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mellowsaturns · 11 months

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in losing grip, on sinking ships (you showed up just in time)

BUCKY BARNES X FEM!READER

summary: when the avengers pick up unusual activity, they realize that not all of hydra was destroyed. one unidentifiable face sends the team into a frenzy but bucky knows it. he could recognize those eyes anywhere.

warnings: heavy angst, one sided enemies-to-lovers-ish, hydra!assassin!reader, hurt/comfort, happy ending, brainwashing, trauma, guns & knives, fighting, implied kidnapping of reader when young, all the feels, misunderstandings, poor attempt at writing action

wc: 4.7k

a/n: sorry it’s been forever but i hope my fellow buckyluvrs are still here <3 i actually wrote this a long time ago but never got around to editing until recently so i guess you can say this is (from the vault) ? inspired by the idea: what-if there was another winter soldier and bucky finds himself in steve’s position this time trying to get you back to him. anyways, i hope you enjoy this one :)

Bucky’s life was a never ending montage of gunfire and bloodshed. It didn’t matter if he was under the clutches of someone else, he still lived through the wars—the lingering smell of smoke and tang of metallic forever ingrained in his senses.

And just when he thought it was finally over—a glimmer of peace at last—it comes and steals that dream away from him.

Like deja-vu, he’s looking at faces that were once responsible for his pain.

On the screen, three Hydra officers stare back at him. All faces identified by Tony’s system. Alive. Last seen in the outskirts of some small country in Europe. Irrelevant low ranking officials that had managed to survive the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D and have been hiding and secretly continuing Hydra’s mission underground ever since. Low officials or not, it was one too many.

Bucky freezes in his spot when Tony swipes the screen. The billionaire goes on a rant saying this particular face cannot be identified, which was according to Tony, bullshit because his face recognition system is the best in the world. The rest of the team is arguing and flipping through countless files and internet archives. But Bucky knows. He knows that face and those haunting eyes that he still sees in his dreams.

“Buck,” a voice calls out. “You know her, don’t you?”

He looks up at Steve from his spot, his best friend's face worried and all knowing.

One thing about Hydra was that they were always prepared. They had backups and multiple plans ready, or else how would two heads take its place when one was cut off? Unfortunately for the world, Hydra managed to make another deadly assassin, one whose work was so discreet and nimble that even intelligence didn't know they existed.

You were a ghost story that lived in the shadows of the Winter Soldier. You were another one of Hydra’s prize possessions—less known, but just as deadly.

With Steve’s comment, all eyes are now on Bucky. A pregnant pause fills the air and he gulps before he confesses, “I wasn’t the only one.”

The room becomes tense. The war that they thought was over suddenly looms over like an unpredicted oncoming storm. “Jesus Christ, Barnes. You couldn’t have informed us about her earlier?” says Tony.

“I thought,” he says, shifting his eyes onto the ground, “I thought she fell with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Bucky couldn’t find you anywhere after he escaped their grasp. After he joined the Avengers, he tried once again secretly using Tony’s technology but it was to no avail—it always ended up being a dead end. And for that, he assumed Hydra had put you out of your misery the day they were caught.

But the face on the screen says otherwise. And suddenly, Bucky feels very guilty.

Steve clears his throat, “Well, they were picked up not too long ago heading north. If we leave now, we might be able to find them and stop them once and for all.”

Everyone looks at each other, debating on his proposal. “What the Captain said. Everybody, suit up. Quinjet leaves in ten,” says Tony.

On the jet, Bucky stares off into space but countless questions run through his mind.

Steve walks over and sits beside him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asks, voice quiet.

Bucky sighs, “I just… I thought she was gone.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

He looks up, wondering if he should tell Steve the truth. That he’s not brooding about the fact that he concealed you to them. After a moment, Bucky speaks up. “When we get there, let me handle her. Please.”

Steve didn’t know what kind of history Bucky had with you. But judging from the look his best-friend is giving, it’s more than what Steve could understand or even comprehend but he trusts Bucky and so, he gives him a nod. “She’s all yours.”

After scouting the area and tracing the location to a very hidden underground warehouse in the middle of nowhere, they split up. The warehouse was dark and dusty, surely abandoned, but Bucky knew better—it was their facade behind the most sinister of activities. Through the comms, Natasha announces that she has already taken care of all the troops in the West wing. Moments later, Sam reports that he has eliminated one of the Hydra officers. They wouldn’t last long. Hydra didn’t have much resources or time to rebuild—their current empire was weak, they were no match for the Avengers this time.

The only person Bucky’s truly worried about is you. The fact that he trained you, made you into what you were today already gave him the chills. He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore, but he was certain that you were still in that killer mindset that Hydra forced upon you.

Step by step, Bucky walks through the quiet hallway, the echoes of his footsteps the only noise. It’s cold here, he notices, which gives him flashbacks to those days in his dirty cell and the cryostasis chamber. Down a hallway to the next, round a corner and another, there wasn’t a single soul in the eerily Eastern wing.

But he spoke too soon, because seconds later, a garrote wire was around his neck. The swift invisible steps and the perfect pressure that was being used to quickly cut off his air supply was all too familiar. He knows this move, he taught this move. You’re here, and you’re dragging him backwards.

Before all oxygen gets cut off to his brain, he jabs his elbow backwards and hits you hard on the rib which releases the hold you have on him and sends you stumbling back. Bucky takes a moment to regain his breath but you’re on your feet again. He looks at you and for a moment he freezes, then you let out a sinister grin. “Nice to see you again, Soldat,” you taunt, before running towards him.

Bucky’s deflecting your punches one after another. Maybe he’s glad he was the one who taught you everything you know because your moves were predictable—if it were another person, there is no doubt they would’ve been on the ground with multiple concussions bleeding out already. You’re ruthless when you do a triple roundhouse kick on him. On the fourth one, he manages to catch your leg and twists it, sending you to the ground with a groan.

How familiar this scene was, Bucky thinks.

Some forty-years ago, Hydra brought a woman into the training room. There was no further instruction than to train you and that’s what he did. He could tell you were well trained already—compliant and pliable. You were good. And you were just like him, injected with a serum that made you a hundred times more efficient and stronger. In just under a year, Hydra would start sending you on missions. Sometimes with him, sometimes alone.

During training, the both of you would spar for hours, leaving each other bloody and bruised, but it didn’t matter to the overlookers, the both of you would heal in a few hours anyways.

Once you pick yourself back up, he pulls a gun out on you. “Stop this,” he commands.

You smirk, “You going to shoot me, Soldat? I want to see you try.”

He clenches his jaw. You continue to look at him, a dark look on your face that shows no sign of true recognition.

His thoughts are disrupted when you tackle him onto the ground. You kick his gun away and pin his arms down as you straddle him. “I’m going to kill you,” you declare, “I’m going to put a bullet through your head.”

When he looks up at you, your eyes are full of rage. Bucky doesn’t know whether that’s the brainwashed version of you talking or the actual you talking—maybe both.

“What are you going to do after you kill me?” he says, irritated. C’mon, please recognize me. “This is all that remains of Hydra. Half the troops are already dead. One of your new leaders is dead. In a few hours, Hydra will be no more. What will you do after that? What are you going to do after you kill me?”

“What does it matter? You’re my mission. I’m going to finish it.”

He groans at your stubbornness that was identical to his Soldier persona.

He says your name slowly. “Get off. You can walk away from this.”

You frown, but he continues, “I know how you feel. You’re feeling helpless.” He clears his throat, “There’s someone behind this version of you. I want to talk to her.”

“What are you talking about?” you utter in annoyance. “Stop stalling.”

He says that name again, with calamity and care. You want to rip out his tongue.

“Let me talk to her. Please.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about!” you shout, grabbing for the gun that’s strapped onto your waist. “Stop talkin–”

“I was in the cell next to yours. You liked the colour green. You were wearing white when we first met. You always wanted to visit Bucharest. You hated the leaky cold showers in the Siberian facility,” he rambles, trying to remember every single thing about you in a desperate attempt to get your attention so this version of you won’t shoot him in the face.

And for a moment, it works because your hand freezes on the grip of your gun. He takes that moment to flip you over, so you’re under him now, hands pinned above your head. He takes your gun and throws it behind him.

You snarl at him while trying to escape his grasp. “I know you’re under there,” he says. “Please, come through. Please talk to me.”

Your face scrunches in pain, not from him—he would never hurt you—but from the mental warfare that’s currently going on in your mind. You close your eyes as he speaks again. “Listen to my voice, you know me, don’t you? мой милая.”

My darling.

For a moment, your entire body tenses up and then you let out a painful breath. When your eyelids start to flutter open, he finally sees the eyes he came to know and rely on—eyes he came to love.

The both of you are looking at each other unblinking. A scene neither of you expected but always dreamt about.

You break the silence with a whisper of, “James?”

Bucky slowly nods at your disbelief. Finally, he thinks. But such respite doesn’t last long, because seconds later, you hook your foot under his and flip him over and escape his grasp.

There's darkness in your eyes and he can tell that the Soldate is back and the fighting resumes.

You’re chasing him down the twisting hallway and when you catch up, you grab his shoulder and throw a punch to his jaw. He stumbles back and then a voice comes through the comms.

“Just took down the second one.” Steve. “Bucky, how are you holding up? You’ve been quiet ever since we split up.”

He’s trying his best to block your hand, which now has a damn pocket knife. Your quick movements are starting to tire him out. Maybe he taught you too well, he thinks.

“Buck? Bucky. Confirm your status, right now.”

Groaning in frustration, he taps his earpiece. “I’m fine,” he grunts. A second later, “Shit!” he huffs out as you nearly slice his face.

“You don’t sound fine. Is she with you? I’m sending back up.”

“No!” he says, “Don’t send anyone. I can handle her.”

In truth, he’s struggling right now—your stamina has always been better than his—but he’s worried that you’re going to accidentally get hurt and even more agitated when people appear. His main priority was keeping you safe. Fuck the mission statement they talked about back on the Quinjet.

You’re angry—no, you’re extremely angry at him. It doesn’t take a genius to tell. It’s a mixture of pure rage from both the brainwashed and actual you.

He supposed he deserved it. You should be angry. Because for the longest time, it was you and him.

Other than turning you into a ruthless assassin just like him, an unexpected companionship also formed during those hazy in-between moments when the two of you weren’t frozen or on the metal chair getting fried by those machines—during the times when he was just Bucky and you were just you, two unfortunate innocent souls that shared the same suffering.

They weren’t pleasant moments. It was dehumanising. It was getting shoved into draughty cells with nothing but a blanket until it was time to train or time to embark on a mission. Luckily, your cells were next to each other and it made the endless nights a little more bearable. He was a little off-putting at first, but when he yelled at you to stop crying because they would torture you even more for it, you knew he meant well.

During your shared time together, glimpses of your true selves would seldom come up and you would tell each other about the little bits and pieces of a life once known. And the both of you would hold onto each other's memories and stories in case the other forgets.

And whenever they prep the two of you for the chamber due to there being no current missions for the time being, the two of you would look at each other—a look of longing with the secret squeezing of each other's hand before going under.

Despite the absolute awful situation the two of you were in at the time, the both of you were hopeful for the next shared moments together. Because even when all hope was gone, you had each other. And that was good enough for the two of you.

He misses you. So damn much.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

He didn’t even realise he said it outloud. “Well, I do,” he admits, his back hitting a wall.

“You talk too much, Soldat,” you say, creeping up on him. “I ought to cut your throat.”

“I’m sorry I left you with them.”

You halt in your steps and your jaw ticks. In a second, you pounce on him, your knife against his throat. He’s gripping your hand to stop you from continuing your job.

He says your name again. You’re pushing but he’s pushing back just as hard. “I’m sorry…” he repeats, “I’m so sorry.”

The desperation in his voice… You glance up at him slowly and he sees the pink forming in your eyes and your trembling lips. “What are you doing? What are you doing to me?” you whisper.

He sees the internal war behind your eyes once again. Bucky gulps for a moment before letting go of your hand, trusting that you won’t do any actual harm, and moves his hands so he’s cupping your face, firm enough so you’re forced to look at him. You look into his eyes for a second, then a minute, and for a moment, everything stops. Your breath hitches, because those eyes… those arctic blues… you know them. You fell in love with them many years ago.

A realisation washes over your face, one that Bucky doesn’t miss. You’re back.

The first tear falls. Then the second. “Bucky.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers.

You let out a small cry before you press the blade harder against his neck, your grip a vice from his betrayal. He could feel the sharp cold metal pierce through his skin ever so slightly, but he doesn’t try and stop you.

“Give me a reason to not kill you right now,” you grit through tears. “You left me. You left me behind to rot alone. You promised me. You fucking promised,” you say, voice laced with venom and so much hurt.

Bucky’s heart breaks at the sadness of your voice. Because he did promise. There wasn’t much to do in the cells other than throw around false hope. But whenever he told you he was going to escape one day and that he was going to take you with him—it didn’t feel like false promises at all because it wasn’t, and you knew it too.

Until he broke that promise and left you all alone.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to leave you there with them.”

“I waited for you,” you cry. “Day and night I waited for you to come back. Even when they relocated, I waited for you because I knew you’d find me.”

You remember that day clearly. Everyone was in a frenzy when the death of Alexander Pierce broke out and that they could not locate the Soldat. For a moment, you could taste your own freedom because government officials would come anytime now and finally arrest all these criminals. But right when they came, a few Hydra officers managed to escape and took you with them, and when you woke up, you didn’t know where the hell you were. But even then you didn’t lose hope because James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, the name you committed to memory, was going to come for you just like he promised.

Until days, months, and eventually, a year came with no sign of him.

You were angry at first, but it slowly turned into worry because what if something bad had happened to him? But what do you know? You were stuck in this building and only went out whenever they spoke those trigger words to you. And you were always under their watchful eyes, giving you no chance to even attempt an escape. Surely he would never break his promise to you so something must’ve happened to him, you told yourself multiple times.

But he was standing here right in front of you. Alive. We’re under attack, your handler said to you moments ago, Kill the Soldat before he kills you.

“You’re a liar. You never cared about me,” you hiss.

Sometimes, it got too much. But whenever reality was a bit too hard to endure, Bucky was there, always reaching his hand out to you through the metal cage, which you took and held tight. And it meant the world to you, that someone cared.

“All those moments, did it even mean anything to you?”

He uses this opportunity to pull your arms down slightly, knife finally away from his neck and his eyes start to sting from his own tears. “They meant everything to me. I care about you.”

You look up at him with a defeated expression and Bucky never wanted to punch himself in the face more. “Then why? Why didn’t you come back for me?”

“I did,” he chokes out. “When I escaped, the first thing I did was go back for you, but the facility had already been raided and there was no one there. I checked every inch of the building.”

Bucky had never felt so scared, because what if the government took you too? They would never understand—framing you as a villain even though that was far from the truth. But there was no news of your capture, so with a breath of relief, Bucky continued to look through other known Hydra facilities.

“I tried my best looking for you, but I also had to be careful because I was a wanted man at the time. When months passed by and there were no clues, I thought that maybe you had escaped. I was in Bucharest waiting for you. Remember how you said you always wanted to go there? I knew that if you escaped, you’d find me there. Even when you didn’t show, I never gave up. Steve… I think I told you about him once—he found me, he helped me and cleared my name. After that, I still searched for you but it all ended up being dead ends. And…” he pauses for a moment, “and so I thought you were dead. I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry.”

He had mourned you and blamed himself endlessly for it.

He knows he should’ve asked for help, but instead, he took this task upon himself until it got too much—because that was the one thing he struggled with the most, asking for help.

When his side of the story finally comes to light, you break into a sob. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says, “but please, drop the weapon and let me help you.”

You swallow hard at his confession. He never stopped looking for you. You didn’t even consider how hard it must’ve been for him after everything and yet you’re lashing out on him.

“How are you going to help me?” you say. “I’m a mess. All you have to do is say those words and I turn into a weapon.”

Twelve. Ember. Fragment. Nine. Academy. Order. Frigid. Yearning. Blue.

Those were your trigger words.

“I got you out of your trance, didn’t I?” he says with a gentle smile.

Hydra needed you to rebuild their empire and they relied on those nine words to do so. To them, those nine words were your greatest weakness but one of them, the last one, the one they liked to spit out in vexation, was also your greatest strength—your salvation.

Blue.

You think back, moments prior, when all he had to do was use his voice and all you had to do was look into the blues of his eyes. Hydra can repeat those words all they want, but Bucky would always be able to bring you back.

At that, your grip relaxes and the knife finally drops onto the floor, it’s noise ricocheting off the walls.

“There’s a place called Wakanda and I know someone there who can help you. Her name’s Ayo and she’s amazing. She helped me overcome my words.”

He brings his hands back up to cradle your face and you shutter at the familiar touch—at the calluses on his palms. “And I think you’ll like it there. It’s quiet and there’s so much… green.”

You let out a small laugh through your tears but doubt still fills your mind. “But… all the things I did,” you whimper, “I did such terrible unforgivable things. There’s… there’s so much blood on my hands.”

Sadness flares around his heart. It was all so familiar. He knows the feeling.

“It’s not going to be easy. God knows how long it took for me to believe that none of it was my fault. But let me be the first one to tell you,” he says, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “None of what you did was your fault. You were a victim.” He swallows a deep breath, “There are going to be days where it’ll be too much too bear and there are going to be nights where all those casualties will haunt you,” he admits. “But… but you’ll get there. Someday, you’ll learn to stop punishing yourself for something you didn’t do.”

And he vows that he’ll help you every step of the way.

You breathe out slowly, digesting all his words. “You can trust me,” he tells you, “I won’t let you down this time. I’ll be here.”

Blinking up at him, the small hesitant part of you so desperately wanted to say, “How can I trust you?” but his eyes were telling you everything you needed to know. Because it was filled with nothing but honour and truth.

He breaks away from you and reaches out his hand. An invitation. You stare at it for a while, then you slowly lift yours and brush your fingers amongst his before grabbing it tightly—a truce of sorts, a promise. He squeezes back in return, a loving smile on his face, just like all those nights many moonlights ago.

Your breath hitches when he pulls you into his embrace, your face burying perfectly into the valley of his chest. He wraps his arms around you in urgency, in fear, almost afraid you’ll slip out if he doesn’t.

“It’s over,” he mumbles into your hair.

Because two floors down an explosion erupts, finishing off the last remaining garrison of troops. Three hallways down, Natasha sets fire to a room that contained the other small red leather book that held those nine suffocating words written in Russian. Outside, the last Hydra officer attempting to flee falls to his knees from an arrow to the chest. And the only hope they had left to rebuild their regime was safely in Bucky’s arms.

He pulls away and uses his thumb to rub gently across your cheek, “It’s over. The war is finally over.”

Now that the worst is over, Bucky’s hopeful. There will be other conflicts to come, that was just how it worked, but this one, the one that held you and him underwater for years was finally over. War always took too much, but this time, it gave something back. Because among the ashes and ruins you came back to him, no more oceans in between.

“What do we do now?” you press nervously. You were taken at a young age and spent years in the Red Room before you were sold off to Hydra. Like Bucky, you’re in the wrong time period, there’s no one to go back to.

There’s so many things you could do, Bucky thinks. You can finally start living the life you deserved, the life that was taken from you too early. He’ll have to explain all this to his teammates but he knows they’ll understand. They treated him so well, there’s no doubt they’ll show the same kindness for you. Then, he’ll go with you to Wakanda, get rid of the words, maybe stay there for a while so you could heal—maybe show you the goats he took care of during his time there.

You’ll probably adjust to the 21st century better than him—you won’t need to start off with a flip phone, that’s for sure. He’ll make you listen to all the great records and watch all the movies you missed out on. There’s so many things he wanted to do with you. He knows you have no memories, no recollection. It didn’t matter, Bucky thinks, he would make new memories with you, ones worth cherishing and remembering. If you’ll have him, of course.

But first and most importantly, “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Then we can talk about it,” he says, rubbing the grime off your nose.

He grabs your hand and heads for the exit. But before he does, you pick up your knife from the floor and in one quick motion, you spin around and throw it. The knife embeds itself into the wall a few metres away, right next to a prying face. You stand in front of Bucky and stare at the intruder with a murderous gaze and Bucky’s heart races at the thought of you still wanting to protect him after everything.

The blond raises his arms up in surrender.

“Steve,” Bucky says from behind and you briefly recognize that name. You turn around to look at him and he meets your eyes, nodding. You relax your stance.

“Hi,” Steve says, voice slightly hoarse. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

Bucky scoffs at him, as if he wasn’t eavesdropping the whole time.

Steve looks at the both of you, then a gentle smile adorns his face. “C’mon, the rest are waiting outside for you both.”

You step forward. This is it. Freedom. A new life. Bucky notices your hesitation as you suddenly stop in your tracks. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he squeezes with reassurance. You take a deep breath, then the two of you follow Steve to the exit, leaving behind the smoke and memories of your old life.

Outside, the sun comes up slowly but surely on the horizon, painting the awakening sky a gentle warm hue of oranges and pinks.

A new beginning awaits.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky #bucky barnes

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 5 months

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Gold Dust

Pairing: Modern Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Public use of an app based sex toy, smut. Word count: ~1.8k

Summary: Aemond's office Christmas party is the last thing either of them want to attend, however, he comes up with an idea to make it fun for both of them.

Author's note: Can be read as an addition of this series, but also works as a standalone. Day seven of the Smuffmas prompts - "sharing a drink and toys". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Aemond edit in first picture is by @kyloremus.

It’s been six blissful months since her and Aemond moved in together. Having decided his own lofty high rise flat no longer felt like home - in truth, it never had - he’d offered a swap with Mysaria, and she’d leapt at the offer.

Aemond’s flat was paid for outright, so there’d be no expenses incurred on her part, beyond standard bills and utilities. She suited the space, adding a touch of glamour to the modern matte black and chrome surroundings. Her jaw had dropped when he’d handed her the deeds, his grandfather’s law firm already having handled the necessary paperwork and transfer of ownership. Aemond didn’t want rent, he simply wanted to live with the woman he loved. The simple act of Mysaria giving them a space to be by themselves was payment enough in his mind.

The security of the smaller, more homely feeling flat which she now shared with him had been trickier to negotiate. The landlord had snubbed Aemond’s initial offer to buy it from him, insisting he’d make more in rental payments from it than he would if he sold it. Some moderate pressure applied by the legal team of Otto Hightower, and an offer well above its current market value had soon seen to that, so now they were homeowners of a place that was theirs.

Mysaria’s old room had been turned into a home office, a space where either her or Aemond could work from home if and when they wanted to, aside from that they had made no further changes. The cosy little space was where they had shared their fondest memories, and every aspect of their relationship was woven into it.

She shrugs off her coat, hanging it up by the front door, and sighs in relief as the warmth of the central heating prickles her skin. She stoops to ruffle Vhagar behind the ears, a reward for the elderly doberman having reluctantly left her bed to greet her, before walking through to the living room. The blankets on the sofa are exactly as she’d left them the previous evening, and she eagerly retreats back into her nest, snatching up the TV remote from the coffee table.

“Good day?” Aemond asks, propping himself against the door frame as he emerges from the home office, the faintest smirk of amusement playing upon his lips as he looks at her.

She regards him with a warm smile, her features softening instantly despite how tired and irritated she feels. “Horrid, thanks for asking. Do we have any wine left?”

“There’ll be wine at the party, I expect,” he says, moving to sit next to her and brushing a chaste kiss against her temple.

“What?”

He narrows his eye at her, drawing back to look at her carefully. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

She groans as realisation dawns upon her. “Shit, your office Christmas party. Do we really have to go?”

He sighs, nodding and interlocks his fingers with hers. “Ordinarily, I’d give it a miss, you know I loathe parties, but my grandfather has called in more than a few favours for me this year. I owe him this.”

An hour later, and she steps out of the bedroom, hair and make-up finished and a slinky silk dress hugging her curves.

“Beautful,” Aemond breathes quietly, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips.

She smiles bashfully, feeling her skin heat up beneath the weight of his compliment as he pulls away, and watches with curiosity as he moves past her to rummage around on the top shelf of their wardrobe.

“What are you doing?”

“Your outfit’s missing something,” he tells her, pulling down the Lovehoney box, a glint in his eye as he turns to her.

“Aemond, no!”

The app controlled egg vibrator had been a drunken purchase on her behalf, that she’d regretted the moment it had arrived. Upon discovering it, Aemond’s reaction had been much more enthusiastic, kneeling between her spread legs and watching in fascination as she’d whimpered and writhed as he’d played with the settings using the app on his phone.

It had been fun at the time, but she’d considered it impractical and tucked it away, hoping he’d forgotten about it. It’s clear now that he hasn’t.

“Oh come now, darling, it’ll make the evening much more fun for both of us. Consider it an early Christmas gift to me.”

It doesn’t take much persuading, and soon she is sitting in the back of a black cab next to him, her coat pulled tight around her against the chilly December air, made colder still by a distinct lack of knickers, which Aemond had insisted she leave behind.

She is acutely aware of the feeling of the egg enveloped snugly inside of her, its presence, though discreet, making her feel as though she brandishes a scarlet letter that their taxi driver must be aware of.

“No!” She mouths desperately at Aemond as he pulls his phone from his pocket, thumb hovering over the app.

He flashes her the briefest of grins, tapping once on the screen. A mild singular buzz reverberates through her, causing her to clasp a hand over her mouth to muffle her squeal. Aemond eyes her carefully, poking at the inside of his cheek with his tongue before pocketing his phone once more.

Tonight was going to be interesting.

They step into the office, already bustling with people, chatter and light classical music fill the opulent space which is decked out in rich, mahogany furnishings and forest green upholstery, ever the indication that the Hightowers come from old money.

“There they are!” Aegon greets them loudly with a grin, arms spread and half drunk flutes of champagne clutched by the stem between each of his fingers. His shoulder length blonde hair is tousled, and his white shirt is open by three buttons.

“How long have you been here?” She asks, taking in his bedraggled appearance.

“‘Bout twenty minutes,” he slurs around a mouthful of vol-au-vent.

Otto steps up behind him, placing a ring clad hand upon his shoulder. “I tell you where you might like it, Aegon, on the terrace; outside.”

She watches with amusement as the older man leads him away.

“I’d better give him a hand,” Aemond mutters quietly, the warmth of his palm leaving her lower back as he moves to follow. He nods towards his older sister. “Good to see you, Hel.”

She smiles warmly at Hel leaning in as the two peck each other’s cheeks. “How are you doing?” She asks fondly.

“Starving!” Helaena complains, pulling her sheer turquoise wrap tighter around herself and waving away a tray of canapés that’s being offered around by a member of serving staff. “Not a single vegan option here, everything’s either got salmon in it or is slathered in cream cheese.”

“You could always sneak off to grab something?” She offers sympathetically.

“Aeg said there’s a kebab shop over the road. I might see if he’ll grab me a falafel wrap later. Anyway,” she continues, snatching up two flutes of champagne from a passing tray and handing one to her. “How are you?!”

“Yeah, really good!” She grins. “Aemond mentioned we might fly to New York for New Year’s, go and see Daeron. I’ve not met him yet and I– oh!”

She bows her head, biting back the quiet moan that tries to escape her, as the egg inside her vibrates incessantly. Her head snaps up, making eye contact with Aemond, who stands in a corner with his phone out, a sly smile upon his face.

Bastard.

“You alright?” Helaena asks, eyebrows pinched together in concern.

“Mhm…just...champagne bubbles…they go right up my nose!” She feigns a laugh, embarrassment making her skin feel hot.

Ever the dutiful girlfriend, she does her rounds of the office, speaking to colleagues and family members alike, though every interaction is thwarted by sudden and persistent vibrations between her legs.

After an hour of polite chit chat with Alicent, Criston, Otto and several other party guests, she leans back against the wall next to Aemond’s office door, needing a breather from socialising, but also feeling lightheaded from the intermittent throbbing in her core.

The door swings slowly open and Aemond steps out, a crystal tumbler of amber liquid in hand.

“Having fun?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Mmm,” she narrows her eyes, “you clearly are. What’s that you’ve got?”

“Laphroaig,” he tells her, swirling the liquid in his glass. “Thirty six year old The Wall Peat, to be precise. Grandfather would never offer this around to the guests. Lucky for me I know he keeps it stashed in his bottom desk drawer.”

“Lucky indeed,” she purrs up at him.

He grabs her hand, pulling her into his office and closes the door behind them, before backing her up against the desk, until she perches on the edge.

“Let me see,” he whispers, pushing her dress up above her hips.

His free hand applies gentle pressure to her knee, spreading her legs, and she watches the bob of his throat as he swallows thickly, taking in the sight of the arousal that coats her centre.

“Fuck,” he mutters darkly. “The idea of you walking around making innocent small talk while you’re soaked is driving me mad.”

She giggles, clenching around the egg that’s nestled within her as she sees his gaze darken. Aemond pulls out his phone again, changing the setting to a constant vibrate, before setting it down on the desk behind her.

Mewling helplessly, shockwaves of pleasure ripple through her as Aemond’s thumb swipes against her sodden folds, spreading her open to watch intently.

He takes a sip from his glass, and she gasps as he grabs her forcefully by the hair at the back of her head, crushing her lips against his and letting the whisky pass from his mouth to hers. She moans quietly, the intensity of the burn of the liquid that slips down her throat and the throbbing ache between her legs making her feel dizzy.

She is devastatingly close, can feel the pressure building to boiling point, and she whines, pressing her face into the crook of Aemond’s neck, fingertips rumpling the fabric of his black button down shirt as she grasps his biceps for purchase. “Fuck, Aemond, I–”

“It’s alright, I’ve got you, let go,” he coos.

She bites down on the juncture of his neck to muffle her pleasured cry, earning her a startled grunt from Aemond. Her body spasms around the toy, climaxing with a force that makes her toes curl inside of her high heels, before going limp against his chest.

He settles his glass down and strokes her hair before pulling back. His long, dexterous fingers wrap around the cord of egg, and despite how gentle he is as he tugs it free, she still hisses with overstimulation as it leaves her body. The sudden feeling of emptiness is alien to her after having spent most of the evening with it inside of her.

“Can…can we go home now?” She asks tiredly, as he wraps the toy in tissue and deposits it on the desk.

“Hmmm, not just yet,” Aemond tells her, taking her hand and guiding it to palm over the erection that strains against the confines of his suit trousers. “I’m not quite finished with you yet.”

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athenaswrath · 4 months

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Until I Found You - Chapter 1

Quinn Hughes x reader

This chapter is more of a background story/introduction of the reader (no Quinn yet)

Word count: 829

>Chapter 1< Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

You were looking for a job when you had the amazing idea to go for one on a hockey team, the only sport I actually enjoy. When I got a call saying I got the job on marketing and social media for the Devils I was head over heels

The day they introduced me to the players I was terribly nervous, I'm not a social person at all, and being surrounded by a group of loud, confident and cocky men was not the best for my anxiety.

After a couple of days with them they noticed how uncomfortable I was being the spotlight so Nico made it his job to make me feel at ease, and to my surprise all of his closest group welcomed me in, even Jack, which sometimes had trouble keeping his flirtatious personality down with me being the only young woman on the road.

Luke on the other way was way too cute and immediately told me he consideres me a sister, saying that he'd traded me for Jack any time.

After a couple of weeks Jack spent some alone time with me, saying that I gave him the peace he'd never had before. He also started saying I was like a twin sister, obviously it had everything to do with our age and nothing with our looks.

I was in my office editing some videos for the last days of the season when Jack came through the door "Hey shortie"

"Jack, for the last time I'm 5'9" I said not even looking up from my work. He didn't have time to reply before Luke also entered the room "Hey shortie" he said in his cheery way.

"Hey pookie" I replied seconds before Jack whined "why does he get to call you that and not me?" I just laughed before looking up and seeing their nervous features. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing" "Dammit" they answered at the same time, I raised an eyebrow and Luke continued "We just... We know that you are going to spend your free time alone and that's fine, there's nothing wrong with that, and I'm sure you'd enjoy it..."

"Luke" Jack said stopping Luke's rambling. "Right... So we wanted to know if you'd like to join us on our lake house these couple of months. It's just us, Zegras, Drysdale, Holtzy and Quinn... I mean sure mom and dad are going to visit a couple of days but..."

"No, no you guys have done so much for me already I can't just take a free vacation at your house. I appreciate it really but I just can't"

Ever since you joined the Devils, they wouldn't allow you pay for anything, everyone treated you like a princess "you're Belle for sure, a beauty and a bookworm" said Holtz one day you mentioned the special treatment

One could say that everyone could kill for that, specially coming from hockey boys, but you couldn't help to ask yourself "am I being a burden? Do they pity me? Do they think I'm a golddigger? A Puck Bunny?"

But I know they love me... Well, sometimes I do. It's hard for me to accept that, when your whole life you've been told by your own family you're annoying and there's not really something to care or love about you.

When your family told you they didn't want to have you home giving them a hard time and cut communication with you, you were heartbroken and desperate for money working multiple jobs until 2 years later you finally found this place you felt peace at.

The problem is no one but Nico knows that it's only you against the world. The rest of the team is oblivious to how sometimes you skip meals in order to save money to have a decent department, or how no one ever visits you, not even in family events.

"Are you listening to me? Are you okay?" Jack's voice took me out of my thoughts and he was close to my face looking at me with a serious expression, which was unusual on him

When I didn't say anything, he said "Darling we want you there you're part of our freak family want it or not. And God knows we need you there, there has to be at least one responsable person... Also it's about a damn time that you meet Quinn"

You've met Jim and Ellen before, but you've never met the oldest Hughes brother, the first time Vancouver played against New Jersey I had the flu and I could get close to anyone to not put them at risk. The second time Quinn was out due to an injury

"Please shortie, you'll break my heart if you refuse to go" said Luke giving his biggest puppy eyes

"Are you sure everyone's okay with me joining, I don't wanna be a bu..."

"Stop it, we all want you there"

Hoping they wouldn't regret their choice and you let yourself be happy for a while you finally agreed to join them.

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #quinn hughes oneshot #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot

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pulisicsgirl · 1 year

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take the pain away - mason mount

summary: Y/N gets hurt, and Mason is immediately at her side, doing anything he can to take the pain away

pairing: Mason Mount x reader

word count: 3.1k

warning/tags: hurt/comfort, mentions of an injury, sickeningly sweet, tooth-rotting fluff, established relationships, also I wrote this in an airport and it all feels like a fever dream, so tbh I have no idea what any of this says... enjoy!

requested: yes!!

notes: here is another request! so sorry it took so long to get out - nursing school has been kicking my butt these last couple of weeks. thank you so so much for requesting! (and I'm already working on your other one :) )

It was a beautiful day at Cobham as you stood pitch-side, a rare warm March day in London. Your camera was raised to your face as you watched the Chelsea boys practice through its lens, snapping a few photos. Due to the nicer weather, both the men’s team and the Academy players were outside training in the afternoon, and you had jumped at the opportunity to get a few photos that could be used later on Chelsea’s Instagram.

These were your favorite days, when you got to spend time around the teams, watching them interact and doing your best to capture the chemistry between them with your camera. It surely beat the alternative: spending the day indoors, in a corner office, your time consumed by editing photos and sending various emails.

Plus, you would never turn down getting to watch your athletic boyfriend work his magic.

You panned your camera to the left, catching a few of the boys standing in line to wait their turn for a shooting drill that Potter was having them run. Your lens found Mason standing in the back of the line, and your heart fluttered as he looked straight at you, pulling a silly face to try to make you laugh.

You dropped the camera from your face, giggling slightly as you pressed a couple buttons to look at the pictures you had taken. Maybe you would keep those for yourself.

You looked back up at him, shaking your head slightly at his antics. Mason, with a satisfied grin on his face at succeeding to make you laugh, turned back to the line of boys in front of him, bouncing on his toes to prepare to run the drill.

After a few more minutes, Potter divided the boys into three groups, running a new drill with only a couple of the groups at a time. This left one of the groups to take a short rest, and Ben and Kai approached you, after grabbing their water bottles, to greet you.

One of the things that you loved about both working for Chelsea and dating Mason was that you had developed a close friendship with many of the players, having been able to hang out with them outside of work more and more as time went on.

Ben greeted you with a short pat on the back, refraining from hugging you so he didn’t get his sweat on you (which you greatly appreciated). Kai placed his hand on top of your head, ruffling your hair as he laughed mischievously. You scowled at him playfully, attempting to fix your hair as they began asking how you had been recently. You quickly got lost in conversation with them, raising the camera to your face intermittently to get a few photos of the boys still on the pitch.

Behind you, the Academy boys were practicing, running a scrimmage before they concluded for the afternoon. With your back to the group, you hadn’t seen the Academy player dropping to the ground in a slide in order to keep the ball in-bounds. You hadn’t seen the way that he misjudged his speed, sliding far beyond the ball and the sideline of the pitch, right toward where you were standing.

Ben and Kai saw it, though, as if it was happening in slow motion, but still too quickly for them to do anything about it. The only warning you had was a split second where the their eyes both went wide, reaching their arms up to try to pull you out of harm’s way. They tried to shout a warning to you, but it was too late.

The young boy slid into your ankles and you heard a sickening crunch as he knocked you to the grass.

Mason’s head whipped around quickly as he heard you cry out, a chill rushing down his spine as he immediately recognized it as your voice. He saw you on the ground, along with the Academy player as Ben and Kai rushed to your side.

You were confused—disoriented to say the least. Your back had hit the ground abruptly, knocking the wind out of you and leaving you gasping for air. You saw the boy getting up to his knees next to you, rushing out some apology you couldn’t focus on. You saw Ben drop to his knees at your side, and it felt like your head was spinning. You tried desperately to regain your breath, draping your arms over your face as you lay on the ground.

It was then that the brief rush of adrenaline wore off, and the pain set in quickly. A shooting pain tore through your right ankle, causing you to cry out again. In the frenzy of the whole thing, you could hear people trying to speak to you, but they seemed distant, and you couldn’t make out anything that they were saying. You grit your teeth, hating that there were so many people here to see your vulnerable state.

A pair of hands on your sides grounded you back to reality, and you moved your arm, squinting against the sunlight to see that Mason was at your side, kneeling next to your face. His eyes were wide with concern, and his voice started to pierce through the ringing in your ears.

“You’re okay, baby. You’re okay.”

You tried desperately to blink back the tears you could feel springing to your eyes. In most any circumstance you refused to let anyone see you cry, determined to maintain a tough exterior, but the throbbing in your ankle proved to be more than you could handle.

The Academy player that had tackled you was now on his feet, still desperately trying to apologize for his actions. Mason turned and shoved him away from you, shouting something about backing away from you. You saw Reece grab the boy by the shoulders and talking quietly to him, no doubt trying to defuse the situation while also reversing any damage done by Mason’s shouting. He was, after all, just a kid, and he hadn’t intended to hurt anyone.

“Mase, please.” You grabbed a fistful of his training shirt, bringing his attention away from the young player and back to you. He looked back at you, his eyes softening as he heard you whimpering in pain. He helped you sit up halfway, pulling you into his chest. You buried your face in his neck so that no one could see the tears that slid down your cheeks, still holding his shirt tightly in your fist.

Mason slowly stroked his fingers up and down your arm in an attempt to soothe you as Ben explained what had happened. Your leg was still throbbing, leaving you unable to focus on anything that was happening around you. Mason pressed a kiss to the top of your head, whispering soothing words in your ear. He desperately wanted to take the pain away from you, but he didn’t know how.

You felt Mason’s muscles tense up, as he suddenly felt that there were too many people crowding around you. “Everyone back up!” he shouted, startling you. “Back up! Give her some space!”

Several people took a couple steps back at his sudden outburst, but Kai rested a hand on Mason’s shoulder to calm him. “They’re the physios, mate. They’re trying to help.”

When Mason lifted his eyes, getting a better look at the two individuals who were now coming to your side, he realized that Kai was right, recognizing the physios from times that he had spent in recovery after being injured.

One of the physios, a middle-aged woman with a reassuring, gentle look in her eyes, told you she was going to take your shoe off and waited for your short nod before she began undoing the laces.

Mason’s heart clenched in his chest when you gazed up at him with red-rimmed eyes. He did his best to give you a comforting smile, despite the sickening feeling in his gut at seeing you in so much pain.

The physio did her best to removed your shoe without causing you any more pain, but the slight movement of your foot still caused you to whimper out in pain. You grasped Mason’s bicep, and he hissed slightly as your nails dug painfully into his arm, but he didn’t dare to let on that you had hurt him.

When your sock and shoe were both removed, Mason could see that your ankle had already become swollen, beginning to flush a deep shade of purple.

“We’ll need to bring her up to the facility and wrap this,” the physio spoke, more to Mason than to you. She placed a hand gently on your knee, trying to bring your attention to her. “Do you think you can try to walk on it? I don’t think it’s broken.”

You nodded, trying your best to be tough. You let go of Mason’s arms, and he untangled his arms from around you, moving to stand in front of where you were sitting. You took his hands, letting him pull you to your feet as you kept all of your weight on your left leg. The breeze chilled the thin layer of sweat that had formed on your neck.

Mason still held tightly to your arms, standing in front of you and intensely watching your eyes as you tried to settled your foot to the ground, putting some weight on it. Your face contorted in pain immediately as a shooting pain radiated from your ankle up your leg, and your knee gave out. Mason was quick to catch you before you fell. You shook your head vigorously, letting out a quite “I can’t”.

Mason swept you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style as he followed behind the physios and walking as gently as he could so he didn’t cause you any unnecessary pain. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you instinctively buried your face in his shoulder again, finding comfort there.

When you finally made it into the training facility, Mason followed the physios into the treatment room, setting you down on a cushioned table so they could wrap your foot. You noticed then that Ben had followed you all inside, carrying your shoe and camera, which had, remarkably, remained unharmed in the clash. You smiled at him in thanks, and he walked over to you on the side that Mason wasn’t standing to give you a short hug and a kiss on top of your head before he went back out to rejoin training.

The whole ordeal had drained you of any energy, and you let out a sigh as you dropped your head onto Mason’s shoulder. The pain had faded slightly, into a dull throbbing, and his fingers rubbing gentle circles into your back was helping to calm you.

“You doing okay?” he whispered, checking in. Your eyes slipped shut and you nodded into his neck, too tired to say anything in reply.

The physios looked over your ankle, deciding it wasn’t a break, but rather a very bad sprain. They gave you some pain medication, put your foot in a boot, and instructed you to take it easy for a couple of days before you returned to your normal routine.

Mason took you home, waiting hand and foot on you for the rest of the day. He even took the next day off of training to look after you, despite your insistence that he didn’t need to. Though the pain had been miserable, you couldn’t pretend you didn’t enjoy the extra attention that Mason gave you as a result of your injury. He was already a very touchy and affectionate person, but it had been dialed up to 10 ever since that day at Cobham.

That Friday, several days after your injury, Kai and Sophia were hosting a game night at their place. The boys didn’t have a game that weekend, and they wanted to use it as an opportunity to get together and just spend a chill night hanging out.

After reassuring Mason numerous times that you were still up for going, the two of you walked into the house, you wobbling slightly as you were still getting used to walking in the boot. The room erupted with noise as everyone shouted greetings as you entered. Several of the boys came over, patting you on the back or pulling you into a hug, saying how they had missed seeing you at Cobham since your injury. Your heart swelled with affection as you returned their hugs. Sophia came over, pulling you to the couch so that the two could catch up while the boys were talking to Mason.

The night went on, and you learned several new card games and board games. Being with everyone did wonders to lift your mood after a fairly dull week following your injury. Mason was still attentive, constantly touching you in some way at all times, whether than was an innocent hand on your thigh, or an arm wrapping securely around your shoulders and placing a kiss to your forehead every couple of minutes. But you could tell that he was glad to be out with his group of friends.

The rest of the group didn’t miss the extra protective air surrounding Mason as he kept an eye out for you the whole night. It was endearing to see how much he cared about you and the comfort that seemed to wash over him at being able to have you around with the rest of the team again. None of them had ever seen Mason be this way with any other girl—you all definitely had something special. But although they were happy for him, it didn’t stop the boys from poking fun at him periodically for it anyway.

The evening continued, and you began to grow more tired, but you refused to say anything to Mason because you truly didn’t want to leave.

Sophia brought out a new game as the time passed 11 pm, and the game night was showing no signs of slowing down. You opted to sit this game out, waving it off when Ben asked if you were alright.

Despite your best efforts to hide your exhaustion, Mason still noticed, ever the attentive boyfriend. He leaned back on the couch, wrapping his arm gently around your shoulders as Kai and Sophia set the game up on the table in front of you. You sighed in content, resting your head on his shoulder.

You closed your eyes as Mason pressed a kiss to your forehead and mumbled a short, “you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” you nodded, turning so you could look him in the eye.

“Are you sure? Do you want to go home?” you could still see the concern in his eyes as he searched your face.

“No, no, I’m okay, really,” you smiling to try and reassure him. “I promise.”

Mason searched your face for a moment more, seeming to finally accept your answer as you laid your head back on his chest. He turned and continued talking with Ben, and as you looked back toward the table, Sophia held your gaze with a knowing look. She grinned at you, and you felt the blush rushing into your cheeks. You hid your face in Mason’s chest and suppressed a giggle.

Despite having been in a relationship with Mason for several months, he never ceased to make you giggly and giddy with his affectionate gestures. Sophia was always the first one to tease you about how flustered he made you.

The game night resumed as soon as everyone understood the rules, and you untucked yourself from Mason’s side so he could lean forward to play the game. You sat quietly, content to watch as everyone else played and joked with one another. But the longer you watched, the more your eyes began to droop. Like there was a magnet pulling you, you felt drawn toward Mason as you began to slump over from exhaustion, and you laid your head on his shoulder blade. Without turning from the game, he reached behind him, pulling your arms so that they were wrapped around his waist.

You held to him tightly, soothed by his breathing and the sound of his soft laughter every now and then. Mason kept one hand on your arms, where they met in his lap, stroking his thumb softly over the back of one of your hands.

After several minutes of silence from you, he grew suspicious of the fact that he hadn’t felt you move in a while – not even a slight shift.

“You doing okay back there, Y/N?” he asked softly.

He was met with no answer. He furrowed his brow, turning his head to look at you, but he couldn’t move far enough to see your face without shifting you.

“Y/N?” he repeated.

“I think she’s asleep, mate,” Ben commented, sitting on your other side, where he had a clear view of your face. Your cheek was slightly squished from where it was pressed against Mason’s shoulders, lips parted as the muscles in your face relaxed completely.

Mason couldn’t help the warmth that flooded his face as he unwrapped your arms from his waist, pulling your legs so that they draped across his lap and he could hold you in his arms. He kissed the top of your head as you stirred before settling into his side.

“You lovebirds can’t keep your hands off of each other, can you?” Kai teased, grinning at the smitten look on his friend’s face.

“Oh, give it a couple years,” Ben chuckled from the other side of the couch, jumping at the opportunity to get under Mason’s skin. “They’ll be sick of each other soon enough.”

Some of the guys laughed at his remark, knowing he didn’t mean it at all. Mason just kept looking down at you as you laid on his chest, a loving look in his eyes.

“Nah, a couple years from now, I’m gonna marry her,” he replied matter-of-factly, not an ounce of hesitation in his voice. The rest of the group smiled, silently coming to the decision to let you all be and continue playing their game.

With your face tucked into Mason’s chest, he couldn’t see the smile that curled your lips as you heard his words just before you fell back to sleep.

#mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount imagines #mason mount fics #footballer fics #footballer imagine #footballer imagines #football imagine #football fics #mason mount fluff #mason mount fanfic #mason mount one shot #mason mount blurb #chelsea fc

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fluentmoviequoter · 5 months

Text

Special Edition

Day 4 of 12 Days of Ficmas

Pairing: Jason Todd x vigilante!fem!reader

Summary: Jason Todd doesn't like you. He does like Jane Austen, though.

Word Count: 2.2k+ words

Warnings: angst, arguments, brief description of injuries, fluff, Pride and Prejudice quotes. reader is a vigilante!

A/N: Sorry this is late; thank you for being patient and the encouraging messages!! This is my first Jason Todd fic and I am so excited because I'm madly in love with him. He may be OOC, but I didn't specify which version so you can imagine whichever Jason you want! I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

Masterlist | DC Comics Masterlist | Request Info

You are the bane of Jason Todd’s existence. He’s never said it outright, but he shows you constantly that he doesn’t like you, trust you, and certainly doesn’t want to work with you. That doesn’t deter you from trying to bring a little Christmas spirit and friendship to the man in the red hood, though. All he’s missing is a little green and some lights.

December in Gotham is cold, wet, and busy for vigilantes. With Batman breathing down your neck about staying in fighting shape no matter the weather or the time of year, it can be easy to let Christmas slip by unnoticed, and Jason usually does. Since you joined the team, though, you’ve decided it will never happen again.

“Those lights are new,” you point out as you trail behind Jason, cutting through a previously undecorated alley.

“Focus!” he snaps, his helmet turning as he looks over his shoulder at you. “Just because it’s Christmas doesn’t mean we stop to look at pretty lights instead of finding Scarecrow’s new hideout.”

You shrug and jog a few steps to catch up, your eyes focused on his red helmet as he slows. He pulls a grappling hook from his belt and aims it upward.

“You don’t have one do you?” he asks, his voice giving away how annoyed and tired he is.

“Pretty sure Bruce only gives those to his sons,” you answer sheepishly. “I can just take the ladder on the backside of the building. Or we can split up.”

Jason barks a single, harsh laugh. “One, Bruce isn’t sexist like that so maybe he just knows you’re incompetent. And, two, we’re not splitting up.”

“Because I’m incompetent?” you ask, smiling.

Jason’s shoulders rise and fall as he sighs before wrapping his arm around your waist and holding you against his chest until your feet meet the solid roof. His hand raises but lingers by your side as he looks down at you. Nodding to himself, he pulls his arm back and turns to look out over the freezing, dirty streets of Gotham.

“What are the chances he’d go for the water supply again?” you ask quietly.

“Not very good,” Jason answers. “Do you think before you ask those questions?”

“Think? No. But I do see Bane pushing a huge crate into the water department offices down the street.”

Jason jumps from his crouched position and moves toward you, the heat radiating off his body like a warm hug against your skin as he stands behind you.

There’s a hint of grumbling as he raises his voice to ask, “Why didn’t you just say that?”

“Bane didn’t walk out until after you asked, Jason. I may be incompetent but I’m not a complete idiot,” you answer.

You blame the December weather for your change in attitude; any other time, you would have made a joke and asked for his help since Bruce was working on your grappling hook and didn’t have a spare (not that you’d ever tell Jason the wire snapped and dropped you three storeys the last time he asked you to split up). But now, you’re tired and cold and want to get away from Jason before you say something you shouldn’t, so you jump off the roof and onto the fire escape as Jason’s yells fall on deaf ears while you rush toward the water department.

When you try the handle, the doorknob twists easily, but as you prepare to open it, a gloved hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you back.

“What are you doing? Trying to get yourself killed?” Jason whispers angrily.

“Why do you care, Jason? If I die, you don’t have to work with me anymore, right?”

“Just because I don’t like working with you doesn’t mean I want you dead,” he snaps.

“Then watch my back and try not to be such a Grinch.”

You tear your wrist away from him, blind to his face dropping and his jaw clenching under his mask. Pulling the door open slowly, you slip into the shadows, grateful to feel Jason behind you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You found Scarecrow’s new hideout?” Batman asks.

Jason nods, but you keep your eyes on your feet.

“And you went in - without telling anyone - only to get into a fight with Bane and doused with Scarecrow toxin?”

Jason nods again.

“Who made the call to go in without backup?”

“I…” Jason begins.

You don’t look up as you cut him off. “I did. Jason wanted to wait but I went in without him and he followed me. It’s my fault.”

“Hood, you’re dismissed then. Alfred said you need 24 hours of rest before you can patrol again,” Batman says.

Jason turns, stopping to look down at you before walking out of the Batcave. You hear Bruce pull his cowl off, but keep your eyes trained on your shoes.

“Alfred said the only reason Jason got out unscathed is because you took most of the toxin; without a mask. Why did you rush in there, then put yourself in harm’s way when Jason is more prepared to deal with it?”

“I didn’t think about that. I saw a threat and wanted to help my fri- teammate.” He’s not your friend, you remind yourself, no matter how badly you want him to be.

Bruce sighs, then clicks his tongue. You finally look up at him, and he looks like he’s fighting an internal war between Bruce and Batman. The one who wants to bench you for being reckless and the one who wants to hug you for protecting his son, even if he didn’t need it.

“Thank you. Just- call for backup next time, okay?”

You promise that you will. “But if someone is in danger, I will not hesitate to help.”

“I know that. But try to be a little more careful in the future, okay? Are you hurt?”

“No,” you lie, your mind racing on the remnants of the toxin as your face aches from the impact of Bane’s punch.

As you exit the Batcave and cut through Wayne Manor, Jason is leaning against the front door, his mask gone and his blue eyes leveled on you.

“Did he bench you?” he asks.

“No. Just told me not to do it again.”

Jason nods and pushes off the door, walking to you and looking down into your eyes. “That was incredibly stupid and if Bruce didn’t have this attachment to you, I’d be fighting him to get rid of you or stick you with someone else.”

“Sorry you feel that way,” you mumble, skirting around him and walking outside.

You breathe in the fresh air and try to ignore the feeling of your heartbeat in your face. You’ll undoubtedly have a bruise, so maybe it’s time to finally wear the mask Bruce seems keen on convincing you is for your safety. Maybe it’ll get Jason to lighten up, too.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Bruce must’ve given a powerful lecture if it got you in the mask,” Jason teases.

You hum, hoping you don’t have to say anything and make the pain in your jaw worse.

“Just ordinary patrol today, so we can split up if you still want to,” he offers.

You shrug, watching the helmet tilt as its unblinking eye slits stare at you.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m great,” you say. “Split up, then.”

You take the East side of your quadrant while Jason goes West. As the night goes on and your pain medicine wears off, you want to curl up into a ball on one of the roofs you're jumping across and go to sleep. You slow before stopping in the middle of a roof, gently pressing your hand against the underside of your jaw, trying to alleviate the pain.

“What are you doing?” Jason asks, his voice distorted by the mask as he appears suddenly behind you.

“Nothing,” you say, the word mumbled by your hand holding one side of your jaw closed.

You hear his footsteps as he walks around you, stopping in front of you and pulling your hand away from your face before gently lifting your mask to your nose. His sharp inhale is barely audible through the helmet, but you catch it.

“Look that good?” you joke.

“When did that happen? Tonight?”

“No. Bane punched me two nights ago; it’s getting worse, as usual.”

“You should have told someone; what if he had broken your jaw?”

“Then you wouldn’t have to hear my commentary that you love so much.”

“Can you take anything seriously?”

“Can you stop taking everything seriously?” you argue. “I got hurt, so what? You don’t even like me!”

“I never said- no matter my feelings, you’re my teammate. Just tell me this stuff.”

“Because you’re such a good listener,” you mutter.

“Let’s go. We’ll finish patrolling together.”

You nod, pulling your mask back down and following Jason to a roof with a bird’s eye view. You sit on the edge beside him, looking at the twinkling Christmas lights scattered throughout Gotham.

“What do you want for Christmas?” you ask.

Jason’s mask swings toward you. “What do I want for Christmas?” he repeats incredulously. “Oh, let’s see… a partner who doesn’t rush us both into danger, a life that isn’t marked by death and loss, a team that doesn’t look at me like I’m one second away from becoming a supervillain, and maybe, if there is anything like Christmas magic, a day where you don’t act like my life is worth more than yours!”

You hold your breath as he yells at you, releasing it when he looks back out to the skyline.

“Red, we’re here to relieve you. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night,” Red Robin says through the comm system.

Jason storms off as soon as he hears that, leaving you alone two nights before Christmas.

“I don’t think they have that on Amazon,” you whisper to Gotham, rubbing the good side of your face to stop yourself from crying.

✯✯✯✯✯

Bruce gave you a few nights off, presumably because Jason complained about you. The morning after Jason told you what he wanted for Christmas, you get a package containing the gift you thought he’d like. You wrap it, then set it on your kitchen counter, unsure whether it’s worth it to take it to him or if you should leave it at the manor while he’s gone. Shrugging, you decide you have time to make the decision and walk to your couch, queuing your favorite Christmas movie and trying to push Jason Todd out of your head. Deep down, you always believed he was mean because he cared and kept you safe by keeping you at arms’ distance, but now you’re not so sure.

On Christmas Eve, you find yourself standing outside Jason’s apartment, his gift in one hand and the other hand ready to knock. Taking a deep breath, you hope for the best and knock. The door opens a moment later, and Jason looks at you, his gaze catching on the bruise momentarily.

“Um, I just wanted to bring you this. And say that I’m sorry. Merry Christmas,” you explain as you extend the bag to him.

He takes it, pulling his eyes from yours to peek past the tissue paper. His blue eyes widen as he sees what’s in the bag before he closes the door quickly. You step back, hurt, and prepare to leave when the door opens again. Jason pulls you into his arms and into his apartment, kicking the door closed behind him as he holds you close. Your arms wrap loosely around his waist.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

Your arms immediately tighten around him, and you press your uninjured cheek against his chest.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Of course. Merry Christmas, Jay.”

“No, no,” he begins, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his shining like a frozen lake. “You don’t say ‘of course,’ like I deserve it. Not after everything I’ve done to you. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to apologize, but I just..”

“Push people away because you think you’re a bad guy?” you suggest quietly.

“I am a bad guy,” he responds.

“No, you’re not. Jason, do you push people away for you or for them, and their safety, because you care about them?”

Jason is quiet as he stares into your eyes, dropping his gaze to your bruise once. “I care about you,” he whispers. “You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.”

“She began now to comprehend that he was exactly the man who, in disposition and talents, would most suit her. His understanding and temper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes,” you quote.

“Where did you find a special edition of Pride and Prejudice this close to Christmas?” Jason asks, smiling brightly.

“I thought it was going to get here too late.”

“Thank you. For the book and for pushing back.”

“You’re worth it, Jay. Merry Christmas.”

He barely lets you finish before he pulls you in for another kiss the Christmas lights twinkling on the Gotham skyline starkly contrast the streets below, going unnoticed in the background as you realize Jason only pretended not to like you because of how much he cares for you. That, and being wrapped in his arms, is the only Christmas gift you’ve ever needed.

#fluentmoviequoter12daysoffics #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #fem!reader

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tokki-tteokbokki · 1 year

Text

One by One

Chapter Six: Mirror

Hyunjin x Fem Reader

MDNI

18+

Synopsis:

After constantly fighting with your boyfriend, Jisung, your relationship abruptly ends.

Unaware of the secret hope of your relationship's demise by your friends.

One by one, the boys can't help themselves.

Chapter Foive:

Chapter Seven:

Warnings:

you know the smut hehe :), sad feelings for a little bit, briefly flirty dom minho, semi-public sex, oral (m rec), fingering, spanking, cum tasting/swallowing both sides, unprotected sex, slight mention of voyeurism.

The weekend had gone and past with two more notches in your belt. Monday had come and it was back to regular hours at the building.

You sat in a conference room, trying to will yourself to stay awake during your hour and half long meeting with the rest of staff. You tiredly fiddled with your pen, leaning back into the chair. “Has the editing team started on the Jeju videos yet?” Your department head asked “Yes, I checked in this morning and everything seems to be going smoothly. Shouldn’t be too long until they’re ready.” You sat up straight, slightly pressing your legs together at the memories of Jeju. “What about their upcoming shows in Japan, have the flights been booked?” You placed your pen down and gulped, remembering your last flight “Yes, both departure and returns are in order.” Was he trying to torture you? “How are the boys managing with the schedule?” “Fine, sir. They’ve adjusted nicely, they’ll be in top conditions for their comeback.” You smiled to which your boss smiled back.

At last you were at the freedom of your office, you plopped into your chair. Your eyes drifted around before reaching one of the picture frames on your desk. It was a polaroid of you and Jisung from a movie night you had at his apartment. Snuggled in Pj’s surrounded by pillows and covered by a blanket, Jisung had dragged an annoyed Minho out of his room to take a photo of you two.

Suddenly you were filled with sadness, you remembered the last words you and Jisung exchanged. You never thought he could be so cruel… Your eyes welled up with tears. You reached forward and picked up the frame, once so happy and carefree… now filled with hatred and disappointment. You hadn’t cried since he left you until this moment. Tears began to fall onto the frame, you missed him. You missed the carefree days you spent with him, laughing and playing. You inhaled deeply, wiping the tears from the glass before opening a drawer and putting it inside.

Slumping back into your chair, weakly spun around to see the view from your window. The morning was brisk but the sun was beating through. You lost yourself in thought while watching the traffic below.

Knock knock.

You spun your chair back around, quickly wiping your wet face. “Come in.” The door opened and Minho entered with a smile plastered on his face “What is it?” Your brows scrunched. His smile faded a bit as he approached and noticed the redness on your cheeks and under your eyes. “Were you crying?” He sat down on one the chairs in front of your desk. “What do you need?” You completely avoided the question “Miss him, huh?” Minho huffed, you stayed completely silent and avoiding eye contact. “He misses you too.” You turned your head in surprise “What are you talking about?” “He still loves you, (y/n). He’s just an idiot sometimes.” You rolled your eyes “You should’ve heard what he said to me yesterday. He hates me… In all honesty, I kind of hate me too.” Your mind was frazzled “Before or after Seungmin?” Your eyelids became nonexistent, looking at Minho completely shocked “How-“

“Long story but don’t panic, it’s not a big deal. It’s good, even!” Minho regained his smile “I slept with my ex’s best friends, that’s not good and it is a big deal!” Your expression became angry “You need to keep going.” Minho suddenly became serious. “Huh..?” You choked “There’s only Hyunjin and Felix right?” Minho ignored your confused state “Do them.” He ordered “Are you crazy?” You cracked “You have to be crazy.” Minho leaned forward, putting his hands on your desk “Do you or do you not want Jisung back?” Your heart felt constricted “What?” “Answer the question.” He stood up and made his way around, you turned your chair to the side as he approached, facing him.

He leaned forward, putting his hands on either side of the armrests. “Answer me.” His face drew near to yours, his aura becoming dominant and demanding obedience. “yes.” Your voice was small, closer to a whisper. Minho smirked at your submission. “Then do exactly as I say.” Your heart was knocking against your ribs, “You have to fuck Hyunjin and Felix. I’ll take care of the rest.” He was confident and relaxed, somehow his crazy plan put you at ease. You did miss Jisung, you still loved him. You didn’t want him to leave you. You softly pushed Minho off “Fine.” He steadily backed up and sat back down in his original chair. “Hyunjin is in rehearsal room. Go.” You scoffed as Minho flexed his brows up and down. He was serious. “Better sooner than later.” He stated. You stood up shaking your head “Crazy bastard.” You muttered jokingly as you left your office.

You picked up a couple water bottles along the way to the rehearsal room. You were nervous but remembered what Minho said and found your power to follow through. Coming up to the door you could hear the low boom of the bass. You recognized the beat almost immediately

Play with Fire.

You swallowed hard and turned the knob on the door, pushing it open. The lights were dimmed and you could see Hyunjin rolling his body to the music. He saw you closing the door behind you. “Hey!” He mouthed over the music, you smiled in return. He ran over and pressed pause on the sound system, “Hey” His plush lips upturning into a smile “For me?” He pointed to one of the water bottles “Mhm.” You nodded and gave him one. “Thank you!” “What brings you here?” You slightly froze “Oh, I heard you were here and just wanted to check on you.” He lightly laughed, you were too cute. He looked down at you, admiring how the low light was playing against your features.

“You actually came at a good time, Noona!” Hyunjin exclaimed “Hm?” “I wanted to try this dance with another person, can you help?” You looked up at his kind pleading face. You couldn’t say no to him. “Um, sure.” You weren’t quite sure what he meant but you were curious enough to find out. He cracked the cap on the water bottle, tilting his head back to take a drink, you could see his adam’s apple move with his swallows. How could he make drinking water sexy?

Taking his final gulp, he put the cap back on and set the bottle down. “Alright” He pulled a chair from the side and moved it to the middle of the room, setting it in front of the mirror. “Sit” He gestured to the chair. You put your bottle down next to his and slowly made your way to the chair. You sat down carefully, Hyunjin gave you a cheeky smile. “Don’t move.” He patted your head before running over to press play.

The first notes of the song began to play and you felt the vibration of the bass through the floor up the chair. You stayed still but your eyes followed Hyunjin’s figure begin to move. His perfectly timed movements glided around, inching closer to you. His presence was magnetic to your eyes, you couldn’t pull away. He came closer and closer until he was beside you. You felt his long fingers dance at the nape of your neck.

“I’ve always like to play with fire…”

The bass dropped and so did he. A beautiful display in front of you, his hips rolling, arms moving in sync. He spun sharply on his knees, placing himself directly in front of you. His hands trailed up your legs, his eyes were dark and full of mysterious lustful energy. A true performer. His hands now on top of your thighs, he slowly lifted himself up. His fingers migrated under your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. His expression was sexy in the most filthy seductive way. A tiny smirk grew as he spun around to place himself behind you.

His body swayed effortlessly, his hand meeting your body again. This time on your throat, he gently squeezed and released you. You body was on fire, you were grateful the lights were dimmed. You could feel how red your face and ears were. You were breathless at his performance. A complete immersion in his dance, you were but a mere puppet now.

He grabbed your hands and motioned for you to stand to which you obliged. Never letting go, he spun you around before moving his body like a siren call. Everything in you wanted to engage more but this was his stage.

The song ended and another began to play with the same dark and sensual vibe. He ran over and turned the volume by a few notches before running back to you. “What do you think?” He grinned, running his fingers through his hair. You were speechless, do you tell him that was probably the hottest things you’ve ever seen? Do you tell him that that was basically an orgasm for your eyes. “O-oh I-I” You stuttered. Hyunjin noticed how flustered you were and as his cheeky self would have it, he needed to tease you. He brought his hand to your cheek “You’re warm.” You swallowed hard “It was really good.” You blurted. He laughed at your shy state. Seeing you quiver with overstimulated nerves just made him want to do more.

He’d thought about it plenty of times. You were a beautiful young woman, your unique look intrigued him. He’d imagine your one of kind body and every curve and dip the universe blessed you with. He was good friend and wouldn’t do that to Jisung but now it was fair game. In this moment, he had you wrapped around his finger and with the new found permission from his Hyungs, he wasn’t going to let this go to waste.

“Hyunjin, follow me.” Chan with Minho gestured for him to exit the room. Thinking he was in trouble his mind started to race to any mistakes he could’ve made. The three of them ended up in Chan’s studio. Chan took his seat at his desk while Minho and Hyunjin sat on the couch. “Uh what’s up?” Hyunjin let out “We want you to do something for us. For Jisung.” Chan stated, leaning back into his chair. “Okay..?” Hyunjin hesitated “Fuck (y/n).” Minho calmly explained. Silence took over the room, Hyunjin giving the most confused side eye to both of them. “It’s not a secret you’re attracted her. Pretty much everyone is.” Chan broke the quiet “Which is one reason why we’ve fucked her.” Minho smirked. Hyunjin’s eyes went wide in surprise “You… What??”

“Just trust us. Plus, you’d get to fuck the body you’ve been trying to paint for months.” Hyunjin turned red, there were dozens of scrapped pages in a notebook of a naked girl he’d been trying to plan a painting of. He’d left the notebook at the studio where it was discovered by Chan. Hyunjin had originally brushed it off as just a muse he had, nothing crazy.

“Wait, you said this is for Jisung.” Hyunjin remembered “Yeah.” Minho started “I’ll explain everything but you have to fuck (y/n). They’ll both thank you for it later.” Hyunjin hesitated but caved. He trusted his elders and there was also the perk that he’s going to get to fuck you. He took a deep breath “Alright, I’m in.”

“I know Minho Hyung sent you in here.” Hyunjin whispered, you could only just look at him, too flustered to utter a word. He smiled deviantly “I know why you’re here.” Your breath became shaky, you nodded your head to confirm. “You know what’s going to happen?” He stepped around to stand behind you. The mirror now served as your eyes behind you. He pressed his full lips to your ears “I’m going to fuck you and you’re going to watch.” His eyes drifted to the mirror.

His lips left of trail of kisses from your ear down your neck, your head falling to the side in pleasure, the music still playing, creating a pace for Hyunjin to move to. You felt his tongue poke your neck before coming back up to your ear. You moaned from the sensation. He pulled away and sat himself down on the chair. You turned, he was seated with his legs spread, his hands on his slender thighs. “Dance for me.” Your stomach jumped at his words, the music was slow and sensual. Without a second thought, you rolled your hips, letting the sound of the song move your body for you.

Hyunjin looked pleased at your display for him, you felt your sexual prowess coming forward you straddled him and began to sway your hips on his. His hands moved to your waist while your arms found themselves around his neck. “God.” He breathed, you brought your face closer to his, the shadows of the dim lighting giving his plush lips the perfect contour. Noticing the fast pace of Hyunjin’s breathing, you took the opportunity to lower yourself farther on him. He smiled as your crotch met his growing boner.

He ground you harder and faster into him, throwing his head back at the sensation. Coming to, he found your gaze. You looked perfect, like a little nymph doing what she does best. His hands moved to your shoulders, slowly pulling your sweater down to expose your shoulders. The highlights of your collarbones caught his eye. Hyunjin’s hands moved to embrace you, pulling you in. His lips met your chest, he lightly sucked leaving a small red mark below your cleavage.

You left your sweater slip off and pulled your shirt over your head. Hyunjin looked in awe at your bosom. Still grinding against him, you leaned forward grabbing him by the nape of his neck, your fingers beginning to get tangled in his hair. He whimpered at your tugging before you began to kiss his neck slowly. “Noona… Ah.” He moaned, your kisses were setting fires in his body. You brought your lips up to his jaw, kissing your way to his lips. Finally, your lips touched and parted. His desperate tongue plunging into your mouth. You could feel yourself getting more and more aroused, your panties sticking to your cunt.

Your hands drifted forward, down to the top of his shirt. You began to unbutton him, eager to expose his flawless body to you. Opened and exposed, you pulled away from the kiss to admire Hyunjin’s slender body. His abs, softly defined and artistically contoured. His fingers unhooked your bra. Your naked chest was a sight he had been yearning to see.

The perfect shape of your breasts, the way your nipples started to stand at attention for him drove Hyunjin crazy. His muse was finally in front of him. He took your nipples between his fingers and gently rolled them, making them harder and more sensitive. “Hyunjin!” You gasped at the feeling. You felt his dick twitch underneath you, immediately you brought yourself to your knees in front of him. His shirt opened, slightly falling off his shoulder, his legs parted, a hand in his hair. He truly was a work of art.

You unzipped his pants and helped him shimmy his bottoms and boxers down. His dick popped out, leaking mass amounts of precum. You didn’t hesitate. You took him into your mouth, sucking all the precum down. He tasted delicious. “Ohh..” He moaned over the music, a hand finding it’s way to your head. He bobbed your head to a slow rhythm, he wanted to savour every second. He wanted to remember every moment to use as his inspiration.

One of your hands reached up to cup his balls “Oh fuck!!” He squealed “Noona, it’s good. Oh my God!” His eyes half opened and his mouth agape, you could feel his dick twitch. He was going to cum and soon. You picked up speed, willing yourself to open your throat to take more of him in. He also cried in pleasure “I-I-I’m… Ah!!” You went down as deep as you could, choking and tears welling up. you felt Hyunjin’s erratic spurts of cum shoot down your throat.

Swallowing it all, you pulled yourself away. Wiping your eye from the single tear that fell. Hyunjin panted, coming down from his explosive nut. It was a brief moment but there he was, his head thrown back, sweat running down his face. In a second he came to “Kiss me” He breathed, you came up and he pulled you into a messy kiss. He pulled at your pants, desperate to be inside you. You backed away for a second “Think you can?” you asked, cutely being concerned. “You have no idea.” He suddenly put you over his knee and ripped your bottoms down to expose your ass. Without time to process, Hyunjin delivered a hard spank to your ass. You yelped, enjoying the sting his large hand brought you. He smacked you again and you jumped in pleasure.

Hyunjin smiled to himself, watching your ass jiggle and your perky cheek turn red from the hits. His finger trailed its away down your ass crack to your wet pussy peeking through. “Ah, so wet..” You watched him in the mirror as he brought his finger to his mouth to taste you. The sight was so naughty, you could’ve came from the expression Hyunjin made when your juice met his tastebuds. “You taste amazing, Noona.” He praised while bringing his finger back to your pussy. You cried out as his finger pushed into you, gently curving his finger to play with that one spot. He took his time pulsing in and out, you watched in the mirror. Splayed across his lap, at his mercy, Hyunjin enjoying the wet feeling and sound as he finger fucked you. “…M-more.” You begged him. He smirked, without a word he forced another finger into your tight hole and went faster and harder. It wasn’t long before you exploded on his hand.

He pulled you back up, you looked at him as he licked his fingers clean. Moaning as he tasted more of you. “Taste yourself.” His mouth on yours, your tongues again at war with each other. You tasted your sweet essence as his tongue swirled around yours.

He positioned you to sit, both of you facing the mirror. Hyunjin held his dick up as you eased yourself on him. Beautifully slightly above average, you felt his length fill you up. Hyunjin looked at the mirror, watching your face contort as he entered you. He let out a sweet whimper as he wrapped his arms around you. Your head fell back onto his shoulder to which he took his opportunity to instruct you.

“Dance for me.”

Your skin gained goosebumps at his whispered words. A new song playing, you found your rhythm again, and rocked your hips back and forth with him inside you. The deep grinding sent you both into a frenzy. “You’re so pretty. Look at yourself.” He grabbed you by the neck and made you look at the filthy pornographic scene unfolding. You watched as your body rolled, you couldn’t take it, you began to furiously bounce on him. Hyunjin also watching the scene, his face becoming a fucked out scrunch.

“Look at me when you cum, jagiya.” He started to thrust up, watching your face as he helped you closer to the climax. “Hyunjin!” You looked at him in the reflection, your eyes beautifully dilated from the pleasure. Every movement pushed you closer and closer until you felt his other hand play with your clit. “Ah!!!!” The overwhelming amount of stimulation brought you to your leg shaking orgasm. “Ugh..!!” He pounded a few more thrusts into you before he spilled inside you.

You fell backwards onto Hyunjin, your head falling over his shoulder. His twitching cock still inside you. Both of you completely hazy and oblivious to the body who had entered the room. He stood in the corner frozen, an iced americano in hand and a growing erection in his pants.

tags: @eastleighsblog @catlove83

#skz hard hours #skz hard thoughts #skz smut #skz x reader #bangchan smut #han jisung #lee minho #skz #skz ot8 #hyunjin #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #skz ot8 x reader #skz scenarios #lee felix #stray kids smut #changbin x reader #skz changbin #seo changbin smut

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onesidedradiostatic · 27 days

Note

(After the Respectless Reprise)

Velvette, calling Vox on the phone: VOX!!! End this stypid debate once and for all! What was the color of your turtleneck when you took that damned picture with Valentino?

Vox, picking up the call: Uh... What now?

Velvette: Some of your crazy "fans" cropped that stupid picture I took of you two near his desk with your monitors! They've been going crazy at the color of your stupid turtleneck in the leaked photo

Vox: Right right.... and..... This is my problem because....?

Velvette, muttering under her breath: I swear to god... this is just like that stupid dress thing all over again.....

Vox: The what now?

Velvette: Forget it! Your old arse wouldn't even get it anyway and we don't have the time! That stupid thing blew out of proportion!!! It's been trending on Vitter for Hell's sake so you better do something about it!

Vox: Vel, I don't see the problem. It's just a color for something that happened a long time ago. It shouldn't even matter.

Velvette: Well it does matter because demons—not even just sinners, Vox— have been going at each other's throats about this for hours on end just for the sake of their fanart consistency!

Vox: Fanart consistency?

Velvette: Oh for fuck's sakes, Vox— Aren't you connected to your network right now? You should be able to see just how bad it is in there!!

Vox: Mhm... yeah, yeah... well..... right...

Velvette: Vox. Are you listening to me right now?

Vox: *noncommittal hum* Yeah..... That's better...

*Velvette pauses for a moment before a look of realization crosses her face*

Velvette: Wait... Don't tell me your at your Alastor shrine again instead of at your office?

*Clatter clatter CRASHHH*

Vox: *cough cough cough* H-Huh? What? NOOOOooo... No, no I'm not. What are you talking about Velvette?

*Velvette side glances at Alastor still silently having his mental breakdown before moving onto Lucifer fiddling with his tie and cane as he refuses to meet anyone in the eyes*

Velvette: Yeaaah.... Right.

Vox: A-ActUALLY!! I was just about to go there. To— to my office I mean. I mean, I just came from an important meeting after all!! Yes, a very very important meeting. With uh.... About– Sinflix! Yes, yes Sinflix. You know how that annoying little parasite has been taking some of our profits with all their 'free services' shtick that we've been losing money in the other Rings.

Velvette: Right. Right. (I don't care)So... your turtleneck color?

Vox: RIGHT!!! *Ding ding ding!* Yeah, about that I uh....

*Side glances at the scarce remains of his closet that was once full of multiple variations of turtlenecks colored red, orange, yellow, and even blue. Some of them actually being striped. There was a sell in one of the secondhand-me-down shops if you buy in bulk back in the day when he first fell into Hell. And he wasn't one to pass up a bang for your buck. Unfortunately, he also had to burn a lot of them after Velvette joined team to avoid her wrath. And now he can't remember which one he wore during that picture*

Vox: Well... About that, I don't.... actually remember?

Velvette: You don't sound so sure of yourself.

Vox: Well, the picture itself is faded so some of the color has changed. Not to mention the lightning.

Let me ask Tino if he remembers.

(I hope you enjoy this. Someone please sedate me)

oh my fucking god (reference to this, and this, and the turtleneck discourse is just this entire fucking tag. basically we've been spending the last 2 days debating about vox's stupid fucking turtleneck)

literally everything being referenced is giving me fucking whiplash HELSPGKOS vox himself getting into the debate because he doesn't remember is hilarious

only thing I will have to correct there is that vox does in fact own netflix in hell so it's voxflix not sinflix

considering maintagging this and putting it out into the wild with zero context (until they check the links)

EDIT:

misunderstood whoops here's the clarification LMAO

#ask #osrs.txt #hazbin velvette #hazbin hotel velvette #velvette #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox #radiostatic #staticradio #onewaybroadcast #vox's stupid fucking turtleneck #respectless anons #lucifer's commissions saga #am I really tagging 3 of these in a single fucking post holy shit

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undercoverpena · 1 year

Text

v. a new day

javier peña x dea! f!reader | chapter five of nowhere to run

Summary: Determined to do it better this time, Javier Peña returns to Bogotá to take down the Cali Cartel. With a new promotion, office and team, what he doesn’t expect is the pretty thing outside his office—or why they’re not allowed in the field. chapter warnings: season three narcos spoilers. no use of y/n. smut. oral sex (man receiving), angst. bit of emotions are coming outttttt. Wordcount: 6.3k AN: apologies for the lateness, my personal life has just been throwing things at me and I didn't want the emotions to bleed in when i was editing. also, if there's errors, i'm so sorry, i have had no sleep. pls forgive me. as always, huge thank you to @yeyinde who allows me to ramble continuously and to @guyfieriii who is on her way to get me a magazine and send it to me. I adore you both.

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“I can’t believe you caught him?”

“Me neither.”

You lean back, eyes wide, twisting the cord around your finger.

“I did call you—last night. After we’d seen him. Rang your place, work...”

Swallowing, you smile. “I, um—“

Looking up as Peña steps out of his office, sliding his tie through the loop, eyes staring over you. Drinking you in. Making every part of you burn up under his gaze.

“—had a date.”

“Oh. How did it go?”

Biting your lip, you watch him. How his brows furrowed, letting your eyes descend down before noticing his tie. How it sat off-centre—all threaded in a rush.

You suspect he’s been ordered to attend a meeting. One likely about the day's events, one with a lot of Colombians, officials and higher-ups. So, you gesture.

The corners of your lips slightly rise, watching his smile slowly grow.

“It was good. Nice.”

Van Ness snorts. “You going to see them aga—actually, fuck this, I don’t think I wanna hear anymore.”

“Wasn’t about to tell you, Van Ness. Hey—I have to go, please be safe.”

“Always am.”

“Says the man catching Narcos—anyway, Stoddard is here, speak soon.”

“He best not be making you drinks…”

“Promise he isn’t.”

You place the phone down, standing up as Peña comes to a halt barely an inch away from you.

“That my name now? Stoddard.”

“Well, you’re struggling to sort your own tie, does seem a Stoddard thing to do, sir.”

He twitches his fingers at his side. Has been doing so since he guided Gilberto out to the flashing lights and clicks of cameras.

The significance of what they’d done—what he had done—crashed into him. Not knocking him off his feet, not even knocking him off his axis. But it kickstarted something.

It truthfully only slid over him when he slid into the seat of a car.

They’d done it. Proved that surrender wasn’t the only option—that they could be caught. Because they had caught one of them. The ones they all said were untouchable. Right in his fucking home, hiding away.

A new lease of life spreads as Javi swallows. A thrum of energy, one which has been missing since before he was sent back to the States, rippling through him as though it had never gone. Disturbing the regret he’d been feeling since…

They’d done it. The thought rolls around, his finger occasionally stroking his bottom lip—sometimes pinching his thigh as the streets flash past the window. Doing so even as his knee hits the door, needing to, just to be certain he’s awake, and not dreaming.

The truth it’s all a reality weaves into his muscles, the adrenaline bursting into his bloodstream—beautifully blending with the newly rejuvenated oxygenated cells that swim to his heart.

He knows there's a shitstorm waiting for him at the embassy. For what he’d done—but, then, they hadn’t really wanted him here for the accolades.

Stechner hadn’t vouched for him because he’d been a rule-follower. More someone to blame, to use.

And now, he’d shown them the sheer proof that it could be done—the surrender could be nil and void. They could get more.

That’s what he’d thought as he had hammered his knuckles into Martinez’s door, pulling on a string marked ‘do not touch’. Hoping he’d be forthcoming—that he’d trust him to work alongside him.

Javi hadn’t been sure if a speech on how much he wanted to do right would make up for what had already transpired. Less excuses spoken, and more acknowledged errors that he’d been determined—foolishly so. Blinded and only seeing through tunnel vision. Focused on the wrong thing; determined, but for what? None of it became clear even when he’d sat in his childhood home—or stood out in the field. The more he looked for answers, the less weight his reasonings had—the fewer excuses he could grasp at why he’d let things poison and ruin.

In the end, he was grateful he hadn’t needed to spout any of that. The sheer opportunity that Javi had brought it to him, had been enough.

Not sure any of his truthful ramblings would have made sense, anyway.

It was a true second chance. A hope which had been living in some recess, brushed off and placed front and centre at his feet. His hand outstretched, watching as Martinez shook his—a truce, of some sort, a promise. Maybe, in the smallest way, an element of forgiveness—not that Javi would allow it. It didn’t mean he’d squander or wreck it either, using it to stand a little taller and ensure his shoulders were a little more square.

It’s why he takes a moment when the car pulls up outside the building. Sitting, spreading his palms in long strokes over his thighs. Catching his breath.

He can already feel how things have changed. Already knows there will be faces turning when he steps inside, the burden of it meeting his shoulders again. Having temporarily moved it, placed it on the floor while he focused on what needed to be done. Now, the music was playing, and the true heaviness of what a second chance meant began to rest on his bones. The true power of doing good didn't just provide accolades, but gifted in moon-eyed agents and hopefulness he felt guilty squashing.

It begins when he steps down the embassy stairs, bodies stopping, turning. His cheeks warming, ears burning as they murmur and mutter. Focusing on it, while another part blindly wants to ignore it as he enters the office. It’s why the first clap doesn’t register.

It takes a moment, the applause slowly raining around him, covering him. Layering in thick noise that soaks into his skin and makes him feel cold, rather than joyous.

The worst thing is, deep down, he knows there’s an old version of him who would have smirked at all of this. Who’d have relished in it. Likely lifted his chin, and shook each hand—man or woman—rather than sinking his chin to his chest like he’s currently doing. Trying to shy from it, get through them all as they begin to move closer, ready to congratulate him—shake his hand.

A part of him knows he should be glad. Should be proud he has somewhat earned the notoriety he walks around with now. A slither of it, anyway.

Finding Stoddard’s hand, he’s the only one he shakes. Not sure what to do with the rest of his body as he lets his eyes move across the room, seeing the closing circle of those wanting to thank him, celebrate and pat him on the back. But, his eyes land only on the pair which pulls him to shore.

Yours.

The one person not clapping—leaning against your desk, head tilted to the side, doing your trademark smirk. The one Javi likes to think is just for him because he pulls it from you so frequently. The one which hits your eyes and shines like the sun on a cloudless day and warms him, even if he keeps trying not to let it.

His heart sinks, just a touch. It’s still floating on the surface of the day and is the only explanation for why it doesn’t fall to his feet. Because as he lets his eyes fall over you he realises it’s the first opportunity he’s had to think of you. To allow himself to think of you.

How he hadn’t had a chance to make sure you got home okay. The last sight of you had been in his office, lips swollen, eyes shimmering with post-lust bliss and your clothes a little off-pristine. Your hand on his wrist, sliding circles into his pulse—all thought-out and considered. You’re gonna get him, Javi. Your teeth chewed the skin of your lip as the words washed over him, a nervousness to you he rarely ever noticed—a slight discomfort in your forced expression.

But he hadn’t asked.

Swallowing, he releases the hand in his.

“–Where you going? C’mon, we want to toast you…”

Hearing Stoddard, but watching you. “Start without me.”

He never questioned the tight expression when you released his wrist, his hand grabbing at things from his desk—all set to walk out, to leave. Be safe, Javi.

It echoes through his ears as he crosses the room, watching as you take a deep breath as the gap between the two of you closes.

Javi could let himself feel it now—the spark and the concern. Could question it—let it fill him. He could find the words to ask why Cali undoes a part of you, why you always place one particular type of mask up when it's mentioned—when someone goes. Unpicking it all, seeing it all as though someone was showing it to him all on video.

Having been so laser-focused before, he’d missed it. Placed them all to the side, noticing the other things—the ones inflicted by others' words and actions, and not the looming one hovering over you as you worked.

Something had happened to you in Cali. Something that was left from the reports.

He tucks you away, hides you—keeps you purely for the times he can spare a second to truly think and consider you. Sometimes, it’s in the quiet—in the calm. A welcomed retreat, a safe haven. A person who populates a carved space in his mind, one you had barely needed to hack at to make. Because, in truth, he made it for you, found a place that he could store you in for when he felt safe enough to let you out, and he wasn’t sure what that meant.

Now just watching in slow motion as you try to hide what he assumes is relief.

It’s a gift, how you keep people out. One he would admire if he wasn’t on the other side of it and wasn’t able to recognise how quickly and smoothly you were able to slide up the veil which isn’t breachable. While he doesn’t know what monsters live in your wardrobe or which ghosts haunt you, he knows there’s a reason why you can’t tell him too.

A reason why you talk in riddles whenever bureaucracy is mentioned.

A discomfort which ebbs and flows, but never truly meets the two of you, even if it tries to. It did so before he fucked you on his desk. A look so similar to the one you gave him in his office, all soft eyes he wasn’t sure if he could ever earn deserving.

He knows people consider you to be a storm. A restless bundle of anger and lightning—thunder rumbling with every step of your heel.

But, as he comes to a stop in front of you, Javi realises he hadn't seen you like that, not since the first day when you'd tried to convince him you were. Not even as you slide around your desk, using the wooden furniture as a barrier between the two of you.

Ironic, really. When the two of you used one similar as a surface for relief, hours and hours ago.

Javi thinks you’re something more akin to a rain cloud—all set to burst and let whatever it is you hold close fall like raindrops. Maybe they’d be acidic, maybe they’d burn those unfortunate to be underneath, but he’d only care for the relief on your face.

The one he’s sure is hiding behind the smile he’s being presented with.

“Congratulations, sir.”

He slides his shades from his shirt, nodding at you. Thanking you.

Continuing, you clear your throat, “I think the Ambassador would like to see you.”

You let your words wash over him, before dropping your hand close to your mug, slowly pushing it toward him. A gesture, a bold one in a sea of eyes.

Voice dropping, you flick your eyes up to his, “You can have one sip.”

“And, if I take one more, cariño?”

Your lips scrunch, a real smile—all teeth and lines in your cheek—so desperate to break out. “You wouldn’t want to know, sir.”

Each time he swallows, he tastes your coffee.

Desperate to find a mug, to enjoy one more sip in some silence—even light up a cigarette, if he could be spared. But, it’s one thing, then another. Almost feeling the flutter of anxiety and adrenaline merging into something unheard of.

From the meeting to the note in his file, right to the press conference he had needed to lead.

As soon as it ended, he was led to the staircase—practically shoved off. His feet all heavy, legs like lead as he steps down, ready to hide in his office and release many heavy, simmering breaths.

That had been his plan. His only focus—until he finds you waiting.

Then he thinks of the file room, his place, his desk…

It knots all inside of him—that thrum of disbelief that blends so disastrously with the sudden acknowledgement he doesn’t deserve you. Something he thinks a lot, yet is finding it harder to fight off under tiredness and waning adrenaline.

It isn’t just whatever it is between you—the fun, non-committal thing neither of you are likely to acknowledge—but your mere attendance in his life.

The way you make things brighter, shine something that makes the edges a bit more colourful and meaningful. Not quite ready to allow it closer to the centre, to let it touch the parts of him still tainted in darkness and regret. He doesn’t think even your shine can do that alone.

Wiping a hand over his face, he moves towards you. Absently wondering when you’ve snuck in, having not seen you arrive or between his meeting finishing and arriving here. He’d looked for you, met Stoddard’s eyes and nodded for him to come.

Yet, here you are, shaking someone’s hand as Javi moves past another person, noticing that you’ve removed your jacket, so that he can see the outlines of your bra straps through the back of your blouse. He spots the clipboard pressed to your chest, hand wrapped around another mug—one he soon realises is the one you always give him.

It diminishes, the part of him which wants to protect you from him. From the disappointment he tends to bring and the fact he’s so thoughtless. That even under your occasional frostiness and many secrets, you’re kind… sweet.

It’s why he should blink, and turn away—not that he can tear his eyes away enough to solidify his thought of walking away. Your presence practically demands his attention, even if you’re talking to someone else. Your leg crossed in front of the other, a white pen tucked away behind your ear and hearing, as he moves closer, the Spanish flowing from your tongue. It’s crisp, and clear—rolling beautifully to his ear as the conversation nears an end. The man’s hand in yours, another placed on your arm—squeezing—bidding you farewell.

Something unfurls, and stretches its legs inside of him. Only settling when the man’s hand leaves your arm, leaves the close proximity and is walking away.

“You making friends?”

Shrugging, you smirk. “Apparently so. You looked good by the way.”

“I did?”

Nodding, you hand him the mug. “Yeah. Like you were supposed to be up there. You know, before you get into your head, it should have been someone else.”

He nods, taking a sip, wincing at the strong taste of alcohol—frowning at you as you smile wistfully.

“Thought you could do with something stronger. Also, you doing the conference is smart, I like it—takes the heat off Chris and Dan.”

He nods again, taking another sip. More prepared this time to coat his throat in amber, staring, wondering how you managed to sneak a mug of bourbon to him. Not that he should be surprised. You seemed to manage to do a lot, keep things turning, keep things organised.

“So, sir. How do you plan on celebrating?”

He takes a long drag, raising his brows that hopefully says, I think you already know, and from the smirk, you shoot him back, you do. The two of you fall into a walk, one where your strides match, where your eyes can be on the other but not walk into a thing or soul. Not speaking, not for a minute, your eyes taking him in—raking over him, assessing him for something (or nothing) he can’t be sure.

“Are you waiting for an invite for that or…”

Shrugging, he watches you take the mug back as he narrows his eyes. “Never been one to wait to be asked to be somewhere, cariño.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me,” you comment, sliding closer as you press the button for the elevator. “So, what? You want to take me home and fuck the day away?”

He looks at you, flicking from your eyes to your lips. Watching as you swipe the tip of your tongue against your lower lip. Your body heat is almost smothering his skin—even through his shirt and jacket. “If I ever say no to doing that, cariño. I’ve got brain damage.”

Smirking, you nudge him, the ding of the elevator's arrival making you step back. “If we have a choice, I choose yours. It's fancier.”

“I don't know, I bet you have candles and decorative pillows.”

“That what makes a place fancy in your eyes? The amount of candles someone has.”

“I have no candles.”

Snorting, you shake your head as he presses the button for your floor.

As the doors close, he glances at you, how your expression is fixed on the metal doors.

“I’m glad you came back, Peña.”

He hears it, and conjures another set of words. Ones he heard, ones he had been meaning to acknowledge—until the phone rang. Until life hurtled a thousand things, and then he was flying to Cali.

Javi… I was worried. I was worried about you.

You turn your head, flicking your eyes over him. “Another night, I’d show you how unfancy my place is. Tonight, though…”

He knows. Knew even before the teasing had begun about his place or yours. His thumb strokes over his middle and index finger as he chews his cheek.

“Plus, someone must have come in and knocked all your files on the floor,” you say, a lightness to your tone, “Left your office in a right mess.”

The doors pinged open, only able to watch as you step out—not waiting for him, just leaving him behind, chewing his smirk.

The moment Martinez left his office, he just remained sat on the edge of his desk.

It had taken longer than it should to sink in. The power people had, the corruption, how it bled and rotted in every corner of the place. The enormity of it all, how without his sacrifice and him handing his notice in, it would have all been undone.

Martinez was the good one. The one who hadn't toed the line, hadn't stepped into the grey, hadn't even been selfish. Not like him.

He drained the glass, finished his cigarette—staring at a patch on the floor until his fingers wrapped around the edge, feeling marks along the wood. For a solid minute, he traces them, feels the lines, the deepness to them, until his mind wonders if they’re from you.

No, Javi. Just you. Only you.

It’s instant, the way he darts to his bottom drawer, rummaging through until he retrieves the file—the one marked with your name. The one he’d sourced before, now paying attention to the parts he had ignored then.

From the look on your face, you’re as surprised to see him, as he is that he knocked. A wine glass in hand, the red of it sloshing from side to side as he observes you process his arrival. That he even got out of the car.

“You… know where I live?”

He drops his hand from leaning on the door frame, wiping his mouth. “I know where you live.”

Opening the door, you step aside—hands tugging at your cardigan to wrap it around yourself. “Some could call that stalking, sir.”

“Y’gotta stop with the sirs.”

“Do I?”

You smirk—it spreads up your cheeks until it hits your eyes, before your hand pushes the door closed behind him, keeping your eyes on him.

All he can think is how pretty you are. How beautiful you look, even if you’re all undone—nothing on your face, a baggy t-shirt and some shorts, the thickest socks on your feet.

“Drinking alone, cariño?”

It’s slow, how you lean against the door. Not letting the two of them head further into your place. “Some days justify it. Don’t you think?”

He does.

More than he wants to say—not wanting to spoil your evening. Taint your home with talks of work and bureaucracy. Things he suspects you know more than you’re likely to share. The thick lines through your file are all an indication of it.

You take a sip, and then another.

Adding nothing, just letting him stand there, and he half wonders if you expect him to plead his case here—or whether you’re assessing whether to eject him out of your place as quickly as you left his prior.

Mainly, he focuses on the fact it smells like you. Floral with a hint of darkness—your decor not all that different from his, just with additional touches. Some candles, some colour—some attempt at making the place feel like a home and not somewhere to rest your head.

It’s only in the growing silence does he hear the faint sound of music, something low, involving a guitar thrumming in the background.

“Are you lonely, Agent Peña?”

He places his hand in his pocket, leaning against the wall opposite you.

“No.”

You nod, rolling your lips. “Just in the neighbourhood then?”

He wipes his mouth as his other hand rubs his palm against his index finger in his pocket. Suddenly unsure why he was here—why he’d found your address and come.

Javi wasn’t lonely. Didn’t have the time to be. A sea of paperwork on his desk, the guilt weighing down on him, hearing the colonel's voice over and over—the once pleasant taste of liquor now turning bitter in the back of his throat.

“You forget I know where you live, so I know you’ve come out of your way.”

A laugh escapes and falls from his lips as he dips his head.

It all of a sudden catches up with him, how the day has been a range of emotions. The delicate way things had needed to happen, the thrum of adrenaline—the joy, the meeting, the conference…

Lifting his chin, he finds you still watching him.

No smirk. No smile. All soft edges and a comforting presence—waiting. For what, he can’t be sure, but he kicks off the wall all the same. Sliding his hand from his pocket, softly wrapping it around your hip as he places his forehead against yours, walking you backwards, taking the glass from your hand and placing it down.

He tells himself he needs a moment. A stolen one that doesn’t bleed and change into others. A break in from everything, for a second.

It only shifts when he wraps each finger on your hip, pulling you close. He keeps your shoulder blades against the wall, the guitar strumming increasing as much as his heart is beating. It’s all rhythmic, a remix of a song he isn’t sure of—but one he is tuned into all the same.

It takes his breath away how you look at him. How it’s harder to stop himself from falling into them, worsening as your hand cups his elbow. At first, it’s all shared breath and waiting. Neither moving, his forehead just remaining against yours.

“Are you okay?”

It’s so soft. Barely audible if his body wasn’t pressed against you, as he shakes his head, feeling your fingers slowly sliding in gentle circles around his elbow. Cupping him, keeping him as close as his hands keep you.

“What do you need?”

He says nothing. Afraid that saying ‘you’ is too much. Having hoped the action would speak louder than the words as he stares into you—mixing brown with yours to make a colour artists dream of.

“Hey,” you say again. More demanding, assertive. “Javi, what do you need?”

He doesn’t think, doesn’t attempt to. Embodies the former version of him—the one which had gone to the Colonel’s home, to begin with—the one who takes and takes and takes.

“You drunk, baby?”

He hears you swallow, before slowly shaking your head.

“Good,” he whispers.

Closing his eyes, he lifts his forehead before dipping his head, his mouth captures yours. Javi merges the taste of sweet wine, whiskey and his cigarettes together, creating a taste so intoxicating and delicious he’s not sure he ever wants to come up for air.

Just need you, he thinks as his tongue slips past your parted lips.

Only want you, he urges as he feels your other hand sliding around his neck, deepening the kiss, his tongue able to taste that small whimper you do when he squeezes your hip.

It’s different—but then each time he kisses you is. It has been needy, and passionate. Another, it has been soft, almost meaningful. Now, this time, he’s able to feel how warmth consumes him as you kiss him more purposefully. He deepens it in search of more, kissing you more hungrily, full of need and want.

It’s only when he feels your hand skate over the back of his neck, fingers teasing the bottom of his hair, does he slow. In time, pulling back, pressing his forehead against yours—bruising your hip with his fingers as he takes a few deep breaths.

“Whatever it is…”

“We can’t fix it, cariño.”

It’s cold—the way he says it. Wishing he could retract it the moment he sees your brows scrunch. Instead, he shows no sign of letting up his grip on you. Hoping it’s enough to wordlessly explain that he needs you close, wants you—in fact. Needed to just be around you. Even if he shouldn’t, couldn’t…

He presses two fingers to the side of your cheek, curling them. Your mouth parts, words—likely reassuring ones, knowing what he knows about you—are all desperate to fall and heal over the cracks. But, he shakes his head, watching your lips close as quickly as they had opened, your fingers continuing to draw shapes at the base of his hairline, studying him—searching his eyes.

Then, like a light in a dark room, understanding spreads across your gaze. Illuminating everything, likely connecting the dots in that beautiful—but deeply fascinating—way you do.

“Martinez…”

“Cariño… not, not right now.”

Slowly, you smile, spreading your fingers in his hair—tugging on him, pulling him with far too much ease until his forehead presses back against yours.

“You did this… before.”

A breath escapes his lips. “Yeah…”

“Why’d you come, Javi?”

I needed you.

It wasn’t a lie. If anything, it was more truthful than he cared to admit or accept. Which is why he didn’t say it—didn’t let on that the moment the walls began to tremble, he thought of you. Looked through the blinds, bitterly disappointed you weren’t there to be witty and sarcastic, smirk in that way that gets under his skin and make some flirtatious comment that makes it hard not to kiss you.

He could tell you that. Be honest.

Instead, he says nothing, staring into your eyes until he feels your other hand, the one which has been continuing to grip his elbow, squeeze.

“Okay. Lemme look after you,” you whisper, before kissing him.

Brushing your lips against him, before pulling away and then kissing him again. Testing the waters, looking for some form of permission as he grips your hips, giving it to you. He doesn’t protest when you begin trailing kisses down his jaw. Your fingers sliding around his arm, to his waist, to the belt holding his trousers up.

Holding the base of your neck, he stares into your eyes, feeling your palm brush suddenly over his cock. “You don’t have to, car—“

“Shh,” you whisper.

Slowly, he watches as you lower yourself to your knees, his throat going dry at the mere sight of you. Watching as you grip his cock. All teasingly slow, dragging it out—your tongue sweeps across your bottom lip as you continue to stroke him.

Eyes closing, he lets his head meet the wall. Needing more—almost asking for it.

It’s what you want, he assumes. Because as soon as he reaches the point where he’s going to ask, you wrap your pretty lips around him. Taking note of the way you run your tongue around the head of him before licking a stripe along the underside of his cock. Finding that your eyes don’t leave his—watching what you do to him, enjoying it.

It’s endearing.

A desire building, suddenly wanting nothing more than to watch—how he wants an unrestricted view of such beauty—of you taking him down your throat, of your cheeks hollowing, even if your actions are compelling him to close his eyes.

You’re always pretty—but this is something else. You are on your knees for him.

Taking as much of him as you can, your hand working what you can't fit—his own hand tightening around your head as you wrap his cock in warmth.

He feels you smirking, your mouth pulling back as you swirl your tongue over the head of his cock, a hand grasping the back of his thigh as you hum around him.

“So fuckin’ pretty, cariño.”

The tip of your tongue slides over his slit, making him hiss again—making your name tumble freely from his tongue as he leans himself against the wall for leverage.

“I know,” you whisper, tracing your lips with his slick head, “Come down my throat, Javi.”

He grunts, nails digging into his palm as you take him down your throat. His other hand bites into your head as you take him deeper, his hips spluttering, thrusting against your tongue.

Your eyes have closed.

The window into your need to please him vanishes, and he wants to ask you to open them. To let him see. His finger strokes the top of your cheek, feeling the dampness from a tear at how deep you’re taking him.

How deep you want him down your throat.

His hand aids you, fucking into you as you hollow and moan—it vibrates all around him. It covers and smothers his own grunts and groans. The one you pull from him with ease, because everything with you he is slowly learning is easy. Not complicated—even if the situation is.

All he can think is you’re a fucking goddess, an angel—something he’s now one hundred per cent sure he doesn’t deserve.

He hisses out your name, feeling your hands clutch at him for balance, his moans filling the hallway of your place until he’s coating your throat in his pleasure. You lap up every drop of it, swallowing it—swallowing all of what he’s given you.

You don’t move, not for a minute. Him slowly pulling himself from your mouth, your hand wiping any spend from your lips to your tongue.

“You’re… fucking—”

“Something?”

He snorts, arranging himself before he fastens his trousers, shaking his head. His hand offers out to you, pulling you up from your knees as he adjusts your cardigan—as he places his lips against yours.

“I didn’t… this wasn’t why I came around.”

“Why did you… come round?”

His muscles tighten, swallowing as he stares at you.

Then you smile, placing a hand over his chest, palm flat, fingers spread. “You got anywhere to be, sir?”

Javi is frowning, before the rest of your words sink in. His hand captures yours, holding it flat against him as he shakes his head.

“Because you’re here, may as well let me toast you.”

Some mornings greet him loudly—sweat clinging to his skin, head hammering, and the world chirping.

The morning, it greets him gently, softly. The sun slides through open curtains, a calmer sound of occasional passing cars greeting his ears.

It’s only then that he registers he’s waking beside you. Your warm, soft skin curled against him—his own arm holding you close, keeping you close.

It takes a second for the sleep to flutter past his eyes, glancing at the clock on your bedside table—the one which ticks ever so loudly now he’s awake. It’s obvious the two of you have managed to catch a few hours, remembering how he’d brought you in here—thrown your decorative pillows to the floor with a smirk that you kissed immediately from his mouth.

He had told you he wouldn’t stay.

But, here he is. Now, though, he should move—even if he’s unsure if he wants to.

It’s never been his favourite thing, waking up outside of his own space. Never mind besides someone else. There were occasions and exceptions. He’s not prepared or currently capable of assessing whether you’ve slotted yourself there, either.

All he knows is… he likes it, being here.

Enjoying the fact he’s been allowed to steal a moment of this—of you. Letting himself enjoy it, the sound of your soft inhales and exhales, the way you fit against him—not in a way that looks perfect but simply feels it.

And it scares him. Just a little bit.

That thought returning, the one which bellows and beats the drum that you deserve better: than him, than what he can give you and the life you’d have being around him.

Pinching his nose, he knows he should go to the office. Should begin to unravel the highs and lows of the day prior. Make a start on the paperwork that is already mounting higher than he expected.

Instead, he turns his head. Selfishly admiring the way you sleep so peacefully, how he’d somewhat expected to find a creased forehead or a tightened jaw. A part had also expected to hear nightmares plague you, knowing there’s something there—living in your mind. A bad memory, a past which hammers at you to get out.

He’d half expected to have his own rear its head too.

Instead, he’s sure none had greeted the night air.

If anything, he slept peacefully, soundly. Almost oddly, for the most consecutive hours since way before Escobar was caught. He shuffles against the pillow, eyes widening when he realises and feels your head rolling ever so slightly on his chest. The smallest of movements that had rippled out into hearing you murmur.

Freezing, it dawns on him that he doesn’t want the bubble to burst. Studying, secretly praying he hasn’t woken you, as your lashes flutter and your lips don’t press back together. He’s a passenger, unable to stop the undoing as your brows dip, your fingers spread over his chest—

“J-Javi?”

It’s full of sleep, his name. And fuck, it has never sounded so nice.

He thought it bellowed or screamed as he fucked someone was good, but this… is something else. It takes a chunk from him, snatches it, and renders him thoughtless as you turn your head on his chest, looking up at him, blinking.

“Morning,” he whispers, thumb stroking your cheek. “I’m… I should go, cariño…”

You frown, not like normal—smothered in sleepiness that it doesn’t quite form.

A string is plucked in his chest when your fingers slide over his chest, watching them rub at your face. A desperation rises in him to kiss you, to taste what morning and goodness is like—even if it's coated in unbrushed teeth and last night.

But, it’s his moment to move—his chance. To relieve you of his presence.

Not that he takes it. Instead, he absorbs the moment he was robbed of the first night he took you to his—of seeing you without armour or walls.

“If y’give me…”

“—cariño—“

“… like fifteen, maybe twenty minutes,” you say, words monotone and low as your hand slowly drops from your face to his chest. “I need… really need a shower. Then can come wit’you.”

As soon as you sit up, cool air brushes over the places you’d been against him—goosebumps appearing over his skin as you stretch. His hand lightly grasps your forearm, keeping you from sliding out the sheets completely as he whispers your name.

Lets it slide into the air of your home, around the two of you—the room he secretly wishes could pause time so neither of you had to leave.

Not ready to face the fallout from Martinez, the look of ‘what’s next’ on everyone’s face. Never mind the note clearly from Stechner.

“You don’t… you don’t have to, I need…”

His fingers move to your cheek, sliding over your jaw, only managing a half-breath as you flick your eyes to look over him—stunning him in a shade, he’s not sure truly has a name.

“W-what?”

“Nothing,” he lies.

Following your suit, he sits up, your sheet falling to his waist as he marries his lips back to yours. Fingers finding your chin, keeping you there, stealing another moment, and another. Doing so until your hand wraps around his wrist, thumb stroking a line up and down his wrist.

“I need a shower…”

He snorts. “You don’t have to come with me.”

“I’m normally in an hour or two later anyway—plus…”

“Plus?”

Your lips slide, less of a smirk but more than a smile. “I have to come and ensure you don’t fuck with my organisational system. No other reason.”

“Not one?”

“No.”

He tuts. “I can keep things organised.”

You scoff, light and airy. “Peña, you’ve been here five minutes, and your desk already looks like it’s amassed ten years of files, so—I’m gonna call bullshit. Respectfully.”

“Respectfully?”

“Yes.”

He allows a laugh to escape, light and airy, it falling from him with far too much ease. Pulled from some depths he hasn’t allowed himself to explore.

Sliding from him, you stand, grasping at a t-shirt that begins to mist over your body—hiding your skin, your curves and the marks he’s left from view.

“I… I should say, I don’t mind that you showed up at my place, Javi.”

He traces his mouth with his thumb, looking at you. “Javi, huh?”

You smile, rolling your lips as you sigh. “You wore me down.”

“Go shower, I’ll wait for you.”

Pausing at the door frame, you glance at him, half your body framed in shadow and the other in the morning light. He’s not sure he’s ever seen someone look more beautiful in the earliest hours of a new day.

chapter six ->

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ronearoundblindly · 8 months

Text

Sneak Peek!

a Steve Rogers x Avenger!Reader excerpt

Summary: Steve reaches his breaking point when you return to the field after severe injuries.

Warnings for a touch of the spice and a vicious/hot argument. WC ~550 *This work is not in final edits yet. All mistakes are my own.

“You’re not my superior officer, and if you think for one second I did anything wrong out there, go ahead and report me. From where I’m standing, I did the work, got cleared for duty, helped out the team, and stopped you from being shot in the head.”

“Fine," Steve shouts, arms crossed over his chest, "but quit acting like a selfish coward.”

“A what?”

“You heard me.”

“If you’re gonna throw a hissy fit every time I get a scratch—“

“THREE BULLETS IS NOT A SCRATCH.” He tries—he visibly, painfully tries—to keep his cool one last time. “You weren’t ready,” he concludes, judge, jury, and executioner all poured into one star-spangled package.

“Say’s who?” You’re stepping closer, getting in his face because this is bullshit and unfair. “Last time I checked, you’re not a doctor, and you should be thanking me for saving your ass—“

“It’s not your job to save me.”

“We have the same job, Steve! We are both perfectly capable of—“

“I know that,” he barks.

“Do you? Because you don’t seem to think I can’t handle myself." You push weakly at his chest like it's a game. "Maybe you need to walk it off, buddy.”

Oh shit. You’ve done it now.

“Walk it off?! WALK IT OFF?!”

Steve charges like a bull seeing red, crowding you against the far wall, a derisive finger pointed at your heart.

“You were injured. You didn’t make contact. You went dark for days, and you could have died. Alone. Out there. Who knows how long it would have taken us to find you. No—“ he cups your chin in a tight pinch “—you want to talk about a job? It’s protocol to check in. It’s common courtesy to let me know you’re alive, and it’s goddamn rude to ignore your own safety.”

There’s a deep line of frustration carved between his brows. His nostrils flair as he waits, daring you to refute him.

“Well, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Excuse me?”

Steve lets go of you, smacked away by your cutting tone.

“Oh, whatever, Rogers,” you taunt, rolling your eyes. “Play martyr all you want, but we both know you don’t have the authority to bench me.”

“Like hell I don’t,” he growls, grabbing your wrists and throwing your arms above your head. He weaves your hands through the cargo net behind you. The loops are tight and complicated in seconds, he’s so fast.

You can’t wriggle away.

Steve roughly throws the zipper of your uniform down, letting the jacket hang open to show nothing but your sports bra.

“Let’s see how you like feeling paralyzed—“ he dexterously undoes your belt “—exposed—“ your pants and underwear are yanked down to your ankles “—and afraid.”

His last word thickens the air on the jet.

How can this man launch you into unbridled lust in the space of two syllables? Who. Fucking. Cares. How.

Steve’s fingertips teasingly glide over the swell of your breasts, brush down your belly, and tick their way in a casual walk between your legs.

“Maybe I should leave you wondering how it’ll all play out, leave you wondering if I’ll ever touch you again, wondering if…”

“Yes,” you breathe.

a/n: Tentatively planning to have this done to post on Sunday since the original was a 'Sweet Sunday' ask. Per usual, don't quote me on that, but I got a huge chunk done today which was likely the hardest part. Thank you to all those who sent messages of support! I won't let you down 🫡

[Main Masterlist; Old Dog, New Tricks; Ko-Fi]

Tags: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #sneak peek #old dog new tricks #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fic #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #steve rogers x you

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sassylegshayne · 1 year

Text

marry me, idiot. - chapter four

oh my god it's so angsty and there's so much cussing and I really don't know what else to say ab it lmfao I hope you guys like it bc I love this chapter sm okay lmk what you think!!! 4.1k words mwah xx!!

series masterlist

It started to seem like days in the office began to blend together, the month and a half since you and Spencer got accidentally engaged flew by. It was a whirlwind of shoots, editing, and meetings as you prepared to announce it to the world.

After a few weeks with no leaks known to the team it was decided that waiting would be for the best. You and Spencer spent more time in front of the camera as ever before. You didn't expect so many of the wedding videos to be shot so early, but Zoe made the point that the wedding planning could take quite a while.

Your last shoot for a few months was scheduled for today. It was an Eat It Or Yeet It wedding cake episode that left you with a bitter taste in your mouth, literally. You waited through the first two, allowing Olivia to get a red velvet sriracha cake and Damien to taste a pickle juice cake, which he of course claimed to enjoy.

You stared Spencer down as you slammed the bell, just barely beating him as he screamed out. The cake looked normal, and frankly good. The slice of cake appeared to be a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, so you decided to take a large bite.

"Look at this!" You defended as Spencer criticized your bite. "It's gonna be good, Spence, and am not sorry about it."

You shrugged and laughed as he scoffed, shaking his head. He continued to claim you would regret it as the others began to count you down.

"I hope it's just super salty or something, you deserve it." Spencer called over the others, crossing his arms with a smug look as he watched you take your bite.

You sat back immediately, your face dropping as you covered your mouth. Garrett shrugged and laughed nervously as you looked to him with a saddened expression.

Spencer turned over his shoulder, grabbing the bucket as his faux anger had quickly melted into concerned as you chewed slowly. Courtney slapped his shoulder softly with the cards, chastising him for stealing her job.

You chewed in slow silence, choking out a wish for water once you had finally swallowed it. Cheers erupted as you gulped down your water, groaning as you sat back.

"What was it? I'm sorry I wished that hell on you." Spencer chuckled as he placed his hand on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze as you rolled your eyes.

"Shayne should try it." You stated, pushing the plate towards him as Shayne began to cackle. Damien scrunching his face as everyone else began to laugh.

Olivia sat in confusion, looking around to the others. "Wait, what is it?"

"Y/N, what you just had was.." Courtney began, moving behind you as she read off the card. "Chocolate malic acid cake! Which is made of chocolate cake mix, malic acid, chocolate frosting, and more malic acid!"

You gagged a bit as Spencer wrapped his arms around your shoulders after Courtney removed your bib. He placed a kiss to your temple, mumbling another apology as he chuckled. You pulled away, pointing your finger at Spencer with your brows furrowed.

"You should have to take the big bite for that. You put that shit on me so you deserve it, if it's the worst bite, which I hope it is." You spoke pointedly as Spencer's eyes widened, rasing his hands in surrender.

"Okay, that's fair." He quickly responded, nodding frantically as you laughed, nudging your shoulder with his as the next dish was placed on the table.

"I think Y/N could punch you in the face and you would thank her." Damien quipped, pulling a loud laugh from Kiana behind the cameras. Shayne was greeted with what looked to be a confetti cake, but there was no telling what it could really be.

Shayne groaned, rubbing his face with one hand as the other slowly hovered over the button, dropping his hand dramatically as everyone cheered.

"I want it to be confetti cake but it's probably, like, microplastics or some shit." Shayne chuckled as he got some onto the fork, rolling his eyes and flipping the bird when Garrett tells him to get more frosting.

Shayne was pleasantly surprised to get a normal cake, leaving Spencer groaning.

"Goddamnit, Shayne." Spencer slapped the table, laughing as Shayne gave a thumbs up and went back in for another bite.

Courtney called it to be a perfectly normal cake mush to the dismay of everyone else. When Courtney pulls the cover from the tray, everyone begins to count down in confusion.

The slice looked very similar to yours from earlier, maybe a bit neater, but near identical. Spencer silently hit the button, slumped in his seat as you giggled beside him. He stayed silent as everyone was in fits of laughter as Spencer's pure misery.

"You're doing this to me, I want you to know that." He turned to you, laughing softly as the countdown began for the final time.

Spencer waited, slowly moving the bite to his mouth. He remained stoic for a second, but once he had realized it wasn't something bad his eyes fluttered shut as he let out a soft whine.

You gasped as he grinned, finishing his bite to loud cheers as Courtney removed his bib. Spencer pressed a kiss to your cheek, laughing softly as you sat in bewilderment.

"Thank you for that, that was fucking delicious." He laughed, handing you a fork from Garrett, inviting you to try it.

"What you just ate was 'Mythical Chef Josh's German Chocolate Cake'! Holy cow, that was a lot of words." Courtney laughed, flinging the card behind her. You groaned quietly, mirroring Spencer as the flavors melted on your tongue.

"We're not gonna tell you the ingredients because he gave us way too many!" Courtney called out as laughter rang from everyone.

"Fuck, can we get Josh to make this for our wedding cake?" You laughed as you went in for more.

Spencer felt a tug at his heart strings,nyet another pang in his chest as you picked up another bite, his eyes following your every move.

He's known for so long that he was in love with you, he's known for fucking years. He got you two into this situation, you'd been around each other and focused on this wedding for a bit now.

But in this moment, a moment he'll be so thankful that Alex had swung his camera in time to catch and thankful that Kiana had fought to keep the clip in, he would realized just how much he loved you.

The words sat on the tip of his tongue, his feelings clear in his eyes to everyone but you. You just grinned at him, offering him a bite of the cake, your other hand hovering just below his chin to catch any crumbs.

All Spencer could bring himself to do was smile and accept. He stuffed his mouth to keep himself from spilling the vomit of words he wanted to say.

There was so many small ways he told you that he loved you, but he couldn't just say that; he knew a jumbled mess of a confession to his years and years worth of love for you would make its way out.

So Spencer was quick to grab his fork, nodding and giving a thumbs up as he took another bite, eating almost half of the slice by the time Courtney finished the outro, jumping from his stool almost as soon as wrap was called.

You scooted out of your chair in confusion as your eyes followed Spencer, watching as he quickly took off his mic pack and darted out of the door.

Shayne and Damien turned to you with similar perplexed looks. You were quick to follow suit as everyone began to shuffle about the set.

You head toward the central part of the office, catching sight of Spencer in the communal kitchen, leaning down to look into the fridge. He turns, a kickstart in his hand, as he notices your entering the small space. Spencer is quick to smile at you.

"What up, wifey?" He chuckles, opening the can as you raise a brow. He'd picked up the new nickname in the last couple of days after you were gifted a cup with it splayed across the side.

"You okay, Spence?" You questioned softly, approaching him with open arms, smiling as he opened his embrace. The two of you hugged as Spencer scoffed, rubbing your back softly.

"Of course l'm okay, why wouldn't be? This is honestly going way better than could've imagined." He grinned, that pang in his chest returning from earlier.

He wasnt lying to you, but it sure felt like it. He was having a great time, and it was going way better than he expected, but his feelings are becoming very, very strong.

Spencer didn't expect it to affect him this much, especially after this long. It almost felt like he was falling for you all over again. You pulled away, smiling softly at him as you took his free hand in yours, giving it a gentle Squeeze.

"We made an agreement, if anything is making you feel weird or uncomfortable you can tell me. I really fucking mean that, dude." You huffed, brows furrowed as Spencer chuckled and nodded.

"I know, it's all good, I swear." He stepped forward, placing a kiss to your forehead before he slid past you, quietly heading toward your office.

You stood there, chewing your lip softly as you slumped a bit. Spencer was really begining to worry you. His mood shifted so quickly, you'd gone the whole morning just as normal, even then entire shoot was fine. He just switched as soon as wrap was called.

Spencer seemed almost cold when you asked, shocking you a bit. You were used to telling each other everything, from the moment the two of you met, there was an unspoken trust that helped your friendship and feelings blossom so quickly.

So the feeling in your gut that Spencer was holding something back was much more jarring than you could've expected. You couldn't even expect it, this wasn't a situation you'd ever thought of before. You were lost.

You could only think of one person you could go to as you pulled your phone from your pocket, opening your texts.

"ki can we do lunch please?"

Kiana squinted as she glanced at her phone, the stage lights causing a glare as she sat at the Games' set preparing a board game for the next shoot.

She sat up straight, only slightly alarmed by the text. She'd been biting her tongue since Spencer rushed off, her romantic heart racing when you followed after him. She wanted to follow after you, wishing to be a fly on the wall but chose to stay, knowing you two needed the privacy.

She wanted with every fiber of her being to believe that you had something good to tell her, but the pit in her stomach argued otherwise. Kiana responded quickly, promising to meet you at her desk in five minutes.

"Lizzy," Kiana called as she rose from her seat, beckoning her over. "I gotta run, would you be able to finish this up?"

Lizzy agreed, nodding as she shooed Kiana off, ignoring her profuse thank you's. Kiana smile softly as she entered her office, finding slumped in her chair, spinning slowly.

"Wanna order food?" She asked you as she quietly shut the door behind herself. You skidded to a stop, nodding as your eyes met Kiana's. Your brows were furrowed and your stress was clear on your face.

Kiana took the seat opposite for you, shifting a bit in the tough chair. She never knew just how uncomfortable her chairs were, making a mental note to order different ones.

"I'm ordering, you talk." She spoke, eyes on her phone as she nodded at you, causing you to nod back.

"Okay, Spencer's being really fucking weird and it's freaking me out. He ran off set so followed him, which I know you saw." You narrow your eyes, pointing your finger at her. Kiana smirks, eyes still down on her phone as her fingers speed about the screen.

"He was in the kitchen and he seemed like he was pretending to be fine. He was acting normal, he hugged me, he kissed my forehead, he told me he was fine and promised me that he was okay:" You huffed as Kiana locked her phone, setting it down on the desktop as she leaned back, eyes meeting yours.

"I honestly think it's just starting to get to him and he just doesn't wanna say anything about it. He's apologized over this so many times, Ki, no matter how often I tell him that love it." You groan, resting your head in your hands as you feel that same gut feeling from before.

"Y/N," Kiana spoke softly, offering you a sympathetic smile. "Spencer tells you everything, maybe he needs some time to sort out his feelings, yanno? He probably just wants to figure himself out before he tells you, he hates stressing you out."

You nodded a bit, not fully convinced but not willing to argue as your head began to pound. As if punishment from the universe, Kiana's phone rang loudly, causing you to jump a bit.

Ki answered quick, offering you hushed apologies as she spoke quietly, before excusing herself, your food waiting at the front.

You waved lazily as you laid your head on her desk the exhaustion hitting you full force. The busy schedule and your highstrung emotions were finally catching up with you it seemed.

Kiana peeked into the editing room as she walked past on her way to the front, frowning softly as she caught sight of Spencer. He sat with his headphones on, his face bored with a half eaten sandwich beside him.

Alex, one of the Games' producers, gave Kiana a small smile anda nod as he passed her, heading into the office she had just been peering into.

Alex pulled your chair out, quickly catching Spencer's attention, his brows furrowed as his head snapped towards Alex.

"I come in peace, dude." Alex chuckled, his hands raised as he sat down beside him, bumping your chair gently into Spencer's.

Spencer grinned, quickly putting on a face as he removed his headphones. He wasn't stupid, he knew why Alex was here. Everyone saw him rushing off of the set, and he probably got texted about it by someone. He wouldn't be surprised if you were avoiding your desk to keep from being questioned or questioning him yourself.

"What's wrong, Spencer?" Alex asked nonchalantly as he picked up a pen from your desk, grabbing a sticky note as he began to doodle.

A small laugh left Spencer as he shook his head, roling his eyes. Alex raised a brow as he glanced over, not believing the act that was being put on.

"I'm good, I just wasn't feeling great. I think Josh tried to poison me." Spencer chuckled, turning back to his monitor, effectively ending their conversation.

Alex huffed, nodding as he placed the pen back into the cup he'd pulled it from. He stood from your chair, placing the sticky note to the corner of Spencer's monitor.

"Well, if you're lying and you wanna talk, I'm here." He smiled softly as Spencer nodded, mumbling a thanks.

Spencer placed his headphones on, his eyes drawn to the bright green paper covered in different doodles of dicks.

You made your way to Rachel's desk after you'd finished your lunch, pouting as you arrived. She cooed, pouting over dramatically back at you.

"What's up, buttercup?" She grinned, causing you to smile softly, her warmth radiating. You didn't want to leave work early today, but your headache just seemed to get worse.

Today was your announcement day. Rachel, Kiana, and Lizzy had spent weeks picking the photos you and Spencer were to post, which videos would be coming out immediately after the announcement video itself, and helping find everything you need this far before the actual wedding.

Rachel had specific instructions on when you and Spencer needed to post to your different social medias; the schedule outlined perfectly in your calendar by Erin.

You let her know that you were heading home but you promised up and down, pinkies wrapped together and all, that you wouldn't miss it.

You let your walk drag on as you headed back to your desk, your nerves only making your headache worse as you dreaded the possibility of seeing Spencer again. This wasn't usual, you'd never once wished not to see him. You normally spent so much of your alone time wishing you were alone with him.

You found yourself exhaling a breath you didn't know you were holding as you were greeted with empty chairs and blank screens.

You rushed to grab your things, no idea just how quickly he'd be to return. You pulled an irish exit as you left the building, longing for the comfort of your bed and your kitty.

Spencer hadn't planned on leaving his desk anytime soon. He didn't have any upcoming deadlines to meet, but he did need a distraction. Maybe these next few months of wedding-less videos was for the best.

Maybe the distance between the two of you was for the best at this point. He fucked up, and the realization of just how terrible the situation he'd put you two in was finally setting in.

You two were getting married over a stupid joke and he's still in love with you. He's definitely fallen so much more in love with you in this time, but that probably isn't a good thing.

His phone buzzed, causing him to jump a bit, lost in his thoughts again.

"come to my office need ur opinion"

"seriously come here spencer I will drag you here"

He felt a tug at the corner of his lips as the second message came through.

"otw calm down"

He rubbed his eyes, saving his work before trudging down the hall and into Kiana's office, sliding himself into the seat in front of her desk as she chuckles, shaking her head.

"Hey," Kiana began softly, her brows furrowed as she glanced at Spencer, noticing just how tired he looked. "Are you oka-"

"I'm okay." Spencer cut her off, sitting up in the seat, finally fed up.

"I swear l'm okay. Why does everyone keep asking me if l'm okay?" Spencer scoffed, shrugging. Kiana was quick to forgive him, knowing that Spencer's anger wasn't directed at her.

"Because you're obviously not okay, dude. Can you at least tell me what's wrong? don't have to give you advice if you don't want it, just think you should get it off your chest, Spence Kiana reasoned, desperate to allow him the space to vent.

Spencer slumped back into the seat again, glancing over his shoulder to ensure that the door has closed behind him before he looked back to Kiana, the concern in her eyes causing his guilt to grow.

"This stays between us, everything I say, okay?" Spencer sounded almost desperate as he looked to Kiana with his brows raised, crossing his arms over his chest. She nodded, sitting back as her silence encouraged him to speak.

"I love Y/N so fucking much and it's making this so hard. I didn't even think that would happen want it to be real so badly. It feels so natural I almost want to believe that she loves me too." Spencer chewed his lip as Kiana nodded her head, humming in thought. She always has to stall when she was in these situations. You two often bitched about your feelings to her, leaving her to find quick ways to cover up her knowledge.

She refused to meddle with your relationship, no matter how badly she wanted to. Kiana never revealed that the two of you liked each other, but she could try her best to hint at it.

"Why can't she want the same thing? There's no way to tell that she isn't feeling the same exact way that you are." Kiana sighed as an alarm went off on Spencer's phone, cursing under his breath.

How was it 4PM already? He had planned to be with you when you posted your photos to instagram, expecting to see a message or call from you when he checked his phone. His throat felt dry as he found nothing. Kiana looked to him with worry once more as Spencer's face fell.

"ls Y/N here?" He asked, brows furrowed as he began selecting the pictures from his camera roll slowly, still holding out some hope.

"No, she left a few hours ago, she felt terrible." Kiana shook her head as Spencer looked up to her, his heart falling into his stomach at her Words.

Was this his fault? He hadn't thought you'd stress this much over him. Maybe you were stressing about the whole thing. It had just hit Spencer just how deep into this you were, maybe itd just hit you as well.

He quickly hit post, expecting to see a notification of your post shortly after. He waits a few minutes, aimlessly refreshing his feed before finally locking his phone and shoving it into his pocket.

"Ki, I'm gonna stay home tomorrow, I'll work on my editing still, I just don't really wanna be here." Spencer spoke softly as he stood, Kiana following his actions, nodding softly. She rounded the desk, enveloping him into a warm hug. Kiana gave him a gentle squeeze as she rubbed his back.

"Let me know if you need anything." She smiled, walking him to the door before watching him sprint down the hall.

Spencer had exactly twenty eight minutes until the video was posted. Rachel had wanted to build the excitement beforehand, small hints being left in the other videos posted this week.

He wanted to be as far away from the building as possible when the video was posted, there was no way he could handle the chaos at the building without you. He was so grateful your in time was later than his, causing him to drive himself to work this morning, a rarity nowadays.

Spencer grabbed everything and left without any goodbyes. He went home and went through his routines, but stayed as far from his phone as possible, spending most of the night editing as a means for distraction.

As Spencer brushed his teeth, refusing to look at himself in the mirror, scared to see the tired man staring back at him, a buzz of his phone catches his attention. He finally unlocks it, his feed opening where he had left it. Your post appeared at the top, having been made just minutes ago. Six hours and nineteen minutes after the scheduled time with zero explanation.

Was this a point you were trying to prove? He thought you really cared about this, Spencer believed you two had been on the same page with that at least.

This didn't feel like you, you were punctual, you apologize for being minutes late to meetings. This felt almost intentional.

Meanwhile, you awoke in a panic, your vision blurry as you rubbed your eyes. Your phone buzzed on your nightstand. You unlock it to what seemed like hundreds of notifications, your sleepy fog clearly quickly as you cursed loudly.

Your cat, Craig, jumped from his spot at the edge of your bed, quickly darting down the hall as he meowed loudly.

Your fingers moved just as quickly as your cat as you made your post, sending it off before you sent off many, many apology texts to everyone freaking out over your silence and tardiness. Kiana felt a weight lift from her shoulders as your apology lit up her screen, quickly followed by a request to stay home, pulling a chuckle from your friend.

Spencer and you could avoid each other tomorrow, but probably not much longer.

You two were getting married, for fuck's sake.

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w1ldthoughts · 9 months

Text

The Hike of a Lifetime

A/n: My first Justin Herbert piece! Let me know what y’all think and if you want more!

Work had actually been slowly killing you the last few weeks. As one of the head nutritionists for the UCLA men’s basketball team you had to come up with 12 different meal plans in the span of two weeks including snacks and protein shakes in the middle of March Madness which had you living out of your suitcase for approximately 23 days. When the Bruins unfortunately lost to the Gonzaga Bulldogs, it was time to take a much needed break. Luckily for you, your sister invited you out to Oregon to spend the week with her. The hustle and bustle of LA was nice and kept you entertained, but the calming presence of Eugene was exactly what the doctor ordered.

Your sister had moved out there from your childhood home in Colorado a few years before in order to pursue her photography career and got a job at the University of Oregon, allowing the two of you to see each other more often during conference play. When you flew in the night before you had dinner together and made plans for a hike in the morning to decompress and of course, gossip. Rachel sadly informed you when you came into her living room a few hours ago that she had to head into the office and edit some pictures to post onto the team’s social media accounts.

“What’s the point of spring football anyway? And can’t you just ask one of the interns to do it?” You whined, tossing around the cereal in your bowl with the spoon.

“I could,” she sighs. “But then I would have to give my approval and why not just be in the room, get it all done and get back home so we can have the relaxing week that I promised you. I’ll only be gone for like—four hours maybe?”

Rachel grabs her keys off the counter and gives you a pat on the back. “I’m all yours the rest of the time, promise.”

“Fine. But I’m dropping you off so I can hike.”

After letting Rachel out of the car at the door near her office in the Hatfield-Dowlin Complex, you drove a few miles until you reached your desired destination. Hendricks Park was the oldest in Eugene but it had pretty flowers and you’d been there before so you felt comfortable navigating it on your own. You made it maybe a mile, before a friendly black dog made his way over to you, nudging your leg with his wet nose.

“Well hello there buddy. Who do you belong to?” You bent down to search for a name on his collar. “Dylan. That’s a cute name, should we go find who you came here with before someone has a heart attack?” You laughed softly as the dog happily panted away and let you grab onto the leash. Before you could even take a step, you heard a booming voice calling out the dog’s name.

The distressed figure comes into view and lets out a sigh of relief. “Oh my gosh, thank you so much for grabbing him. I’m so sorry if he’s bothering you, I literally bent down to tie my shoe and he made a break for it.”

“He’s taking advantage of the fact that you only have one good arm.” You point out. “No worries, he’s sweet. And super friendly.” You handed him the leash and he thanked you again.

“I seriously owe you, my mom would’ve killed me if I lost our dog when I just got home.” He chuckles nervously. God his laugh was cute. “I’m sorry, I never got your name. I’m Justin.”

“I know.” You smile. “It’s nice to meet you though, I’m y/n. Enjoy the rest of your hike.” You grabbed your AirPods and went to place them back in your ears to finish listening to your podcast.

“Wait—maybe we could finish out the hike…together? You know, just so Dylan doesn’t take advantage of me again.”

Those blue eyes that had the slightest green tint to them were going to get you in trouble and you knew it. But you were on a relaxing vacation and hiking with Justin Herbert wasn’t going to happen again so…

“Let’s do it. Wouldn’t want you to hurt your shoulder even more chasing after Dylan. Bolt nation might actually collapse if anything happens to you so I’m calling this a public service.”

He unsuccessfully tries to stifle a laugh. “What a Good Samaritan you are.”

Justin was funny. And sweet. And the most fun company you’ve had in a while. You talked about your job, March Madness and living in LA. Even though you both lived very different lives, it was filled with sports and schedules and meetings and practices and there were a lot of things to bond over. Before you knew it you’d been out there for five hours and Rachel texted you to let you know she was done and ready to resume your sisterly activities. He took a look at your deflated expression.

“Do you need to head out?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.” You whispered. “This was fun though.”

He readjusts the hat on his head. “Yeah this was great. Um, I meant what I said earlier though. I owe you.” He nods towards the phone in your hands and puts in his number, texting himself immediately so he has yours.

“Maybe we could grab dinner or something before you head back to LA?” He states pensively, holding his breath a bit until you answered.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

The two of you head back to the parking lot and you give Dylan one more pat on the head. You look up to meet Justin’s gaze, shy smiles painting both of your faces. He walked you all the way to your car and waved goodbye as you drove away to meet Rachel.

She found you beaming in the driver’s seat and immediately looked confused.

“What’s got you so smiley? That hike change your life or something?” She finished with a dry laugh.

“I’m not sure, but I think it may have…”

Rachel nods her head slowly, desperately hoping to understand what’s going on. “Yeah okay whatever. Let’s get some lunch because I am absolutely starving.”

You put the car in drive, your phone notifying you of a text from its spot on the dashboard car mount. Rachel grabs it and asks, “who the hell is Justin and why is he asking if you’re free tomorrow night?”

Yeah, that hike definitely may have just changed…everything.

#justin herbert #justin herbert imagine #justin herbert x reader #justin herbert fanfic #nfl imagine

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criminalskies · 9 months

Text

Sleepless in Seattle - part one.

hello my beautiful baby cherubs, I have missed you all. Today I bring you a real lump of clay I hope will resemble something beautiful to you. I think this is something of a beta, to be edited at a later date when my mind isn't so cluttered, but! I really like the direction this is heading. I hope you guys like where it's heading as well <3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gender neutral (BAU) reader Word Count: 1.8k Summary: Reader lays awake in their bed and casts their mind back to all the times their relationship with SSA Hotchner grew and changed. This chapter is strangers to friends... if you know how the rest of this line goes, strap in. Warnings: mentions of food, mentions of nausea, typical CM type content to follow. Murder, kidnapping, etc, if you can stomach criminal minds though, this will be a cake walk for you <3!

You’re going on day four of one of the most dead-end cold cases the BAU has been asked to handle in as long as you can remember. Hotch sent the team back to their hotel rooms for the night, hoping that one last look with fresh eyes in the morning would help dig up a lead actually worth pursuing. If tomorrow proved just as fruitless, you would all leave, but for now, the jet is snowed in and there is nowhere else for the team to direct their efforts. Snowflakes fall and twinkle outside your window, the bright white powder over the roofs below making the moon’s dim glow seemingly illuminate your entire hotel room. Normally, weather like this would have you warmly bundled up in your bed and snoring in no time, but tonight, your mind was reeling with the events of the last few weeks. You had begun to notice this shift in atmosphere within the BAU. Particularly between yourself and another agent, or rather, your boss, SSA Aaron Hotchner. You’re laying wide awake trying to pinpoint exactly when it happened.

Your start at the BAU was as normal as the beginning of any job where you quickly have to learn to analyze, pinpoint, hunt and chase serial killers for a living. Your interview with the infamous SSA Hotchner was nothing short of abysmal, or so you thought. Your face was burning up and your palms were leaving smudges of sweat on the arms of your seat as you stumbled your way through his questions. His tone remained completely even, measured and without even a hint of judgment or insincerity which helped but truthfully you found yourself much too focused on the deep pools of chocolate brown staring back at you across the desk, his frankly almost too kissable lips parting and meeting each time he spoke to you.

You’d never had someone speak to you so gently, so soft, while simultaneously creating such a thick fog of uncertainty cloud your mind. You were sure if he had any barbecuing skills, he would have known when he shook your hand after forty-five minutes of careful questioning that your entire body was a searing medium-well. His gently delivered crossfire of questions poking enough holes in your psyche to deflate any sense of confidence you once had. It was nothing short of a shock to your system when he extended his welcome to the team, the ringing in your ears drowning out his speech about needing to get your paperwork in motion before he can help you onboard the unit. “T-thankyou, sir.” was quite possibly the most articulate thing you’d managed to say to him in the entire hour you spent in his office.

You proved yourself to be a valuable addition to the BAU, your background in anthropology and community dynamics providing a unique perspective each time the jet touched down in a new town. You were beginning to fit in with your colleagues, with the exception of your boss. It’s not that he was unwelcoming to you, more that you chose to limit your interactions with him as much as possible until you could shake the full-body goosebumps you feel when he stands a little too close, or his fingers brush yours. Worst of all, is your visceral reaction to when his deep hazel eyes search for yours, across the jet, across the round table, hell, even in the field, you can feel his eyes drawing you in. He’s like a siren, whether he knows it or not, you find yourself unable to look away, move or even speak clearly when your vision meets his. This truly embarrassing reaction has forced you to keep him at arm’s length, only calling him ‘sir’ and only talking to him when it is a complete necessity of your job to do so.

This all changed, however, a few cases back, when the team was able to arrest a serial arsonist targeting families without even having to stand around awaiting new evidence. You had all swooped in, formed the profile and arrested the guy before he could even get his hands on another gas stove. You were all riding high, so you elected to pile into a nearby hole-in-the-wall restaurant some of the local cops had raved about. The seven of you tried getting a table but unfortunately you had to be split between one larger booth seating six, and a table for two. You volunteered to sit separately, being the newest member of the team, you were willing to allow the rest of the team the space to enjoy the company of old friends. You were making your way over to the corner table when Hotch ran over to join you.

“Can’t have our favorite agent sitting all by themselves.” He remarked, seeing you preen at his offered praise.

“Plus I’m sure the team will have a nicer time knowing the guy writing their performance reviews isn’t listening to them play never have I ever over dessert.” You felt your cheeks blazing red under his warm gaze. He was wearing that fucking long overcoat that makes you weak in the knees. You’d found him enchanting since you first got to speak to him. Since you first heard his gentle tone, laced with just the right amount of care and certainty. He spoke with such an air of confidence in the field, but such a fondness for those whom he delights with his company. Talking to him was like a breath of fresh summer air, like a sunbeam you wanted to bask in whenever possible. You found yourself starstruck whenever he’d gaze into your eyes, you could see him trying to read you, and he found you to be quiet but completely engaged in his presence. You silently curse yourself every time you can’t come up with anything witty or even sensical to respond to him with. He must think you’re stupid the way you always open your mouth to speak and close it with a gulp, usually because he’s reaching for something or he’s looking straight through you and into your soul. Your soul which you would offer to him without a moment’s thought; if he ever asked.

“T-Thank you, sir.” You were finally able to squeak out after Hotch’s face began morphing back into his usual frown, clearly worried you had in fact wanted to sit alone.

“I’d like that.” You add, trying to reassure him. You see his frown lines dissipate out of his forehead, back to the corners of his eyes as they crinkle, shining at you. You try very hard not to get lost in the warmth of his gaze once more as you grab a menu from the holder, biting down on your lower lip as you realize you’re going to have to control your mindless pining for an entire meal.

“And I would like it if you'd quit calling me that. You already make me feel old just by being so young, please don’t add insult to injury by calling me ‘sir’ all the time. ‘Hotch’ is just fine, please.” He leans closer to you as he pleads with you and you grip your menu tighter, trying to wish away the fire in your chest as you take in the intimate setting the two of you are in. You can feel the body heat rising off his knees under the table and seeping into your own, you can smell his cologne and his signature scent is able to soothe you even through the scented candle sitting between you.

“Um, sure, Hotch. I can do that. I’m sorry if I made you feel old, sir- Hotch. Sorry.” You bring your cool hands up to cover your face as your cheeks grow even hotter listening to your pitiful attempts to make conversation with your boss.

“Y/N, do you know that you apologize to me more often than you even look me in my eyes? If I didn’t know any better I’d think you’re just terrified of me.” You drop your hands at that, your mouth falling open as you stare across the table trying and failing to recall a conversation the two of you have had where you didn’t utter the word ‘sorry’ at least six times. You close your mouth realizing you have nothing to retaliate the accusations with. You realize he’s giving you his signature profiler stare now, his thumb skating over his knuckles in front of him as he tries to read you. He’s scared.

“I’m n- I am not terrified of you, Hotch.” his fingers still but his eyes continue scanning your face.

“You’re not?” You shake your head swiftly, trying to quell his concerns

“No. Quite the opposite, actually.” Shit. Moron. Do not profess your feelings for your boss at your new job on what feels otherwise very much like a dinner date. You’d think that would go without saying, that this is a very, very bad move on your part. But then you see it; his lips quirk up into a poorly suppressed grin as he leans back in his seat, suddenly looking quite smug.

“Is that right?” He asks, clearly baiting you to further incriminate yourself in this situation but you really don’t think your brain can keep running at such high temperatures without melting, so your only option is to deflect the question.

“I’m thinking I’ll try the alfredo. How about you?” You gulp down the lump in your throat as you force yourself to put on your most neutral face and look him in the eyes. He seems to let it slide, telling you he’s not had a chance to look at the menu yet, but he picks it up, holding it high to try to cover the sly grin on his stupid, beautiful face.

The two of you managed to fall into a rhythm of easy conversation over your dinner, apparently, having informed your boss of your barely repressed feelings for him makes it easier to talk to him? Or maybe he’s just easier to talk to outside of work, when his tie finally comes off and his sleeves finally roll up, he looks almost human over the candlelight. You never realized how much the two of you had in common before you shared laughs and anecdotes across the intimate table that night, probably because you were unable to sputter out even one intelligible sentence that wasn’t directly work-related until this point. The two of you left that restaurant closer than when you'd stumbled in, having learned to see Hotch in a new light. You now see him as more than just your boss, which unfortunately, made it far easier to see your feelings for him as more than just inappropriate.

You recall that night with such a warm feeling blooming and spreading throughout your entire body, despite the falling snow outside. That was the first of many shifts in your relationship with your boss. This was when he went from ‘Sir’ to ‘Hotch’... long before ‘Hotch’ became ‘Aaron’ who then became ‘Love’ - until, that is - he became nothing at all.

tags: @montyfandomlove , @canuck-eh, @pastanoodles11 , @ssamorganhotchner , @hotchnerbau , @hotchs-babygirl , @beehive16 , @hotchs-big-hands

im legitimately posting this and running away bc it feels like there's so much more to say, so please let me know what I can improve on and I will rebuild it bigger and better and stronger. Thankyou loves!

#rome is writing!#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x gn!reader #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch #hotch fluff #hotch fanfic #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #hotch x you #aaron hotch hotchner

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afandommultiverse · 1 year

Text

Paper Pusher with CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE

♱ Warnings: absolutely none, just some fluff lol, I guess my manic writing is a warning itself Idk

♱ A/n: please enjoy my own personal brain rot, I wrote this at 2 almost 3am and HAVE NOT EDITED IT but I wanted to post it so bad 🥰 I’m not saying it’s good but it’s indulgent 🫶

♱ WC: 1.8k

⌐╦̵̵̿ᡁ᠊╾━ ♡ ⌐╦̵̵̿ᡁ᠊╾━

Paper work was easy, honestly, you preferred it over all the other things you had to do to get to this position. Sure, the boot camps were fun and were great for making friends in later stages. At the end of the day, you weren’t made for the field work and could barely cover your own ass, let alone any of your teammates. It was quick and easy to find a position on task 141 to help oversee and complete any paperwork for the team. This included many things, from researching for future missions and people, keeping up with any new possible sources or tips while the team was away, asking for permissions of sorts from higher ups, completing summaries for each soldier after missions etc etc. You had a lot to do, but like you said, it was all easy and totally worth it.

“Our little paper pusher, how are you doing hm? Miss us while we were away?” The sound of Soap's voice breached the silence in the office, before steps flooded the room. Soon, you had a group of men huddled around your desk, all looking down at you expectantly. You only looked up and smiled, before looking back to the computer to finish your last sentence of an email, before turning back to them.

“Definitely didn’t miss you that much. I like working in silence, thank you.”

“Sure little bird, that's why we could see you looking at us while landing from your window.” Ghost spoke slyly, and glimpsed in his eyes, telling you that he knew something you didn’t.

“Oh alright, you got me. I was waiting to see if there was still a chance you guys would crash before landing.” You quipped, stood up, and stepped over to the printer, where you picked up several forms and turned back around to face them.

“You know the drill boys, fill ‘em out and get them back to me, here in this office, by midnight.” Groans filled the room, but nonetheless, they each took their stacks of paperwork and even grabbed some pens from the cup sitting on your desk. They filed one by one, closing the door again on their way out. When they were gone, you turned and walked into your storage room connecting to your office, and began rifling for an agreement form you had hidden away somewhere. The original was with Price, but since he wasn’t with the guys when they gamed in, you figured he was busy and didn't want to bother him when you could likely find the paper yourself - well, at least after you got some of these boxes out of the way.

You started from the top, wanting to take things easy, and reduce the chances of any of the boxes toppling on top of you. You searched alphabetically, following first, middle and last words you could have used to code the document or even any acronyms, but still had to find it. After fifteen minutes, you were about ready to five up, but that's when you saw it, balancing on a wobbly shelf with 3 around it blocking it in. In all honesty, it was a wonder you had even seen it, but now that you know where it is, the determination from earlier flooded your system and you began planning your accent.

The footstool was too short, but it was thick enough to hold one of the strong containers, filled with books, and from there you could step on that to reach the boxes. The first box came down easily, a loud smack sounding throughout the room as you threw it down to the floor as gently as possible from your elevation. The second one was a little harder, having to push on to the tops of your feet a bit more, your heel ever so slightly coming off the box underneath you. You felt a slight wobble from the shelf, which in turn made you wobble, but after a quick second you were sturdy again. The second smack was a little less loud, landing on top of the other box a bit more softly from the shorter distance.

When you reach the third box, you step to the tip of your toes, the step stool wobbling under your uneven weight as you balance on top of it, but also balancing against the shelf that keeps threatening to tip back against your weight, pushing the box further from the tips of your fingers. You failed your hands to catch the edges of it, pushing it towards yourself, but the movement made minimal progress. You stepped on one foot, slowly going back to what you were doing, concentrating so hard you didn’t hear your office door open and shut again.

“Need some help with that?” The voice startled you, ripping in half the concentration and balance you tried so hard to maintain in two. It was like dominoes, the shelf pushing back against your surprised weight and falling against the wall at an awkward angle. Unable to control your momentum, you fell forward with it - the tips of your feet pushing the box under you off the stool quickly. Just as you realized you were indeed falling, two arms wrapped around your waist from underneath you. As your brain caught up with the situation, your hands gripping on the shelf so tight from the fear of upcoming pain, however there was none. The strong arms wrapped around your waist and butt to stop you from falling much further, literally holding you up. Finally, the head of someone just underneath your chin staring up at you bewildered, but as he recognized you were okay, you recognized who HE was.

“P-Price?” Your whole body felt warm, looking down at him shocked. He too mirrored your expression, but it soon turned into a cheeky smile and mischievous glint in his eye.

“Just fallin’ all over me now, are you, L/n?” You turned your head away in embarrassment, to which he chuckled before he moved. He set your feet on top of the step stool again, this time with no shifty box of books on top. When you were stable enough, you stood on the stool yourself, already missing the warm arms around you. But when you unlatched yourself from the shelf, you balanced yourself on his shoulders, liking the feeling of the taunt muscles underneath.

“Are you okay?” He asked, looking at you for any injury to which there was none, fortunately because of his quick savior. You felt like you could breathe again, stepping back on the stool and looking at him in all his returning from mission glory.

“Yes, thank you so much, Price.” You felt your sweat cool from the anxious event, stepping down from step still and standing on solid ground again.

“What were you looking for anyway? Want me to grab it?” He offered, turning to look at the shelf to where you were picking through, seeing the final box, and grabbed the stool for himself. Before you knew it, he was handing you the box to look through, and thankfully you found exactly what you needed. He followed you out of the side room, setting the box on your desk, and you turned off the light and shut the door, almost hesitating to turn back around to the man whose whole presence filled your office.

“You should be more careful, or ask for help next time. We can’t have our little paper pusher out on the comp now.” You snorted, turning to face him with a smile, he always had something to say. You walked over your desk, setting down to sit and riffle through the stacks of forms for the next three or so hours.

“You’d only miss me because you’d have three times as much work to do if it weren’t for me, Captain, don’t kid yourself.” He laughed, heading even tilting back a little. You loved to make him laugh, it was one of your favorite things to do, because if you could make him laugh, you got a heart with that wonderfully velvety voice that almost sang to you.

“You only half right, I’ll give you that.” He settled down in the chair in front of me, laying back like he planned to stay longer. He took his hat off, scratching his head, before placing it back on top in its place.

“Oh? What’s this other half hm? Let me guess, my winning personality?” That sarcasm was basically dripping, but he wasn’t phased, smiling at you before saying,

“If it were up to me, I’d say you were a mind reader, Y/n.” You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips as you tried to get some work done, but you could not keep your eyes off the man in front of you. He looked tired, but he was happy and tired. The mission had been a success, with zero casualties, and benefited greatly from it, with new assets and even some information worth zeroing in on. Something you would no doubt have to fit in your schedule somehow, but nonetheless it was better than the alternative.

“Don’t you want to go get washed up? Go relax with a cigar or something?” You asked after a half-hour of debriefing and catching up. He had taken off his hat completely, hair messy and flat. His eyes were barely staying open as it is, but he kept chatting, offering to help with anything and everything, not wanting to stay a minute longer as he had asked you earlier when you had come in. When you told him 5am, he almost couldn't believe it, as your job started at 8am, but apparently you wanted a head start on the day. In truth, you couldn’t sleep that night, you could never sleep well enough on the night that they were supposed to come back, almost expecting something wrong to happen, and never being able to see them again, never being able to see Price again.

“I’m relaxing here.” He spoke so plainly. Like he hadn’t been up for the last 64 hours. John Price needed rest.

“I thought you would say that, that’s why I sent Ghost a little email.” As if right on que, Ghost knocked on and opened the door. Walking in and up the Captain.

“Heard yer botherin’ the nice lady.” He joked, nudging John's shoulder while looking back at me shocked.

“You're kicking me out? After I saved you?” You stood and rounded the desk, coming to rest on it in front of him.

“You need to rest John, as much as you want to keep working, you can’t. So get some rest and see me in the morning to talk about your summary papers for this mission.” John groaned as he stood, but shot you a smile before following Ghost out. Truthfully, John didn’t need Ghost to leave, he would have left if you asked the right way.

But you knew deep down you wouldn’t have asked him to leave.

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tiannasfanfic · 2 years

Text

Tongue Tied

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader (Fluff)

| Adrian Chase Masterlist | AO3 Link |

Summary: After a long week of boring busywork and aggravating allergies, Adrian Chase does something a little unexpected.

Rating: General

Author Note: Gender-neutral Reader, no pronouns used. This started out as a different story, but I lost the thread of it. It's been sitting in my WIPs for months now. With a bit of editing, it is now a fluffy oneshot.

CW: Allergies and mention of taking over the counter medications for them.

Word Count: 1,620

4:59pm

The clock had been stuck on 4:59pm for five hours now.

Or at least that’s what it felt like as you stared at it.

“Burning a hole in it ain’t gonna make it go any faster,” Leota said to you from her desk, which was close to yours.

“If anything, you just cursed us by staring at it,” Harcourt said, who was sitting nearby and scrolling through her phone.

The group was between missions, but none of you had been dismissed to return to your regular jobs yet. Even Adrian hadn’t been allowed to go back to his position at Fennel Field’s, which was just fine by him. There was speculation among the six of you that meant something screwy was coming down the wire. None of you had any idea what it could be, but the whole thing was highly suspect. Amanda Waller never let you all sit around with nothing to do for this long before, even prior to your coming to the team, according to the others.

And so, the last five days had been filled with nothing but in-office busywork.

Everything that needed to be done housekeeping wise got done on the first day. The first half of the second day was spent finishing up some fine detail cleaning and supply restocking, then rest of the day after lunch was filled by filing paperwork. The third day was spent cleaning all of the weapons in storage to make sure everything was good for the next mission. But there had been nothing to do since then.

However, while everyone was simply bored out of their minds while waiting, autumn in Washington was playing hell with your allergies. While both John and Harcourt were being affected in similar ways with some sneezing and runny noses, over the counter allergy medication was working fine for them. You? Not so much. Something in the Evergreen air absolutely hated you. The sneezing had stopped, at least, but your eyes wouldn’t stop being itchy, which was making them water, and now you could feel a sinus headache starting to build up behind your forehead and eyes.

5:00pm

“Oh, thank fucking hell,” Harcourt exclaimed as she stood up and pocketed her phone.

You eyed her, then chuckled as you began packing your laptop away in your bag. “Now who was watching the clock?”

Harcourt flipped you off, which made you really laugh for the first time all day. She headed back to her office to collect her things, leaving you to finish gathering yours.

After saying goodbye to Harcourt and John, you and Leota walked out together. You didn’t see Chris, Eagly or Adrian and just assumed they had left early. That was pretty standard for them if there wasn’t actively something to do. Once you were outside, the work mode you had been trying to maintain slipped, and you rubbed your forehead, groaning softly with a slightly pained look on your face.

Leota looked over at you with an empathetic look. “The Zyrtec not helping anymore?”

You shook your head.

“Or the Advil. They really only took the edge off though,” you said, sighing. “I’ll pick up some NyQuil or something on the way home, just sleep this weekend.”

“That’s a good idea,” Leota gave you a gentle hug. “If you need anything, give me a call, okay? Keeya and I will be doing our errands tomorrow, so we can grab you anything you need.”

You told her you would, then you both headed to your respective cars. You were parked further down from her a couple spaces away.

“Hey, Y/N! Wait up!”

It as Adrian’s voice, not Leota’s, that called out to you. You turned in the direction it came from to see him jogging your way from the other side of the building. Your gaze shifted behind him to see Chris and Eagly watching Adrian from around the corner. They were not trying to be stealthy about it at all. In fact, Chris even waved at you when you looked at him.

“Hey Adrian,” you said, your gaze shifting back to him as you smiled tiredly. “What’s up?”

Adrian took a deep breath, fidgeting nervously.

“Would you-“ he started, then stopped. “I was curious if you wanted to-“ And he stopped again. “If I was to-“

Adrian stopped again and turned around suddenly, looking back at Chris and Eagly. They both gave him the “get on with it” gesture; one with a hand, the other a wing.

You glanced over at Leota. She was rapidly looking back and forth between the two of you, eyes widening and a big, excited smile spreading across her face.

Shifting your eyes back at Adrian, you were just in time for him to turn to you with an extremely serious look on his face. He looked you dead in the eye with an intensity he’s never directed at you before. It was as if a sudden blaze had sparked behind those green eyes of his. Butterflies started flapping around in your stomach.

Adrian opened his mouth to speak.

“Do you go out?” he asked.

You blinked.

He blinked.

“That was a dumb question,” he said quickly, his face turning a shade of red that looked like a sunburn. “Obviously, you do go out because you’re out right now, and you have to go out to be able to go to work or the store or on a mission, so that’s like a big ‘duh’ to that. And I’ve seen you out doing errands, so-“

You heard a slight “kaw” from Eagly and glanced behind Adrian again. Chris was rubbing the bridge of his nose in what looked like aggravation, and Eagly was staring at Adrian like he was about to fly over and start pecking at him. You looked back at Adrian, who was still rambling about all the things you’d have to leave your apartment to do.

“But I- what I was asking was- um- what I was wondering is…do you go out…in other ways?”

Adrian was looking at you with a hopeful expression.

“…I guess?” you said slowly, confusion really setting in. “I go out to eat sometimes, but that gets expensive, so I try not to very often.”

Adrian perked up. “Awesome! Did you want to eat something one night?”

You blinked again.

He blinked again.

“Er…” you said, really confused now. “I usually eat every night after I get off work.”

Now Adrian’s sunburn blush was pushing past moderate territory.

It looked like he was having trouble speaking now, which just added to your confusion. Adrian looked back at Chris, so you looked over at Leota with a questioning gaze to see if she could give you any indication as to what exactly was happening right now. Leota’s expression didn’t give you much as it was frozen somewhere in between excitement, secondhand embarrassment, and abject horror. But that made you feel a little better about the whole thing since you didn’t understand any of this at all. Between your head checking out for the day as soon as your allergies started and Adrian’s fumbling with words, you were properly confused as hell.

A few seconds after you looked back to Adrian, he got his voice back.

“Well, what I meant was- that is, what I was asking you is- I didn’t know if you- what I meant to ask you- I mean, would you like to possibly- or, if you’d like, totally up to you- um, I-“

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Chris exclaimed from behind Adrian, and Eagly kawed in agreement. “Y/N, would you like to go out on a date with Adrian and have dinner with him tomorrow night?”

Adrian blinked, suddenly a bright red and looking terrified.

You blinked, your face suddenly blushing a very deep red.

“Oh!” you said, your eyes wide.

While Adrian had been leery of you at first after ARGUS transferred you to Evergreen, seeing you take most of stress off of Harcourt while she recovered had quickly gotten you into his good graces. She was able to focus more on her physical therapy that way, which aided in her speedy recovery. It really didn’t take long for you to develop more than friendly feelings towards him. The feeling definitely was mutual as the flirtation between you two had been heavy for weeks now. But you figured if anyone was going to make the first move, it was going to have to be you.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to, no worries,” Adrian said hurriedly, his tone reassuring, but he did a very poor job of masking a disappointed expression. “I’m really sorry about asking. I didn’t think you would be interested, but Chris said-“

“No no, I’d love to,” you quickly interrupted him with a smile. “Sorry, I was just surprised.”

The look on Adrian’s face was priceless. He seemed unable to stop himself from jumping into the air and fist bumping the air above him. Then he turned red again, realizing he just did that in front of you and everyone else.

A thrumming behind your eye reminded you that you needed to get home soon before your head got much worse.

“Pick me up at seven?” you asked him.

Adrian nodded rapidly, and started to say something, but at that moment Eagly swooped over to peck Adrian in the leg, resulting in a “owowow” from him.

Regardless of what the bird thought of Adrian’s technique, you were going on a date with him tomorrow night.

And that made you smile for the first time all day.

#adrian chase #vigilante #adrian chase fluff #adrian chase fanfiction #adrian chase x reader #adrian chase x y/n #adrian chase x you #vigilante fluff #vigilante fanfiction #vigilante x reader #vigilante x y/n #vigilante x you #adrian chase imagine

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 3 months

Text

In the last few days, I've made two long and rambling posts about Cowgate, a short incident from 2003 that haunts my nightmares. I think people should know that when I make posts like that - the ones that go way too long about something entirely niche - I am operating under the assumption that absolutely no one is reading this bullshit. Even the small handful of people who read this blog regularly, I assume you skip over those ones.

That's not just a hypothetical assumption, I make writing choices accordingly. I assume the only purpose of this post is to give me somewhere to put the hauntings besides my nightmares, and therefore, it doesn't matter if it's readable. I know that my whole blog is full of errors, but on posts like that, I get especially lax with things like editing. I go really deep on things where on a different post, I might think - okay, that's far enough. Because no one is reading this.

I have now been proven wrong several times about those couple of posts, which both mildly embarrasses and delights me. First of all, I got this great comment from @beastlyanachronism, which is now how I love to picture myself:

Then, the wonderful @lastweeksshirttonight proved that they'd read not only the posts but the comment, by immediately messaging me a corresponding picture. I replied that I love the image, I will definitely start my post with that image the next time a new Cowgate-based detail is found and I need to write about it. I didn't expect that to be soon, though. Breakthroughs are few and far between.

But then, I got another message, proving that at least three different people have read my post (actually four, if you count the very kind British man who read my post and then sent me a message to explain the nuances in the expression "bottle it"). And that last message is the reason for this post. Because, I can't believe I've been given cause to use this image so soon:

Further content behind the cut, because not everyone needs this content all over their feed.

This relates to the message I got last night, from the extremely helpful @linkeightvideo, who not only read my posts, but joined the cause and did his own research. And came up with this link:

The Metro cow is a thing!!! I knew the wording of that YouTube comment was weird (calling it "the Metro cow", rather than something like "a cow that said Metro on it"), suggesting that this was a specific and recognizable instillation. And I was right! But I cannot take credit for figuring that out, all credit goes to @linkeightvideo, who is the best.

The above link is to an archived version of an article from August 5, 2003, about three weeks before Cowgate occurred (which was August 26, 2003 - fun fact that has absolutely nothing to do with anything because to the best of my knowledge he wasn't there or anything, but that was also Nish Kumar's eighteenth birthday). The article is from the Edinburgh Fringe website. It's short enough so I'm just going to paste its text in full:

The Fringe was hit by a bunch of cotton-pickin', rootin-tootin' cattle ruslers in the early hours of Saturday night. The almost life-sized, bright blue and red Metro bull was stolen from outside the Metro Fringe Box Office. Metro newspapers are appealing for its safe return before the police are called and urge anyone with information to come forward. Metro Fringe Box Office Manager, Gillian O'Connor said: "We're distraught to have lost such a valuable member of the Box Office team! Please bring him back." The bull had just completed a secondment outside London's Victoria station, where he stood unmoved for a month. Yet after only a few days on duty with the Fringe he has gone missing leaving today's Festival Cavalcade a bull short of a procession.

That's it!!! That's the one! It was blue and red! I know it was blue and red, because Adam hills shouted "it's got red horns, it's all the rage". And it was almost life sized! And it said Metro on the side! Further research - also done by @linkeightvideo, he deserves all the credit in the world for this - finds that Metro sponsored the Edinburgh Fringe Festival that year, and also directly sponsored the Gilded Balloon venue.

So, the company called Metro had a large cow that was used in advertisements, and for one month in the summer of 2003, it was in London, outside Victoria Station. Then it was brought to Edinburgh, because they were sponsoring the festival and running a box office. They put it outside that box office, and it got stolen within "a few days" (which makes sense, as August 5th is a few days into the festival). It was meant to be part of the Festival Cavalcade, but couldn't be due to thieves.

Then, three weeks later, it spends all night on stage during a late-night comedy show in an Edinburgh venue that Metro sponsors, where it gets taken apart. How do we get from one state of affairs to the other? I don't know, but I'm a hell of a lot closer to understanding than I was yesterday. If the cow was somehow recovered, it would make sense from them to move it indoors, where it can be guarded better (again, credit for this idea goes to @linkeightvideo, and I think it makes sense). I mean, it can be guarded from drunk thieves in the middle of the night. Apparently the stage of the Gilded Balloon is not a good place to guard it from (shockingly) sober comedians in the middle of the night.

This made me try searching again for the specific words "Metro cow", and I found this article from December 12, 2003. It's a list of people who are involved with whatever organization this is, I'm not really clear on that. But it includes this one guy named Stephen Auckland. He's from the North of England, and as of when this was written, he was listened as the managing director of Metro. The bottom of his profile says:

An able sidekick to Associated Newspaper's Mike Anderson, even when it came to keeping up appearances following the disappearance of Mootro, Metro's cow mascot, from the Edinburgh festival. Auckland offered to dress up as a pantomime version. Luckily, they found the cow.

Guys! Guys! It has a fucking name! The Cowgate cow has a name! It's named Mootro! Now that I think about it, I actually can't believe I've never named the thing, given that I named the event (Cowgate), and giving the cow a name is the sort of thing I'd do. But I don't have to, because apparently it's named Mootro.

And the story has an update. It was stolen by August 5, and then it was found at some unknown point, and by August 26 it was in the Gilded Balloon. And then it got taken apart on stage.

I think this brings up one obvious question, which is: if this thing was important enough for its theft to be reported on the Edinburgh Fringe website, how come they were allowed to destroy it? The obvious answer would be that it was specifically made for just that one Edinburgh Festival, and was meant to be destroyed at the end of it anyway. But why did it spend a month in London right before that, then? And why would they do that anyway? Surely it's not efficient to make something like that for only a month, you'd think they'd plan to have it last a while and move it around based on where they're sponsoring things.

I can't believe this. This is the biggest revelation since I figured out who the fuck Karen Koren was, the woman referenced in Adam Hills' song, after after ages of Googling comedians named "Erin Coren" (finally worked out that she was the venue owner, which seems obvious now but it hadn't occurred to me at the time, when I was expecting it to be a reference to another performer). Actually, this is a much bigger revelation than that one, which just explained a couple of Adam Hills' lyrics. This is the biggest revelation in all the Cowgate research yet. The two main questions at the heart of the Cowgate mystery are: "Why did you do it?" and "Where did you get the cow?" And now one of those questions has been answered! It has a fucking name!

That second article referred to it specifically as the Metro "mascot". I guess a company is going to make more than one version of a mascot. But still, I don't think you're allowed to just destroy a sponsor's mascot. Maybe that mascot was at the end of its life anyway? Maybe Daniel Kitson just doesn't give a fuck? Maybe Daniel Kitson stole the cow in the first place. There's a whole new question. Who stole the cow? How did they get it back? How did it get from there to its whereabouts on August 26?

I know it wasn't on the Gilded Balloon stage every night of the 2003 Edinburgh Festival, because there's no sign of it in this montage, from Late 'n' Live on August 19, 2003 (also a fun video and great snippets of Chocolate Milk Gang history, if you can get past the second-hand embarrassment of Kitson trying his rap battle thing with an actual musician, and the presence of an actual musician makes the whole thing seem less ironic and therefore harder to watch - but you do get to see David O'Doherty beat up Jason Byrne and that's hilarious, also it's very funny to watch Daniel Kitson do something as out of character as brag about "nearly" winning a Barry Award and having a girlfriend from Australia, especially given how the latter turned out):

youtube

So it wasn't there on that night. Also, it just couldn't have been there every night. The Gilded Balloon is a proper venue that has proper shows during most of its time, it couldn't just have a large cow on stage for all of those. Also, in the beginning of that montage video from August 26, you see Kitson talking to the audience about the cow, and it sounds like he considers its presence as much of a novelty as they do. I mean, he's making fun of them for thinking it's a novelty, but he doesn't seem familiar with it, it seems like something he has to address:

youtube

This is the main reason for my theory that they didn't plan it beforehand, the montage shows the audience giving Kitson challenges for easy things to do with the cow, he asks them for more difficult challenges and then the video cuts, but I think the audience then asked him to tear it apart. It's a theory that makes sense based on some circumstantial evidence, but it does open up other questions. The main one being whether you can get permission to destroy a company's mascot between the beginning and the end of a comedy show, especially a comedy show that takes place entirely in the middle of the night. It doesn't seem likely. It also opens up some smaller questions, like what they were planning as the end of the show - the finale of the last night of Late 'n' Live, so you'd think they'd have something - that got bumped for this.

This reminds me that I had some further thoughts on the other mystery, of what actually went down on the night of August 26. I was thinking of the somewhat blue sky theory of there being two previous. Evidence for this: Adam Hills referred to "three chances", they were able to pick up chisels off the ground that seemed to just be lying around (possibly having been discarded after previous attempts), and Kitson in that video does have their air of someone who's already watched this go wrong and is really determined to make sure they get it fucking right this time. Evidence against: I'm not sure that works from a show planning perspective. What if it had worked on the first try, then what would the finale have been? If they'd watched it fail twice, would they really have made it the finale, knowing it may well fail a third time and that would be a shit ending? Though this could possibly be explained by the presence of the pipe that someone runs on stage, significantly increasing their chances compared to any attempt where that pipe was not in play.

I thought of something else today: the cow was already down when they started that video. Earlier in the night, we see comedians sitting on the cow, it's standing up. But at the end, when those guys run out to try to take it apart, they don't have to knock it down first. It's already lying on its side. They could have knock it down just before starting the song, but why would they do that? Surely knocking it down would be a fun dramatic moment, so if this were the first time they'd messed with the cow, they'd leave the knocking down to be part of the process. Unless this weren't the first time, and they had dramatically knocked it down before starting to try taking it apart, but this one done at some earlier point that the video didn't catch.

Anyway. That's the revelation. Along with some further thoughts on theories, but the main thing is the revelation. Massive breakthrough, and I need to thank @linkeightvideo one more time for research that he was under absolutely no obligation to do, but he came through anyway. What a legend. Am I using the British expressions right? What a solid gold legend.

#Youtube

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