

Buck’s crowding into his space, shoving himself up onto his knees between Eddie’s legs and crushing their bodies together, his long arms wrapping around Eddie and pulling him into his chest, tucking his head under Buck’s chin until he feels safe, protected, in Buck’s arms.

“I’ve got you,” Buck whispers into Eddie’s hair. Just a couple of hours ago they were in this same position, on the grass outside the office building, just after Eddie was released and SWAT rolled in. Eddie thinks that the safest place on earth might be right here in Buck’s arms.

“I can’t lose you either,” Eddie croaks, hands clawing at Buck’s back. “I can’t.”

“You won’t,” Buck says with the stubborn confidence that’s inherent to Buck. And Eddie believes him, he does. “Whatever you need, I’ve got you, okay?”

“I need you.”

“You’ve got me. You always have, Eddie,” Buck whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of Eddie’s head.

I love you is what he wants to say. He wants to say it every day; when Buck walks into the locker room and greets Eddie with a private smile like it’s not 6 am and he’d rather be anywhere else, when he bumps Eddie’s shoulder as they walk to the truck, when he pulls his helmet off after a tough call and holds eye contact with Eddie just long enough to communicate are you good?

Maybe he can’t say it just yet.

Maybe this isn’t the right time or place.

But he thinks Buck knows. And he thinks - no he knows, Buck feels the same.

Maybe one day they’ll get there.

But tonight it’s enough to just hold each other, to feel the solid, warm reminder that they’re alive.

It’s enough, for now, to just be together.

#all i do now is write speculation #911 spoilers #my fic #if this is all over the place it's bc i was all over the place while trying to write it all day yesterday #if it's riddled with errors no it's not <3 #my other wip that i was almost done with before this consumed me: am i a joke to you?#google doc titled: oh boy

163 notes · View notes

starshipsofstarlord · 4 years ago

Note

Hi <3 I'm not sure if you're comfortable writing this but I'll try :) Smth where Buckys girlfriend suffers from a lung illness and normally he supports her whenever she feels bad, but one time he's on a long mission where he cant be there when he struggles breathing. Then the other Avengers at the compound take her to the hospital and call Buck who immediately rushes home to be by your side and it's all cute and fluffy in the end? :) Thank you very much <3

Trapped Air

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | whilst on a mission, you suffer with your breathing problems, leaving all to panic as you have air trapped in your lungs.

Warnings | breathing problems, angst, mentions of death, swearing, mentions of torture

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

There had been no call back from Bucky; he was on a mission far away, and deep undercover, and the fact that you had no response did not surprise you, however, it was impossible not to feel overcome with worry.

From what you knew, he was somewhere in Austria with Steve, and most likely irritated by the company of Sam. The thought of them together, waiting for further intel made you smile, and so you sat up on the sofa; the place where you had fallen into a rural slumber late the previous evening. That thought also made you lightly snicker to yourself, and had you grasping your chest in agony at the action.

You adjusted your seat on the sofa, kicking the blanket under your legs as you tried to relax your entire body. To subdue the worry for your love that you had and were experiencing, you and Nat had watched a movie, your head running with thoughts of the danger that your boyfriend was possibly under.

It was no doubt that James Buchanan Barnes, the White Wolf and former Winter Soldier was a fine fighter; he had endured and survived wars, achieving victory in the vast majority of his battles. But still, he was nothing more than a man, with a veil of serum coursing through his veins, and whilst it made him much stronger, he was still sustainable to injury, and worse.

Countless times had you seen him braised in bruises, and kissed along the seam of his scars, and though he had lived through decades, and still appeared unscathed considering the circumstances, he was a mortal man, able to die and it was far too clear for your scared eyes that he wouldn’t be able to survive every fall.

An emptiness peeled away inside of you as you placed the phone down, resting your head upon the arm of the sofa of where you had done so priorly. Taking a deep breath, you wheezed, feeling nothing more than internal pain, and it was not just for your longing to see Bucky again. It was indeed something else, a condition that you had grown used to over the years.

It had taken everything from you; the job that you had so well partook in was diminished to being unsuitable for your health. Being an avenger had once been your only purpose, but it had been the one thing that had broken you. From all the rubble and other pesticides that you had breathed in, it had tampered with your lungs, and made you to be nothing more than a victim, a fallen hero.

The worse thing about being fallen in such a way was that you had not died on the job, instead, you were being tormented every time you watched your friends leave the compound, carrying a duffel bag that had all the necessities that they could possibly need for the gruelling months ahead on the missions that they had been sent on.

Knowing that if you weren’t so inwardly broken and that if that were the case, you could have easily accompanied Bucky and the others on their uncover op made you feel worthless, and disposable. As your chest raked the air that surpassed its roots, it waded a feeling through every limb that was attached to you.

Large gulps from the air machine that was beside you usually helped, but as your brought the medically introverted oxygen mask to surround the lower half of your face, the torturous sensation failed to fade. It remained, stuck in the collapse of your airways, refusing to allow air into your defined bloodstream.

The factor alone had you panicking, and as you went to stand, there was a pounding fire coursing through your head. Your eyes got dreary, fluttering as you reached out to grasp for the side of the seating area to stabilise your steps. But it wasn’t enough, all of your weight leant to one side, and a loud and colossal smash echoed through the room.

You helplessly laid there, having no ability to get up, as the shards of the glass table that had tried to break your fall, and had ended up breaking instead, stabbed mercilessly into the canvas of your back. It made you feel like a dartboard, free to the attempts of anything that put a bet on to try. This was your final fall from greatness, and if you weren’t to survive this, that would be o-

“Y/n.” A voice rushed out, as footsteps scrambled to come to your side. The silouhette of a blurry man knelt beside you, sickened with their own scheme of panic. “Nat!” He called out towards the kitchen, you hearing the pitter patter of her assumed footsteps that were toed in competent heels.

“Clint, what happened?” She asked, but giving him a break to compose his answer as she called warily out for FRIDAY, relieved when the AI answered her order. “Get one of Stark’s cars ready to go to the hospital, inform who needs to know. Y/n’s just had a nasty fall, and I assume more.”

“She was like this when I got in here.” Was the archer’s delirious response. His hands raised your head out of the cracked pieces, gently picking the sharp crystals out of your hair. He was sick with worry, he knew that you were touring a difficult road, one that no one else on the team could fathom to understand, but despite all that, he was still there for you, as were the numerous others.

Wearing his priceless suit, Tony rushed into the room, his brown eyes blown wide as he scoped the scene. “She’s losing consciousness.” Nat informed the pair, focusing on how your eyes barely had the strength to stay open. Your breathing was laboured, and the choke emitting from it was audible, making all witnesses wince from the threatening sound.

“My car is ready, on our way to the ER, give Barnes a call.” He held the keys to his vehicle, swinging them around his finger, as he watched Clint and Natasha hoist you up, and support you through the journey to the front of the compound. Nat stroked your hair as she bit back her own tears, combing tenderly through the slightly bloody tresses to soothe her own present anxiety.

The mission was turning out to be a bust, they were tracking Zemo after his great escape; hence why their departure was classified. It was unknown why the once Baron of Sokovia had fled to the country, but all prior intel had supported the idea that he was searching for a partner to help finish his work, if he were to ever get caught by the American government again.

Bucky hated being away from the place that had slowly become his home. It made him feel lost, but if he wanted to remain within said area to continue his life, he had to follow Fury’s orders, or else the panel that had granted him freedom for all his past actions, may happen to change his mind.

The gig of being an avenger was more of Steve’s expertise, he was loved by the country, and had never tried to break its order down piece by piece. Before he was cleared to join the team, and the debate that lead to Steve and Tony siding against one another, he was nothing more than a tense ghost story.

All knew he was real, but most were too scared to admit that the Winter Solider was an assassinating figure in existence. To everyone’s dismay now, following rule number two, he was no longer HYDRA’s pet weapon. He, for the first time in his life, had some kind of clarity on who he was.

His identity, was James Bucky Barnes, the White Wolf, the protector of the world and a renounced ally of Wakanda. And he was happy to be known as such, in a way, the new him cleared his red ledger, and that faded away with that damned red book.

No one had the power to control his mind again, all of his actions were now completely up to him. At first, with the reign over himself, he had been unsure on how to start with this new and invented soldier that he had become. He was no longer taking refuge behind the facade of T’Challa’s country anymore, for he was no a wanted man of the state.

But Sam enjoyed prodding at his ‘cyborg brain’, driving him to certain frustration. Though, it did not matter as much, for he found the peace he had been searching for after that little bit of calm that he had experienced on his hideaway.

You. A retired avenger, that had kicked his ass, and continued to brag about it to this day, when he was under Pierce’s demeaning orders. Though, it saddened him, to have the knowledge that you no longer had the ability to pin him down on a training mat, or throw his best friend’s shield in his silent face.

There was no longer an ignition of strength to fight left within you, you were weak from the condition that had and was holding you hostage in its devastating grasp. The debts of your god deeds had wormed their way through your body, destroying it bit by bit.

Whenever he was away, missing the presence that you had once accompanied him with, he was unable but to do anything but worry about your struggling health. He feared that one day, he would get a call claiming that you had experienced a traumatic accident, and as he sat in the small and cluttered motel room, the vibrancy and life that his phone was off putting had him nervously on edge.

“It’s Fury.” He claimed to his rugged partners, putting the man that had regained control of his empire on loud speaker, awaiting for the patch wearing associate to respond to his acceptance of the call. A moment of silence had him standing, the next, caused him to pace. Steve frowned, well aware that Fury only went silent, and did not barking affirmative orders when something had happened.

That man was an absolute whore for the dramatics, he had even faked his own death on multiple accounts. There was nothing the man could fathom not to do, and this sure as hell, in the name of Goose, was not the first instance he had informed his recruits of shocking factors. Steve remembered when the dark clothed man informed him that he was in the 21st century, and to this day, it remained to be the greatest shock that he had experienced.

The second had got to be the reveal of Bucky’s survival, that heart stopping moment had gone in slow motion, as the soldat whipped his unmasked face around to face his opponents, and he was quickly recognised. You had been there to ease the confusion and the humongous shock that wired his brain. And not to mention, to soothe the wave of emotions, you had prompted at jokes at about kicking his best friend’s fine ass.

That had only been the start to a long road ahead, it had all seemed like your quad of rebelling would go on forever. Sam Wilson was your best friend, and the first to be told of your failure to continue your raids on missions, and to say that he was holding back fountains in his eyes, was a casual understatement. The Falcon had felt angry at himself for not realising the increase in coughs that fled from your sassy mouth, or how quickly you would get tired.

He put some of that blame upon himself, claiming that he should have been the first to notice the signs. It was his idea, before your struggles were revealed to anyone else, to refuse your aid on missions, which lead to conspiracies from the team. For a couple of weeks, the members that you had fought alongside for so long had speculated that you were pregnant,and even Bucky had even began to fall for that idea.

In the end, they had all wished for that to be true, a child would be a gift, whereas instead, you were bestowed with a curse. Sam had offered for you to stay with Sarah and the kids, but upon your insistence, you remained in the compound, organising files and watching cinematic classics for the thousandth time.

But anyone could see, that every time they discussed the missions, of left to endure them, your face fell, appeased by the thought that you’d never share that experience again. They all tried to distract you, Thor had even taken you on a vacation to New Asgard so that you could relax and play video games with Korg, yelling frustratedly at Noobmaster69 as the kid tried to spite your friend and his gaming skills.

That though, had not ended well, and instead, the noise had brought you insufferable pain, and you had to be taken home. But what was home anymore? You hardly felt as though you belonged upon the army of your friends, or the guardians that they were aligned with.

And so, it was very understandable why Bucky was inclined to worry. All his dragged our life, he had watched people die, or awakened from cryo to find them gone, and the split moments that he were required on missions, was another moment that he had lost with you.

He gulped as he waited for Fury to say something, anything! And when he did, he wished that he could go back in time, and stop you from ever having been an avenger. “It’s agent Y/L/N, something has happened...”

It had been hours of no news, and Stark tapped his well dressed foot. He had requested, - no, insisted the best doctors to tend to your internal and external injury, claiming that if your condition was made any worse, he would personally make sure that they never tended to another patient again.

He was not usually one to be so aggressive, but he feared loss, it was a great flaw and attribute of his. Possibly, in some people’s judgemental eyes, he cared too much, but he never thought so. To him, the billionaire was human, no matter what the citizens over the world thought of him.

Sure, he wore an iron suit to protect the world, but beneath all the metal, he had a heart. And he’d be damned sure that he used it, and that it beat for a purpose. Natasha and Clint were either side of him, the assassins on her phone as she read the captain’s well written message.

“They’ve entered the country.” She spoke, referring to Sam, Bucky and Steve. It was a relief that they were going to be here soon, then they’d all look sane in comparison to Barnes. It was doubtful that he was holding himself together well, these hours had been torture to all of them, but he had actually been tortured in multiple gruelling occasions, but it was nothing in comparison to this.

One of the country’s best and devoted doctors opened the door to the room that you were being stabilised in, leading to all eyes waiting outside to stare hopefully at him. It was an intimidating thing, to have three avengers leaving him with one of their owns lives in his hands, he was not a hero. But to them, he was to be, they trusted him and the various recommendations that had suggested that he would be best suited to the deed.

The fact that he was the man in charge in this situation was to be great steak in his career, though, he would never be able to anyone, not even family, that he had saved the life of an avenger. Due to doctor patient confidentially, he was bribed into silence by the philanthropist himself, who was certain that he was fine for paying for the entire service himself.

Money had no importance to Tony, not as his friend was the patient that could have died. The man removed his sunglasses, sternly looking up at the kind doctor with pleading and urgent eyes, wanting to scoop every detail that he could from the eccentric medic. “How is she?”

The doctor gulped, well aware that there was a weight apparent on his shoulders, even when delivering any news. But this, was a whole new experience, he knew that you, the woman hoisted up in the hospital bed, had saved his coursing during the battle of New York. He was grateful, for everything that you had done, but simultaneously, felt the need to be careful with any tactic that he used to save your life.

“Well,” he licked his dry lips, watching as the Black Widow herself stared into his soul, “she’s stable, for now. And it would be okay if one of you went in, she’s currently in the midst of waking up. However, she is going to be unable to give much in the verse of a conversation, the oxygen mask that she’s wearing has to stay on, and it will not be a good if she tries to waste the breath she’s being given to talk.”

He was interrupted by the sound of competent running down the hall, it was as though the men dressed in their gear ignored the no running rule. But it was understandable, seeing as Bucky’s eyes were wild and wide, as he came to a stop and asked what was going on. Clint stood, bracing a hand upon his shoulder, before informing him the details they had just been given. “I think you should be the first to see her.”

Bucky didn’t argue with Clint, and instead, walked into the room, ensuring that he shut the door behind himself. He smiled painfully at the sight; there were so many tubes, and all the surrounding machines were lit up with statistics that he did not understand. Nevertheless, he looked towards the vacant seat beside your bed, and claimed it for his ass that you had once kicked.

Your eyes watched as he looked down upon you, your hands reaching to remove the mask, but he placed his hand upon your own, and replaced them to be upon your chest. “Shush darling, no talking, doctor’s orders.” He spoke, rubbing your cheek with his right hand, feeling the corner of the mask against the inside of his palm.

“Had me so worried doll, thought I was gonna lose you.” At the thought, a grimace presented itself of his woeful face, and to comfort him, you placed your fingers around his own, absentmindedly playing with them as you listened to his sincere voice. “On the way here, I spoke to Shuri, we are going to see if she can help you in anyway, as long as you’re okay with that. Does that sound good baby?”

Fluttering your eyelashes as you looked through their webbed curtain to stare lovingly at him, you nodded your head, ignoring the spiteful pains that emitted from where the glass had shallowly penetrated your scalp. “Alright, I’ll let her know. And I was thinking...” he waited for a moment to continue, being encouraged by the crease between his brow line.

“What if we stay in Wakanda, and we leave all this behind? We can still see people when they visit, and we can just, have some calm to ourselves. No missions, no aliens to fight, and no Zemo to chase. Or I was thinking, we go and live by Sarah, you love those kids, they’re basically your nephews, and we could take boat rides during the middle of the night, and help the people who live there, and...”

At his rambling, you smiled beneath the plastic system that was around your mouth, listening to him talk and talk about your future together. Yes, you missed missions, but you would give all that up for a normal and easy life, with Bucky Barnes.

595 notes · View notes

mercy-burning · 4 years ago

Text

Second Nature

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer and Reader share some realizations after one of them has been kidnapped. Category: FLUFF + ADDITIONAL SMUT ENDING (18+) Warnings: Language, brief mentions of kidnapping and injury, bruising, sex (penetrative sex, protected sex, dirty talk, lowkey hand kink—i’m not sorry) Word Count: 6.1k

Full Request: “...Congratulations on your 1k! I have request for your celebration, if possible. Spencer/Fem Reader. Post prison Spencer, instead of him being taken by the cult, the reader is, making hi realize that she’s Love of life and they get together. Smut,preferred, if possible. Thank you.” — @dreatine

NOTE: I had a little conversation with @ssa-m-187 about a post which discussed that trope where Person A caresses Person B’s cheek, and then Person A leans into their touch and holds their arm to keep them there for comfort.. I mentioned that I might add it into one of my requests, and this is where it ended up! 😂❤

I also decided to add an alternate/additional smut ending in case anyone wanted only the fluff. It will be clearly marked when the smut starts if you choose not to read it!

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

***

Nothing bad ever happened to her. Spencer wished that was an exaggeration but it wasn't. In all the years he'd known Y/N, she was never kidnapped, no one she loved ever got kidnapped, and she never even got sick. Her moods were always visibly happy, no one had ever seen her with so much as a sprained ankle, and even bad hair days always seemed to escape her grasp.

So naturally, when she got taken by Ben's Believers, it came as no shock that Spencer was losing his mind.

Everyone kept telling him that they'd get her back, and that they all knew what to do, but it didn't stop the sinking feeling that weighed his heart down, far away from the surface where she was safe and waiting for him.

Guess it's safe to say, this whole situation stirred up some feelings he hadn't even known existed.

The first thing that came to his mind, aside from the initial shock of her being gone, was the first moment they met.

Y/N and Ashley Seaver had both been added to the team around the same time, and after losing Emily, the three of them had practically become inseparable. But that first meeting, the very second he laid eyes on her, it was something purely magical.

She was trying to open a jar of pickles in the break room, breathy and aggravated curses spilling from her mouth as if she were a sailor.

"Do you need any help?" Spencer asked, not intending to scare her.

But alas, she jumped, dropping the jar of pickles and causing it to shatter everywhere. "Shit!"

He offered to help clean it up, and she accepted, sighing about how everything she had was going to smell like pickles for at least a week. And once everything was picked up, she grabbed a pickle that had landed on the counter and took a bite, promptly saying, "Well, at least I got it open," with a mouth-full of pickle. "Thanks for scaring me, bud."

It was amusing to say the least.

And every time they'd gone out for food since then, Spencer made sure to order something with a pickle every time, just so he could offer it to her and hear her laugh about that day. Every time, she mirrored that moment, taking a bite and saying, "Thanks, bud."

Of course, back then he hadn't realized he did it because he liked her. He just thought it was nice to see her smile, to hear her laugh. That's what friends did, right? Made each other laugh?

That's what kept him going as they searched high and low for answers to get her back. Her laugh. It was there, replaying on a loop in his brain as if he could ever forget it.

And when he got her back, he vowed to make sure he made her laugh for the rest of time.

When they knew where to find Y/N, Spencer made it his mission to be the one who got her out of there. He wanted to be the one she saw when she was being rescued. He wanted to be the one who made sure she was finally safe again and out of harm's way.

And most importantly he wanted to tell her that he loved her. And he didn't want to spend another day without being next to her.

But first he had to get her out of there.

The second he saw her, it was like everything moved in slow motion. She was strapped to some type of mechanism that kept her hands at her sides and her head facing forward. And despite the fact that she'd never been held hostage, she looked very calm. She looked like exactly what the cult wanted her to be: a sacrifice.

It made Spencer's stomach churn. And it felt even worse when they moved in. Because everyone was getting down, and the cult leader jumped for Y/N, striking to kill.

The gunshot stunned him. He stopped in his tracks, hoping and praying that she wouldn't be hurt, and for one final time before he actually moved, he replayed her laugh in his mind. He briefly held on to the image of Y/N smiling at him without a care in the world before he inevitably saw her face to face for the first time in days, most likely without said smile.

But of course, the second it was safe and he ran to her side, she looked up at him and smiled anyway.

As Emily got the final restraints off of her, Spencer took a huge sigh of relief and welcomed Y/N into his embrace.

"Hey, bud," she breathed into his neck, letting him squeeze her tightly. He could practically feel her smile burning into his skin, tattooing itself there for all the world to see, and he squeezed her tighter, thinking of how he wouldn't have it any other way.

They clung to one another the whole plane ride home, curled up into each other and falling asleep after all the stress they'd been under. And it was no surprise to anyone that they even held hands while they did.

Y/N dreamt of him the entire time.

Specifically, she was remembering the day she almost quit. It would have surprised anyone to know she'd felt that way considering she never let her bad days show. But in those particular few months, she had really missed her family—and Ashley,—the cases were getting more and more stressful, and it all seemed to really take a toll on her emotionally.

But that one fateful day, she walked into the round table room, expecting to find no one since she always showed up early, and instead she found Spencer with a large wicker basket.

"What are you doing here so early?" Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

He smiled shyly. "Oh, um... I know your birthday was last week, and I feel bad I missed it since I was visiting my mom, so... I wanted to celebrate with you when we had a little bit of time."

He handed her the basket, and she marveled at all its contents, ranging from a few of her favorite books in different copies she hadn't owned, an array of her favorite candies, and most exciting, a jar of pickles.

"Oh, before you break the jar, I have something else for you," he said with a small laugh, pulling something out of his jacket pocket. "I've read that these are good for helping you open jars, and I even got myself one because we all know you're way stronger than me, so if you can't open a jar of pickles, I probably couldn't either..."

She would never know this, but in that moment he was kicking himself for being so awkward, even though the two of them had been friends for years. And he'd never know, but she hadn't even recognized it as awkward. She was incredibly thankful and endeared by his thinking of her, and it was the one thing that made her realize she could never quit her job.

She loved him too much too leave.

So she didn't. That morning she'd been planning on telling everyone her plans to find another job somewhere else, maybe closer to her family, and that night she walked out of the office feeling loved and thankful for her friends, and one friend in particular.

Currently, said friend was sitting quietly in the parking lot of her apartment while she dug up the courage to ask him inside for the night. Her plans consisted of sleeping in for as long as she needed thanks to a well-deserved few days off of work, and though Spencer would most likely return earlier, she desperately hoped she could convince him to stay.

It was quiet for a while and the lights in the car had long since turned off, leaving them in darkness as well as silence. Despite that fact, it wasn't eerie in the slightest... It was comfortable.

Even more so when Y/N reached over and grabbed his hand.

And then she spoke.

"Can... Can you stay? I'm fine, I promise, I just... I could really use some company, you know?"

"Of course," he answered almost too quickly. It made her laugh, and though it was small, he felt a weight lift off his chest at the sound.

The two of them walked up to her apartment in more of that comfortable, dark silence. The only light source to be found was within the dim lights of the hallway, though they'd made the walk so many times it was like second nature.

That familiarity followed them through her doorway, Y/N taking off her jacket and instinctively handing it over with her to-go bag, where Spencer's arms were already outstretched. He took them and removed his shoes, then transported their belongings to the chair in the corner of her living room, maybe five or six steps ahead from the entryway.

Y/N took a large breath and smiled as she flipped on the lights.

Spencer noticed, turning to her with a smile of his own. "Good to be home?"

"Mhm," she responded with a nod. "But you know what would make it even better?"

The knowing smile they shared brought warmth to her chest as he made his way to the kitchen, saying, "Peppermint hot chocolate, coming right up."

As her best friend made noise in the kitchen, Y/N padded over to her couch, flipping on the table lamp next to it and sitting down with an over-exaggerated humph. Her legs curled off to the side as she leaned against the armrest, taking a deep breath and breathing in the warm comfort of home, only amplified a little while later by the aroma of soft peppermint.

She could hear Spencer humming quietly to himself in the kitchen, the sound bringing a smile to her face. He always absentmindedly hummed her favorite song when he was making them food or something to drink, or even when they were just hanging out together in comfortable silence. She wondered often if he ever sang it to himself when he was alone.

And she was going to ask, but before she got the chance, he came up behind her with two mugs of hot chocolate. She took hers gladly with a smile that perfectly matched the warmth of the mug. And while she took the first sip as he walked around the couch and took his regular spot on the cushion next to hers, that warmth spread to her chest. She sunk into the couch as her eyes fluttered closed.

Beside her she could hear Spencer laugh. "That good, huh?"

"You're an expert hot chocolate maker, don't let anyone tell you any different."

Another laugh came from him, and the sound bought warmth to other places.

They sipped their hot chocolate together, once again basked in silence that was only disrupted by the distinct ticking of Y/N's cuckoo clock, a Christmas gift from Spencer one year after she'd mentioned how much she was oddly fascinated by them. It sat on the wall across from them, next to the TV and right above a DVD rack with her favorite movies. She stared at the clock fondly as she drank her way through the hot chocolate, and Spencer did the same.

Eventually they were out, and once their mugs were placed on either side table, they found themselves turning to each other with more of that second nature pulling them together like the moon pulling the ocean. Once their knees touched it was like the ocean dragged them under, only rather than suffocating, they found themselves breathing easier, like they were finally at peace.

The clock rung out, and only after it finished echoing did Spencer initiate conversation. He examined the bruise right under her eye, and once again the gravitational pull was too much, his hand reaching out to touch it with curiosity as well as concern. "Are you feeling alright? Do you need some ice or anything?" he asked softly.

Y/N felt her heart stutter at the featherlight touch of his fingertips, and despite herself, she blushed. "No, I'm okay. Better now that I'm home. With you."

His eyes flicked up to meet hers at her words, and the softness and genuine relief he found in them made him melt.

He moved to take his hand away, but Y/N reached up and gently grabbed his wrist, bringing it back to her face pacing his palm firmly against the whole surface of her cheek. He watched lovingly as she closed her eyes and leaned into his hand further, bringing her hand to wrap around his forearm and hold him there. And in that moment, he had to wonder if she could hear the loud, intense beating of his heart as it drowned out the clock's ticking.

"I... I was so scared," Y/N whispered, keeping her eyes closed. "I mean... In the back of my mind I knew you guys would come for me, but... That was... my first time ever being in a hostage situation by myself, let alone at all, and I..." She paused, stumbling on her words before exhaling a breathy laugh. "Those people were creepy."

Spencer laughed with her, his hand still resting on her face. When she finally did open her eyes again, she looked up at him through her eyelashes, and in that moment she looked so soft and vulnerable that he couldn't help but finally tell the truth.

In a whisper so soft she almost didn't hear it, he confessed, "I was so afraid that I lost you..."

"Yeah, but... You found me," she returned with a smile as she nuzzled into his hand further. "You always do."

Something in the way she said it made him bolder, and he realized then that that's what she always did.

She strengthened him, made him more bold and determined... And she gave him something to hold onto when he was lost. When things felt impossible, Y/N always said the one thing that put him back together and made him feel whole again, whether it was a few sentences, or in this case three little words: "You always do."

Completing him was her second nature, something he wasn't even sure she was aware of.

But now that he knew, he had to tell her.

"Y/n..." Spencer traced his thumb along the underside of her bottom lip, and he could have swore he felt her sigh out. He stayed paused, reveling in the way he seemed to have an effect on her, his thumb longing to slide further and trace her entire mouth.

Nevertheless, he continued. "You are... Everything to me. And I don't tell you very often how much your friendship means to me, but I... I can't keep going forward without you knowing just how much I care about you. Really, it..." He huffed a laugh, hoping he wasn't making an utter fool of himself and that she wouldn't push him away at this confession that was dying to escape. "It's embarrassing how much I love you."

He couldn't tell if it was exhaustion taking hold of him, or the relief he felt at finally getting that off his chest, but he held his breath as he studied her eyes, which were glassy like she was on the verge of tears. Her grip around his forearm tightened and she turned, kissing the inside of his palm and keeping her lips pressed there for what felt like forever, until he started to feel his skin go numb. Realistically he knew it was only a trick on the brain, how such a simple affectionate gesture like that had the most heart-swelling and mind-numbing effects on him because of how much he loved her.

But damn it, he didn't care.

She murmured his name into his palm, and her eyes flicked up to meet his again. That's when he noticed a tear fall from her eye and down her cheek, right into the side of his thumb.

Finally, she responded, "I love you, too, Spencer. I... I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to tell you, but... After what just happened, I don't know if I could ever spend another day without loving you."

His heart absolutely burst at the seams, warmer than before, and most certainly not from the hot chocolate. That warmth only spread, turning into a raging wildfire when she let go of his hand and moved forward, practically tackling him and wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him and pressing her face to the crook of his neck. His arms wrapped around her back, hugging her close as she straddled him and continued to nuzzle into his skin, his presence...

They held each other like that for a good minute before Y/N finally gained the courage to pull back and look into his eyes. They were just as glassy as hers, just as filled with love and comfort and home as she could ever have dreamed. Her hands slid down to rest on his shoulders for a moment before one of them cradled his face.

And then she kissed him.

She knew he loved her, he told her as much, but in case this was already going too far, Y/N kept it light and hesitant, desperately hoping it wouldn't make things weird.

But of course, there was nothing to worry about. And Spencer showed her that as his lips pressed deeper into hers, his hands on her back pushing her closer to him and seeking as much contact as possible.

She brought both of her hands to gently run through his hair, and at the sigh he let out against her mouth, Y/N tugged harder, pulling herself up so she could get into a better, more comfortable position on his lap.

They shared peppermint hot chocolate kisses until the clock rung out again, both of them pulling away with a little surprise.

"Has it really been an hour since it last went off?" Y/N mused in a whisper, taking in the swollen state of Spencer's mouth. The sight sent a course of butterflies through her stomach.

"I guess it has... It's um... It's late, maybe we should get some sleep."

"Only if you come with me," Y/N offered, running her fingers through his hair once more.

Spencer nodded with a small smile, his thumb tracing the bottom of her chin. "Of course."

They pulled themselves off the couch and, hand-in-hand, navigated their way to her bedroom. And even though they'd never actually done it before, sleeping in her bedroom together, the whole journey was so familiar it was like they'd done it a million times over.

SMUT ENDING BELOW

Y/N didn't know what time it was, only that the sun was brightly peeking through her sheer curtains, basking her bedroom in a warm glow that made it almost impossible to be comfortable under the covers. When she moved to take them off of her, she felt a hand snake around her waist, pressing firmly against her lower stomach and holding her in place.

"Are you awake?" she asked aloud to the air, softly in case Spencer was, in fact, still asleep.

"Mhm," he mumbled behind her, his breath softly fanning out across her shoulder. "Have been for about an hour."

"You could have woke me up," she said, turning around to face him. His hand lifted and then settled on her shoulder when she was in position.

"You deserved the rest," is all he offered in explanation as his hand gently brushed the hair from her shoulder. It tickled as it fell behind her, dropping off her body and across the back of her neck. Spencer trailed his fingers lightly up her neck until they reached her ear, and then he trailed them back down and over the curve of her shoulder, and then down her arm. He continued this and smiled as he took notice of the goosebumps that formed all over her skin. The thin tank top she'd changed into before bed left most of her exposed, each little freckle and hair that adorned her skin on display in the warm sunlight.

Meanwhile she smiled, heat slowly rising to her cheeks as she recalled their kisses on the couch. Needless to say, her dreams that night were rather scandalous, something she wasn't unfamiliar with, though given these new circumstances she was more than a little hot right now.

Spencer noticed, his hand halting its movement on her skin and resting itself on her waist over the blanket. "You're thinking about it, too? Last night?"

Y/N looked him in the eye and swore she saw them dilate when she responded. "Yeah. Among other things..."

"What... kind of other things?"

She would have told him, but since it was obvious they were both feeling the heat she bit her lip instead, a teasing look in her eye. "You're a smart man. You tell me."

"What if I... show you instead?" he whispered, his voice broken and obviously a little shocked that this was finally going to happen.

"Take it away, Doc."

His first kiss was sweet, reminiscent of the first one they shared on the couch, and his second was a little deeper. Y/N gave her stamp of approval by sighing, bringing a hand up to play with his hair again, and it was the trigger that shot him forward, his lips working hers with more passionate, methodical precision. Meanwhile his hand dipped under the covers and pressed firmly at her back, slipping under her shirt and bringing her closer.

She wrapped her leg over his waist, pulling herself forward to get as much contact as she could while he swiped over her bottom lip with his tongue. The small whimper she let out at his kisses made his hips buck forward involuntarily, to which Y/N clenched her leg tighter around his waist and tugged a little harder at his hair.

He tipped them over then, rolling so that he was hovering over her while their kisses only grew needier. His hand slipped under her shirt, feeling the expanse of her stomach and her sides. The low hum that came from her throat at his touches drove him half wild, so he boldened them, slowly sliding up and up until he reached her bare breasts. Her legs came out immediately and hooked themselves around the back of his thighs as she whined at his touch.

With curious kneads of her chest and even more exploratory kisses that were reciprocated with an equal hunger and passion, it didn't take long for Spencer to feel his insides churn with a desire that could possibly never be satiated. Even if Y/N was the one who kept him whole, he also knew she would be the one to completely wreck him to pieces. He'd rarely ever felt this type of desire before, especially not towards someone who took up every crack and crevice of his mind at any given moment. And now that he had it, he never wanted to let it go. She was going to utterly ruin him, and he'd never been more welcoming to that type of damnation—the type that was also his salvation.

Because she was everything all at once, devastatingly beautiful in every imaginable way.

Her hands tugged at his tee shirt, punctuating her urgency with a needy little whine into his mouth. He pulled back then, tugging off his shirt at the expense of taking his hands away from her. But from his higher position now, he took her in in all her wild glory, lips swollen and a little red, hair splayed out across the pillows, and her breathing visibly heavy. Even with the bruise under her eyes, she was the most breathtaking person he'd ever seen. She marveled up at him, willing her gaze to trail down his chest and stomach, her bottom lip tucking itself gently between her teeth as she stared at where his sweatpants hung low on his hips.

Y/N reached out and grazed her middle finger across the waistband of his pants, gently feeling the fabric and his skin at the same time. He was still, continuing to watch her explore his body the way he'd done hers, always amazed at the curious look in her eye— the one that was now swimming in a pool of lust. Her hand trailed upwards, feeling the soft planes of his torso until she couldn't reach any higher.

"Having fun?" Spencer mused with a smile as she rested both her hands on either side of his waist.

She sat up then, pressing a kiss to his neck while her hands travelled south, under the waistband of his pants. He sucked in a breath as she palmed him through his underwear, gently nipping his shoulder before she answered. "Oh, I'm having so much fun."

He was going to say something, but words escaped him as she sat up on her knees and continued tracing the outline of his dick through his underwear. He was painfully hard in an instant, a fact at which Y/N gave a low, amused laugh. Once she found the underside of his tip, she gently rubbed it through the fabric with her thumb, and the broken whine that he let out delighted her in every way. Her tongue traced his collarbone and the contours of his shoulders and neck until she reached his jawline. She licked him there too, humming as her thumb worked faster at his dick.

"Mmm, I've wanted this for so long," she told him softly, bringing her lips up to his ear. "Do you know how many times I've thought about us? Dreamed about us?"

"Not as many as me, probably," he choked out with a small laugh, audibly trying to keep it together as his stomach burned with every languid stroke of her thumb over his most sensitive point.

Y/N returned his laugh and sensually kissed his jaw before saying, "I doubt that." Then she dragged her mouth up to his lips and brought her hand out of his pants so she could thread all her fingers through his hair. Though they were kneeling, he was still taller than her, so his hard erection pressed firmly against her stomach as he brought her closer, gripping her hips and melting into her.

When his right hand slipped into her sleep shorts, she whined out and pressed herself harder against him, reveling in the way the heat from his hand practically burned into her ass. He kneaded her there as well, groaning into her mouth when she tugged on his hair and turned her head to deepen their kiss.

It was obvious that she was trying to feel some type of friction— her knees were willing her to get up higher, to feel him hard against her, but alas she wasn't able to reach. She showed her frustration by whining into his mouth and trying to pull herself up, the pressure of her arms around his neck getting stronger with every passing second.

"Spencer pulled away laughing a little, removing his hand from her shorts and bringing it to the front, dragging along the inside of her thigh. "Is there something you want from me, pretty girl?"

The nickname sent a fire through her veins that set off every smoke detector in her brain, the alarm coming out in the form of a whimper. "I want to feel you inside me," she whispered, nuzzling her nose to his and reaching down to guide his hand farther up. When his middle finger breached the fabric of her shorts, she whimpered again, willing herself closer to him. "Please, Spencer."

He hummed lowly, drawing circles into her skin. "Are you prepared? Like, do you... have condoms or anything, do we need one?"

"I have some in my top drawer if you want me to get it," she said quickly with a nod.

He laughed a little, amused at her eagerness, before pulling away from her and helping her off the bed. Once she was feet-first on the ground, she strode over to the dresser where she opened a small drawer on the top left and rummaged through it. Meanwhile Spencer followed her and came up behind her, pressing his front to her backside and making her tense. He brushed her hair aside and brought his lips to her neck, his hands resting at her waist.

She slowly rolled her hips against him, sighing out when his hands gripped her tighter. One of them slipped down into her shorts again, this time coming around front and resting over her clothed pussy. His fingers explored her like hers had explored him, teasing her in the same way that made her want to burst into flames.

"So wet already, pretty girl..." he mused, sighing and attacking her neck with more kisses. "I bet I'll be able to just slide right in..."

She outwardly moaned this time, clutching a condom in her hand and then slamming the drawer shut. "Alright then, Mr. PhD, why don't you put that theory to the test?"

He loved how eager she was, and a little impatient. Something told him that if he teased her enough, she might have just begged him for anything. But he didn't want to do that right now. No, right now he was planning on showing the love of his life just how much she meant to him. He was going to give her everything he had, and then some.

So he turned her around and kissed her, walking them backwards until his legs hit the foot of the bed. He almost went down, but before he could, he turned them around again. Y/N's body hit the bed, her legs immediately opening for him to stand between them. Rather than leaning down to kiss her again though, Spencer ran his hands tugged lightly at her shorts, to which Y/N gladly lifted her hips and allowed him to pull them off. Her underwear weren't too far behind, and then she lifted her shirt over her head, tossing it aside and leaning back on her elbows.

Seeing her fully bare like this was enough to drive him mad, but he held on, spreading her knees apart and sliding his hands along the insides of her thighs. "Y/N, you're perfect..." As he marveled at her and showered her with love and praise, he slid his hands further and further up her body until they reached her arms.

She helped him remove his pants and underwear, and once they were off, Y/N tore open the condom and handed it to him. He rolled it on and then leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. Then her temple, then her cheek... Then he pressed the softest kiss to her lips and looked her in the eyes. "You really want to?"

She smiled at him and nodded, bringing one of his hands to her entrance and pressing his fingers to the wetness that pooled there. "You feel how bad I want it?"

He groaned and kissed her then, circling his middle finger over her clit and making her cry out against him. After a few more seconds of this, Spencer positioned them at the head of the bed and angled his hips forward, the head of his dick coming in contact with her pussy.

He slid in slowly, reveling in every pure, blissful second that went by as he gradually became completely enveloped in her. Once he was buried to the hilt, Y/N threw her head back and bit her lip, her hands reaching out to play with his hair again. He ground himself into her for a few seconds before pulling back and then starting a slow, steady rhythm.

"God, Y/N, you feel so good... So... perfect for me."

"Funny, I was just going to say the same thing about you," she breathed. Her eyes trained themselves on his, and though there was a lot of love there, she saw something else that she recognized, something hesitant. It was close to the same look he gave her last night, after she'd explained to him that she was fine after he examined her injury.

He was going easy on her. But she wanted more.

Y/N reached up to tug his hair gently, biting her lip and batting her eyes. "I'm not made of glass you know... You can fuck me harder if you want to."

Everything from the look on her face to the way she said it to the way she clenched around him as she did made him half feral. He smirked at her without thinking, a natural reaction to her challenge. "Oh, you like it a little rough, huh?"

She smirked back at him and nodded, tugging his hair harder. "Uh huh."

Though he started fucking into her harder, his pace remained slow, accentuating each rough thrust with a huff through his nose. Y/N's mouth opened involuntarily, the power of his movements rendering her almost speechless. Eventually though, she let out one large moan as her fingers even further tightened their grip in Spencer's hair.

Taking note of her reactions, he felt pleased with himself. "You like that, don't you, pretty girl? You like it hard and deep..."

Her hands dropped from his head and rested at the sheets, gripping them instead as he worked his hips a little faster. "Y—yes, baby, I fucking love how hard you fuck me."

The words tumbled out of their mouths so easily, each syllable spoken with the right amount of lust and truth, it was like their conversation was a dance. Their bodies and their words melded together in a perfect number that brought them further towards the climax.

But, as every dance does, their needed a little flourish.

Spencer reached out and caressed her cheek again, his thumb going straight to her lips. Y/N opened her mouth and sucked it in, swirling her tongue around it and groaning at the way he bit his lip when she did so.

"Fuck, pretty girl, you're gonna ruin me if you keep that up."

She smiled at his words, which allowed him to press his thumb flat down onto her tongue. Her mouth remained open as he held it there, her pants and moans coming out clear as day. And as if that wasn't hot enough, she batted her eyelashes up at him, and he fucked her even faster, both of them starting to feel the signs of impending orgasm.

He could have kept his thumb in her mouth forever, but to aid her in pleasure, he removed it, dragging it down her chin before bringing it to her clit and rubbing in tight circles.

"Fuck, Spence, that's it," Y/N moaned, looking down between their bodies and almost losing it at the sight that beheld her. "Don't stop, don't fucking stop!"

He leaned forward to kiss her then, the new angle finally bringing her over the edge. She cried out into his mouth as it explored her own, soaking up all the sounds she made and using them to fuel his own release.

They came together, and it felt like years of tension and anticipation and love finally culminated into one giant explosion that enveloped them whole. It felt like, for a moment, nothing else in the world existed, only Spencer, Y/N, and their palpable connection that felt very much like a home in and of itself.

Even as they came down, their breathing slowing down and their touches becoming gentler, that explosion quieted right alongside them, an echo of love and warmth lingering in its wake.

Spencer pulled out and laid beside her, reaching out and gently touching the bruise under her eye. "You okay?"

She couldn't help but laugh. "Yes. I'm more than okay... I'm perfect."

He smiled at her, pure, true comfort settling in his bones. It was a rare feeling, but he was glad that it came with her presence. "Me, too. And I... I meant what I said last night, Y/N, I... I love you. More than words could accurately describe."

Her heart swelled at his words. "I love you, too, bud. More than anything in the world."

He contemplated for a minute, a smile forming as he said his next words. "More than pickles?"

Y/N threw her head back in a boisterous laugh that made Spencer's heart beat a little faster, before playfully hitting his harm and snuggling up next to him. "Yes, definitely more than pickles."

"Good. That would have been embarrassing."

"I don't love you more than peppermint hot chocolate, though. Or that cuckoo clock."

Spencer pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Yeah, but I got you those things, so technically that means you have to love me at least as much as them..."

"Okay. That's fair, I'll give you that one."

With an over-exaggerated, "Phew," Spencer smiled and pulled her closer, the warm sunlight from the windows giving him the most clear view of their legs tangled together over her lavender-colored comforter. It was so domestic, so perfect and loving and real that he never wanted to forget it.

He was thankful that he never would.

***

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @s1utformgg @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @reidsconverse @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666

TAGS NOT WORKING: @emilyprentisslittlewhore @takeyourleap-of-faith

If you would like to be added to the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment, and I’ll add you!

#mercy 1k celebration #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

443 notes · View notes

ragingbookdragon · 3 years ago

Text

Bring On The Wonder, We Got It All Wrong, We Pushed Us Down Deep In Our Souls, So Hang On

Batsis x Ghost-Maker One-Shot

Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: This is a direct continuation of this piece right here that everyone got mad at me for because I made it angsty :) Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

“Will you slow down?” Bruce complained, reaching her in a few steps. “Your ankle is sprained and you’re going to—”

She turned on him, slapping his hand away from where it was reaching for her. “I don’t wanna look or talk to you or anybody else right now.” She spat. “Take the hostages to GCPD and leave me the fuck alone.”

“He wasn’t going to kill you.” Bruce said and she scowled.

“It doesn’t matter what he was or wasn’t going to do.” She pointed to herself. “I thought he was going to. That’s what matters to me.” She turned and took a step, though her leg faltered, and she went to her knees, reaching to hold her ankle. “Fuck,” she hissed. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“(Y/N),” he murmured, bending down beside her and she reached up, yanking the cowl off.

“Everything hurts,” she cried, anger and pain lacing her voice. “My back hurts. My chest hurts. Everything fucking hurts.” She reached up to wipe the blood still leaking from her busted nose and split eyebrow. “And I’m bleeding.” (Y/N) licked her lips, feeling the sting from the broken skin of her bottom one.

Bruce’s hand went to his utility belt, unclipping one of the pockets, and he pulled out a rag; he gently raised it to her eyebrow, dabbing at the blood as he quietly stated, “Your eyebrow’s already in hemostasis. Though it’s going to need stitches.” His hand briefly stilled near her swollen eye, then he continued to her nose where he gently held it.

She whimpered, trying to recoil but he held on. “That hurts.”

“You need to stop the bleeding,” he advised, then grabbed her hand and placed it over his, forcing her to take it.

“What are you doing?”

Bruce didn’t answer her, one arm curling under her knees, the other her back and he hefted her up into his arms. “I’ll take you back to your penthouse.”

(Y/N) wanted to cry, and she was helpless to stop the tears that gathered in her eyes; she turned, burying her face in the plate of her brother’s shoulder pad, breathing deeply to keep her sobs at bay.

“I don’t know what’s going to come after this,” he explained softly, careful to take even steps to avoid jostling her. “But I know that you’re the only one who gets to choose what happens between you and him.” He rested his chin on her head. “And if you choose to take a leave for a while, then I’ll support that.”

She let out a shuddering breath. “I just want to crawl in a hole.”

“Want me to get my shovel and dig you one?”

A watery laugh passed her lips, though it dissolved into a sob and with her free hand, she reached over and grabbed Bruce’s opposite shoulder, squeezing tightly as she shook against him.

He inhaled deeply, catching Ghost-Maker from the corner of his eye leading the hostages out. “We’re going to be okay, (Y/N).”

***

Turns out that the leave of absence seemed like the best choice for her, and she’d hunkered down in a safe-house about three hundred miles outside of the state on the edges of the McIntyre Wild Area in Pennsylvania. Bruce and she had bought it years ago as a last-ditch effort if they needed to get out of Gotham and it’d taken the two of them, plus Clark to clear it out and build. Half of the time was having Clark laugh at the two siblings and call them “city-slickers trying to be country folk” as he watched them struggle to tame the land.

But in the end, it had been effective, and they’d built a rather cozy safe-house that looked inconspicuously like Ma and Pa Kent’s home in Smallville. It was stocked with everything they needed, a built-in basement for safe measures. She was alone and secure in the small cabin and that’s how she wanted to be. Since leaving some few days ago, she’d messaged each nephew and niece telling them that while she loved them dearly, she needed to be alone for some time and that she’d be back as soon as she could be.

They’d flooded her phone with messages and concerns, but she’d left the device in her penthouse before leaving, resting assured that Bruce would explain in her absence. She felt like a failure and more so, weak for leaving her brother with the job of explaining, but the last thing she wanted to do was explain the situation herself.

She sat on the couch in front of the fireplace, gazing absentmindedly as the flames cast light that flickered around the darkened room. The entire room was open, living room and fireplace in the center, bedroom in one corner, kitchen in the other, a closed bathroom in another. It all smelled like pine. Fresh air and the ingraining scent of pine. But it’s what she needed. Gotham City overwhelmed the olfactory senses with blood and smog and on especially bad days, the rotting scent of fish and death. Everyone needed a break from it at some point in their life; to remember how to breathe in air that wasn’t contaminated.

The only thing she didn’t like was how quiet it was. (Y/N) was used to the distant sounds of traffic, gunshots, and sirens. Here it was the sound of her breathing and the wind whistling through the trees, wildlife scratching and hunting away in the underbrush. She swore she could hear her blood flowing through her brain. If there was any consolation, it did help to hone the senses on what she wanted to hear. And what she didn’t want to hear was knocking at the front door.

Quietly she rose from the couch and walked to the side of her bed, grabbing the loaded twelve gauge; she cocked it and stepped up to the door, warning, “If you’re not park rangers, I suggest you leave now. I’m armed and I will shoot you.”

A muffled chuckle sounded from the other side. “Well, that’s not the way I figured you’d greet me.”

“Oh, so you were expecting the shotgun blast then?” she answered aiming at the door and she pulled the trigger, blasting a large hole in the center of the wooden door. (Y/N) waited until the smoke cleared before she walked up and bent down, peeking through to see him flat on the ground, unharmed, reflexive as ever.

“Damn,” she griped. “I really thought I was going to beat you that time, K.”

Ghost-Maker cocked his head up and she was sure he was glaring at her from beneath the mask. “You crazy—”

“Bitch?” (Y/N) finished. “Tell me about it.” She set the gun next to the door and stood up, flipping the lock before pulling it open. “What do you want.”

“Well, I was coming to see you,” he said, picking himself off the ground; dusting himself off, he added, “You wouldn’t answer me.”

“Huh, I wonder why?” (Y/N) questioned, pressing her finger to her chin in mock thought, then her face lit up and she exclaimed, “Maybe it was because you tried to kill me a week ago!”

“I wasn’t going to kill you.” He griped. “You know I wasn’t going to.”

“Noted. What do you want?”

“To talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you and if you’re smart, you’ll leave before I decide to reload the gun.”

Ghost-Maker sighed, gazing at her. “I was using Kyusho Jitsu to slow you down until Bruce arrived.”

(Y/N) wanted to scream, but she kept her voice level. “And that somehow justifies splitting both lips, one eyebrow, busting my nose, and throwing me into an electric fence?”

“…No,” he murmured. “No, it doesn’t.” He looked at her. “But I was concerned that if I didn’t make it look like we were really trying to kill one another, Riddler was going to kill the hostages.”

She merely stared at him for a long moment. “You know, I used to think I knew when you were telling the truth, but now that I really think about it, I don’t know when you’re lying to me either.”

He stood to his full height, jaw tightening as he said, “I’m many things, but I’m not a liar, (Y/N). And I’d never lie to you.”

“I don’t believe you,” she shot back, face pinching as she finished with, “And you can sleep outside.”

She shut the door and turned around, walking to the bed in the corner and he looked through the hole in the middle. “You know I can just come inside if I want?”

(Y/N) laughed, stripping the shorts and long shirt she had on before climbing into the bed. “You take one step in here and I’ll cut your penis off and nail it to your forehead.”

“Hmm…have it your way,” he decided, turning around and she had as she tried, she couldn’t block out the sound of him setting up his blanket and bedding on the porch.

Hopefully, he’d be gone in the morning.

***

A crack of thunder startled her awake and she sat up in the bed, looking out the window to see the rain beating down. Her eyes drifted to the hole in the door and for a moment, she wanted to get up and see if he was okay, but she felt a bolt of irritation flash through her and she huffed, flopping back down into the bed, yanking the covers over her head.

She laid there for a few minutes, listening to the thunder clap above her, the lightning illuminating the room ever other moment, then she groaned, cursing herself for being a good person deep, deep down. (Y/N) threw the covers off her and rolled out of the bed, hurrying to the door. Pulling it open, she couldn’t help but smile at the man curled up in his thoroughly soaked blanket.

“Come inside.” He said nothing in return, and she sighed, kicking him in the stomach. “I know you’re awake, K. Get in here.”

“I thought you didn’t want me inside,” he retorted, yet to pull the blanket off his head.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “I don’t. But I’d be a terrible person if I let you get pneumonia.”

“You know you can’t catch that from rain, right? It’s caused by—”

“Fine. Stay out here for all I care,” she interrupted, starting to close the door and he sat up, scrambling for the inside.

“Wait!” She smirked and he craned his neck up at her to scowl. “You did that on purpose.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” (Y/N) retorted, cracking the door open more so he could get inside. He sat against the door when she closed it and she leaned against the door frame, watching the water drip down his soaked body.

“Want a change of clothes?” she asked. “Bruce left some behind the last time he was here.”

“Thank you,” he said, and she walked over to the dresser, pulling out a pair of boxers and an undershirt.

She turned, seeing him yanking off his shirt and pants, then tossed the clothes to him. “Here.”

He caught them. “I’m not wearing his boxers.”

“They’re new, jack-ass.” (Y/N) snorted, looking away so he could dress himself, then she glanced back. “Feel better?”

“I feel less cold,” he retorted, walking around the fireplace to toss another couple logs inside. “You’re letting the fire die out.”

She rolled her eyes and wandered into the kitchen, returning with a clean rag. “You’d be less cold if you took the mask off and toweled your hair.”

He looked up at her, watching, waiting, and since he didn’t stop her from reaching behind him, she untied the knot at the base of his skull, pulling the damp fabric away.

(Y/N) wiped the water from his face, softly brushing over his cheeks, then to his eyebrows, and when she was satisfied, she placed the towel on his head, and gently massaged his scalp, letting the towel soak up all the rainwater.

When she was done, she tossed it aside and sank onto the brick wraparound with a heavy sigh, eyes drifting to the wall. Ghost-Maker collapsed against her legs, resting his head back on her thighs; unconsciously, (Y/N)’s hands went to his hair, stroking the brown tresses.

After a few minutes, he murmured, “I apologize for not telling you the plan.”

Her hands stilled for a moment before continuing their ministrations. “I accept your apology.” She scratched his scalp. “Sorry for what I said.”

“It didn’t hurt my feelings,” he shrugged, and she tugged his hair.

“Yes, it did.” He tipped his head back, gazing at her. “Parade it around all you want but we both know you’re not immune to having your feelings hurt.”

Ghost-Maker searched her eyes. “You truly thought I was going to kill you?”

“Yes,” (Y/N) answered. “Everything was happening so quickly. I didn’t have time to think about what fighting style you were using on me. All I knew was that you weren’t pulling punches and it didn’t feel like a plan to me.”

She stared at him. “And I was scared of you.”

“Are you scared of me now?” he questioned, and she inhaled then exhaled.

“No.” He seemed relieved, but it was short lived as she added, “But I don’t trust you anymore. And I don’t know how long it’s going to be before I do again.”

He looked away. “I see.” Nothing was said for a moment, and he pulled from her, standing to his feet. “It’s late. We should rest.”

(Y/N) stood and started making her way to the bed when she realized he was going too. “Uh, what are you doing?”

“Going to bed?” Ghost-Maker offered, and she cocked a brow.

“Try again, K.” She pointed to the couch. “Go.”

His face pinched and he turned, but she caught his hand and he stopped, glancing back at her. (Y/N), against the better judgement in her head and the obvious discomfort between the two of them, stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her forehead to the middle of his chest.

He seemed to freeze at the sudden action, even if it’d been one, they’d done many times, but he recovered, one arm wrapping around her waist, the other around the back of her neck. His cheek brushed her temple and her grip shifted, hands coming up to press flat against his shoulders; with the warmth stinging the corners of her eyes, she dug her nails into his back as if it were the one thing keeping her from breaking down.

She wanted to say it. Wanted to tell him how angry she was. How hurt. How much loathing was built up inside of her, but nothing would come out.

“I know,” Ghost-Maker murmured against her hair. “I know what you’re thinking, (Y/N), and I know.” He pulled back, hand slipping from her neck to cup her cheek; he pressed his forehead to hers and assured quietly, “I know.”

(Y/N)’s eyes slipped shut and she let out a shaky breath. “Tomorrow,” she whispered, and he nodded.

“Tomorrow.” He let her go and watched as she unsteadily headed for the bed, collapsing onto the mattress; she tugged the blankets over her head, and he frowned as he saw her frame start to shake beneath them. Pulling the blanket off the couch, he laid down and watched her for some time. Waiting until she stopped shaking and slipped off into sleep so he himself could sleep too.

321 notes · View notes

letarasstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Minimal Loss - Maximal Stress

(A/N): This was requested by an anon and plays in the intern universe. It’s based on 4x3 “Mininal Loss”. I didn’t follow the exact plot, but the quint essence is there (you’ll see what I mean). I hope you enjoy it.

Summary: An intern goes along on a seemingly undangerous case with Emily and Spencer on a ranch under the lead of Benjamin Cyrus. What could go possibly wrong (well, everything ig)?

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, guns, vomit, swear words, ususal Criminal Mind stuff

Wordcount: 2.9k

✨Masterlist✨ ________________________________

“Do you guys really think it’s a good idea to bring a child to an interview about child abuse?” Agent Lunde asks skeptically while steering the car towards the ranch, where the allegions originated from.

“(Y/N) is our intern and we thought she has to make some experience in the field and since this is the most peaceful case you can find within the BAU, it’s her opportunity”, Emily defends the team’s decision.

“Also, she is nearly the same age as the girls, so it’s easier for them to open up to her and she is incredibly bright, meaning she can help us deducing a profile”, Spencer adds. The teenager doesn’t acknowledge anything they say, too engrossed in listening to One Direction over her bluetooth earbuds.

Soon the quartet arrives at the Saptarian ranch. “I’m looking for Benjamin Cyrus.” “You found him”, answers the man, who sits in front of a chapel.

“He really is nicely placed. I feel like I looked like this in my math classes. I was like beautiful decoration, but had no use”, (Y/N) whispers to Emily. She in turn has a look of confusion on her face. “You aced math, you graduated with an A+ in it.” “Just because I have good grades doesn’t mean I’m not stupid. I mean, I’m educated, but stoopid.”

A little later she sits across from a blonde girl named Jessica, asking her questions about the 911 call. Her mother continuously steps into that conversation.

“Jessica, can you tell me, if anyone here were ever touched inappropriately?” “Is this really necessary? You are a child yourself, shouldn’t ask one of the other agents the questions?” Slowly the teenager’s patience is wearing down and Spencer can definitely see that from five meters away.

“Ma’am, with all due respect, but I’m perfectly capable of conducting this interview, if you stop interrupting me. I may be young, which doesn’t stand in my way of being an intern for CPS and still knowing my way around, so please step to me colleagues or something and let me do my job.” Hesitantly the mother gives the two girls their space.

As soon as she is out of earshot, Jessica begins to explain. “Nobody is touched in a way they shouldn’t be touched. Or is it wrong for a wife to share a bed with her husband.”

(Y/N) remembers Emily telling her to not judge anything anyone of the girls will say. But damn it, this girl is really hard not to judge.

“Wait wait wait. Let me get this straight: You are simping for that walking quote machine?” Okay, maybe she is judging. But just a little bit.

“If simping means deeply in love then yes, I am simping for Benjamin Cyrus, my husband.” At this point the other three agents get closer again. “Jessica, the state of Colorado demands parental consent. You aren’t married to him unles-'' The black haired woman cuts the young doctor off. “She did give consent.”

(Y/N) can barely contain the unsurprised “surprised” gasp leaving her mouth. But it would have been cut short nonetheless, since sudden gunfire erupted outside the school building.

Fairly quickly everybody is evacuated through the tunnels. As Cyrus tells the cult members to trust in god, the teenager turns to the agents. “This much to it’s safe for me here. Didn’t anybody check for weapons or something?” Flabbergasted because of the whole situation Spencer answers. “Yes, Garcia checked with the authorities and nothing was suspicious.”

Suddenly Lunde takes all the courage she has (maybe because a teenager she brought into this is in immediate danger like all the other kids) and goes up with the cult leader to speak to the shooting law enforcement officers. Shortly after the other three get the message of her death.

But they don’t have any time to think about her, since they all are shoved into the chapel.

While Cyrus holds a speech about trust in god in dangerous and trying times like this the BAU in Quantico learns about the shooting through the tv news report.

“HOTCH”, Morgan yells up to the Unit Chief’s office, probably giving everybody else a heart attack. Alarmed Aaron storms out into the bullpen followed by Rossi, who is attracted by the tumult. “Aren’t Prentiss and Reid on that ranch?” Derek asks, his eyebrows furrowing in worry.

Squinting at the screen, horror etches on the other agent’s face. “(Y/N) is also there”, he says, realizing that they sent a minor with zero field experience into a lava hot situation.

Suddenly the whole bullpen’s phones ring, which results in Hotch barking his first commands.

After a nightflight to Colorado the team sets up at the crime scene.

“Dave, I was appointed to determine the primary negotiator”, Aaron tells him after he pulls him to the side. “It makes sense. I trained most of the people here, if you want me I can give you a few recommendations.” But the Unit Chief shakes his head. “No, I want you to be the negotiator in this.”

Now it’s Rossi’s turn to shake his head. “Aaron, I can’t do it, I’m too emotionally involved.” “So are all of us and why should I take the student if I can have the teacher?” The older one sighs in resignation and accepts the offer. They don’t have the team nor reccourses for any mistakes in this.

As he goes to prepare for his task at hand, Hotch hears a man complaining loudly. “I demand to talk to know why I wasn't told that the FBI was sending undercover agents into the Saptarian ranch?” “The only thing you are in position to demand is a lawyer”, he says while stepping closer to the scene.

“Who the hell are you?” The man spits out into his direction. “I’m Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief. I’m the guy who is gonna tell the Attorney General of the United States whether to charge you with obstructing a federal investigation or negligent homicide.” “You can’t talk to me like that”.

Upon closing the little bit of space between both of them, Aaron stares him down. “Get off my crime scene.” Just a few seconds of the intense and pissed Hotch Stare are enough to chase that man down to his car and go on his way to Coward Island.

Meanwhile the first contact is made, Emily and Spencer tell (Y/N) in hushed voices what the situation means. “There are three groups here. The leader, in this case Cyrus. The hard die hard believers, the goons of him, and the followers”, Spencer explains.

“In a case like this we go for minimal loss. We try to get as many of the followers out as possible, because the rest won’t give up as long as they can breathe. At first we go with one or two people, children mostly, then with smaller groups and in the end we get out as many of these people we can. Soon, there will be the first supply delivery from our team, but it’s gonna be bugged, which means we know they are listening. Understood?” Emily adds.

Aside from the knowledge that there is a great possibility that they won’t come out alive of this one, (Y/N) is pretty calm. “Honestly, it’s pretty extra here. I mean I can’t even, look at the walls and the whole pseudo decoration. Why would anybody choose this willingly? But yeah, I understand.” Seeing that these phrases are a kind of a coping mechanism, the two agents aren’t too concerned about her right now. I mean, of course they are pretty much on edge because they all are in a hostage situation, but since the teenager doesn’t seem to be on the verge of a breakdown she has to be fine.

“Is there anything you want to know?” The black haired woman asks, stroking the younger one’s hair out of her face. “No, not right now. This is anything but basic, but I’ll hit you up if something shoots into my mind.”

When Rossi comes in to hand make the first delivery, he looks beyond worried. It seems like he got years older in the span of the last 24 hours. As he glances through the rows of people, he subtly acknowledges their presence and well being.

“How do we know this will be nothing like Waco?” (Y/N) asks out of the blue as all the members get a cup of wine. Surprised Emily turns towards her. “You know about Waco?” “Duh? I told you, I’m educated. So, how do we kno-” “And together we drank the poison.” “Oh well, I guess we do now. It’s nearly iconic how bad his acting is.” Now both of the agents look confused at her.

“What? Didn’t I tell you that I was a theater kid? Also, his goons are writing the reactions down, so it’s just a test to know who to separate from the group and who not.” Even in a situation like this a girl in a red and black flannel over a white graphic tee - it is a Doctor Who Tardis - astounds them.

Not long after this, the three of them are shoved into a small room, which looks sort of like an office.

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus asks. Confused Prentiss, Reid and the intern look at him. When nobody speaks up he pulls out his gun. “One of you is an FBI agent. So who is it?”

In the short silence he points his weapon at (Y/N). “Oof. Dude, what the fu-” “She is a child. The FBI doesn’t recruit children. But she is a good leverage. So, if neither of you reveals their identity, I will blow her brain out.” This is the final point for the teenager to slowly freak out.

“It’s me. I’m the FBI agent”, Emily confesses. Seeing the young girl with panic in her eyes sets something off in her. Roughly she is taken away by two big guys.

“No no no! This can’t be right. Nobody of us is from the feds. It’s not her, you stupid piece of boom-” With a swift motion of his gun Cyrus knocks her out.

“Damn, this is an annoying one. I don’t know how you can even take her seriously.”

(Y/N) wakes up half an hour later in the chapel draped over two stools with her head in Spencer’s lap. He strokes her hair while his mind is running non stop looking for a solution to this situation. A groan tells him that she is awake.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” The young doctor asks in a soft voice. “If good means your head feels like it’s dancing samba without me, then I’m good.”

He smiles. “We are going to get out here, soon. I convinced Cyrus that we are on his side. He also won’t hurt Emily any further. I saw her earlier, he held a speech. She is fine, just a bit roughen up.”

To lie to the girl like that feels wrong to Reid, but he can see signs of a concussion by her behavior and doesn’t want to worry her more than she already is.

Three o’clock rolls closer and closer, which makes both of them more nervous. Because of the lack of communication they don’t know the tactic the team will use to come in. They can only hope that they all come out alive and in one piece.

Since they are in the chapel, their attention is solely on the cult leader. They don’t even notice all the women and children leaving. As (Y/N) and Spencer spot Cyrus with the remote for detonating the explosives, she mumbles “Let’s get this bread”.

When the leader sees Spencer trying to convince one of the die hard believers that he has a choice to change his mind, he punches the young doctor so hard in the gut that even (Y/N), whose vision is slightly blurred, feels the pain he endures.

“Hey Cyrus”, she calls out, “TBH I think all the shit you are doing here didn’t pass my vibe check. Also, the whole system is pretty whack.”

“You are a child, you don’t know anything. If god doesn’t want me to do any of this, he would stop me.” As Cyrus cocks his gun towards Spencer, Derek runs in and shoots him in the chest twice.

(Y/N) crosses her arms over her chest, says “Ok, Boomer” and rolls her eyes.

“Are you ok, princess?” Morgan asks, going over to her and examining the wound on the side of her head. “Never felt better now that there are two Derek Morgans to protect me.” Concerned he goes to say something else, but is cut short by Spencer shouting “RUN!”.

A look behind them shows Jessica short circuiting upon her husband’s death and grabbing the remote.

When the explosion erupts, Emily looks terrified at the remains of the chapel.

“Morgan! Reid! (Y/N)!” She shouts, followed by the other members and their calls after the three. A certain fear captures every single one of them. If only one of them is- No. Nobody can go through this thought. They are going to be fine. They are alive and-

“Thank god”, JJ breathes as she spots three limping figures. They slowly approach the group of four. “EMILY!” The teenager shouts relieved, though a little loud for the proximity between them. “SPENCER WOULDN’T REALLY TELL ME HOW YOU ARE! YOU LOOK TERRIBLE! THANK HARRY STYLES YOU ARE FINE!” Yes, the explosion definitely messed all of their hearings up, since Morgan and Reid also speak with the same volume.

Emily hugs her. “I’m okay. But you need to get checked out.” But the teenager vehemently shakes her head as she hugs Aaron. “I DON’T NEED TO”, when she sees her teammate’s faces, she reduces her loudness. “I am ok. But Spencer, he got a good blow to his guts. I think the Queen in England even felt that vibe check.”

As Derek escorted the young doctor to one of the awaiting ambulances, JJ also gently stirs the girl in the same direction. “Just let a doctor look over your head, it looks like a nasty cut and believe me, you want to get this checked out, Honey.” “But Jayje-” She begins to complain, but gets cut off by bile rising up her throat. In the next moment (Y/N) kneels on the floor, letting out anything she got in her system over the course of the past few days.

“I think this is nothing your body should do, Bambi”, Rossi adds up. Unwillingly the intern goes with the blonde mother to the EMTs. They decide to have a doctor looking over her and getting her x-rays done at the hospital.

A few hours and uncountable complaints from (Y/N) later, the team is back on the jet on their way home. She thanked Emily in a heartfelt moment in the hospital shortly after she got pain killers, which made her loopy, for saving her life by putting her own on the line by exposing her identity. Even Prentiss had tears in her eyes as she saw the young and innocent girl so frayed by the just occured events.

Unusual for Rossi, he takes a seat on the sofa, petting his lap as (Y/N) sits beside him. With pleasure she lays her head onto it, cuddling closer into the fuzzy blanket she got from Morgan.

A few minutes into the flight, Rossi just got into describing the interviews he conducted with Ted Bundy, Aaron motions him to make space. David excuses himself with the reasoning of getting a cup of tea for her.

“I’m sorry”, Hotch says as he runs his hands through his youngest employee’s hair. He is careful to not mess with the bandage she has on the side of her head. Confused (Y/N) looks up to him. “What for?” “For sending you into a situation, where you got seriously hurt.”

This makes the girl sit up, though her world once again begins to spin. “Aaron Hotchner, I hope you don’t mean that. You nor anybody else knew that this was going to happen. You only wanted for me to get as much experience as possible while this internship lasts and I tell you, with that story I’ll go viral on TikTok. Just because I got a medium severe concussion and a wound, which hopefully will leave a badass scar, doesn’t mean you have to apologize. But you can do me one favor.” “Anything.” “When I fall asleep, please make sure I don’t choke on my own vomit. The doctor told me it could happen, that’s why I am not allowed to fall asleep unsupervised. But I haven’t slept in three days and I think I'm beginning to feel uncomfy because of that.”

Smiling softly Hotch nods and lets the teenager take her original place in his lap. Minutes later she is fast asleep. But one thing is certain: As soon as she wakes up and feels any better, she is going to tell everybody who wants to listen about the one time where she got blown up by a fifteen years old girl, who was married to a cult leader. And nobody is gonna believe her tea. Except for Penelope, who greets (Y/N) with a hug and the promise to never let her out of her eyesight.

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

Spencer Reid:

@calm-and-doctor

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x teen!reader #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x teen!reader #derek morgan x teen!reader #jennifer jareau x teen!reader #aaron hotch x teen!reader #david rossi x teen!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #Criminal Minds #x teen!reader #reader insert

728 notes · View notes

nothing-more-than-hot-leaf-juice · 4 years ago

Note

hey i have a question! i’m curious about your opinion bc you always seem to have smart takes on atla meta: does azula underestimate non benders? at first i thought obviously not, since the allies she chose are two non-bending fighters (who have the advantage of often being underestimated). but then again... did she choose mai and ty lee because she thought non benders would defer to her, while other firebenders might challenge her authority? and what about her interactions with sokka? thoughts?

First, this post summarized Azula’s mentality and respect of non-benders perfectly and there’s honestly nothing I can add to it. TLDR (but you really should read, this post is a fantastic bit of analysis/Sokka appreciation): Azula 100% sees the strength of allying herself with nonbenders and recognizes Sokka for not just his fighting abilities, but for his leadership status.

What made Azula an effective antagonist wasn’t her firebending abilities or the people she had backing her up, her strength was in her ability to read and manipulate people. She was a threat because she was smart. Azula was able to conquer Ba Sing Se not because she was a good firebender, but because she was ‘a people person’. Let’s remember, she took command of the Dai Li up from under Long Feng without even having to think about firebending. Some of Azula’s most iconic villain moments were entirely a product of her political charisma. “Don’t flatter yourself, you were never even a player.” “Do the tides command this ship?” “Unless, the Avatar’s alive...all that glory would be turned to shame.” Pure charisma, no bending necessary.

Long Feng: “And the Fire Nation princess is cooperating?”

Dai Li agent: “Oh yes. More than cooperating-- she’s really taken charge. She’s terrifying and inspirational at the same time. It’s hard to explain.”

Azula doesn’t regard people as threats when she knows she can easily manipulate them. That’s the real reason she doesn’t regard Zuko as a threat in the series. In Crossroads of Destiny, she knew that if she just said the right words to push the right buttons in Zuko’s brain, there was no doubt he would join her. From the beginning of season two to the end of season two, Azula knew that all she would have to say to get Zuko in the exact state of mind she wanted him to be in was “father wants you to return home” and “you will have father’s love.” Zuko could have listened to Iroh and joined Aang and Katara, but Azula knew that that was his weakness, his hope that he could regain his honor. He wanted his father’s love and acceptance more than anything and she knew that. So she exploited it and Zuko sided with her.

She does the same thing with Sokka on the day of the eclipse. Azula recognized him as the leader, could read him as a protector, knew his relationship with Suki, and was able to stop them because she taunted him. She pushed the right buttons. She got him to stop thinking tactically and they never reached Ozai.

Azula did something similar with Zuko twice in the series by targeting the people he cared about to divert his attention. The first was in The Chase when she was cornered and hit Iroh. Zuko wasn’t going to go after her when Iroh was hurt and she knew that. She does the same thing in Sozin’s Comet when she directs lightning at Katara, knowing not only that this is someone Zuko cares about, but that Zuko would never want someone to get hurt when it’s his fight. He’s always been noble and protective and Azula knew how to use that to her advantage. It wasn’t her firebending that gave her power over Zuko throughout the series, it was her ability to exploit his weaknesses.

Azula knows the power of fire, but what she knows is more important for herself and others is the power of manipulation. She looks at people and gathers two things: 1. what their weaknesses are and 2. how exploiting those weaknesses can benefit her. That’s why she wins. That’s what made her an excellent villain. The fact that she was seemingly always two steps ahead of everyone because she just read people that well.

And there’s the other aspect where she regards caring as a weakness because that’s what she was taught. She differentiates herself from Zuko, Sokka, and Katara because she sees them as weak for caring. Because in her life, she’s been taught that caring is a weakness that needs to be snuffed out. She watched Iroh lose the siege of Ba Sing Se because of his grief. She watched Zuko get burned and banished because he cared about defenseless soldiers and didn’t want to fight their father. That’s what she believes. Azula expects practicality and ruthlessness because that’s what’s always been expected of her. We see this especially with how she commands Mai and Ty Lee and how she doesn’t hesitate to lock them away when they betray her. She’s been conditioned not to care, not to love. Even if she does, she doesn’t let herself let that affect her decision making. Caring makes you weak; it makes you vulnerable. And that was the last thing Azula wanted to be.

She surrounded herself by allies who could prove to her that they valued loyalty more than love. She tested Ty Lee’s love for the circus when she got the circus master to set the ring on fire. She tested Mai’s love for her family when she gave her the choice to go through with the hostage trade for her brother. And she tested Zuko’s love for Iroh when she gave him the choice in the catacombs. In each of these instances, she exploited their fears to make them side with her, but in the end they choose love over loyalty, overcoming their fears (but that’s a whole separate post). Azula valued them for their loyalty and their willingness to put feelings aside to do what she wanted, but that didn’t last.

Azula does think she’s stronger and smarter, but not because of her firebending, it’s because she doesn't care as much. She considers herself a pragmatist, not bound by love for other people. Mostly because she internalized the notion that she was never going to get it. Azula believed she was a monster. Unlovable. So she decided that those who did rely on love to keep them going and to make them strong were the weak ones. She convinced herself that “fear was the only reliable way” because it was easier to believe that she was right and that she was going to be victorious rather than confront the fact that she was alone.

Mirror Ursa: “I think you’re confused. All your life you’ve used fear to control people. Like your friends Mai and Ty Lee.”

Azula: “Well what choice did I have? Trust is for fools. Fear is the only reliable way. Even you fear me.”

Mirror Ursa: “No I love you Azula. I do.”

That’s why she’s dangerous and that’s why she’s tragic. Azula’s wasn’t bound by people the way anyone else was. She wasn’t going to jump in front of lighting to save her friend or lose a siege over grief. Azula lived in a perpetual competition and in order to win --win her father’s favoritism, win battles, win the throne-- she didn’t give herself room to care. That’s why she thought she was better than her opponents. And Azula only thought she was worth anything if she was winning.

Azula wanted to be perfect. She wasn’t give a choice but to be perfect. And if she cared, if she let love for other people cloud her judgement or if she let herself rely on others who would inevitably think she was unlovable, then she would lose. And in the end, the isolation and the emptiness were two of the major factors that drove her into the deep end. And she didn’t have anyone there to save her from drowning.

#zuko has his swords so he doesn't need to firebend #azula has her mind so she doesn't need to firebend #the most heavily guarded city in the earth kingdom <<<< azula just being that smart #hot leaf meta #azula #atla #avatar the last airbender #zuko #sokka #mai #ty lee

2K notes · View notes

misshoneybee · 3 years ago

Text

⟣ 𝑌𝑂𝑈'𝑅𝐸 𝑀𝑌 𝐴𝐶𝐻𝐼𝐿𝐿𝐸𝑆 𝐻𝐸𝐸𝐿 ⟢

— 𝑉𝐼𝐼𝐼. 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐴𝐿𝐿 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑃𝐼𝐸𝐶𝐸𝑆 𝐹𝐴𝐿𝐿

Masterpost — OFC Biography — Playlists — Chapter VII — Chapter IX

❧ Pairings | Post-Endgame!Bucky Barnes x Original Female Character, Previous Steve Rogers x Original Female Character

❧ Warnings | Mature content, explicit language, slight angst, some pining, TFATWS spoilers, smut (fingering, p in v sex, very light dom/sub dynamic, dirty talking)

❧ Wordcount | ~9.2k

❧ Disclaimer | Dividers are by firefly-graphics. If you are a minor, or do not have your age in your bio, and I catch you interacting with this, you will be blocked. If you believe you were blocked unfairly, send me an ask with your url.

You make everyone disappear and, Cut me into pieces, Gold cage, hostage to my feelings ( So It Goes… | Reputation )

April 19, 2024

Two weeks had glacially passed since she’d spoken to Bucky and the apartment beside Maggie’s had sat in complete silence since she’d returned home from Washington almost four days earlier. As soon as she’d gotten out of the town car that had brought her from the airport to Brooklyn, she’d gone to his door without bothering to drop anything off at her own place first. Sure, she felt, and probably looked, a little haggard from traveling and hadn’t slept well in almost six days, but she had to see him.

He was the only person that she’d wanted to talk to. She hadn’t spoken to Sam; there was no way that he’d known what the defense department had planned but she was certain that Bucky had to have been just as upset as she was, if not more. Rapping her knuckles against the dark brown wood, she waited for a moment for any type of response but there’d been nothing but a heavy silence behind his door.

After a few more knocks, and calling his name softly, she’d hesitated, resting a hand, flat against the barrier. Either he wasn’t home, or he didn’t want to see her; she could only hope it was the former and not the latter. Maybe she’d still been a little upset by the low blow he’d dealt but Bucky was the only person who’d understand the way she felt.

Mrs. Kirsch from down the hall had spotted Maggie fiddling with her keys and asked where ‘that sweet Barnes boy had gone’ because she hadn’t seen him in quite a few days. Making up something about a work trip that he’d needed to go on, she’d quickly found an excuse about not feeling well to avoid the old woman who tended to ramble once she got started.

‘She hadn’t seen him in a few days?’

Dragging her bags inside, Maggie had quickly locked the door behind her. She’d needed to sit on the floor and gather herself as the racing thoughts in her brain jumped to light speed. He’d left; he’d moved. In the few days that she’d been gone, he’d decided that she was far too much to deal with, or to be annoyed by, and that he’d be better off not being her neighbor so he’d moved. Hadn't he?

There was no other explanation; like almost everyone else, he’d left.

Of course, Maggie knew that she was being unreasonable; maybe he’d actually needed to go do something for his pardon or maybe he’d taken some kind of trip but surely, he hadn’t just up and left. Perhaps Carolyn had been on to something when she’d told Maggie that she had abandonment issues. Eventually, she’d pulled herself from her spot on the floor and thrown herself in to anything and everything in an attempt to not think about him or the shield or anything related to either.

She’d cleaned, and gotten ahead on paperwork, and even caught up on some television shows that she’d fallen far behind on. Maybe, sometimes, she’d pause her music to listen for any noise in the apartment next to hers or she’d run to the door and check through the peephole anytime she heard footsteps out in the hall. But she definitely didn’t knock on his door and pretend to need to borrow a cup of sugar…twice—she didn’t even know if he had any sugar. One attempt had resulted in Mrs. Kirsch overhearing her again, offering the confection, and talking to Maggie until her phone rang and the younger woman was finally able to escape after an hour of mind-numbing, one-sided conversation.

It was just before five in the morning and her phone sounded possessed. The notifications were coming faster than the alerts could chime and they refused to stop. Eventually, Maggie grumpily shoved her glasses on her face and flipped the switch of her lamp. Sifting through the blankets that occupied her bed, she finally found the ringing device and let out an annoyed groan as the bright, blue light momentarily blinded her. Poppy had sent no less than fifteen text messages about some video. In her half-asleep stupor, she scanned the messages for any type of context but only one word caught her eye: Barnes.

Suddenly, she was wide awake, and it felt as though a shot of espresso had been injected directly into her veins. Fingers fumbling over themselves, she eventually found the video and felt a weight on her chest.

‘Winter Soldier Takes Down Mafia in Madripoor!!!’ was the tacky, clickbait title and there, on her little phone screen, was the man that she hadn’t seen for two weeks. Where the hell was he? She considered herself pretty well traveled but she’d never even heard of Madripoor. Ignoring that, she pressed play and let the grainy video roll.

“Oh god.” Maggie exhaled softly, wide-eyed as she watched Bucky, somewhere in a bar, striking down men one by one as they came at him. He slammed them into one another, against columns and on the bar, tossing them more like ragdolls than people. The whirring of his arm was audible with each swing and jab, but the short video cut just as she heard the cocking of several guns.

“No—” A pit grew in her stomach. Bucky was a lot of things but bulletproof wasn’t one of them.

As much as Maggie tried to drag the little line at the bottom of her screen, it didn’t budge. That was where the video had ended. Immediately, she stumbled out of bed and dialed his number. She hadn’t called or texted or even tried to figure out where he’d gone at all in the last week, but now she had to know that he was okay, that he was still…him. Things couldn’t have gone to shit so quickly, could they? Pacing the creaky wooden floor of her bedroom, a hand rested on her forehead, and she closed her eyes as the endless dial tone continued; God, she felt sick.

A click from the other end of the line made her perk up but she faltered when it was only his voicemail. She debated on leaving one at all, but as the beep told her to begin speaking, the words just seemed to fall from her mouth, “It’s me.” Biting her lip, she rested her head against the door frame as she spoke without any idea of where she was going, “I just—I haven’t heard from you. And I know we left things…in a bad place, but I saw that video and I—”

Cutting herself off, Maggie took a deep breath before any tears could come; he had to be okay. With a sigh, she finally admitted, “I just need to know you’re okay. And I know you might still be mad at me and that’s okay because I’m still a little mad at you too but I just…I really care for you, Bucky.” It felt odd to use his nickname, like her mouth wasn’t used to forming the word, but it had come out so naturally, “Just…call me back when you get this. Please.”

Hanging up, she tossed her phone back where she’d found it and buried her face in her hands, ignoring Alpine’s yowling complaint from where he slept on the foot of her bed. Shooting him a dirty look, her phone had gone nowhere near him, she flipped on the overhead light instead of returning to her warm blankets.

Sleep wouldn’t come back to her, but she certainly hoped that he would.

April 21, 2024

John Walker was the man who’d been touted as ‘The New Captain America’ and that alone had been enough to make Maggie’s blood boil. Typically, she wasn’t a violent person but something about him made her furious, and she had a suspicion that if she ever met him, her hands would speak before she did. The idea that someone, who Steve had never even known, was carrying his shield while pretending to uphold everything that he’d stood for, was almost enough to make her fly back to the capital and raise whatever hell she could.

It should have been Sam and when he’d decided not to take on all of the baggage that came along with the mantle, it should have been no one. It certainly shouldn’t have been some awful man with wild eyes who’d used it to bludgeon someone to death, in broad daylight, as he begged for his life.

Whoever the man had been, he hadn’t deserved to die like that, regardless of affiliations.

And John Walker certainly didn’t deserve to have his name associated with Steve’s in any way. Like a train wreck that she couldn’t tear her eyes from, in the days following his announcement, she’d found out whatever she could about the man. Perhaps she’d used some professional connections to get more information that she shouldn’t necessarily have had access to, but she had to know everything. She didn’t know it was possible to hate a person more.

Seeing the familiar metal covered in blood had been enough to make her sick which was how Maggie had found herself sitting on the cold floor of her little bathroom. Pressing a cool washcloth to her bare face as she leaned against the wall, she counted each breath. How had they chosen him? Did they not do any psych evaluations? Wasn’t there some screening process or interviews? There was no way they’d allow him to keep the shield after what he’d done…was there?

After everything that had happened, she had very little trust in the government to do anything right at all, so perhaps they would.

In the background of the cellphone-filmed video that she’d seen on the news, she’d spotted Sam and Bucky amongst the crowd. They’d brought her the tiniest sliver of comfort before she’d watched in horror as the assault took place in some picturesque, city square in Eastern Europe. Before that though, she’d noticed that, at least Bucky had looked like himself; he no longer had that scary, blank look in his eye that had been present when she’d seen the video from Madripoor.

Looking at her phone resting face down on the floor beside her, she knew it would go unanswered, but decided to try again anyway for the second time that week. As her call was sent to voicemail again, she ignored how echoey the tile and glass room made her voice sound, “It’s me again.” Pausing, Maggie gave a humorless laugh, “I…don’t even really know why I called. I guess I just wanted to check in again. To make sure you were okay.”

Tracing a finger over the rough grout between the tiles, she felt her chest tighten, “I really need you to be okay, Buck. I want you to come back.” Pausing, she added, “To come home.” Home. She’d called a lot of places had been home over the years, but only few people had felt like it; in the short time they’d known one another, he’d become one of them. It felt futile when there was no answer, like she was speaking into the void instead of to someone else.

Sighing, she tilted her head back and looked at the white ceiling, “I don’t know if you’re sending me through to voicemail, I don’t think you even know how to do that, or if it’s because you’re somewhere on the other side of the world, but I just really…wish I could talk to you right now. I miss you.”

Though the words were a little stilted, she was painfully earnest. Somewhere along the way, he’d come to mean a lot more to her than she ever thought he would. As he’d helped to patch up her shredded tapestry, Bucky had somehow managed to find a little place to take up residence in her mostly occupied heart as well and she hadn’t realized it until the words had fallen from her lips.

She really, really missed him.

Swallowing the lump in her throat as she realized that she’d been silently sitting on the line for several seconds, Maggie finished quietly, “call me,” before clicking the little red button on her screen.

April 26, 2024

Watching the events uptown unfold, there was a small, selfish part of Maggie that was grateful she’d declined her invitation to be present for the vote and hadn’t attended out of obligation or her pathological people pleasing habit. She was supposed to have been there as a liaison between the GRC and the Stark Foundation; she was meant to attend but she couldn’t support them, not when their decision would hurt so many people.

The vote hadn’t even taken place and the news coverage had been nonstop for what felt like hours after the Flag Smashers had infiltrated to stop it and make an example. Sitting on her couch, curled up safely in a throw blanket with Alpine resting soundly on her lap, there was a little blossom of pride blooming in her chest as she listened to her friend censure the GRC representatives. She’d been furious when the shield had passed through Walker’s hands but seeing Sam with it just felt right.

It still stung, just a little, to know that Steve would never carry the shield again but if it was their friend who held it, she was sure that she’d feel okay someday. In the background of the shots of Sam speaking, her eyes had been drawn Bucky like a magnet as he stood among a small group of people. Some of the tension melted away; she’d know that stocky build and cocky walk anywhere. He was home. Well, he was in the city, at least, only a borough away.

Cursing as the footage cut away to some reporters in a studio, she flipped through a few more channels before giving up and dropping her head back against the couch. She assumed that he’d need to speak with some people and answer some questions before he could finally return home. Although she’d deny it if she were asked, she was eagerly awaiting his return. It had been three weeks since she’d seen him, and she’d give just about anything to hear his smart-ass quips and see his scruff-riddled face; she just wanted something tangible just to know that he was okay.

It was as if her brain didn’t understand the concept of not worrying. What if something happened to him? What if he’d gotten hurt after he’d gotten out of the news camera’s view? Or if there was another attack? Finally, Maggie forced herself to shut off the television’s sound and turn on some radio station to avoid sitting in the blaring silence that was encouraging her brain to run wild.

Bucky had managed to grow on her like ivy climbing a stone-wall cottage; it was something that she hadn’t noticed until it had wrapped around her ribs and brought pieces of her back to life after a long, cold winter. It made sense that she was worried. As her fingers absentmindedly brushed over the purring ball of white fluff in her lap, her eyes stayed trained on the silent picture, hungry for more news that she knew likely wouldn’t come soon.

April 27, 2024

The heaviness in Bucky’s limbs was almost distracting as he dragged himself back to the familiar apartment building in Brooklyn. God, he felt old. It had been a long night. After the fight had ended, he’d ensured that Sharon got the aid she needed before leaving when she’d threatened him with a blatant, annoyed gesture to her gun to stop hovering ‘like some weirdo.’

The exhaustion had caught up to him as he ran a hand over his face, standing before his door. Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, he fished for a key that wasn’t there. Letting out a quiet groan, he dropped his forehead against the cold wood. Sometime in the chaos of the week, he’d lost his damn key. The watch on his wrist read just past midnight. Of course, he could easily break through the door and its lock, but he knew that the landlord would be hard-pressed to forgive that event…especially for a second time.

His eyes landed on the apartment just beside his own. Perhaps he needed to make amends with two people, rather than just one. After the last few months of living next to one another, he knew that Maggie seldom fell asleep earlier than two in the morning. If the moon was awake, she was too. Late into the night, he could usually hear her shuffling around like some nocturnal thing, from the other side of the wall that separated her bedroom from his.

Listening closely from the hall, the silence, aside from some faint music, behind her door gave him pause. Typically, she turned something on for Alpine when she was out, insisting that music or the Discovery Channel kept him in a ‘good mood’ and ‘stimulated his brain’ despite Bucky’s constant protests that the cat was probably, mostly deaf. In the back of his mind, the rogue thought that she could be out somewhere quietly arose.

In all the months that they’d known each other, she hadn’t even talked about anyone aside from her best friend or coworkers but for some inexplicable reason, the idea of her being out with someone else made him bristle. Then again, he knew he didn’t have a right to be upset. They hadn’t exactly left on the best of terms; the last time he’d seen her, she had kicked him out. In his defensiveness, like some cornered animal, he’d dealt her a low blow and had regretted it ever since.

After hours of ruminating and turning over every stone in his mind when he’d been in Louisiana with Sam, Bucky had finally come to a realization. He hadn’t wanted to go out with any of the women that Yori had tried to set him up with, because they weren’t her. They weren’t his pull-your-hair-out aggravating, exceedingly bossy, too smart, remarkably witty, incredibly beautiful neighbor, who he had no right having feelings for.

Those women weren’t Maggie and that had driven him nuts. As she’d asked him question after question and pushed every single button like numbers on a phone, he hadn’t meant to snap. How could he tell his best friend’s ex-girlfriend-almost-fiancé that he’d somehow developed feelings for her and that's why no one else caught his attention?

He’d seen how many pieces she’d shattered into and just how jagged every edge had been when she’d fallen apart in the wake of Steve’s departure. It was barely six months later and she was only just finding her footing. It wouldn’t have been fair to put any more weight on her, so he’d kept silent. Regardless of his intentions, or how he felt, Bucky knew that he owed her an apology.

Shooting up a quick prayer to whatever could hear him, he finally gave in and knocked on the neighboring door with the hope that Maggie was still there, still awake, and hopefully less angry with him than she’d been just a few weeks before. Aside from his need to apologize, she had the only spare key to his place, so she was his last hope.

Absence made the heart grow fonder, but he kind of hoped that there was some saying about it dimming the flames of fury too.

The rampant thoughts in Maggie’s mind were louder than the boots walking down the hallway, but not quite loud enough to drown out a firm knock on her door. She felt her heart skip a beat as she whipped her head towards the noise. Quickly picking a grumbling Alpine from her lap, Maggie sat him back on the couch and scrambled to the door, her socks sliding on the hardwood like she was in Risky Business as she eagerly looked through the peephole.

Icy blue eyes looked at the fisheye lens patiently, knowing that the ever-cautious woman never opened her door without checking first. Relief washed over Maggie and the grin on her face was almost painful as her shaking hands undid the deadbolt and turned the handle’s lock before swinging the door open where it gave a dull thud as it hit the stopper.

With his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket, Bucky gave her a sheepish smile, “Hey.”

Exhaling, Maggie let out a single word, “Bucky.”

In the time that he’d known her, Maggie hadn’t ever been very physically affectionate, so he was momentarily taken aback when the small woman threw her arms around his neck and pulled him in for an unexpectedly tight hug while standing on her toes. Automatically, he returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around her tightly, surprised with the amount of comfort that it immediately brought him.

Despite the night, it was like he’d finally found a moment of peace—Maggie was a sanctuary of calm in the middle of a thunderous storm. Pressing his face into her hair, he inhaled the sweet almond scent that he’d come to associate with her and the comfort of her warm apartment. Like she was a drug, he could feel the blood that thrummed through his veins beginning to slow, just from her touch.

Resting her chin on his shoulder, Maggie let out a breath that she’d been holding all week. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, irrationally worried that if she opened them, he’d slip through her fingers and be gone again.

Cautiously, Bucky broke the silence as he softly apologized, “I’m sorry, Mags.”

“I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.” She swallowed the lump in her throat as she shook her head. There was no use in holding any grudges, not when he was one of the only people that she had left anymore. Though she’d tried fruitlessly to convince herself, it wasn’t easier to be alone and she couldn’t stand to lose him too, “I forgive you.”

“I…” Trailing off as his hand drifted up and down her back slowly, he was almost surprised at her willingness to let their argument go. He’d been prepared to beg for her forgiveness. “I was an ass.”

From the way he felt her body shake in his embrace, he could tell she’d let out a quiet laugh at his self-evaluation before she agreed, “You were. But I didn’t listen, and—” Shaking her head, she gave a shrug and moved on; none of it mattered anymore, “It doesn’t matter. But what does, is that you’re home.”

She could feel his body deflate with an unspoken relief as her words washed over him. Perhaps he hadn’t listened to her voicemails; if he had, certainly he would have known she wasn’t quite as upset anymore. They’d both gone too far and let their emotions get the best of them that morning, but time and distance had gradually repaired the damage that had been caused. Neither bothered to move from their embrace, the first one they’d ever shared, as they finally reconvened for the first time in three weeks.

“I looked for you there. I was worried you—”

“I was invited but I didn’t want to go.” His arms were so warm, comforting; she could fall asleep pressed against him if she let herself. Turning her face into his neck, her nose brushed just slightly against his warm skin; she felt the smallest shiver run through him. Lowering her voice, she cautiously inquired, “Are you okay? I…saw that video. The one from Madripoor.”

Sam had mentioned something about a video from that night, but he didn’t know that it had made its way across the world and straight to her. Resting his chin on top of her head, he mumbled, “I just had to…pretend.”

Bucky had barely even had time to think about everything that had taken place over the past two weeks, but he knew that, aside from Sam, Maggie was really the only person out there that he had anymore. It was possible that she was the only one who’d cared, and she had to have been terrified when she saw the news. His voice was quiet as he continued to rub her back comfortingly and he felt her melt into his chest as he affirmed, “I’m alright. I promise.”

After several more silent moments spent wrapped in his thick arms, she pulled back just enough to look at him, her brown eyes meeting the blue of his like the earth and sky. Cupping his face in her hands, like she needed to touch him to make sure that he was actually in front of her, she felt his cheeks shift.

As the corners of his lips tilted up, she was gifted with that lazy smile she’d grown to adore. It felt like the end of a summer’s day, hazy and warm and something she never wanted to see end. Her thumbs brushed across the prickly, days-old scruff as she looked at him for what felt like the first time; he really was kind of beautiful.

If anyone were to describe Marguerite Hall, ‘impulsive’ would probably be the last word they’d use; it was way down there with adjectives like ‘reckless’ or ‘inconsiderate’ or ‘irresponsible.’ She made too many lists and charts and thought through every single possible outcome that could ever occur for any event she’d ever experienced, but for the first time in her thirty-three years of life, she let herself be something that she wasn’t.

Without another thought about repercussions or consequences or anything else that would come tomorrow, Maggie couldn’t resist as she pulled Bucky down by the face to smash her lips into his. It was different than what she’d known before; his clothes smelled like gun smoke but tucked beneath it was something dark and spicy, like tobacco and sandalwood and it tickled her nose and only made her want him more. It was so warm and all-encompassing.

The way his lips moved was unfamiliar, like choreography to a dance neither had ever learned; each swipe of his tongue or change in pressure was so certain and confident. She wanted more.

Winding her arms around his neck, she felt his hands drop to her waist and his thumbs brushed against her ribs, spanning up her sides as he held her close. After a moment, she could feel him smile against her mouth before he murmured into their stolen kiss with a palpably victorious air, “I knew you didn’t hate me…”

His grip on Maggie tightened, in every sense of the phrase, and she couldn’t snuff out the grin that grew on her lips to match his. She refused to pull away, not yet, so she only mumbled against his mouth, “Shut up.”

Bucky’s splintered sentence came out between their kisses, and she could hear the cocky teasing note in his words, “I just needed…my spare key. I didn’t know…this came with it or…I’d definitely have…forgotten it a few weeks ago.”

Both entertained and exasperated, Maggie finally forced her mouth away from Bucky’s without leaving the warmth of his arms, staring at him incredulously. Almost panting as she tried to catch her breath, her tongue darted out to wet her rosy lips that had twisted into a teasing smile, “Do you ever shut up?”

With a chuckle from deep in his chest, Bucky shook his head, pulling her back in with his hand cupping her jaw. For some indeterminate length of time, they stood in her doorway, making out shamelessly like teenagers at a prom who couldn’t wait to be alone. By some miracle, none of their neighbors had caught them and, in the back of her mind, she was grateful. If anyone stumbled upon the pair, they’d be the only topic of hot gossip in the small building for weeks to come. Finally, Maggie made herself draw back, trying to breathe again, but he kept his forehead pressed to hers, one of his hands holding the back of her head like she was something precious.

Maggie’s trembling hands unwound from his neck, trailing slowly over his broad shoulders, and down to rest flat on his chest as if she had to put the slightest amount of distance between them before she did anything else that was foolish. With her eyes shut, she could feel him hesitate before capturing her lips in another softer, sweeter kiss that was something of a chaste peck, like he couldn’t stand to not have her lips pressed to his after experiencing it for the first time.

It took some time for both of the neighbors to finally steady themselves with several more kisses stolen in the comfortable silence that they’d been wrapped in. Eventually, she opened her eyes into his and felt him steal the air from her lungs. Biting her swollen bottom lip, she tried to gather her thoughts and figure out what exactly had just happened as his thumb continued rubbing distracting circles on her hip.

A shiver ran down her body from the tender action and he couldn’t quite hide the little, prideful smirk as he felt the jolt of electricity move through her. After a moment’s silence, just as he thought she was going to close the distance between them again, Maggie wound her arm back and slugged him as hard as she could muster with an accusatory glare and fire in her eyes.

Bucky’s jaw hung open as he feigned a look of hurt which she promptly ignored, content with the knowledge that she couldn’t inflict much damage on the enhanced man no matter how strong she was. Rubbing the vibranium hand over his arm where she’d landed the solid punch, he protested, slightly confused by the very mixed signals that he was receiving, “Hey!”

“I thought you fucking died!” Maggie huffed. With her hands back on his chest, she pushed him back and, predictably, his feet stayed firmly planted on the floor in front of her which was even more annoying.

“So, you missed me?” Amused, and still reeling from her lips that had just been glued to his, Bucky couldn’t help the way that his chest puffed out, pleased that she seemed as effected as he was. Reaching down, he picked up a purring Alpine who’d been circling their feet in figure-eights for the past several minutes, seeking any and all attention.

Closing the door behind Maggie as if nothing abnormal had happened, he strolled right past her and plopped the cat on to the perch of its tree. Shrugging off his jacket, he tossed it on to the back of her ugly green couch. Turning back to look at her, Bucky tried not to look too pleased as he watched her rest a cool hand on her flushed face, trying to slow her racing heart that he could almost hear as she watched him move through the room with an ease like he lived there.

‘God, he’s infuriating.’

Crossing her arms tightly over her chest, she schooled her expression into some ineffectual attempt at nonchalance because she was most definitely…chalant. But he didn’t have to know that. Irritated with his casual indifference, Maggie shrugged with a shake of her head, “Not at all.”

But, of course, she had. And she’d said as much in her voicemail which, she finally gathered, he definitely hadn’t listened to, and she was a little grateful.

Teasingly, Bucky leaned against her kitchen counter and crossed his arms, copying her posture, “So, you kiss all of your neighbors hello like that?”

The gesture stretched the fabric of his t-shirt across his arms and torso in a delicious way, showing each defined line that separated his biceps and pectorals. Her eyes darted from his that were still sparkling annoyingly, to his arms, and down to his chest before looking back at his face. What fucking business did he have wearing shirts that tight? Did he shrink them in the dryer or buy them too small? She knew that she’d been caught but he only acknowledged it with the little smirk growing wider on his face, second by second.

“Maybe.” Maggie swallowed, her throat suddenly dry and she searched whatever faculties remained in her brain to find lies to support her bluff. It was futile. Rolling her eyes, she shot back, “Meena from upstairs is very enthusiastic. A really great kisser.”

Bucky's eyebrows rose in a look of fake surprise, giving an interested nod before he slowly stalked back towards her. His tongue traced over his bottom lip thoughtfully and Maggie’s wide eyes followed its path unabashedly as he moved closer, step by step, “Is she?”

She didn’t notice that she’d moved backwards until she bumped into the solid slab of the wooden door; there was nowhere else to go as Bucky came to stand toe-to-toe with her. She stood as tall as she was able to, her eyes refusing to stray from his like a game of chicken; she wouldn’t lose. In the stillness, her chest moved with each deep inhale as Bucky looked down at her, his expression both maddening and unchanging.

“…Mhm,” Barely remembering what she was responding to, Maggie nodded. Her teeth sank into the plush skin of her lower lip; before it could slip away, he gently cupped her chin and brushed his thumb over the soft, cherry cushion to soothe it before dropping his hand. Her head was already spinning.

Feigning thoughtfulness, though his mind was only occupied by her, Bucky’s brows drew together in faux concern, “You don’t sound so sure, Maggie.” A low rumble of a laugh broke from deep in his chest; she could feel the hot brush of his breath on her ear, and she shivered as he hummed, “I don’t think she could give you what I can.”

She didn’t know if the hand she’d placed on his chest was to keep him at a distance or to grab his shirt and yank him in closer, but she could feel the thump of each beat from his heart that was going just as fast as hers. With one hand pressed against the door beside her head, Bucky’s other brushed past her waist as it turned the lock slowly, sealing them in her apartment together with a barely audible click. His eyes searched hers for any hesitation before carefully replacing it on her hip. As he towered over her, he watched the smooth skin of her throat move as she swallowed.

They both knew that this—whatever the fuck it was—had been brewing between them for quite some time.

"What you can?" Her words were surprisingly level despite every single alarm in her body ringing out like there was a raging fire somewhere inside. “That’s some big talk coming from you, Barnes.”

Like a mountain lion that had cornered its prey, Bucky’s lips curled into a grin, the dimples in his cheeks peeking out at her once again as he promised, “Guess I’ll just have to back it up then, won’t I?”

As Maggie opened her mouth to give another, undoubtedly, smart-ass response, the chance was taken from her in an instant when his lips once again descended upon hers. His warm hand threaded through her hair, tangling itself in the wavy locks and holding her head firmly as he ferociously kissed her like it was the last time he ever could.

If it was, he would make it count.

Suddenly, it was like she couldn’t be close enough to him, her body pressed into his as her hands scrambled to find purchase wherever they could, his shirt, his hair, a shoulder, his back. Like he could read her mind, he dropped his hands low on her waist and gave her a gentle squeeze, boosting her to jump up and allowing her to wrap her graceful legs around his hips.

Locking her ankles behind his back tightly, Maggie laced her arms around his neck to keep their bodies close. As he pressed her into the apartment door, she could feel every inch of him against her like a hot weight, the hard planes of his muscles contrasting with her softer curves.

Mind still racing as she squeezed her thighs tightly around him, feeling something hard pressing against her thigh, Maggie almost had to question if she’d fallen asleep. Maybe she’d bumped her head or had a fucking aneurysm because she was kissing Bucky. Her neighbor Bucky. Her friend Bucky. The-one-she-pretended-she-couldn’t-stand Bucky. And she was pretty certain that they were going to do much more. And she was pretty certain that she couldn’t wait any longer.

On some level of consciousness, she knew that she’d let out a soft whimper as his hips rocked against hers and his teeth accidentally grazed her bottom lip. The little sound definitely had not gone unnoticed by his enhanced hearing—especially if the gravely groan that he’d given her in response was any indication.

Taking a step back from the door, Bucky effortlessly wrapped the cool metal of his left arm around her back to keep her steady as his right drifted down from her hip so he could better hold her up.

Her entire body felt like it was vibrating with want or need or a combination of both as he held her close. She could feel the warmth of his fingers give a gentle squeeze to the pillow of her ass and she detached their lips with a breathy moan as she met his eyes. His pupils had been blown wide, the typically light blue now just a thin line surrounding blackness.

Almost certain that she looked like a bobble-head as she nodded, she couldn’t find it in herself to give a shit and demanded him to move with a single word, “bedroom,” before crashing her lips back into his.

There wasn’t a single, rational thought going through her mind aside from the feeling of his searing touch as she ran her fingers through his cropped hair. His tongue traced her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth, letting him in as he massaged her tongue with his. Their apartments had been laid out in an opposite floorplan, so he found her room with irritating ease. Careful not to bump the priceless item in his arms into the wall or door jamb, he carried her down the hall, still attached by the mouth.

A needy groan was pulled from deep in his throat as her fingers tightened in his hair at the nape of his neck and it was finally her turn to have the upper hand. The throaty noise shot straight to her core, and she was reminded of his rigid length that was still pressing against her clothed sex, pulling all of her attention between their legs; she could already feel herself growing wet. The way that her body intensely demanded to feel his upon it was distracting and she only wanted more.

Would it ever be enough?

Crossing the threshold of her bedroom, it was like suddenly every sensation and emotion was magnified. Were they really about to do this? She could feel each atom in her body shaking in a cocktail of excitement and anxiety.

Silently and suddenly self-conscious, Maggie noted the fact that her makeup from the day had long since been removed with some of the black mascara still smudged beneath her eyes. Her hair was undoubtedly in disarray from the way he’d run his fingers through it, and she was clad in her typical, comfy home wear: tight leggings with a rip down near the ankle, some thick socks, and a big shirt that swallowed her frame whole.

Shit, when was the last time she’d shaved her legs?

A seductress, she was not—but she didn’t want to stop. As she got lost in her mind for just a second, he somehow managed to pull her back down to earth with one last sweet kiss that lingered before pulling back. Somehow, when Bucky gently laid her on the unmade bed with her pillows smushed near the headboard and a blanket half on the ground, every insecurity that she’d had temporarily melted away.

He looked at her like she was Michelangelo’s Pieta, and he was going to worship at her alter.

Kneeling above Maggie with one of his legs resting between hers, he easily held himself up as his lips trailed down her neck before gently nipping at the sensitive spot beneath her ear, making her back arch. Her face burned red as the cotton that separated her soaked core from his leg grinded up against the hard muscle of his thigh needily and she let out an embarrassingly loud whine.

Grasping blindly at the back of his t-shirt with clumsy hands, Bucky understood her silent demands and chuckled as he leaned back to shed the layer. Hungrily, her eyes devoured the sight of the skin that she’d never seen before, and she sat up only to yank him back down on top her with a giggle.

Some of the tension left his body as she paid no attention to the scarring that covered his chest and shoulder, the pink, shiny skin so evident despite the low light. He felt the hand of hers that wasn’t woven into his hair, cautiously drift over the border from bare skin to the black and gold laced vibranium and he shivered. Maggie’s touch was soft, almost delicate as if she was scared that she’d hurt him, but the trail left in the wake of her touch was the most beautiful thing that he’d felt in years.

“Off,” Maggie whispered against his lips, as her head rested against a pillow.

At the single word, Bucky pulled back; his eyes worried as he hovered over her, “Do you—”

Shaking her head at the miscommunication, Maggie laughed softly as she removed her sweater herself and tossed it somewhere over the side of the bed. Bucky’s eyes were immediately drawn to the lace of her bralette that framed her pert breasts and ran down the sides of her ribs. The light, sage green shade of the crisscrossing fabric with mesh windows and little rosettes reminded him of spring, and she looked more beautiful in the color than the world outside the window.

“I meant my sweater, dummy.” She murmured, pressing her lips against his collarbone and up the side of his neck. With a roll of her eyes, Maggie slowly dragged his hand up to the center of her chest where a tiny bow obscured the clasp on the green lace, “And this. Not you.”

Letting out a soft chuckle, relieved and just as nervously excited as her, he murmured teasingly, “Need you to be more specific then, darling.”

As the black metal of his vibranium hand moved up to aid in undoing the tiny, gold clasp and brushed against her flushed skin, she shivered at the contrasting temperature between them. His eyes stayed on hers, and his brow furrowed but Maggie shook her head just slightly, all but reading his mind in the moment. He hadn’t been with anyone since he’d gotten the vibranium limb and there was a constant fear that played like static on a tv in the back of his mind, so worried that he’d hurt her.

As the scrap of lace fell limp and she slipped it off her arms, Bucky’s starved eyes fell to the two, perfect mounds on her chest, just slightly asymmetrical with sweet, pink peaks that pebbled as the air brushed across them and begged for his mouth.

Propping himself up with his left arm, he was surprised when she laced those fingers with her own. In a quiet moment of calm, she gave him a tender smile before recapturing his lips and dragging his other hand over her skin.

“Touch me.”

“Mm, here?” Lightly brushing a hand over her bare abdomen as he traced down her torso, Bucky kissed and bit and sucked a spot low on her neck; she was almost certain he was going to leave a mark, but she didn’t care. She wanted him, all of him.

Trailing down, he mouthed at the fair skin of her breast, his tongue laving slowly against the puckered little bud. Much to her chagrin, as she shook her head at his question, distracted by his mouth, she tried to grab his wrist and move it to where she wanted. He resisted and slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of her leggings, feeling her warm skin with his palm pressed flat, low on her belly. The black, elastic fabric conformed to his hand as he trailed his touch further south, teasing curiously, “What about here?”

Finally finding her voice, just enough to brokenly instruct him, Maggie felt her nails dig into his back as she pleaded, “Lower…”

Bucky either didn’t notice or didn’t give a shit that her nails were leaving marks in his skin as he feigned realization and finally slipped his hand completely beneath the fabric and trailed his middle finger through the obscene wetness that had collected as a result of his teasing, “Oh, you meant here.”

“Yes, fuck,” She mewled as his warm digit easily swiped over her folds, catching just slightly on the swollen nub of her clit before slipping back between her lips. Blushing red, she could feel her walls clenching around nothing and whimpered; all of the muscles in her body contracted at the zap of pleasure that spread out from the epicenter as she begged, “More…”

Detaching his lips from her soft, sweet skin, he met her eyes as he gently tugged at the stretchy black fabric. Nodding, she lifted her hips, her teeth digging into her lip as he quickly removed them and tossed them over his shoulder. Blue eyes that were obscured by his black pupil drifted down over her and he exhaled, “So beautiful.”

Chuckling as her hands immediately went to work on his belt, Bucky sat up and her mouth watered at the sight of his obscured bulge that was straining eagerly against the dark denim. As he helped undo the buckle, he ‘tsked’ playfully, “Someone’s impatient,”

“Bucky…” Maggie pouted as she grasped at the soft denim and he quickly appeased her, finding, once again, that he was unable to deny her for too long. Shoving the jeans down, he kicked them on to the floor before hovering above her.

Could someone’s favorite past time be something that they’d only experienced for the first time, just moments ago? Because if so, his lips moving against hers had taken the title for him. Directing his fingers back to where they’d left just moments ago as she spread her legs for him, he let out a low groan as he felt her wetness all but dripping onto the wrinkled sheets beneath them.

“I’ve got you, doll.” Slipping a digit between her lower lips once again, he teased back and forth before cautiously slipping his thick finger inside. As she gasped softly into his mouth, he ensured, “This okay?”

“God, yes…” At her approval, Bucky began to fuck her with it, each slow drag in and out, again and again, driving her insane. Without needing to ask, another finger joined its ministrations and a low throaty moan slipped through her lips, spurring him on as his motions quickened. Rocking her hips up as his thumb drifted ever so lightly over her clit, Maggie let out a broken, “ah—” and she could feel her wetness covering his fingers as they slipped in and out easily.

Feeling herself grow close to the edge, she grabbed his wrist abruptly, her teeth digging into her lip, “Want you inside when I…”

Chuckling, Bucky didn’t stop moving his fingers that were inside of her, even if she had his wrist stilled. Spreading her legs further apart, a dumbstruck look of surprise gracing her features, her eyes followed his down to where he continued readying her, massaging her inner walls, and turning her body to jelly with every stroke. Whimpering as he circled her swollen bud again, Maggie felt herself shiver. He nudged, teasingly, “When you what, doll?” At the speechless, doe-eyed expression on her face, he grinned, “What? When you come? When you come for me?”

“Yes,” Breath catching in her throat, any indignance lost in her breathiness, Maggie felt the muscles in her stomach clench as she gripped the sheets.

Just as he felt her walls beginning to tighten around his fingers, he slipped them from her heat and sat up. Shooting her a wink as she whined at the sudden loss of her orgasm, he sucked her essence from his fingers and groaned at the sweet, heady taste. Sitting up, propping herself on her hands, her tongue wet her flushed lips as she watched him shed his boxers.

“Do you have a—”

“On the pill.” Shaking her head, she cut him off, staring unabashedly at the thick length, hanging heavily between his legs. It was long, girthier than she’d ever taken, and she chewed her lip, anticipation lighting up each nerve ending in her body as she imagined it pounding into her. Fuck.

“Clean?” Maggie asked, already certain of the answer.

“Yeah.” Spitting into his hand, Bucky gave a few short strokes up and down his shaft before her smaller hand wrapped around his base, jealous of him for touching it when she hadn’t yet had the chance. Tilting his head back, he let out a low groan as she pumped him slowly.

Laying back against the pillows, pulling him down with her, Maggie’s teeth nipped against his earlobe before murmuring quietly, “Then fuck me like you mean it, Barnes.”

Mouth dry at her order, he nodded dumbly, and she giggled as he agreed, “Whatever you want.” Feet planted on the mattress, she almost blushed at how wide open she was for him. Holding himself up with one arm, Bucky watched as he used his swollen head to spread the wetness around her messy little cunt and slowly sank inside her tight hole with one slow push, groaning, “Fuck…”

“Oh…” Moaning, tilting her hips and letting him fill her completely, Maggie let out a shuddering breath at the unfamiliar stretch as the trimmed hair at the base of his cock brushed against her clit. Cautiously, she rolled her hips up into his; as he let out a low groan, she pressed her face into his neck and hiked one of her legs up around his hips, letting him sink in deeper, and nodded, her words muffled against his skin as she begged breathily, “Move, please.”

“Mm, look at you, being so polite.” Carefully dragging out, Bucky choked on a chuckle as her walls squeezed around him, begging his cock to stay inside, before thrusting back into the tight warmth, burying himself inside her all over again. He set a slow, leisurely rhythm as he mouthed at the creamy skin of her neck.

Through her fragmented moans, Maggie bit back, “I’m—oh fuck, not gonna say thank you.”

“We’ll see about that.” Grinning, he picked up his pace and began to pound into her; the sound of their skin, smacking over and over and the obscene squelch from her wetness that coated his cock, made her blush. Rocking into her, he grunted lowly, “Jesus, baby, you’re so fuckin’ wet…”

Angling his hips just right, the thick head of his cock nudged the spongey spot deep inside of her and she keened, the muscles in her body clenching, “Right there—oh!” Feeling the wire inside of her stretching taut, she whimpered out, “Fuck, I’m…”

“You gonna come for me, darlin’?” Using a finger, he circled her clit slowly, the glacial motion juxtaposing the furious snap of his hips into hers. Through a hot, lazy kiss, he goaded, “Show me how good you can be when you listen.”

Panting, Maggie rolled her eyes though her words held no heat, “Fuck you,”

“I am.” Bucky’s thick words were just a low growl against her ear as he stopped moving deep inside of her and taunted despite her desperate, moaning whine, “Do you need me to fuck that sweet little pussy even harder so you can remember?”

As he grinded his hips against hers, the hand that kneaded her breast pinched its dusky peak punishingly and he grinned like the devil. Maggie clenched tightly around him at the change in action as she begged breathily, “Bucky—oh…”

“That’s it,” He praised her, watching every slight change in her blissful expression. As Maggie squirmed needily beneath him, Bucky resumed his brutal pace and rested his forehead against hers as he felt his balls begin to tighten. There was almost a tint of desperation coloring his words as he muttered, “Yeah, come on my cock and I’ll come with you, sweet girl, fuck—lemme feel you squeeze that tight little pussy ‘round me, mm, let me feel you, that’s it, honey…”

The tension inside of Maggie snapped, dragging him over the edge with her as her walls spasmed, contracting around him and sending a shockwave of white-hot pleasure through her veins as she cried out. Thrusts growing sloppy, his hips were flush against hers as he spilled into her, the tight, steady pulse of her cunt squeezing him and milking every last drop as he shuddered in completion.

His face was tucked into her neck, her mouth open as she tried to catch her breath, her body still electrified and twitching with the little aftershocks that ran through her. Slowly, she unwrapped her legs from where they’d been hitched up around his hips. Moving so his body wasn’t laying on top of her tiny frame, Bucky collapsed beside her before gathering her in his arms, pulling her back towards him.

She could feel his cum leaking down her thigh as he slipped out and she shivered. Still flooded with the endorphins that accompanied her orgasm, Maggie contentedly rested her head against the bare skin of his chest in a few moments of sated silence. Tracing her finger between his scars like an endless maze, she chanced a glance up at him. Spotting his furrowed brow as he watched her, she let out a soft giggle that sounded like music to his ears.

“Don’t think too hard, Barnes.” Whether she was saying that for him or herself, she was unsure. She didn’t want to think so hard; for the first time in a long time, she felt good but maybe that was the orgasmic glow talking. Reaching up, Maggie brushed her finger down the line that had formed between his eyebrows from years of intense thinking and down his nose’s bridge. The tip of her finger landed on that of his nose, and she teased, “You’re too old for that. You might hurt yourself.”

At her teasing words and impish, little grin, he let out a playful grumble as he rolled her onto her back beneath him, caging her in with both of his arms. With her kiss bitten lips and a blush that spread from her cheeks and down her bare chest, she looked like an angel or a siren from his dreams—something that had called for him and he’d had no choice but to answer.

Cockily, Maggie’s expression faded into something of an innocent, little smirk as she pushed playfully, “What? Are you gonna punish me?”

With a nip to her exposed neck, he whispered against her skin, “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

9 notes · View notes

princecharmingmendes · 3 years ago

Text

Heart by Heart | Chapter X | Raul Mendes

*secret agent AU*

Y/N and Raul have been friends ever since they could remember. And falling in love with your best friend can be pretty tricky and messy 99% of the times, add that to the fact they're constantly risking their lives side by side on the field since they're both secret agents, and the best team that's ever existed. Perfect recipe for disaster.

Hi, this chapter is finally here, it's a bit shorter, but I didn't want to keep you guys waiting for that long anymore and on the cliffhanger, and this was also important for the story development. Anyway, this is the tenth chapter of this series, you can find the first ones here. Please read the warnings on this one, if you don’t feel comfortable with the contents listed on the “warnings” section, please read something else, there are a lot of other works on my masterlist and on the “fic rec” hashtag on my blog. Please give me some feedback and I hope you guys like. Happy Reading!

previous chapter | masterpost | next chapter

*Word Count: 2K+

*Warnings: cursing, violence towards the reader, blood, kidnapping, hostage situation, angst.

Please don’t read it if any of this subjects make you uncomfortable, feel free to check my masterlist for other writings.

*Posted: September 16th, 2021.

-*-

Raul was a mess as soon as he was able to get into an empty room.

He allowed himself to finally let the severity of the situation hit him. He had no idea where Y/N and Tom were, if they were alright or what could Geonoff could possibly win with this. He certainly would’ve tried blackmailing them to get something in return of the two agents he had in his hands.

He’s been pacing back and forth in the tiny room as he tried to remain calm enough to keep his rationality so he could still be helpful. Raul just wanted to punch his way into that base and get the kid and his girl back, but he knew that was completely stupid, even for him. He could practically see the frown on Y/N’s face if she ever heard his brilliant idea, and the vision alone was almost enough to bring him to tears. Instead he shook his head, knowing that letting his feelings take control would only be a waste of time in this situation, and that’s something he learned a long time ago when he first started working with his best friend.

She was a really rational, and maybe even a bit cold on the field. Always with a sharp remark on the tip of her tongue and a thousand of extra plans in case something failed, she could easily slip into the role of the Professor in Money Heist. Constantly analyzing and thinking. And while she was clearly the brain of their duo, Raul was clearly the heart, not thinking twice before jumping head first to save someone or get and intel. And that’s why they worked so well, he pushed her to be more spontaneous while she kept him in his place (and alive) most of the time.

He needed her more than ever right now.

The sound of hushed whispers and two pairs of shoes approaching him, made Raul sharply move in the direction of the door, still on edge, and waiting for it to reveal his visitors. As soon as the handle turned, he was met with his triplet and Celine wearing the same saddened and worried expressions. He might’ve come down to help with the investigation as fast as he learned about his best friend.

Peter sighed taking in the sight of his brother. Raul looked like a lost puppy in distress, eyes on his face but his mind was clearly somewhere else, shoulders sagged and curls a mess from the constant nervous tugging habit he had. One look was enough for him to know he was carrying all the guilt and having no clue how to fix it. It’s the same look he gave his younger self when he accidentally broke his brand knew camera.

“We’re going to find them” was the first thing he said and Raul nodded, looking unconvinced “It’s not your fault” he then added and at that, his gaze finally seemed to snap into place as he stared his brother dead in the eye.

“Whose fault is it then?” his voice sounded a lot smaller and less threatening than he pictured.

“Geonoff’s” Celine mumbled “but not yours, you did what was best, what was right”

Raul shook his head in response, mumbling a quiet ‘yeah, right’ under his breath, but Celine was quick to take three steps closing the distance between them and placing both hands on his shoulders.

“Cut this shit right now” she snapped, catching both him and Peter by surprise “you and I both know I’m not your biggest fan and never truly got what everyone else saw in you, but this past months changed my perspective of things and you’re actually a decent person, a great friend and an amazing agent, and you did the right thing” she said squeezing his shoulder for great measure “and you and I both know Y/N would’ve wanted you to do the same thing, she’d be proud of you”

Raul nodded slowly and Celine let him go at that, as he was still processing her words. Peter finally reached his brother, placing his hand on his shoulder as he turned to face him “I know you’re going through a lot right now, but we need you to help us find her, we need you to hold on a bit and try to think of the places they could possibly take her, everything you heard or saw on the past month is useful”

He nodded again “yeah, okay, I can do that”

“Good, come with me then” Peter said patting his brother’s back “she’ll come back to us, you and I know her enough to know she’s probably making their life a living hell”

Raul snorted a little laugh, that didn’t quite reach his eyes and nodded along, as they dragged him back into the main room. He needed to do what Y/N would in his place, shut his feelings off and analyze every every they took.

-*-

Y/N starts slowing coming back into her senses, feeling her muscles burning, her arms stiff and head hurting, the dark place she was situated doing little to help her regain her memories. She tried looking around to see if she could find something useful to recognize the place, only noticing a slim frame still unconscious close to her. The person had its back to her, but from their clothes and body type, she was able to recognize them as Tommy.

Tommy who was still breathing and almost at arms reach.

That was a good sign, or as good as it could be in this situation. But he was there, breathing and no signs of big blood loss around them, so no external wounds that needed to be taken care of urgently. She tried to reach for him, but the heavy chains attaching her wrists to the cobblestone floor kept her in place.

She tried locating their belongings, or anything that could help them get out of there, but it was all missing. Raul was also nowhere in sight, which probably meant he wasn’t there and probably the info was delivered safely. At least that’s what she hopped with no signs of him around them.

There? Where the hell was there?

That’s when it finally clicked to her, she had no idea where they were or how long was she out. They could be across the ocean as far as she was concerned. She had to get them out of there. But before she could start planning their way out with absolutely nothing and Tommy still out, she heard the grating of the old and rusty hinges coming from the only way in and out of that room, a heavy iron door.

Coming from the source of noise that snatched her attention was the man responsible for all of this. Geonoff Reyes himself. Wearing a button up shirt, with the sleeves rolled back, and a pair of dress pants, and a smug look on his face. He took lazy long strides getting close to her, crouching down in front of her.

Geonoff smirked at her “You know, it’s pretty hard to fool me and you almost got away with it, if it weren’t for your stupid boss you’d be home by now”

Y/N just blinked at him, a completely neutral facial expression on as she stared up at him, making him tsk.

“By the way, how is your little boyfriend? Does he know this relationship is just an act or you manipulate him as well?” he asked and she didn’t even flinch at his statement, noticing that her silence was doing more at getting him upset than clapping back “it must be sad, being such a pathetic agent and letting his little girl and friend get caught as he fled, and in the end discovering this was one sided”

Her gaze shifted quickly to Tommy and then back to Geonoff’s face, that was too close to hers for her taste “don’t worry, he’ll live for now, need him to get you to cooperate” and Y/N felt a little lighter knowing that, taking all the self control she had to not let that show on her face “you know they’ll never find you, right? Thought about sending a little photo as a gift for them, but might do it whenever we move to our next location, better lighting and stuff”

“What do you want?” her voice was hoarse, but she was able to keep her tone steady enough to not seem frightened.

“Oh, sugar, missed that sweet voice of yours, it matches your pretty face, just wish I could see that beautiful smile again, but we’ll get to that” he said patting her cheek with his long fingers, making her insides turn in disgust and she had to swallow the sudden wave of nausea down “I want something simple, just know all the info you’ve been feeding your precious little team for the past weeks, you’re smart enough knowing I wouldn’t mind hurting you to get what I want”

Y/N only stared back at him watching his brow twitch in annoyance “don’t want to hurt your pretty face, so cooperate with me and I might even let you go safely”

But her silent response seemed to be enough for him to loose it, because he took a deep breath before slapping his hand across her face for the first time. The pure shock of the action almost made her react, but she held her face up as she kept staring at him, her face burning but she wouldn’t give him the little taste of a small victory at breaking her neutral mask of indifference.

“This could be so easy” he mumbled slapping the other side a little harder “you didn’t have to do this, you could be free by now” the third one was stronger than she was expecting, making her face turn with the pure force of it, the loud sound coming from the aggression echoing on the empty room and down the large corridor, the echo making her realize there wasn’t much down where they were, mostly just blank empty walls without doors to divide the sound.

“What is it? Anything you’d like to say?” he asked grabbing her chin and yanking her face to look up at him, but her mouth remained closed “well, your choice”

After a few consecutive hits, one being so strong making her face collide with the wall when it turned, and she felt the sticky liquid running down her face. Her skin probably breaking with the brisk contact with the stone wall, cutting her cheek in the process. The seemed to please him, since he let out a loud boisterous laugh, making her lean her head so he could see it better mumbling a quiet “vicious bitch” under his breath “stop fighting back” before going back to it.

After a couple more minutes, her right cheek numb already, Geonoff said grabbing her face roughly in his hands, forcing her to look up at him “Come on, sugar, you’re really stressing me out here”

“I’m truly sorry you had to kidnap and keep two agents hostage to try and prove you’re better than your sister” she said blinking at him monotonously and that seemed to hit a nerve, because Geonoff squeezed her face harder in his palms before pushing her head against the wall.

Y/N felt her limbs giving out as her vision got blurry, her vision going dark before she felt her body leaning to her side and hitting the floor with a dull thud. The sound of shoes hitting against the rocks and the door being shut closed again a sign that the man lost his patience and left them behind. She tried fighting the numbness getting ahold of her body, but ended up succumbing at the end.

The sounds of waves breaking somewhere near them and the constant throbbing of her head dragging her back into unconsciousness.

-*-

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I’ll know.

*I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this!

*Hope you guys enjoyed it!

*xoxo

-🌙

47 notes · View notes