Theveiledlady95 - Never Stop Dreaming - Tumblr Blog

Cuddle Buddies

Summary: Spencer misinterprets the meaning of the term friends with benefits – but having a friend who will cuddle with him is, in fact, highly beneficial

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: suggestiveness (referenced/implied sex), embarrassment, awkwardness

Word count: 1k

Author's Note: I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins FWB writing challenge!

Masterlist

“Tell me, pretty boy. What’s going on with you and her?” Derek teased his coworker while motioning towards your desk.  

Acting like you didn't hear him, you kept your eyes focussed on the paperwork in front of you. But of course you were interested in Spencer’s answer too. For weeks you had been trying to figure out the nature of your relationship (or friendship?) with him. 

“We’re friends,” Spencer said and thought about his own response before adding, “With benefits.” 

Spencer, oblivious as ever, had heard that term before but didn't know its true meaning. The two of you were friends who occasionally cuddled with each other – something Spencer would consider as highly beneficial to the wellbeing for the both of you. 

His words caught the attention of everyone in the room. The snickering and whispering followed the second he finished his sentence. You could no longer pretend you weren't listening as you felt your cheeks heating up.  

“Excuse me?” You squeaked, clearly embarrassed by what he had just stated. 

It was not like you hadn’t thought about it before. In fact, most nights when you ended up cuddled up with Spencer under a blanket while continuing your Doctor Who rewatch, it had crossed your mind. But it had never happened and you weren’t sure why Spencer would lie about it. 

Spencer found your eyes, immediately noticing the horror written all over your face. “Did I say something wrong?”

“We’re not friends with benefits,” you mumbled, still in disbelief about what was happening. 

Derek couldn't hold back his chuckles anymore but JJ seemed to feel sorry for you and chimed in on the conversation. “Spence, I’m not sure you know the actual meaning of that term.”

She stepped closer to him before whispering what you assumed was the correct definition of friends with benefits. Once he realized his mistake, his facial features changed and could only be described as panicked. 

“That's not what I meant,” he stated what already was obvious. To deflect from the awkwardness, he started doing what he was most comfortable with - rambling. “I’m sorry, I just assumed that's what it meant. Our friendship does have benefits though, specifically the cuddling aspect. Did you know that nonsexual physical contact is very common among social animals? There are many health benefits to it, like lowering blood pressure, the release of oxytocin and –”

Your unit chief stepped into the room to interrupt Spencer and finally end your misery. “Guys, we have a new case.”

Spencer had to hold back a sigh of relief that this painfully awkward situation had come to an end. Both of you tried your best to not let it affect your workday, keeping up your professional demeanor in front of your coworkers. But neither of you could hold back the occasional glance at the other. 

It was hard to interpret Spencer’s expression when his eyes met yours. He had an apologetic look but there was also something else. Almost as if he had trouble holding back his thoughts from wandering to places that were completely inappropriate at work. 

You were very familiar with those struggles. 

It didn’t surprise you to hear him knocking on your hotel room door once your workday had come to an end. Spencer was predictable and you knew that he was about to apologize for embarrassing you earlier. 

When you opened the door, you immediately stepped aside to let him into your room. He had already shed his work attire and changed into sweatpants and an old Caltech t-shirt – a look not many people beside you got to see on him. There was a moment of silence between the two of you before Spencer finally found the courage to talk. 

“I’m sorry about what I said,” he mumbled. 

You showed him a soft smile and responded, “Yeah, I know.” 

“Are you mad at me?”

The question amused you. To you it was almost impossible to be mad at Spencer. You were aware that he never had any intention of hurting you. In fact, looking back you almost found his innocence and lack of discretion endearing. 

You shook your head. “Of course not.” 

Spencer sighed when you reached out your arms to hug him. He reciprocated the contact, immediately pulling you into his arms and holding you closely against his chest. There were many things left unsaid but talking about your feelings wasn’t really one of your strong suits. So you decided to suggest what the two of you seemed to be most comfortable with. 

You motioned over to your bed and said, “Do you maybe want to stay and watch a movie with me?” 

His smile was genuine when he responded, “Yes, I would love that.”

It was almost like the two of you followed muscle memory when you slipped under the duvet and turned on the TV. You found your place inside Spencer’s arms, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady thumps of his heart. His fingertips gently brushed over your arm, leaving goosebumps on their path. 

Despite the positive effects Spencer explained about cuddling earlier, it was impossible for you to fully relax that night. He noticed it, too. 

“You okay?” He breathed as he turned down the volume of the TV. 

Before you could think about it too long, you heard your mouth spill out the question that had been nagging you all day. “Do you sometimes think about those other, more exciting benefits?” 

Spencer audibly gulped before clearing his throat. Instead of answering your question, he retorted, “Do you?” 

You shifted your position until you sat beside him and said, “Would it be weird if I said yes?” 

It seemed like your confession took him by surprise. Spencer took a moment to think about his response. First his eyebrows furrowed, then his facial features softened again. “It’s not weird. I think about it, too, sometimes.” 

That was all the confirmation you needed to boost your confidence for once. With your hand gently placed on his jaw, you leaned closer to him until you could feel the heat of his breath against your mouth. Spencer didn’t hesitate to close the gap between the two of you, finding your lips in a tender kiss. 

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @hotchandspencearedilfs @emiliaserpe @velvetthunder93 @saturnstringz @missabsey @guacam011y @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @loaksulluyswife @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr @luredwithpretzels @castiels-majestic-wings @super-nerd22 @pleasantwitchgarden @yeonalie @r-3dlips @evvy96 @torigorie @meyaareads @luvdella @bunnylovesani @spenciesslut @billie-lover8 @indyvelazquez @evrmorets

and they were roommates pt. 2

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : the BAU team works the case, you get to help word count : 2.3k warning : canon-typical violence, mention of violence and sexual violence A/N : thank you all so much for all the love on part 1 of this !!! I love getting feedback, it's incredibly motivating ! I will probably do a part 3 :)) Also, my cat is sitting next to me as I write this, which I find quite funny

part 1

Back at the police station, Spencer had trouble focusing on the case. His mind kept wandering over to you, wondering what you were doing, how you were doing. He was on edge and the entire team could feel it. Hotch pulled him to the side to ask him if he wanted to give you a phone call. Reid refused, but settled on sending you a text, something he never usually did while working. Something he never usually did because he wasn't the biggest fan of technology and also because he couldn't decipher how you were actually feeling without hearing your voice and all the quirks in the way you spoke which gave away your real feelings.

Sent by Dr. Ironed Socks : < Hey. How are you doing? > Sent by You : < Ok, I'm having a tea on the couch. Geoff is in REM sleep on my lap. Thx for checking <3 >

Your text was followed by a pixelly picture of your slightly overweight (Spencer couldn't use that term to describe Geoffrey around you or you'd get upset) orange cat sprawled out on your lap, legs and arms askew, fast asleep. Spencer felt a small wave of relief spread through him. You were okay for now. Geoffrey was looking after you. Later, he'd help you process and give you all the tools necessary to get over such a traumatic event and move on. It was almost as if that was in his job description.

Returning to the room where the BAU team had settled in, Spencer sent Hotch a grateful nod. Hotch moved his lips in what resembled a small smile, Reid couldn't be sure. "Okay," Garcia's voice resounded from the speaker sitting in the middle of the round table, "I've contacted all of Mary Goldman's professors and it turns out she didn't go to class today. Her first class was at 11:30 but she never showed up." "None of the students we interrogated on campus had seen her after 10:15," Emily spoke up. "Spencer's roommate saw her between 10:30 and 11:00," Rossi intervened. "Okay, we'll get her to come in," Hotch affirmed. Spencer's whole body tensed. You had been the last person to see the victim. His mind was so busy reeling, thinking about everything you'd have to go through as the most promising witness, that he missed Morgan's question.

"Reid?" Derek raised an eyebrow. "Uh, sorry, what did you say?" "What was the time of death according to the coroner?" "14:30," Rossi answered. "It was 14:26, actually," corrected Reid. Rossi rolled his eyes. "Okay, so the unsub has his victim between around, let's say 11:15, and 14:26," Rossi shot a pointed look at Spencer, "that's about three hours and 11 minutes. In those three hours, he had time to take the victim someplace where neither of them would be seen or heard, beat and sexually assault her, and finally dump her in smack-dab in front of the university." "He's definitely organised and wants to send a message," Emily thought aloud. "But what is he trying to say? Look at what I can do? You can't stop me?" "Friends," interrupted Garcia, "I'm going to need at least some information before I even try to get anything out of a search. He's taking and leaving them on campus, so I'm guessing he doesn't necessarily need a vehicle. Does he live in the area?" "Yes, he's local or knows the area, he knows these women and he most likely knows the campus. Search for white males, early twenties with a record of violence and sexual misconduct. Cross-reference that with victims of reported abuse and sexual abuse in the last twenty five years. Run background checks for all university staff. Also have a look at similar victims and MOs in this area in the last five years. This may not be his first time," spoke Hotch. "On it, I'll get back to you when I've found something." "Thanks, Garcia."

You'd taken a shower as soon as you'd arrived home. The water was too hot and you'd scrubbed your skin too hard but getting out, you felt a slight bit better. Heavily disliking the way you still felt, you opted for a cup of Earl Grey tea with milk and sugar. Settling on the couch with a steaming cup in your hands, you tucked your legs beneath you and sighed.

Images of Mary's dead body were printed onto the inside of your eyelids. You still couldn't believe it. Your mind reeled as you tried to think of an explanation for it all. Whichever path you followed, you came up empty. You could not comprehend or imagine any reason of taking the life of an innocent person, especially in such a violent way. Luckily for you, you still didn't know the extent of the violence.

A familiar noise pulled you from your dark thoughts. Geoffrey had just jumped down from his cat tree. You watched him stretch and languidly walk over to you. He meowed once before jumping onto the couch, right next to you. You moved your legs so that you were sitting cross-legged and scratched his head. He purred in delight and pressed himself against you. He sniffed at your tea with an unimpressed look before climbing into your lap before letting himself flop down on his side, stretching out his appendages. You cooed as his pink toe-beans stretched too and laid a hand on his belly, scratching gently. The vibrations of his purrs had a calming effect on you. "Are you trying to make me forgive you for biting my ankle the other day when I wouldn't give you any more treats? You know Spencer says you're a bit overweight, I was just trying to get him to stop body-shaming you, my love..."

A few minutes later, you get a text from Spencer. About thirty minutes after that, you get a phone call from him. "Hey, would you mind coming to the station? It turns out you're the last person to have seen the victim."

"I'll do the cognitive interview." "Reid, I don't think that's a good idea." "Look, yes I'm invested, I know that. But I also know her and-" "Reid, no. This is the reason we such have procedures." "But I-" "Reid." Hotchner's tone translated finality. Spencer's shoulders sank in defeat. He had figured that if he had been the one conducting the interview, maybe it would have been less traumatic for you. He hated the idea of not being there for you, with you, during such a trying moment. He bit his bottom lip.

"I'll do it," volunteered Morgan. Reid felt slight comfort at that, Morgan was one of the few people he would entrust his life to. He could entrust you to him for the interview, even if he didn't like it. Hotchner nodded. "Reid, you work with Garcia, focus on finding other victims with the same MO to help build the profile." Reid nodded and went to find his colleagues.

When you entered the police station, it was almost like he could feel your presence. He came to find you straight away, not wanting to leave alone even for a second. "Hey." "Hey." Reid immediately pulled you in for a meaningful embrace, burying his face in your hair. The smell of your shampoo, conditionner and body wash were bliss to his nostrils. They were a promise that you were here, you were safe, you were okay. Morgan watched from afar, a small smile playing at his lips. He knew Reid, and the hug you exchanged was both too hasty and too tight to be anything casual. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry to have to make you come in, but they're going to do- well I wanted to do it but they wouldn't let me, so it's-"

A slightly older, very muscular and gentle man stepped forward, holding out his hand to you. You shook it. "I'm Agent Derek Morgan. I'm one of Spencer's colleagues. I'll be the one conducting the interview, seeing as there's a conflict of interest with you and Spencer. I hope you can understand that." You introduced yourself and looked at Spencer before answering Derek. "Yes, I understand, it's- it's not a problem." "Great, if you could just follow me, please?" You licked your lips and sent Spencer a look, which he answers with a nod of reassurance and a small smile, before following Derek.

"You can close your eyes if it makes you more comfortable." You were sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair. The light above you was ticking at uneven intervals and the room smelt of worry. You didn't know how you could get any more comfortable, but listening to Morgan's even, alto voice helped a bit. "Okay." You closed your eyes. "You told Agent Rossi that you crossed the victim somewhere around quarter to eleven. Is that correct?" "Uh, yes." "Where did you cross her?" "In the main hall." "Where were you going?" "Um, I had just been to the bathroom and I was heading to my Anglo-American Literary Survey class." "Okay, can you describe to me everything about the moment when you crossed the victim? What you saw, what you felt, smelled, heard? Was anything out of the ordinary?" You opened your eyes.

"Um, I'm sorry, but could you stop referring to Mary as the victim, please? She has a name, which is Mary Goldman, and a victim wasn't the only thing she was." Derek was slightly surprised at your comment but understood where you came from. Separating from the name was a way for profilers to gain some distance from the horrendous violence. Personally knowing the victim, you didn't have such luxury. "Of course, I apologise. What did you feel when you crossed Mary? Was anything out of place?"

You nodded in thanks and tried to bring yourself back to that moment. It seemed unreal, how such a small interaction suddenly held such importance. "O-Okay, uh, my hands are still a bit wet. There weren't any towels in the bathroom. I saw her after she saw me and we exchanged a smile. I thought she looked really pretty today, but I didn't tell her. We really don't know each other that well." "Okay, that's good. Was she wearing anything out of habit for her?" "Uhh, no, she was wearing a pleated skirt and a sweater vest. She often dresses like that, I don't know exactly why I thought she looked pretty. I guess she just looked happy. Nothing was out of the ordinary." "Good. Could you hear or smell anything?" "Yeah, well, there were the voices of other people in the hall. I can hear girls laughing. I smell Mary's perfume when she walks past me. She always wears the same one, it's Chanel, Mademoiselle Coco specifically, she told me once at a party."

"Okay, do you know where she's going?" "I- yeah, she's heading for her Behavioural Neuroscience class." "Is she walking in the right direction?" "Uh... Yes, yes, she is. She's not in too much of a hurry, though, she doesn't like the teacher." "So why is she heading there already, then? The class only starts at 11:30." "She likes to reread the material from the previous week before the class starts." "Why doesn't she like the teacher?" "No one does, all he does is read off his slides and he's a jerk when it comes to grading."

Morgan suppressed a smile at your comment. "Okay, thank you so much, Y/N, this was very helpful." "Was it? I didn't feel like-" "Yes, I promise you've just shared some crucial pieces of information." "O-Okay, if you say so."

All eyes were on Morgan as he entered the briefing room. He put his paper coffee cup down on the table and looked at Hotch. "Nothing was out of the ordinary. Mary was wearing habitual clothes and the same perfume she always wore. She was heading to the same class, as she did weekly, at the same time. My guess is this guy knew her routine and did a blitz attack. Y/N gave me the number of Mary's best friend, and according to her, Mary didn't have any guys in her life except for her dad and brother."

Hotchner nodded. Spencer couldn't help but feeling proud of you for being able to go through with the interview and to provide such useful information, too. He'd have to congratulate you when he got home. "Pretty boy and I found three similar victims in the last three years. They weren't connected to this case because they were in another university, just on the other side of the state line. Last year, three girls, university students, were killed, same MO, all disappeared for about three hours before being found dead in front of the university, they attended," Garcia spoke from the speaker. Spencer nodded in agreement to her words. "What did the police find back then?" asked Emily. "Nothing, they- uh, did all they could during the month that the three murders happened but after the third victim, the unsub stopped," Spencer answered. "Stopped?" Emily repeated, brows drawn together in confusion. "Yeah, he just- stopped killing and disappeared. Our best guess is that something triggered him then and that the same thing triggered him now."

"Oh, another thing," Garcia sounded reluctant to share the information she had, "I looked at all the victims' pictures and... well, I'll just send them to you, that'll be easier."

Spencer's blood ran ice cold as he stared at the four girls on the screen. They all looked exactly like you.

Taglist : (all those of you who wanted a part two <3) @princess-ofthe-pages @usuck @theylovemelody @empressgraytea @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillianacristina

The Halloween Party

Avengers Bucky

Summary: You're new at the compound and are invited to the annual Halloween party and of course the man you've been crushing on will be there. Will your costume be enough for him? What happens when Sharon intervenes and does something bad? Will you forgive Bucky?

Content warning: Language, body insecurities by the reader, Sharon is a mean cow, little angst, fluff

A/N - Yeah, I made Sharon mean in this...sorry for anyone who likes her.

"So, you're going to the Halloween party on Saturday?" Brooke asked. 

You looked at her and shrugged. 

"Not sure yet." 

Truth was, you were a little scared to go because you had heard that everyone was going to be there, and you were the newbie. You had arrived at the compound a few months ago; sent up from the city to live alongside the Avengers. You were an aircraft mechanic and were damn good at your job. Brooke was your co-mechanic who showed you around the compound, giving you the ins and outs of it all and was starting to become one of your good friends.

"I don't have a costume," you reminded her. 

"Babe, just throw in 'slutty' before any costume you were thinking of going as. They'll eat that shit up," she winked at you. 

"Easy for you to say, you're like perfect and I'm...not." 

You looked down at your feet and frowned. And did you really want to go as a slutty cow? Or a slutty zombie to begin with? You looked over at Brooke and then back down at your computer you sat in front of, focusing on the little ghost figurine you put there a week ago. 

Brooke was tall, slim, freakishly fit and active. You were none of those things...well...apart from active. You walked and did a bit of yoga here and there, but you never frequented the gym or pool, and weightlifting and aerobics were not your thing at all. 

The sweating and the people there watching you, feeling like they were judging you even though they probably weren't, but you could never get past those thoughts. Your anxiety was getting anxiety thinking about it all.

You preferred hiding in your coveralls at work, or sweatpants and baggy shirts on your down time. You were what most consider curvy and were still trying to find beauty in yourself. 

"Brooke, there's like two types of girls at Halloween parties. The ones who put on a pair of cat ears with a slimming body suit or tight dress and look hot, and then there's the other kind who go all out with fake blood and gore, never anything in-between. I tend to fall into the category of the latter." 

You sat back and sipped your coffee. 

"Maybe this party can be the exception?" Brooke winked at you making you snort at your screen. 

You were finishing a report on the last jet you serviced. 

"Well, there's lots of time to think about it, but I wouldn't wait much longer. I've heard the Halloween parties here get pretty crazy, so you don't want to miss out." Brooke winked at you then headed out of your office.

You sat back in your chair and thought about it. Sure, it would be a fun night out, something different to do. You haven't really met a lot of other people outside of your day-to-day job. But the fact that it was a costume party, you didn't want to go to the effort and be laughed at, made fun of, or ignored. 

Picking out a costume always gives you mad anxiety, so you usually avoid wearing them, or going to Halloween parties altogether. You settle on wearing cute pumpkin shirts or generic shirts with Halloween sayings like 'Boo' or 'Trick or Treat' on them to make yourself festive for the season instead.

"Oh, one more thing." Brooke popped her head back into your office making you jump in your chair. 

"What the hell Brooke?" You put your hand on your chest. 

"You scared the crap out of me." 

She flashed you with a wicked smile. 

"He's going to be there." Brooke winked at you then she left. 

You froze. Bucky was going to the party. 

Of course he was. 

Your face started to flush just thinking about him.

You had met him a few times before, and he was always nice to you. He came by occasionally after a mission and de-briefed you about any issues they had with the jets. He was always polite and friendly, and you instantly melted at his feet. 

Of course, THE Bucky Barnes would never be interested in one of the mechanics, especially one that looked like you. You told yourself he was only being nice to you because you worked at the compound and nothing more. Outside of work, men like him didn't approach women like you plain and simple, but he was nice to look at. 

You had a hard time focusing on his words whenever he spoke to you, which should have been a safety thing seeing as how he was telling you about any issues with the jets, but you didn't care one bit. You'd find any issue he had with your inspections anyways. 

He had a wonderful voice to listen to and you never interrupted him when he spoke, wanting to hear him talk to you more, even if it was only about the jets and nothing else. Your time with him was usually brief, but you always cherished it, nonetheless. Having a crush on the man at your age should be pathetic, but you didn't care; you adored him, and you will continue to do so in private. Only Brooke knows about your crush, and you've sworn her to secrecy.

🎃💃🏻

That night, you wandered the compound on one of your walks. It was finally cool out so you could once again enjoy the night air. You hated the summer heat since your thighs usually stuck together and your face was always flushed, causing your hair to half fuzz up and the other half to stick to your neck. 

Fall was your favourite time of season, not too hot and not too cool, it was just right as you smiled to yourself. You rounded a corner and bumped into someone, almost knocking them flat on their back. 

"Oof, I'm so sorry." 

You steadied yourself as you looked up into a pair of bright blue eyes. 

It was Bucky. 

Of course, I almost steam rolled him. 

"It's ok." 

You both steadied yourselves from the small collision you just had. 

"Are you good?" He still held you in his arms. 

"Uh, yeah, I am, thanks, you?"

You couldn't stop blushing. 

"Yeah, I'm good," he assured you. 

Of course he was, it was like running into a solid brick wall. 

"Ok." 

He held you for a few seconds longer, squeezed his hands on your upper arms, then let go. 

"Sorry about that." 

You finally looked up at him. He was with Steve, Nat, and Sharon. 

"It's ok, really. I'm glad I was able to save you from falling," Bucky teased you making you chuckle. 

You didn't notice the eye rolling Sharon was doing behind his back. 

"Out for a walk?" Steve asked. 

They looked like they had come back from the city. 

"Uh, yeah, I was. I'm enjoying the cooler temperatures." You cringed and instantly wanted to face palm yourself for sounding like your mom. 

Who says that? I'm not even that old yet to have polite small talk about the weather! 

"Yeah, so anyways, I should..." You pointed over your shoulder and took a few steps back. 

"Sorry for interrupting," you smiled. 

"It was ok. Nice seeing you again." Bucky smiled. 

Nat and Steve waved as they turned to leave. Bucky watched you walk away, and Sharon rolled her eyes at everything but followed them back. 

When you got back to your apartment, you flung yourself on your couch and groaned. 

I almost flattened Bucky Barnes and talked about the weather like some old weirdo. Good one idiot, you chastised yourself.

🎃💃🏻

"Are you going to the Halloween party Buck?" Steve asked, making Bucky look up at him from his book. 

"Everyone's going." 

He thought about it. 

Parties at the compound were fun, he never minded partaking in them, but they always made him feel uneasy. Many women always surrounded him, hoping he would give them his attention, which he sometimes did, but it always felt forced. 

"Not sure yet." 

"Well, you need a costume if you want to go, just think about it. We're all going." Steve smiled at his best friend. 

Bucky thought about what he would wear, and he was drawing a blank. 

"Nat and I are going as 20's gangsters. Sharon is coming along too." Steve winked at his friend making Bucky want to throw up a little in his mouth. 

He doesn't like Sharon, and he especially doesn't trust her either. 

"Anyways, think about it." Steve smiled at Bucky before he left the lounge. 

Bucky did think about it and the fact that everyone's going, which means the pretty mechanic he enjoys talking to, the one who almost levelled him last night will be there, which made Bucky smile at the memory and the possibility of what was to come.

As he was thinking about you, Sharon wandered in and sat unusually close to Bucky on the couch. 

"What are you wearing to the party?" she asked. 

Bucky broke free from his thoughts on you and looked at her, slowly inching himself away from her. 

"Not sure," was all he said. 

"Well, I'm going, so I wanted to know what you were going as," she leaned into him making him tense. 

Lately, she had been flirting with Bucky more and more, making him slightly uncomfortable. He did not like Sharon that way. Sharon smirked at him. 

"I heard the mechanic is going," she shrugged. 

She watched for a reaction from Bucky and wasn't disappointed. His head perked up and he looked over at her. 

"I'm not sure of her costume, but Brooke mentioned she was going," Sharon shrugged her right shoulder. 

She saw Bucky smile at himself. Sharon's suspicions were true, Bucky had a thing for the mechanic and seeing as how she had finished her latest mission, she needed something to do since she was bored. 

"See you later," she got up from the couch and wandered out of the room leaving Bucky alone with his thoughts.

🎃💃🏻

The next day, Sharon was in the gym with Steve when Bucky walked in. She watched him put his towel, phone, and water bottle down and wander over to the free weights, joining Steve. She smiled since it was the right distraction she needed. 

Sharon walked over and took Bucky's phone then walked to a stretching area, so she was alone. Bucky does the same thing at the gym every day, so she knew she had about 30 minutes with his phone. 

She unlocked it and was able to do what she had wanted to do with it. She smirked to herself as she walked back and placed his phone down with his other belongings. 

Now all she has to do is sit back and watch while he walked over to his stuff, sipped his water, and moved onto the treadmills.

🎃💃🏻

"Do I look ok?" You asked Brooke as you were looking at yourself in your mirror. 

"For the 100th time, you look beautiful," Brooke insisted. 

You turned again and smiled to yourself. Brooke helped you choose a 20's style black flapper dress with red trim complete with dangling beading, feather headband, long black gloves, and heels. You were going as a flapper girl, something Brooke insisted you go as which was weird, but you shrugged and bought the damn costume and all the accessories to go along with it.

 At least the dangling beads from my dress will hide some things. 

Brooke went as a 'sexy fortune teller' which was weird, but it worked for her as the two of you left your apartment and walked to the main room where the party was being held.

You were nervous as you tapped your fingers together and fidgeted and fussed with the swaying beads that clacked together with every step you took. 

"Calm down," Brooke hissed at you while you walked into the party. 

"I can't help it," you spat back. 

The lights were flashing, the music was pumping, and you saw lots of people in their costumes milling about. You were in awe at some of them and how intricate they were as Brooke got you a drink. 

"Here," she smiled as she clinked her glass with yours, tipping your heads back as you took a sip. 

"Wow," Your eyes bugged out at the crowd. 

"I know right?" she giggled. 

You both wandered the room with Brooke introducing you to a lot more people, which you were grateful for but was still a bit overwhelming for you. You had seen names on your work order forms and emails, so it was nice to put those names to the faces who stood before you.

Just as you were going to head to the bar, you turned and ran into a solid large figure. 

"Oh, sorry," you said, looking up at the person. 

Of course, it was Bucky and you almost steam rolled him...again. You blushed hard. 

"Careful dollface," he winked at you. 

Your stomach fluttered at the name he just called you. You took in his costume and your mouth dropped open. He was dressed as an old-timey gangster, complete with fedora, pocket watch, and a single red rose on the lapel of his black jacket. He wore all black, with his vest having red trim to it, which matched the red trim on your black dress nicely. His shoes were black and white wing tipped ones which pulled his outfit together. He looked the part of a gangster, and you seemed to fit the part of his damsel at his side. 

"Wow, you look beautiful," he blurted out. 

You were taken aback at his bold choice of compliments and blushed hard and ran the beads together in your gloved hands. 

"Thanks," you shyly replied. 

You looked behind Bucky and saw that Steve and Nat were also dressed like him in their gangster attire. 

"Hi," you gave them a shy wave which they returned. 

You looked over Nat's shoulder and noticed Sharon was there, smirking at you. Sharon was dressed as the obvious slutty cat costume complete with kitty ears, drawn on whiskers, and a tight black dress. 

How original. 

Nat snapped a few photos of you and Bucky in your costumes as you laughed and chatted with her and Steve. It felt nice hanging out with them, even though they are Avengers, they were pretty cool people and were fun to hang out with.

Nat and Steve left to talk to a few other people, so you stood off to the side and chatted with Bucky. Nat noticed Sharon was watching you and Bucky closely, which she didn't like. Nat tolerated Sharon only because she was a good agent, but she didn't enjoy being around her outside of missions. 

She watched how Sharon was a little too into you and Bucky's conversation and wanted to find out why. Nat liked you and thought you were an excellent mechanic. Because you were new and she was on a lot of missions lately, she hadn't had time to get to know you, but she trusted you since Bucky and Steve trusted you, so that was all that mattered to her. 

"Why are you watching them?" Nat asked Sharon who looked over and smirked. 

"No reason. I think he likes her," Sharon shrugged. 

"So, what if he does?" Nat's eyes narrowed on Sharon. 

Sharon shrugged and took a few steps towards the bar to get another drink. Nat was scowling in her direction. 

"You ok?" Steve asked Nat. 

"Fine," she smiled then looked over at you and Bucky who were talking and smiling with each other.

🎃💃🏻

"So, it's getting kind of late, and I don't really dance, but I'm not tired yet," you said as Bucky looked around the room. 

"Me either, let's get out of here. Are you hungry?" 

"Kind of."

"Follow me then." 

You sent a quick message to Brooke you were leaving the party with Bucky who sent an eggplant emoji as a reply, but you scolded her and told her you were only going to get some food and relax which she replied with a frowny face, a red heart, and a thumbs up. 

She knows how hard this was for you to get out of your element, dress up, and spend time in a crowded room. You both walked out of the lounge and headed to the main kitchen on the Avengers level of the compound. 

You sat and ate some snacks, chatting with Bucky. You enjoyed listening to his stories and he liked listening to yours.

You finished your food, and he offered to walk you back to your room which was very gentlemanly of him. 

"Well, here we are," you stood out front of your room. 

"So, I was wondering, if you would like to go out for a cup of coffee with me sometime?" Bucky's face flushed a little. 

"Oh, well..." your heart hammered in your chest. 

"Ok." 

You smiled wide at Bucky who returned the smile. 

"Here," he gave you his phone which you entered your number in the contacts then handed it back to him. 

"Well, goodnight, Bucky," you smiled again. 

He nodded and watched while you made your way in your room, satisfied the lock clicked then he took off back to his room since he was done with the party. H

e got back to his room and took off his costume. He loved the fact that you seemed to match him, something he will have to thank Nat for the following day. Some of the photos Nat got of you and Bucky were good, so he had texted Nat asking if he could get a few copies, so he had them. 

He flopped into his bed and smiled at himself. He really did like you and didn't want to wait any longer, so he grabbed his phone, eager to set a date for coffee.

Your face beamed at the text you got from Bucky. Even if it had only been 20 minutes since you last saw him, you missed him a little. You saw his message and smiled, looking through your calendar. 

You gave him a few options the following week and he instantly agreed, providing there wasn't any emergency mission he was needed on. You chatted a little bit more, but you were getting tired. 

Your eyes were barely able to stay awake when he sent the following:

Bucky: Night Y/n. I had a nice time talking to you tonight

You: Me too

Bucky: I thought you looked fat in your dress. Very fat.

Your eyes closed before you saw his response, as you dreamed about your coffee date with your crush.

🎃💃🏻

You woke the following day with a smile on your face as the memories from the night before flashed in your mind. You stretched out in your bed and snuggled back in the warmth to enjoy your thoughts a little longer. You saw your phone lying next to you, so you reached for it, hoping to look at the messages from Bucky when you saw a new text message notification. You focused your eyes, and your mouth dropped open. 

"What the fuck?" 

You opened the message, and you instantly shot up from your warm spot. 

"What the hell?" 

You scrolled through the message feed thinking you had misread his message, and nope. 

He thought I looked fat? Was this some kind of joke? 

Your good mood instantly deflated as you batted the tears from your eyes. You had thought you looked good, considering you rarely wear dresses. You kept scrolling but stopped yourself. 

Great. 

The time when you think things are looking up for you, they come crashing down. 

Typical man, playing games and being mean to make himself feel good. 

Avengers or not, he was a dick, and you didn't want anything to do with him. It was like being back in high school all over again.

You closed the messages and immediately phoned Brooke. It took a few rings, but she groggily answered. 

"Hey," her voice rasped. 

Clearly, she had more fun at the party than you did. 

"I'm sending you something," was your reply. 

"'K," she mumbled. 

You heard ruffling then a gasp. 

"What the hell is this?" 

"It's a message from Bucky," your voice was low. 

"He said that? To you? Asshole, I'm going to kill him. You looked hot in that dress, what is he, blind?" Brooke seethed. 

"Hang on, I'm coming over."

Brooke was only a floor above you, so she took the stairs and was at your door in a few minutes, still in her sleep clothes as you ushered her in.

You told her all about your talk with Bucky and how you both got along well and had a good night with him. He even blushed at you a few times and walked you back to your room like a gentleman, you had settled on a little coffee date, which made Brooke smile, but she instantly frowned in thought. 

"I don't get it," she blurted out. 

"What?" 

"Well, he was into you yeah?" She asked making you think about it. 

"Yeah," you shrugged. 

You had good conversations with Bucky, talking about a lot of things, laughing and joking with each other. You never got a malicious vibe from him at all and he did tell you you were beautiful when he first saw you. 

"It doesn't make sense he would send that," she mumbled. 

Just as she spoke, a knock sounded at your door. You got up to answer, but Brooke beat you to it and flung the door open. Bucky stood on the other side. 

"Uh..." you could see him look back at the elevator making sure he was on the right floor. 

"Is Y/n here?" he asked. 

Brooke scowled. 

"She's busy," Brooke spat at him. 

"Oh, well. Can you tell her I stopped by? I was wondering if she wanted to join us for lunch at the cafeteria." Bucky blushed a little. 

Brooke eyed him up and snorted. 

"She won't be doing that today." 

"Is Y/n feeling ok?" Bucky was confused. 

When he talked to you last night, you seemed fine and weren't sick at all. He said goodnight and ended the texting session so you could sleep. 

"She's fine but you may want to look at your messages you sent her last night. How could you?" Brooke snapped. 

Bucky was confused at her harshness but nodded. Some of the other floormates were poking their heads out of their rooms, listening to the hallway scuffle. You stood on the other side of the door listening. 

"Why? We're going out for coffee in a few days." Bucky was confused as he pulled his phone out and looked through the messages. 

"Well, you can leave, and be on your way then." Brooke slammed the door in Bucky's face.

Bucky was scrolling through the messages, still getting used to the touch screen when his eyes bugged out of his head. 

"Oh my god!" He blurted out. 

His heart sank and his face was in shock at what he said to you. He had called you fat. He meant beautiful. How? Why? His mind was racing as he looked at your door, then took off for the cafeteria in search of Steve and Nat. 

He needed to fix this right away.

🎃💃🏻

"YOU HAVE TO HELP ME!" Bucky urged his friends. 

They looked at him unsure of what was going on. 

"I screwed up, bad." Bucky flopped down in front of them. 

Steve and Nat shared a look before Steve asked, "What happened?" 

"I was texting Y/n last night, after the party. We left to get something to eat and to talk more. Things were going great, I even got a date out of it, but I screwed up...bad." 

"How bad?" Nat asked. 

"Look." 

Bucky showed them the message thread. 

"You said what to her?" Steve scowled at Bucky and Nat looked over the messages. 

"No, no Steve, I didn't. I would NEVER...she's beautiful, I really like her, and I never typed that, I swear!" 

They both looked at the message again. 

"Anyways, I had wanted to tell her she looked beautiful, and I thought I did. I never looked closely at the message since I went to bed myself, but it came out like THAT instead." Bucky scowled at his phone. 

Nat was listening intently when she got an idea. 

"Hang on." Nat pulled her phone out and looked at Bucky. 

"Text me and tell me I'm beautiful," Nat asked Bucky while Steve coughed into his hand. 

Bucky snorted but texted her and sure enough, the word Beautiful was changed to fat. 

Steve and Bucky's eyes were huge while Nat looked at the phone. 

"Hmm." 

She went into his settings and snooped around. Bucky rubbed his eyes wondering how he was going to fix this mess. 

"Ah ha." Nat smiled as she found the issue. 

"Some of your words have been changed, look." 

Nat showed Bucky and Steve what had happened. 

"Somehow, words like nice, pretty, beautiful, and hot have all been changed to fat, so whenever you type those words, the word fat overrides them instead." 

Nat went about fixing Bucky's phone to the way it was. 

"But how? I barely know how to text let alone do that, and why would someone do that?" Bucky pointed at his phone and Steve nodded. 

Nat thought of one person, Sharon. 

"Sharon," was all she said.

Bucky and Steve looked at each other. 

"You think?" Steve asked. 

"I know. I have to do some digging, but I am 100% sure she is behind this," Nat muttered. 

"Why?" Steve looked confused. 

"Not sure, but it's fixed now. Meet me in the lounge in a bit." Nat handed Bucky back his phone and he looked at it. 

"Ok. Ugh, I need to fix this with Y/n." Bucky got back up and walked away but he stopped and looked back at Nat. 

"Thanks for figuring it out and fixing it," before he ran out of the cafeteria to his room.

🎃💃🏻

You and Brooke were hanging out in the city when you got a notice on your phone. It was a video, so you opened it and watched it together. 

"Huh." Brooke said as you looked up at her. 

"So, it was Sharon?" You blurted out. 

Nat texted you the whole details of what had happened. Telling you that Sharon had changed his words to hurt you without him knowing or realizing. She also emphasized that Bucky really did think you were beautiful and had told you not to cancel your planned coffee date with him making you smile a little. 

"Do you believe her?" asked Brooke. 

"Why wouldn't I? She's scary," you chuckled. 

"Makes sense though." Brooke shrugged. 

"I saw Sharon lurking around Bucky, always watching. Like she was pining for him or something, but he never gave her the time or day. His focus was always on you." Brooke smiled, making you blush. 

"I thought it seemed weird, from what you told me to the text message though," she added. 

"He's not a jerk like that." 

"Yeah, I know. I should go and talk to him when we get back." 

"Nah, let him come to you. He seemed pretty frantic when I slammed the door in his face earlier, so I think he'll be by to see you when he realizes you're back," Brooke chuckled. 

"Yeah, thanks for that by the way," you laughed.

"Anytime. Well, we should head back. You have some talking to do with Bucky." 

"Yeah, I know. I just thought I'd make him sweat it out," you shrugged making Brooke laugh.

🎃💃🏻

Bucky was pacing the lounge of their floor. He was unable to find you, and found out you went into the city for a few hours so he had to wait to talk to you. He noticed the door to the lounge fling open and Sharon walked in. 

"Hi Bucky," she smiled as Bucky scowled at her. 

"You!" Buck glared at her. It took everything in him not to lose control on her. 

"What?"

"You screwed with my phone, made me look like a jerk with Y/n." Bucky was fuming at Sharon who only rolled her eyes at him. 

"I don't know anything about that." She waved her hand at him. 

"That is not funny, and you know it. That's mean and hurtful." Bucky growled at her. 

Sharon walked closer to Bucky. He was on his phone, watching for a notification from the gate attendants to say when you were back. Sharon sat next to him on the couch. 

"I was thinking, do you maybe want to go out for a drink with me sometime this week?" 

 Bucky stopped scrolling, looked up at her, and scowled. 

"There's a new bar I'd like to try out," she tapped her fingers on his arm and smiled at him. 

Bucky wasn't having any of it, so he stood and took a few steps away from her. 

"No, I don't." 

He tried hiding a shudder from her, but it didn't work. Sharon rolled her eyes. 

"Come on, just a drink," she pleaded. 

"No." 

Sharon was annoyed and huffed. 

"Is this about your crush on the little mechanic still?" Sharon teased. 

"Or wait, should I say big mechanic?" she added. 

Bucky tensed and narrowed his eyes. 

"Why did you say that? Y/n is a great mechanic." 

Sharon snorted. 

"Whatever." 

Bucky was about to leave and go to Fury when the doors to the lounge opened and Nat walked in.

Sharon tensed at her and watched as Nat sat down on a chair. 

"Care to explain why you did this?" 

Nat held up her phone and played security footage of the gym from a few days ago. It showed Sharon taking Bucky's phone and changing it around. Bucky's mouth fell open as he watched what had happened. He knew she was behind this, but to see it with his own eye was something else. 

The footage stopped and Nat looked at Sharon, whose face was now bright red. Nat also had the device info she found and sure enough, the timing matched the video and proved it was Sharon. 

"You changed his words in his phone. Anytime he texted anything nice, it changed to fat. So, I am asking again, care to explain yourself?"

 Nat leaned over in her chair and eyed Sharon who scoffed. 

"Whatever. I was just having some fun. That Halloween party was boring, so I needed something to do." 

Nat rolled her eyes. 

"I didn't find it funny." Bucky's narrowed eyes were focused on Sharon as he leered over at her. 

"Oh, come on. You can't be serious Bucky. The mechanic? Really? Her? She's...she's..." 

"What?" Bucky continued glaring at Sharon.

 "You deserve someone better." Sharon shrugged. 

"What? Someone like you?" Nat interjected.

Sharon smiled. 

"Well, yeah." 

Bucky visibly shuddered and composed himself to scowl at her some more. He lowered his voice and said "I wouldn't date you if you were the last person on the planet. You're not my type. I don't like you, I never liked you, and I never will like you. I don't even want you to be around me because I can't stand you. You're only here to fill in for some injuries we have." 

Nat smiled at the mention of her being temporary. 

"That reminds me. I heard Fury is transferring you to Berlin tonight" Nat smirked. 

Sharon's mouth fell open. 

"Wh-what do you mean?" 

"An eighth month term in Berlin at the northern base. Only a few agents there, not many threats, a few hours from the nearest small town, middle of nowhere. Kind of boring if you ask me, but a position suddenly opened there, and I recommended you right away for it." Nat shrugged. 

Sharon's phone dinged as she looked at the message. It was from Fury asking her for a meeting in his office. Bucky watched the colour drain from her face and she gulped. 

Her phone dinged again. 

"I'd go if I were you. I wouldn't keep Fury waiting." Nat suggested. 

Sharon's face was red as she got off the couch. 

Bucky stopped her and said, "Have fun in Berlin," making her scowl at him as she left the room. 

Nat looked over at Bucky and smiled. 

"What are you going to do?" she asked. 

"I have a lot of things I have to do to gain Y/n's trust back" 

Nat patted his arm and smiled. 

"I sent her the video footage. Maybe it'll help?" 

Bucky felt a little relieved you knew about what had happened. Perhaps you won't throw anything at his head when he goes to speak with you. Nat was hopeful for her friend. Bucky got a notification from the gate guards you were back, so he ran out of the lounge, determined to fix this.

<Knock knock>

You got up from your bed and answered your door. It was Bucky.

 "Hi"

 "Hi" 

"Can I come in?" he asked. 

You stepped aside and gestured him into your room, closing the door. He sat on your couch and fidgeted with his hands.

 "Y/n...I..." You held your hand up to him, halting him from talking. 

"It's ok, really. Nat sent me the footage, told me what had happened." You assured him. 

You could see him exhale a deep breath. 

"Oh, ok." 

Bucky looked around your room and smiled to himself. He saw a few Halloween decorations like pumpkins, a few fall gnomes, a witch's hat, and some orange string lights. He remembered you said you liked decorating for the seasons. 

"Y/n, I just wanted to say, I'm sorry. I had no idea Sharon did that, and I had no idea that could even be done. Like who does that and why is there a need for that? I'm still getting used to things and never thought she would do that to me." 

You smiled at Bucky's ramblings. 

"It's ok. Well, not what you had said if it were true and all, but I understand," you smiled at him. 

"Y/n, I, I meant it when I said you were beautiful. I had meant to say that again. I really liked your dress, and it matched my outfit and everything." He blushed a little. 

"Oh, well, thanks...again," you smiled. 

"Sharon's headed to Berlin tonight. Fury posted her at the northern base." 

"Oh?"

 "Yeah, something about being done with her assistance now that the team is back and healthy." 

You nodded, relived Sharon was no longer a threat to you.

"So."

"So." 

You were smiling wide that Bucky Barnes was in your room. 

"There's another Halloween party we're having," you blurted out. 

Brooke told you about the one the mechanics and engineers have that's separate to the big one you went to. 

"Oh?" Bucky seemed to perk up again. 

"Would you like to go with me?" You asked him.

He smiled and nodded. 

"I would. When is it?" 

"Next weekend, on Halloween actually," you smiled. 

"Can you wear the dress you wore to the other party?" he asked. 

You hadn't planned on dressing up, but you would make an exception. If Bucky wanted you to dress up, who are you to say no. 

"Oh, um, sure. Are you going to wear the same thing you did too?" 

Bucky smirked and replied "Of course. We match so it only makes sense we go together." 

You smiled as you watched Bucky stand up from your couch. He took a few steps towards you, so you were in front of him. Your heart was hammering in your chest. 

"I'd like that, but first, we need to go on that date."

 "Oh, right." 

"Are you still interested in going out for a coffee with me Y/n?" Bucky took a step towards you and reached out to brush a strand of your hair back from your face. 

"O-ok. Yes, I'd like that" you smiled. 

Bucky smiled too and stepped back from you to head to the door. 

"I'll text you later now that my phone is fixed." He smiled before he left your room. 

You couldn't wipe the smile from your face or the thoughts of what was to come for Halloween night.

Sneaky & Sly

Get cozy! October is here!

Pairing: Steve Rogers x f!Reader x Bucky Barnes | Stucky x Reader

Warnings: Overloaded fluff, curse words, Bucky being sneaky lil shit, nudity, poly relation. Lemme know if I'm missing anything.

Word Count: 870

Banner credits to me, picture credits to the internet. Thank you :)

A/N: This is my submission for Cozytober 2024 & Flufftober 2024 Thank you so much for conducting this! It's gonna be a fluffy & cozy October, indeed! Cozytober | Cozy Prompt 1: Borrowing a sweatshirt or coat Flufftober | Prompt 26 "I can't find it." @flufftober

Check out my other works: Masterlist

Written it on my phone and it's unedited! Will edit it as soon as I can!

Indulge Away!

****

Steve observed with keen interest as Bucky walked out of the bedroom with a smug grin. As soon as Bucky noticed Steve's curious gaze locked on him, he composed, moving towards the coffee pot and meticulously making coffee.

Steve noted Bucky's extra cheeriness, and he knew something was up.

Not a minute later, Steve heard you.

"Ugh…where is it?" Your annoyed voice comes from the bedroom, and Steve sighed, thinking Bucky had hidden your towel again.

"Bucky," Steve's stern voice has Bucky scoff defiantly. "What? I didn't do anything," He said; his face is the embodiment of innocence.

Steve walks in to check in on you. You were bent over, searching your shelf of clothes, haphazardly drying yourself with the towel wrapped around your tiny form, and Steve groaned internally, taking you in. He took a deep breath, controlling his urge to pull the towel off and have his way with you, but he knew you were getting late for the impromptu meeting.

He holds you by the hip and leans over to see what you are searching for.

"What do you need?" He asked. You sigh, getting up and loosening the towel as he lets his eyes run down your naked form. And he sneaks in a quick kiss, and you lean into him, sighing against his mouth.

"Have you seen my hoodie? I can't find it," you ask frustratedly. It takes Steve a whole minute to process when his mind is reeling to pull you back into his arms. He leans back as you hurriedly put on the bra straps, and he clasps them securely.

"Thanks, love," You mumble as you incessantly search through the shelves as you pull in the panties up your legs.

"You mean my blue hoodie?" Steve snickers. You stop midway through pulling the shirt throwing him a deadpanned look. You have laid claim to that hoodie for a long time now, and it has been a constant battle of sharing between you and him.

Bucky walked with two mugs, handing one to Steve. "What are we looking for?" he asks, handing you the other as you take a sip and curse as it burns your tongue.

"Careful," Bucky chides.

"Have you seen Steve's blue hoodie?" you ask, handing the mug back to Bucky and making it a point to look at Steve as you emphasize his name. Steve snorts, sipping into his coffee.

Bucky shook his head.

"Never mind," you grumbled, pulling a grey hoodie from Bucky's lot.

"I'll see you both in a bit," you quickly peck them both before rushing upstairs to take the call.

~

Steve leaned his hip onto the kitchen counter as he cut peppers, pausing to watch curiously as Bucky stood on the other side, meticulously focusing on finishing his coffee, the epitome of innocence painted over his face.

But Steve was all too aware of the smug energy radiating from him.

"You know," Steve began, his tone calm yet laced with a playful edge, "you didn't have to hide my hoodie to get her to wear yours."

Steve could see him stiffen for a split second before he belied it with a relaxed countenance. Bucky leaned back, taking a sip from his mug, staring him right in the eye, doing a damn good job at throwing Steve off. Almost. But Steve knows all his tells.

Bucky's grin widened as he met Steve's gaze. "Oh yeah? Then why didn't you tell her?" Bucky shot back his mirth, which was evident as he set his mug down.

Steve blinked, taken off guard, before rolling his eyes. Steve rubbed a hand over his face, trying not to laugh. "You're impossible."

"I like seeing her wear my stuff," Bucky admitted after a long pause. Steve felt a wave of tenderness towards him. Bucky still struggled with insecurities, despite you both showering him with love. Leaning in, Steve offered him a gentle smile and pulled him in for a tender, reassuring kiss.

"Yeah," Steve admitted with a small smile. "I like it, too. But you should know Buck; she is just obsessively attached to that hoodie, not because it's mine or anything."

Bucky chuckles, biting his lip. "Ya, I know," he grumbles. "It is indeed cozy," Bucky agrees, reveling in Steve's warmth beside him, and he picks up his mug.

"And to think we got it in clearance for $10, who would have thought?" Steve snickers as he moves back to preparing lunch.

"No kidding," Bucky snorts as he picks the pot from underneath to boil some water for the spaghetti.

As an afterthought, Steve added, "But man...when she finds out you've been messing with her. She's not gonna be happy."

"I'll find it for her, eventually," Bucky thought out loud. They both heard the door shut upstairs as you bounced down the stairs.

Bucky raised a brow, his smirk faltering slightly. "She wouldn't be mad at me… right?"

Steve grinned wide, starting to walk out of the kitchen. "Oh, you'll find out soon enough, pal."

Bucky watched him leave, suddenly realizing Steve's intent. "Wait…Steve." He grumbled, following him out of the kitchen. "Fucking hell, punk! I'm gonna kick your ass if you don't shut your mouth,"

****

There there... hope you enjoyed reading it! Likes, Reblogs & Comments will be cherished! <3

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Casual - Jasper Hale

A/N: i know that jasper would NEVER, this is just for the sake of my angsty imaginations okay? he’s a gentleman and so so inlove. how could he? just bare with me in this alternate universe okay? anyways, please tell me if you hate it lol this is my first time publishing so forgive me if its shit. i tried my best, if this doesnt work out, maybe writing isnt for me… enjoy! and thank you for reading!

also, this is inspired by chappell roan’s casual, i just love her!!

edit: just fixing my grammatical errors.

Warnings: a little angst and mentions of sex, i think there were curse words? 18+!

my friends call me a loser cause im still hanging around

“y/n? what’s wrong with you?” angela asks you, jessica has been talking on and on about her and mike, so much that you unexpectedly drown in your own thoughts about you and jasper. “she’s thinking about jasper again.” jessica says, rolling her eyes. you turn your head around to sneak a peak at the cullens. “ugh, what are you guys anyway? what? edward got bella now his brother wants to mingle with you as well? like, come on people, im losing my friends to the cullens!” jessica keeps on rambling but your mind seems to be elsewhere. bella gives you that look that says “are you okay?” and you nod, ignoring jessica’s comments, once again, getting drowned in your thoughts. “—plus i heard that he had some type of thing going on with another girl. didnt emmett and rosalie talk about that?” and suddenly, upon hearing this, you turn to jessica with the look of confusion. angela and bella noticed this and angela spoke up. much to your dismay, you were so stupid. stupid enough to actually think that jasper hale would ever like you for you.

i’ve heard so many rumours that im just a girl that you bang on your couch.

“im really sorry to be the one to tell you this, y/n..” alice says, confirming what angela has told you. “i heard that jasper brushed off the rumours of you and him by saying you were only fucking, not so much as a relationship or bond. you guys were only casual.” angela’s words never left your mind.. you try to hold back your tears and nodded at alice, you thanked her for her honesty and left immediately.

i thought you thought of me better someone you couldnt lose.

how stupid are you y/n? why? why did you let yourself fall for such an arrogant boy?? you thought to yourself whilst walking on the way home. he didnt even feel the same way, he didnt feel what i felt whenever he calls me by those weirdly lovey nicknames, he didnt feel what i felt when he kissed me on my cheek. he never did. and you were just stupid to think that he’d actually reciprocate your feelings. you kept beating yourself up for falling in love with a cullen. unfortunately, you weren’t as lucky as bella. she fell inlove with a cullen that loves her back and you fell inlove with… well… a boy.

you said “we’re not together” so now when we kiss i have anger issues.

“hi darlin’, i missed you.” jasper greets you with a kiss as he sits beside you during your shared class. you pull away quickly and he could feel the irritable emotion that you’re feeling and immediately catches this. “what’s wrong baby?” he asks you searching your eyes for clues. you dont look at him and hum in response. “nothing, jas… im fine.” you respond without looking at him. it hurts, it just hurts. but i cant let him go.

you said “baby no attachment.”

“what’s happenin’ to you y/n? i thought we were on the same page? no attachment, remember? honey?” he asks. you feel rage creeping in you, how dare he? no attachment? and then he calls you honey? “i know, jas.. sorry” you apologise, finally looking up at him “no attachment… right, i forgot.” you said bitterly. you two had argued when he picked you up for a “date”, because he tried to kiss you as if nothing happened, you brought up the fact that he was seen with another girl and he got defensive which lead to this. he kisses your cheek and promises to make it up to you.

but we’re knee deep in the passenger seat and you’re eating me out, is it casual now?

“i’ll make it up to you sweetheart” he says as he adjusts himself on his knees whilst you’re in the passenger seat. he fiddles with your skirt and underwear as his lips start tracing the inside of your thighs. his grip on your thighs are tight and you feel your climax coming down. he continues, inserting his tongue in and out of you while his other hand losens it’s grip on your thigh and rubs on your clit.

two weeks and your mom invites me to her house in long beach, is it casual now?

“hello y/n!” rosalie greets you on your way to history class which startled you and made you jump a little. “uhm… hi rosalie.” you greet her awkwardly, taken aback by her sudden kindness to you. maybe she felt pity. “i just wanted to let you know that we’re having a quick trip next week, esme wanted to let you know that she wants you to go with us.” she says as emmett walks towards you both. “yeah, esme really misses you both, jasper will be there” emmett gives you a wink which you try hard not to roll your eyes at. “i’ll think about it, i might be busy though. thanks rosalie, emett” glancing at the both of them and walking away. you definitely dont want to get caught up with jasper on a trip, with his family. remember, it’s casual.

i know what you tell your friends, it’s casual.

“jasper!” emmett calls him, “esme wanted to invite y/n over next week at the beach house, we already invited her… so… just wanted to let you know.” emmett says as he and edward smirks at this. “you invited y/n?” he asked, very much clueless. “yeah, carlisle wanted her there too, he said she was a nice girl.” edward adds. “i might not come with you guys then.” jasper states, clearly annoyed. “what’s wrong with her coming with us, jas?” emmett asks sarcastically. “oh right! you two are just casual.” edward answers the question for jasper and the two snicker at this. jasper shakes his head and walks away before they could taunt him further.

if it’s casual now, baby, get me off again.

jasper kisses you, hard. he loves doing this to you. overstimulating you. making you come, again and again, and again… he loves how you feel, clenching around him when you’re about to come. his grip gets tighter and he fucks you harder. kissing your neck, chest, everything. and after you guys are done? every praise, assurance, word that he said vanishes. discarded. once he gets his pants on again, he leaves, giving you a peck on the cheek. and that’s all.

if its casual now, if its casual now then.

it’s saturday and the girls wanted to hang out, and you decided you wanted to go with them. you guys planned a sleep over for next week and you talked about boys, movies, and prom. which you didnt know whether or not you’d be going to attend. “y/n?? y/n!” jessica basically shouts your name to get your attention. “yeah, huh?” you say cluelessly. “didnt you hear what angela said?” jessica asked, you shake your head no and angela repeats herself. “as i was saying, this boy… andrew.. what’s his last name again?” she asked the girls, “andrew jones?” bella answers. “oh right! andrew jones! anyway, he was asking me for your phone number. he wanted to ask you out!” angela tells you and her and jessica squeal in excitement. you felt weird though, going on a date while you’re with jasper? “oh come on, y/nnnnn! dont tell me that you’re thinking about that jasper again?” jessica rolls her eyes. “i am, dont you think it’ll be weird? going out with someone else while you have a —thing— with another person?” you state.

dumb love i love being stupid, dream of us in a year, maybe we’d have an apartment and you’d show me off to your friends at the pier.

“so? jasper did the same to you, with multiple girls. plus i thought you guys were clear on no attachment? remember? it’s just casual.” jessica argues. “she’s right y/n, you shouldnt settle for a casual fling.” angela agrees with her. you look at bella and she says “im with them on this one, y/n. im sorry but you have to be honest with yourself.” feeling bad for you. you nod your head and gave andrew a chance the next week.

i know “baby no attachment.” but we’re…knee deep in the passenger seat and you’re eating me out is it casual now?

jasper told you to meet him by his car because he “missed” you, and you reluctantly agreed. you couldnt stay away from him. he then opened the car door for you and same old story, he kisses you, you fight, he “makes it up to you” and you let it go, not wanting to argue any further.

two weeks and your mom invites me to her house in long beach, is it casual now?

declining the cullen’s offer, you didn’t say why or explain your reason. you just told rosalie that you couldn’t come and she understood. but, bella accidentally mentioned it to edward and alice because alice told her that you were supposed to be there with them and bella mentioned you and your date. “what?! y/n’s going on a date???” alice squealed in excitement which grabbed everyone’s attention. “who’s going on a date?” emmett asks, which made rosalie and jasper look at the three of them. as alice was about to speak, bella cuts her off by saying “no one! alice just got excited, you know..” widening her eyes at alice to contain herself. “y/n is.. you know? the y/n that jasper has a fling with?” he sneers and bella nudges him rather aggressively and he groans. “i told you not to tell them, it was supposed to be a secret!” bella whispered-semi yelled. “oh.” was all edward said and smirked at jasper who seemed a bit mad but oh well, it’s just a casual fling.

i know what you tell your friends, it’s casual..

andrew gets out of his car and knocks on your front door with flowers in hand, your dad opens the door and he gulps. “hi sir, i’m here to take your daughter, y/n, out on a date. i promise that i’ll take good care of her and bring her home before 8pm. we will just be going out, to the theatre, nothing else. we will be watching (your favourite movie) and after that, i’ll bring her straight home.” he offers your dad a smile and your dad is taken aback by this and hesitantly lets you go with him. before you leave he gives andrew a strict look and tells him “before 8.” and closes the door.

you and andrew had so much fun, he asked if he could kiss you on your cheek and you agreed. you asked him questions about himself and he answered them quite nicely and he let you speak about your interests. before escorting you to your doorstep at 7:48… he opens your car door for you. “let’s do this again sometime? i’ll see you on monday y/n.” he smiles at you and kisses your hand. he walks to his car but doesnt leave until you got inside safely. you were daydreaming about him a lot now, he was so dreamy. you thought. he was a gentleman and from what it looks like, he’s the perfect match for you. he treats you the way you want to be treated… but..

if its casual now then baby get me off again, if it’s casual…

andrew picks you up more frequently after your first date, he became your ride to school the past few days and you guys had talked back to back, jamming to your favorite songs… you never experienced this with jasper. when you both arrive, he opens the car door for you and almost everyone at school stops to look at you both. even the cullens.

“oh my god.” angela says in shock. she’s happy for you and andrew. she’s proud of herself because this was her doing.

“no way!!” jessica exclaimed. “bella are you seeing this?” she calls, the three girls smiled at you as you and andrew walk up to them.

what you didn’t notice was, jasper looking at you both. more like glaring into your souls. if he was alive, his blood would be boiling right now.

FLASHBACKS:

its hard being casual when my favourite bra lives in your dresser.

he unclips your bra while making out with you, both of you shirtless and his lips start tracing your neck and chest, he throws your favourite bra on the floor, discarding every piece of clothing you two had on. he couldnt wait to feel you again.

it’s hard being casual when im on the phone talking down your sister.

alice wanted your help on throwing a party, she called you because she was in distress about it. “i cant think properly y/n! it just seems like something is missing!” alice exaggerates as she rambles about what theme or what color she was going to use for the party.

definitely casual. you think to yourself.

i try to be the chill girl that holds her tongue and gives you space.

“it’s not fair jasper! you’ve been going out with girls, you were seen last night by MY friends! do you not know how embarrassing that is for me?” you yell at him not being able to take it anymore. “baby… baby… calm down. they were nothing. look, i dont know why you’re acting up again, i thought you agreed? casual? honey?” he reminds you.

i try to be the chill girl but honestly im not.

“what the fuck? that’s all you have to say?” you couldnt hold off your anger anymore and opened the car door and you left. jasper chased after you, “baby… come on… i’ll make it up to you, i promise.” he tries to convince you, being the pathetically inlove girl you were, you agreed.

knee deep in the passenger seat and you’re eating me out.

same old, same old. his fingers play with your skirt and adjusting your underwear so he could insert his two fingers inside you. you moan at this and he begins to fasten his fingers’ pace, making you cry out his name. he kisses your thighs and removes his hands, replacing them with his mouth.

END OF FLASHBACK!

two weeks and your mom invites me to her long beach house.

“oh hi, y/n! we weren’t expecting guests…” esme trails off, looking at you and jasper. “hi mrs. cullen, no worries, i was just passing by.” you greet her with a smile and she smiles back. “well, do you wanna maybe stay for dinner? we’re having italian..” she offers you and you look at jasper who nods at you, well.. how could you refuse? you smile at esme.

i know what you tell your friends.

“wow jasper, that was unexpected.” rosalie jokes, “what is?” jasper asks. “the way you let her stay for dinner!” emmett adds snickering at jasper. they all know that he’s falling for her. jasper ignores their comments and went up to his room, where you were sitting on a chair, with a box full of your stuff that you’ve left behind. jasper had a plan, he wanted to talk to you and make it official before andrew beats him to it. he wanted to let you know how much he cherished and needed you.. he agreed to give back your stuff, but he wasn’t giving up without a fight.

baby get me off again.

“baby, what’re you doin’ there?” he notices you checking your stuff, polaroids and letters you’ve sent to him that he never bothered to open. “nothing, jasper. just checking.” slightly cringing at the nickname. he reaches for your hand and pulls you closer to him, making you stand up. he leans closer to you and you pull away, “what are you playing at, jasper?” you ask him and you laugh at his attempt. realizing that he isnt joking, you feel annoyed. “stop. dont even start.” you spoke. “start what baby?” he asks innocently. “dont.” you said sternly. he pulls you closer and kisses you, you melt in his touch. you know that it isnt right, you know that this is not what you should want… but you cant stop.

i fucked you in the bathroom when we went to dinner..

(you guys didnt fuck okay, just kissed)

you got the strength to pull away and push him off. “whats wrong, darlin’?” he asks. “stop it jasper. im with andrew, i cant do this. i came here to get my stuff back and end things. i cant do this anymore.” you told him. “baby, we can talk about this.. please. i need you.” he responded. before he could do anything else, you walk away.

your parents at the table..

esme and carlisle hear you and jasper walking down and as esme was about to update you on the cooking, you bid your goodbye. “im sorry mrs. cullen, i have to take a raincheck… thankyou though.it was nice of you to think about me.” you say in a rush. carlisle and esme found this unusual. “well.. atleast bella and edward are on their way.. no food went to waste.” carlisle spoke.

you wonder why im bitter,

jasper runs after you and he pleads for you to talk to him. “baby please. i was dumb to ever think that this was only casual. i dont want this to end, please. dont go with him. i’ll treat you right, i’ll treat you better.” he says while holding onto you.

bragging to your friends i get off when you hit it,

shaking your head, you dont say anything, it seems like you’re lost for words at the moment and you break his hold on you, running to your car as fast as you can and starting it. jasper stands still, if he had a heart, it would be breaking right now. he feels regret, and heartbroken.

i hate to tell the truth but im sorry dude you didnt.

driving off, you finally felt free.

jasper on the other hand, he felt frozen in time. wondering why he took you for granted. wondering why time is such a pain.

i hate that i let this drag on so long, now i hate myself. i hate that i let this drag on so long, you can go to hell.

part two?

Sixth Love Language

Fred Weasley x reader

WC: 1.1k

CW: Like one mention of food; fluff; playing pranks!!

Summary: You want to get your boyfriend back after he 'accidentally' pulled a prank on you

Day 7 of mk's mad dash

It is safe to say that you are bursting at the seam with excitement. 

You’ve been dating Fred for almost a year now, and have been friends even longer, so you’ve witnessed your fair share of the twin’s masterful pranks. Being one of his closest confidantes too, you’ve been privy to all of the work and planning that goes into his secret schemes. Though sometimes Fred’s pranks are silly, and even a little mean, they never fail to make you laugh. You look forward to every single one, and are always happy to listen to his tangents about them too. And though you’re a fond admirer of his work, and he’s even offered you the chance to join in on one of his pranks, you’re not sure you have the knack for planning and executing one. 

You’d also never been on the receiving end of one of Fred’s pranks. That was, at least, until about two weeks ago. He swears that it wasn’t intentional, but somehow you’d ended up covered in a sticky goo that was dumped on your head on the way to class. The worst part? It was jinxed with a sticking charm that couldn’t be reversed until the end of the day. Though you were livid, you didn’t let on to your boyfriend. Instead of just giving him a stern talking-to or ignoring him for a few days, you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

The past week, you’d been poring over countless books trying to find the perfect spell or potion to prank Fred with. After hours upon hours of searching, you found it hidden in Witches Weekly, oddly enough. It was a hair transformation spell. But instead of just changing Fred’s hair once, you’ve altered the charm so that his hair will change to a different cut and color every five minutes. It may not be as clever as your boyfriend’s pranks, but he is vain enough about his red hair that you know it’ll do the job. 

You quite literally do the spell behind his back, casting it on him when he is climbing out the portrait hole in front of you on your way down to breakfast. It’ll take five minutes for his hair to change the first time, and you can barely contain your eagerness as you walk hand-in-hand with Fred to the Great Hall. 

You’ve just gotten seated at his side at the Gryffindor table when it changes for the first time. You watch gleefully as his shorter red hair is replaced with long, wavy pink hair. The change starts subtly, but it doesn’t take long before people start to notice. You keep your head buried in the Daily Prophet as George exclaims, “Oi, Fred! Like the new look you’re going for.”

Fred looks at his twin, confused, “What do you mean?” 

Lee looks up from his cereal and busts out laughing, nearly spraying milk all over the table, “Very princess popstar of you, Freddy.”

Your boyfriend looks at you, bewildered, “Babe, what are they talking about?”

You maintain a straight face as you cooly reply, “Your hair’s gone all long and pink, baby.”

“What?!” he nearly shrieks, catching the attention of pretty much everyone else in the hall. 

The students erupt into laughter as Fred frantically begs you for your compact mirror.

When he’s met with his own appearance, his face twists into horror, “Bloody hell? What is this?! Who did this?”

It’s quite the challenge, trying to maintain a concerned demeanor, “Maybe a Slytherin? Might be payback for that prank you pulled on them last week?”

“But why’s George’s hair normal then? He helped with the prank too!”

“Too handsome for them to ruin this, I reckon,” George adds, motioning to his face confidently. 

“This is a personal attack I-”

But before Fred can finish his sentence, his hair begins to change again, this time into a bright yellow bob. 

You can’t help the tiny chuckle that you let out this time, and Fred whips around to look at you, “What? What is it?”

“Mate, it’s changed again,” Lee chokes out breathlessly.

Fred looks back in your mirror and gapes, horrified, “They’ve done it again! How? I- this needs to bloody stop.”

Suddenly, Fred’s younger brother, Ron, approaches, “Wow, Fred. Like the new look. Though I’m not sure yellow’s your color.”

He bursts into laughter, along with Harry and Hermione who are with him.

“Shut up, you git,” Fred replies, reaching out to slap his arm. 

Ron dodges the hit and busts into laughter again. Even Hermione, the most serious fourteen year old you’ve ever met, can barely keep it together.

Your boyfriend looks at her, “Oi Granger. You’re smart! Quit laughing and help me, would you?”

She shrugs innocently, “Sorry, don’t know a counterspell for that one. You might be stuck like this forever.”

“Baby,” Fred protests, “turning to you with real fear in his eyes. Can you fix this, please?”

When his hair begins to morph again, this time into a green, spiky mohawk, you absolutely lose it. You laugh right in your distraught boyfriend’s face and lean down, burying your head in your arms. 

Never afraid to shy away from attention, and with all eyes already on him, Fred stands up and shouts, “Whoever is doing this, you need to stop it right now!”

People only start laughing harder, and that’s when you finally decide to give up the bit. Though your whole body is still shaking with silent laughter, and a few tears are streaming down your face, you tug on his wrist, “Freddy, baby. Calm down. It was me, okay? I’m the one who put the spell on you.”

Fred freezes in place, and you swear you’ve never seen him this still in your entire time knowing him.

“Baby?” You prod, tugging on his wrist again.

“You did this?” he asks quietly.

You’re starting to become a little worried that Fred is actually upset with you for the prank.

“Y-yeah. Just wanted to get you back for the goo two weeks ago,” you admit shyly. 

You brace yourself, preparing for a lecture about how his prank was just an accident, and how you’d just embarrassed him. 

You couldn’t be happier to be wrong. Fred sweeps you up into his arms, pulling you out of your sweet with a loud laugh, “Babe?! You did this all just to get back at me? You pranked me?!”

You nod at your boyfriend sheepishly.

Fred smacks a big, wet kiss on your lips and you try not to be shy about the fact that it’s in front of everyone, “That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me!”

“Uhm, you’re welcome, then?” You answer with a giggle.

Then Fred shouts to everyone, “I have the best partner ever!”

Hi idk if u have already written this if u have pls igonore but what about the first time bombshell reader calls Spencer beautiful?

fem, 1k

“Gideon has a new prodigy.” 

Your head rises of its own accord. “Yeah?” 

“He's younger than you. Twenty three, I think Hotch said. Fresh out of college, two degrees and working on a third? Or maybe he was getting his doctorate? I couldn't keep up.” Morgan shakes his head in disapproval. “Overeducated and under-experienced. He failed his physicals. The ones he took, anyways.” 

“Ooh, ouch. A baby on the team before me,” you joke with a smile. “Genius baby, but a baby.” 

Morgan smiles when you smile, he's too nice not to, but he picks up soon enough, crossing his arms where he's stood and wrinkling what was once a finely steamed suit jacket. “I don't know what Gideon's thinking.” 

“Does anyone ever know what he's thinking? What's Hotch say about it all?” 

Morgan reads what you're typing from over your shoulder and corrects a mistake. One day you won't need his help, but for now you take as much of it as you can get. You're not too proud to acknowledge when you mess up, you're a realist. Super sensible (in mind if not action). 

“Hotch lets Gideon do what he wants, mostly. What can you do when he's one of the originals?” Morgan leans heavily onto his desk by the forearms and shrugs. You’re similar in this regard; complain, move on. You're similar in other ways, too. That's why you get along. 

“Well, I want to meet this guy,” you say. “We'll be teammates just as soon as Strauss stops hating me. I'm one strategic boxed bouquet from a full pardon.” He laughs and touches your arm like he believes you. “Is he around?” 

“Here they are now.” 

You spin in Morgan's desk chair slowly. Jason Gideon is stalking through the office with his head in the contents of a manilla envelope, while a new face follows behind him talking a mile a minute. 

“Obviously,” you hear Gideon interrupt as they get close enough. “Agent Morgan can explain that to you. Don't overthink it, Spencer, just try to get through it.” 

He doesn't acknowledge you nor Morgan as he leaves Spencer and hurries up the steps leading to his and Hotch's offices. You aren't expecting much else from him. What little Gideon knows about you he doesn't like. If you ever get over the Strauss hurdle, it's him you'd have to convince next. You don't watch him cross the landing, your gaze focused on the man making his timid way toward you. Your lips part briefly, and then quirk into an overjoyed smile. 

“Oh, you're beautiful,” you say without thinking. 

He frowns at you. 

“Reid,” Morgan interrupts, “This is Y/N L/N. She works in the sex crimes division. As you can imagine, we get a lot of crossover.” You stand, holding out your hand. “Y/N, this is Spencer Reid.” 

“I don't shake. Sorry.” 

You press your hand to your chest. “Oh, that's okay. I shouldn't assume…” Your voice melds into a silkiness that has his shapely brows furrowing further, “It's nice to meet you, Spencer Reid. You're really pretty, do you know that?” 

Spencer peeks at Morgan quickly, who laughs good-naturedly. “She's serious, Reid. She's not making fun of you.” 

“You'd know,” Spencer says. It isn't malicious, but it isn't exactly friendly, either.

You twist to frown at Morgan deeply. “Morgan, you're not being nice to him?” 

“I'm being plenty nice, sweetheart, but this is how it works. I gotta haze him a little.” 

“No, you don't.” You tip your cheek toward your shoulder to look at Spencer through your lashes. “He pretends to be worse than he is, I promise. But don't let him neg you, okay? You're smarter than he is–” 

“Hey.” 

“–and he's used to being the office pretty boy. It's jealousy, nothing else,” you finish. Spencer really is gorgeous now you're close enough to see his eyes. A brown like caramelised sugar tented by dark, dark eyelashes. When he smiles, the very slightest hint of teeth shows, and it makes him even prettier. You endeavour to make him smile again. “Sorry if I'm coming off a little strong. It's not my intention.” 

“She's just nervous. You have everything she wants,” Morgan says. 

You sigh forlornly. “Oh, doesn't he?” Spencer's confused pout is even cuter than his smile. “Getting into the BAU is about as easy as walking on water.” 

“For a human,” Spencer says. “Easier if you're smaller. Like a water strider.” 

There's a silence. Morgan is aghast, you think. You're in love. 

“Yeah?” you ask, stars in your eyes as his own spark to life. 

“Because water strider's can transfer their weight, but also due to their hydrofuge hairpiles. Their microhairs.” He catches himself, measuring your expression carefully. “Did you really wanna know?” 

“Do you wanna get a cup of coffee and tell me about it?” you ask. 

His lips part as yours had when you first saw him. 

He's prevented from answering as Hotch's office door opens and the man himself walks out near the railing. “Good, you’re here. I have something to talk to you about.” 

You grin at him. “I'd love to chat, Agent Hotchner, but I'm getting to know your new protégé.”

“I see.” He waits. 

You would ignore him —Hotch has a soft spot for you (or rather, he likes you enough to put up with you, which is more than can be said about other members of his division) and he'd shrug off your dismissal— but you're really keen to hear what he has to say. Perhaps Strauss has changed her mind about your proposed trail basis with the team. 

“I'm so sorry,” you say to Spencer, immediately re-dazzled by his pretty, lovely face. “It was really nice to meet you, Spencer Reid. Maybe next time you can tell me more about it.” 

You give Morgan a quick thank you for the help with your paperwork and trust him to log out of your emails. In your rush up the stairs, you hear a wisp of conversation. 

“Was she messing with me?” 

Morgan laughs. “No, kid. That's how she is.” 

"Oh... She's nice."

"You have no idea."

maybe i was born to read fanfic and obsess over fictional men idk

Behind The Facades | Part III

An unrequited pining over a certain super soldier.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 1.9k++

Pairing: avenger!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: near assault, bickering, mini(i think?) grovelling, tiny fluff and of course what else than angst.

P/S: Thank you so much for your support from previous chapters! At first, I didn't plan to make this a mini series at all, but here we are. Anyway, enjoy!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Y/N wished that she could live up to her own expectations. That she would enjoy every second of this date. But who was she kidding?

How was she supposed to be present in the moment and savour the wonderful dinner or relish the breath-taking scene of glimmering city lights through the windows at their table, when all she could ever think of was Bucky?

Bucky.

Bucky.

That god damn son of a bitch, Bucky.

She felt suffocated by both anger and pain. Completely distracted by the thought of him.

"I can't do this." Y/N abruptly stood on her feet as she confessed her truth. She paced and paced, despite the voice of Daniel calling out her name from behind.

She could barely hear him, or maybe she shuts it down on purpose because she can't afford having more thoughts in her spiralling mind.

She only realized that she was out when the sound of the hustle bustle of the city invades her hearing. She stood still for a while, wondering if she let her feet takes her away, where will she ended up then.

Before she could walk away any further, she felt a grip on her arms, pulling her to the alleyway besides the building. It was surprisingly dark and eerie even with the lively lights of the city leaking through the ends of it.

Considering he was an agent of SHIELD, he does have a quick reflex when he managed to grab both of her wrists and pinned her to the wall.

Honestly, she wasn't completely oblivious at Daniel's physical advances throughout the night; hands hovering over her ass when he lead the way, fingers grazing her thighs through the slit of her dress.

They were subtle but still relentless.

"Just where the fuck do you think you're going?" Daniel seethed in her ears, his impatient breaths huffed in between her neck.

"Oh, for fuck sake." She sighed with a slight annoyance in her undertone. She was really tired of everything at this point. Especially when this fool who thought he could throw her around like a ragdoll.

Y/N managed to twist her hands free from his grasps as her knee raised towards his defenseless crotch. However, the hit never happened, as a familiar black and gold metal hand wrapped tightly around Daniel's neck.

In a split second, Bucky had Daniel up against the opposite wall, head slamming into the hard crooked bricks of the building. Loud cluttering sound of the empty steel cans echoed down the alleyway, almost drowning Daniel's strained groans.

Although Y/N was not able to see Bucky's face, but she could imagine the cold grim in his eyes when the grit of his voice growled, "Touch my girl again and you'll see what Hydra had made of me."

She averted her eyes down to the dark and murky color of the ground when a strike of pain ached within her chest.

She hates it when he acknowledged Hydra's label on him.

A weapon. A monster.

It's imbrute and dehumanizing.

Her view didn't change its imagery until a pair of black combat boots entered the picture. She lifted her gaze just to spat at her saviour, "I could've handled him myself."

Bucky's eyes soften as a proud smile appeared on his lips, "I know, doll."

Very contrast to his gentle expression, Y/N's face was rigid and irritated. Ironically, they were imitating each other's default guise.

Y/N rolled her eyes before pushing him aside and started to walk away, leaving Bucky alone in the dark alleyway. Though her attempt was unsuccessful when Bucky managed to grab a hold on her wrist, "Wait, y/n."

She halted but refused to look back, "No. So, can you let go of my hand now?" her hands bundled into fists as she try to hold back her wrath.

Though the sidewalk was not crowded with people, in fact it was nearly empty, however she didn't want to make a scene.

"Please, hear me out." Bucky pleaded.

At least, she tried to keep it in.

Y/N yanked her hand from his, "Why the fuck should I listen to you, Bucky?!" she snapped, eyes flashing with fury.

Bucky was honestly not prepared for this, he went here without thinking of a plan to coax her. He ran to her with a sole purpose of telling her the truth, and Y/N yelling at him is not helping his nervous wreck,  "Because..bec.."

Growing impatient to his hesitation, she fumed even more, "What?! Just what is it that you want from me Buck--"

And then all loud sounds of the roaring rage in her head suddenly fell into complete silence when she felt his lips on hers.

The sensory within her skin abruptly heighten, becoming sensitive to Bucky's contrasting touch on her cheeks; hot and cold in either side as he cupped her face in his palms.

His soft lips, his intoxicating scent, his desperate touch.

Everything was too overwhelming for her short-circuited brain to process an appropriate response; in fact any type of response.

So when she let her body go on auto-pilot she found herself leaning forward, craving for more of the delicious friction.

It was a short lived moment of deafening sound of her own beating heart thundering in joy and excitement before the noises of rationality came rushing back to her.

Y/N ripped herself away in complete shock and panic, "Wh--what" even she herself was lost for words.

What have she done?

She pushed Bucky harshly she shouted, "Why? Why did you--? Y-you have a girlfriend, Bucky! You have Gail!"

God, how could she kissed her friend's boyfriend?

"I can't believe you just kiss me knowing that." And she reeled into the pure anxiety.

Bucky's pleads sounded muffled as her mind spiralled in guilt and shame. He grabbed her by the side of her arms before briefly pulling her back into reality, "Listen to me, y/n"

Y/N ran her hands through her hair, gripping it in her fists as her mind turned into complete chaos, "No, god this is wrong." He could hear panic in her trembling voice.

Bucky snapped as he yelled, "y/n, we broke up!"

There was a pause in time and air. Her body frozen as his words seemed to infinitely repeated in her ears. Head slowly turning towards Bucky; finally giving him the attention he demanded.

She just blankly stared at his truthful eyes with her own pair, wide open.

"He's bluffing. He's just making excuses."

"Bullshit! You looked very much in love last time I saw you, which let me remind you, it was few hours ago!"

Bucky thought about it for awhile before he replied,  "It's hard to explain everything now but she wanted to end it, for my sake." He paused. "...It's over."

He was not lying. Y/N knew that; she could hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes. He was telling the truth. But, it didn't make sense; why why why.

Gail was perfect for Bucky. He needs someone like her. He deserves that type of love that she gave; soft and tender.

"No no no. That can't be it. W-why the fuck are you here then? You gotta get to her Bucky! You're not suppose to here. Not with me. Go before it's too late--"

He is worthy of someone who's completely unbreakable, someone that can stay with him even at the darkest times, someone that won't see him as a weapon, but a human being.

Someone who will love him unconditionally.

Because, Bucky of all people, deserves to be loved.

"You don't mean that, y/n"

It hurts Bucky to see that Y/N thought she was unfit for a place in his heart, when she literally owns it. It pained him that she keeps putting up this facade that she unable to see her true self.

It burns her heart to let him go but that shows how far she was willing to sacrifice for Bucky, "I do. I mean it.." she can feel her tears pooling in her eyes, "You deserv--"

"Stop lying to me. Stop lying to yourself." Bucky couldn't understand she keeps pushing him away. If he truly deserve to love someone then why can't it be her?

"Lying?"

Y/N find it harder to breathe as her chest tightens. Did he see right through her? Her voice trembled as she struggled to let the words out,  "I..I'm not lying."

Bucky almost scoffed in disbelief, "You think I didn't noticed it, y/n?"

All those masks she hides in. Behind the facades she wore so boldly, so willingly. Hurting herself over and over everytime she had to put up a brave face.

No.

He made her do that.

If he was honest from the beginning then things wouldn't turn out like this. She wouldn't suffer as she did. She never needed to.

"And fuck was I so stupid to turn a blind eye on you for the sake of keeping you." Bucky was breathless with anger. A rage towards himself; for his foolishness.

"Do you know why I get together with Gail?" Bucky felt as if his chest was burning, searing with flames, that if this goes any further then his heart will turn to ashes.

But Y/N deserve the truth even though he knows he need to admit his shameful doings,  "Because she reminds me so much of you. Warm, gentle and so unconditionally kind. And I let myself fooled by the illusion of you that I saw in her."

"I'm a bad man y/n. I hurt her. And I hurt you. Fuck, I hurt everyone around me." His eyes stung to think how effortlessly he destroy every single person he love; as if he was designed to do so.

"I know that I deserve every single curse and scrutiny that come my way. I've always known that."

"But for once in my fucked up life," his voice betrayed him by revealing its' stuttering form, "...I also know that I am lucky to have the chance to love someone as unforgivingly enchanting as you."

There was a brief pause where the air was still and soundless; reserved for the painful sounds of their breath.

His raw emotions was laid out unfiltered in a form of streaming tears across his cheeks, "I won't ask for your love in return." He reached his hand to hers and held it dearly, "All I ask is for your forgiveness."

His eyes searched her soul, willing her to bare with him a little longer, "Because god I can't lose you. I can't."

Bucky felt like he was drowning; as he was 70 years ago at the Austrian Alps. The unbareable emotions rushed in like the frozen waters that filled his lungs.

Panic. Shame. Regret.

Y/N never thought she could come this far.

She thought she would able to lift the weight; and with the long record of success, she thought she wouldn't able to break.

But after all, she was just a human and there will always be a limit to where she will end up at.

What's the point of pretending when the person she loves is as miserable as her?

The tripedation of her only give false signals to Bucky; this is it, he was losing her.

But, there it was, the forgiving embrace he longed for. In her arms the world stopped still on its axis. He felt her body pressed in, soft and warm. This was the love he'd waited for, prayed for. Bucky's shaky hands roamed from the side of her waist before his arms crossed behind her, squeezing her closer, tighter.

How could she not forgive him? When he had pour all of him as he did.

There was no time, no wind, no sound. Just the heat of their body against each other. The melody of their heartbeats intertwining. Bucky's mind was at peace. So was hers.

No more more pretending.

No more putting on act.

She settled into the crook of his neck and whispered so soft and quiet that some won't be able to hear but Bucky did.

"I love you, too."

End.

<< Part II

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Thank you so much for your time to read my work. Feel free to express your thoughts in the comment/reblog! I love to hear from you~

Taglist: @ghostofwinter @angstysebfan @erinallene @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @paarthurnax59 @nomajdetective @kentokaze @dexter99 @nana1000night @prettyinpink350 @calwitch @unadulteratedbeardpeanut @kandis-mom @abitofblues @obsessivelycraftygothfandomwitch @its-daydreamer23 @hopelessromantic423 @rabbitrabbit12321 @lovely-geek @loonalockley @superforgottensoul @awkwardalie @peter-parkers-gf @opheliabarnes @blackhawkfanatic

Sleepy Heads

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: That time when the reader accidentally fell asleep on a stranger’s shoulder in the subway ride home. The stranger in question, however, is none other than the former Winter Soldier, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

Words: 1.4k++

Pairing: tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: none? just a really short fluffy moment with bucky.

Inspiration: Commuting home via train after long day of work makes me wish i had a shoulder to lean on while on the journey. And so, this idea was born from that thought.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Y/N’s gaze was empty, staring to the distance, seemingly being swallowed by the void within her headspace. She had another long day at work; like any other weekday, grinding through the endless lines of words for each of her client’s documents until her eyes blurred.

The platform was noisy, filled with the clamour of people, the distant roar of the approaching train, and the faint buzz of conversations. The lights above her head flicker occasionally, casting brief shadows that danced along the walls. 

The subway ride home was her daily ritual, one she usually endured standing among the crowded commuters. When she saw the train coming her way, relief washed over her. “Finally, I can go home,” she thought.

The doors slid open, and she was immediately pushed by the crowd behind her. It was as if her feet were lifted in the air, her body was effortlessly being dragged into the train. Since it  was rush hour, the train car was packed. She had expected that but still, she couldn’t help but to let out a long sigh of exhaustion.

She slipped and weaved through the mass of bodies, knowing that it’ll be pointless. There’s no way she could get a seat now; she had to endure the 40 minute ride standing on the ache of her feet. 

Her thoughts immediately stopped when she unexpectedly found an empty row of seats. Well, to be fair, there was one man sitting there, but regardless, it was empty enough for her to sit.

How fortunate she was.

A passing thought echoed in her head, questioning why it was empty, but she was too tired to think too deeply about it. The exhaustion from the long hours at work had dulled her curiosity, leaving her with just enough energy to be grateful for the peace and quiet. Too exhausted to question her luck, she sank into the seat, letting out a sigh of gratitude.

As she settled in, her mind couldn’t help but to dwell on the earlier question. Why does no one want to sit next to this man? She briefly considered the possibility that he might be a weird pervert or something. Thinking about it now made her slightly uncomfortable.

However, that discomfort didn’t last long as she overheard whispers around her, saying how brave she was to sit next to the Winter Soldier. Her eyes widened in realisation, and she discreetly glanced at him, noticing the telltale signs she had missed in her exhaustion: the gloved hands, the intense expression, the aura of danger that surrounded him. 

She had heard of him. James Buchanan Barnes. 

She studied about him in history class back when she was a school girl and saw him on the news in recent years. A member of the Howling Commandos. Steve Roger’s best friend. The Winter Soldier. The victim of Hydra’s atrocities.

Perhaps it was the fatigue numbing her instincts, or maybe it was the hint of vulnerability in his eyes that contradicted the ruthless image painted by the stories. Surprisingly, there was a burning sensation in her chest the more she heard the foul whispers around her. “These people really need to shut their mouths or…”  She didn’t finish the thought.

Honestly, she was too tired to care if the man next to her was the Winter Soldier or Captain America himself. She was simply grateful that he wasn’t some sort of creepy pervert.

Next to her sat a lone man, his posture tense and his gaze averted. James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier, was accustomed to people avoiding him, their fear and whispers a constant reminder of his past. Today was no different, until Y/N sat down next to him without a second thought.

There were very few people who willingly sat this close to him: Sam, Mr. Nakajima, and perhaps his therapist. Strangers who were aware of him would never sit near him willingly. So when he saw her making a beeline towards him, he thought, “No way…” 

Now, he couldn’t help but be aware of her presence. 

Bucky straightened, expecting her to move away once she realised who he was. But she didn’t. She just sat there, her head lolling slightly as she fought to stay awake.

Bucky stole glances at her, noting the dark circles under her eyes and the way she seemed to radiate exhaustion . He noticed how her weary seemed to mirror his own, although for completely different reasons; hers from long hours of work, his from long hours of sleepless nights. 

Despite her weariness, there was a quiet beauty about her that captivated him.

His eyes widened in realisation that he’d been staring at her. He noticed the concerned looks of the people around them as they caught him, their thoughts clear on their faces.

He chastised himself for staring. “Stop it, Bucky. You’re being a creep.” But he couldn’t help it. When her head finally drooped and she fell asleep, he felt a pang of concern.

“Where’s her stop?” 

“What if she misses it?”  

“What if someone tries to take advantage of her while she’s sleeping?”

As the train jolted, her head swayed dangerously close to the pole beside her. Instinctively, Bucky’s metal arm shot out, catching her head before it hit. She didn’t stir, her breathing steady and soft; he could feel how close her body was to his own.

Bucky froze, his body tensing as he tried to process the situation. His eyes widened; he didn’t know why but he felt his heart racing in his chest. 

Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, her head lolled to the opposite side, landing gently on his shoulder. He felt a surge of panic, his breath hitching, but then she snuggled closer, her hands roamed along his right hand until her arms wrapped around his like he was a pillow. 

Bucky’s heart continued to race, violently.

He felt a blush creeping up his neck, his eyes widening in surprise. His fists balled up into tight, clenched knots as he felt the softness of her breasts gently squishing his biceps in between them. “Oh god, what do I do now?” he panicked.

But time passed, feeling her steady heartbeat and the warmth of her body pressed against him, he found himself relaxing. 

He began to notice the faint scent of vanilla that clung to her, a soft contrast to the sterile, metallic smell he had grown used to. Her breathing, initially steady, became slower and deeper; a rhythmic sound that somehow soothed his frayed nerves. He could see the faint traces of paper cuts on her fingers, remnants of a long day at work.

Despite her obvious fatigue, there was a certain grace in the way she moved, a gentle determination that intrigued him. Her soft, steady breathing started to sync with his own, creating a strange sense of calm that he hadn't felt in a long time. He admired the delicate curve of her eyelashes, the way her lips parted slightly as she went deeper into slumber. 

This simple act of trust, falling asleep next to him, a man feared by so many, stirred something deep within him. It was a small, fleeting moment of normalcy that he found himself cherishing against his better judgement.

He relaxed into the seat, allowing himself to savour the unexpected comfort of her presence and touch. He decided to let her sleep. As the time passed, the crowd around them began to lessen.

The previously hostile atmosphere of the train car softened, and the once frenetic energy of the rush hour turned into a more subdued, calming environment. The stares and whispers faded into the background as Bucky's attention became entirely focused on the woman resting beside him.

His own fatigue began to catch up with him, his eyes grew heavy, a rare sensation for him these days. And before he knew it, his cheek was resting gently against her head, and he was drifting off too. His plans and destination were long forgotten, overshadowed by the soothing presence of the woman clinging to his arm. 

He didn't mind if they both missed their stop; the thought of walking her home crossed his mind. Maybe he could introduce himself properly, maybe ask her out on a date, and see if she wouldn’t mind spending more time with him.

The idea, though fleeting, brought a sense of warmth and contentment he hadn’t felt in years. When his consciousness drifted further into the dreamland, a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his heart lighter than it had been in a long time.

And in the end, as the train continued its journey, people left the sleepy heads in their peaceful slumber, content in the rare moment of tranquility they had found together. End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for reading this very short drabble! Hope you enjoyed it ♡

You’re the Risk, I’ll Take it

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times Spencer followed advice and the one time he didn't (or as I'd like to better explain it, the three times Spencer fails to flirt and the one time it worked)

Warning: fluff! Just fluff!

A/n: I wanted to write something cute this time with Season 1 Spencer in mind--one of the best eras if you ask me. Hopefully I did him justice in this. The idea of this cute baby boy trying to flirt is too precious honestly. Also, if a guy did the last act for me, I'd fold like a lawn chair, yep. Risk by Gracie Abrams was on repeat while I was writing this and no proof reading was done. Let me know what you think!

Main masterlist

The first move Spencer tried was advised by Derek Morgan, the renowned ladies man

“Kid, admit it. You like her,” Morgan pestered him with a slight smile on his face. 

Spencer scoffed, trying to throw him off from the truth but monumentally failing. “S-she’s my closest friend. We joined the team at the same time, of course I feel most comfortable with her,” he noted his companion’s eyebrows raising higher and higher with each word. “Plus, she likes hearing what I say even if it has no relation to the case. She asks me questions and genuinely remembers.”

Now it was Morgan’s turn to scoff. “You could be talking about Star Trek and it’s physics mistakes and she’ll still hang on to every word you say.” 

“Actually, there aren’t that many scientific errors in Star Trek. Especially considering—”

“Reid.” 

“Right,” he nodded once, trying to push away the urge to continue further. “That still doesn’t mean I like her.” 

Morgan tapped the wheel twice before turning to face his partner. “Then answer me this. How do you feel when she walks through the office doors?” 

“Happy, I get the same feeling when I see you or Elle come in too,” he found his fingers very interesting then. Like they held the key to unlocking the mysteries of Dark Matter and the answer to the controversial scientific theory ‘Do parallel universe exist?’. He wasn’t telling the whole truth—didn’t want to because how could he, a man of science, explain the other bodily reactions he has when you walk in a room. How he hears his heart stutter in his chest with just a glimpse of you—the first time it happened, he thought nothing of it, but by the third, he considered making an appointment with a specialist for possible heart arrhythmia. How he sees the room brighten when you smile in his direction—perhaps light sensitivity, and how he feels his body heat up when you utter the words ‘Good morning, Spence.’—possibly hot flashes. Self diagnosis that he ruled out once he found you to be the common denominator. That left him with a riddle, a personal conundrum he lost countless of sleep over trying to solve.

“That’s a lie, Reid. You can’t be that happy to see me. You never blush like a tomato when I enter the room. For Greenaway, I could see it but for me, nu-uh,” he argued back. “Okay, what about when she’s not there, what do you feel then?” 

“Sad, similar to how I’d react with you and Elle,” he blurted out another half truth. Another surface level answer that doesn’t fully cover how lost he feels without your comforting presence beside him, how gloomy any room he enters in without you in it, and how incomplete his days were without hearing your voice. 

Morgan snickered. “Lies, you have to learn how to lie better to fool an FBI profiler, Reid. You don’t think I—the team, notice that you’re quieter when she isn’t on the case with us?”

“Wait. Wait, the whole team?” His voice goes up an octave. You were part of the team, did that mean you knew of the effect you had on him too? “D-Does everyone have the same idea as you do? Everyone?” 

“Not everyone, kid. Your secret is still safe,” He smiled wide like a cat that caught the canary. “So it’s true then, you like her.” 

Spencer knew there was no escape from trap, he was just glad that his secret still remained classified from the other party involved. His shoulders sagged as he nodded to confirm Morgan’s findings.

“So what’s your play then?”

His head whipped to face his companion so fast he felt his meticulously styled hair escape the confines of his ears. “Play? There’s no play. Nothing. I’m not going to do anything and this conversation stays between us.” 

“Oh c’mon lover boy, you have to do something,” Morgan challenged. “Y’know she likes you back, right?” 

“No she doesn’t! I mean, why would she?” Spencer rambled on, unable to comprehend what Morgan was saying. “She’s her—beautiful, smart, and cool. Every case we get, there’s at least one police officer hitting on her. And I’m me—I talk too much and get awkward in every situation. The exact opposite!”

“Reid, don’t sell yourself short. She likes you, trust me on this.” He paused, listening to the update on the intercom before continuing on. “So here’s what you’re going to do. Compliment her outfit, girls appreciate that. Easy enough, don’t you think?”

Spencer really didn’t think so after all he had the tendency to go off on a tangent whenever he talks to you but he agrees nonetheless. If Morgan believes he could do it then he couldn’t mess it up, right?

———

Wrong. It was wrong to take Morgan’s advice. Never mind he can recall everything he has ever read, never mind he has an IQ of 187. What good were his talents if he, Dr. Spencer Reid, couldn’t string the proper sentences along?

It started when you walked into the office wearing this light yellow blouse that made you more radiant than he thought possible. It was as if the a ray of sun had graced the bullpen and stunned his mind into silence, rendering him tongue-tied. All his monologues and hypothesis bouncing around his overactive brain fell away and the only thing he could think of was how pretty you look.

Morgan cleared his throat, bringing him back to the living. Spencer averted his awestruck gaze and busied himself with an imaginary lint on his red sweater. 

“Hey Y/N, did anything good this weekend?” Morgan asked as you settled into your desk adjacent to his.

You shrugged nonchalantly and teased back. “I bet it wasn’t good as yours, Morgan. Picked anyone up last Friday or are your charms no longer working?”

“Huh, i see where this is going. Somebody woke up on the wrong side of bed today.”

Morgan chanced a peek at Spencer and internally groaned. How you didn’t notice the kid’s crush on you was beyond him—all the staring and blushing he does when you’re near was a dead giveaway.

“Reid. Reid,” Morgan called out.

He closed his mouth and gulped. “Hm, what?” 

Morgan pointedly stared at him and titled his head towards your direction. A movement lost to you as you noted Elle leaving Gideon’s office.

Spencer opened his mouth to catch your attention but before he could even utter your name, Elle intervened. “Question for you, the foot path killer. Why’d he stutter?”

You swiveled to face her, not having caught Spencer’s intent to speak to you. The unit chief then called them in for a case—an arson case in a university campus. His shoulders drooped as they rushed to the jet afterwards with no chance of small talk. 

When there was a lull in the plane—case discussion finished, he steeled his already apprehensive nerves and took the chance, quickly wishing he hadn’t.

“S-so, your shirt’s yellow,” he stated out loud like it was some sort of revelation. 

“Yes,” you drawled out, unsure as to where he was going with this. “That’s right, Spencer.”

He drummed his fingers on the table and continued on. “Did you know that airplanes tend to avoid the color yellow as it causes dizziness and nausea? A number of studies have shown those exact results and that’s why it’s almost never used in interiors of various forms of transportation and rarely use in advertising. It’s like how the red is the most common color used by restaurants as it psychologically makes the viewer hungry.”

You looked down on your top. Yellow was one of your favorites and you specifically chose this as Penelope said and you quote, it looks good on you, brings out your eyes. Boy genius would probably react to it too so naively you splurged on it. But this—this wasn’t the response you were hoping for. “Spence, are you saying my shirt is making you feel nauseous?”

He blushed and stammered out a strong refusal. “What, no! No! I—I meant to say—you, you look nice.”

You giggled under your breath, finding his long-winded route to giving you a compliment cute. “Nice nice or airsickness nice?” 

“Nice! Just nice!” He defended on, his voice cracking at the end. He caught Morgan’s wide eyed gaze then as if he couldn’t believe what train wreck he just witnessed. 

Cheeks heating up further, Spencer slouched in his seat and busied himself with the files wishing that he could build a memory eraser so he could wipe the events from his and the team’s minds or better yet, a time machine to redo the whole thing all over again.

The second move Spencer tried was advised by Elle Greenaway, the new recruit

“Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” He questioned during one of their cases in San Diego. It bothered him since the start of the case. How Morgan had teased him about his incapability of asking out the opposite sex. Never mind that you defended him right back, that’s a lie, it made him feel special that you did but the joke was still true. A cold stone truth. 

Elle laughed, flipping her phone repeatedly on the table while waiting for the unsub to take the bait. “I don’t know how you know half the stuff you know, but I’m glad you do.”

“Do you think that’s why I can’t get a date?” He asked as he fiddled with the unfinished Rubik’s cube in his hands.

“Have you ever asked her out?”

There was no need to ask who Elle was referring to, everyone knew of his innocent—well maybe not so innocent at times specifically during his state of dreaming—crush for the second youngest member of the team. He shifted his eyes to focus a few tables before his—at you, sitting beside JJ. “No."

“That’s why you can’t get a date.” 

One of the precincts phone then rang, it was the unsub, causing him to table that conversation in his vast memory. 

———

There’s an English saying that states ‘the second time is the charm’ and Spencer was hoping there were some truth to the idiom even with no scientific explanation to back it up. 

A few cases after San Diego, he got an opening that he was unexpectedly looking for. The team was on their way back from a case in Virginia. It was late and the profilers were all tucked in their little corners of the jet decompressing while you and Spencer were huddled on the sofa quietly discussing Doctor Who. 

“How could you say your favorite is the Ninth Doctor when you haven’t even seen the older episodes?” He rambled, clearly he would have to do something about your limited knowledge in the great universe of Doctor Who. He’d like to explain it all, 695 episodes of the classic era to you. He’d take any topic really just to have your interest.

You stared into his hazel speckled eyes and smiled, amused by his reaction. “It’s a bit hard to catch up on a show that’s been around since the 70s. Plus, it’s a challenge to look for copies.” 

“Actually, the show started in the 60s—1963, to be exact,” he clarified. “Garcia has copies we could borrow and watch together. If that’s—” he cleared his throat and clenched his fists closed, feeling his nails dig into his palms. “—that’s alright with you. If—if not, there’s a convention happening this weekend. I have an extra ticket, if you want to come with—only if you’re not busy, I mean.”

“And risk you spoiling every episode to me? I’d rather watch it alone, if you don’t mind.”

That dragged his optimism to a crash as if a twenty ton weight landed on his chest, rendering him immovable. Of course you were going to say no. There was no proof that you’d reciprocate his interests—he inwardly cursed himself for believing otherwise.

“But, I’d like to go with you to the convention,” you said and silently added as your date to yourself, shifting in your seat with a blush blooming on your cheeks at the thought. “Always wanted to go to one. If you’re fine with me not being in a costume. I think it’ll be too late to find one, don’t you think?”

Just like that, the weight on his chest lifted, making him feel weightless with glee. A wide smile grew on his face, threatening to burst his cheeks as he shook his head. “That’s alright! But you—you can always dress up as Rose!”

You titled your head to the side. “Rose?” 

“You know, the Ninth Doctor’s companion?”

“I know who she is, Spence. I just thought you didn’t watch the revived series?”

He softly scoffed. “I never said that! I watched it too, mainly to compare it to the classics but I’ve seen it.”

You leaned in, wanting to ask about his opinion on it. “Well, what do you think? I happen to be part of the minority who think the actor who reprised the role did alright.”

He liked seeing you like this. It made him feel like a puppy who had his owner’s undivided attention. All wide eyed and interested in his conjectures as to why the actor was alright himself but the problems were his short stint—making people vilify him over that decision—and the material some of the writers came up with. He appreciated you nodding along and supplying your own thoughts on the subject. It warmed his heart that here was a beautiful, smart, and cool person—way out of his league, he might add—giving her precious time away to discuss a nerdy sci-fi show that he could not rant and rave to about to anyone on the team, except for Penelope, and she’s rarely on the field with them. 

Your show of interest made him feel seen. Not as an agent with 3 PHDs, not as a genius with 187 IQ, but rather as a person with a right to express himself and occupy space. He wasn’t Agent Spencer Reid with you nor Dr. Spencer Reid, he was just Spencer who likes to watch Doctor Who and read literature in their original language. 

The third move Spencer did was proposed by Penelope Garcia, the spirited tech analyst 

“What do you mean you took her to a convention? For a date?” Penelope squeaked out, unable to comprehend the logic behind the genius’ actions.

“She said she always wanted to go,” Spencer stated as the elevator stopped on the fourth floor. He had fun over the weekend. Going around booths with you, listening to invited guest panels talk about the behind the scenes, explaining the reference every costume that you’ve pointed out, and just basking in your presence beyond cases. It was a memory he had replayed over and over after it had ended. It occupied his whole mind, and that’s saying a lot, causing him to do nothing and sit in his leather sofa and smile like a lunatic during the rest of the weekend.

“Well yeah, but that’s not date material! A date is supposed to be intimate—you and I go to conventions together, do you count that as a date?” 

“What? No! No, of course not!” 

“Exactly, boy wonder. Then what makes you think she’ll count that as a date?” She countered back as she entered her office with Spencer in tow. 

Silence. Oh.

Penelope sighed, having read the despair painting his face. “Did you at least dress up as the Ninth Doctor?”

“What? No. No, I went as the Fourth Doctor. I even hand-knitted the scarf myself.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before repeating what she just heard. “You didn’t dress up as her Doctor?”

“No,” he paused, unsure where she was going with this. “Should I had?”

“Yes! Yes, you should have!” Penelope slapped his arm out of frustration. “Why didn’t you call me once she said yes? We could have talked game plan or strategy or at least have gotten you a leather jacket to match her choice of companion.”

“Oh, I messed up then, didn’t I?” He slumped despondently on the office chair. “You—you don’t think she thought of it as a date at all?”

She played with her feathered pen, trying to find a way to salvage it for Spencer. “Did you take her out to dinner after?”

He shook his head, finally realizing his mistake.

“Oh Spencer,” she approached gently. “I can scoop for details with Y/N later on and report back to you?”

He shook his head. It didn’t feel right to have Penelope betray your trust and go behind your back over a mistake that he made. You were a honest person and you deserved to be treated with respect and reverence even though all he wanted now was peer into your viewpoint of the date—not date—and figure out once and for all if you saw him as anything beyond a co-worker and a friend. 

“Hm, I think I might just a solution,” Penelope blurted out of the blue. 

He looked up with a sliver of hope blooming in his chest. Maybe third time’s the charm. Besides, Penelope was the colleague you spent most of your time out with. You once mentioned that you considered her your best friend, besides from him of course. 

“You can bake her a batch of cookies! No one can say no to that,” she excitedly explained, believing it to be full proof—except for the fact that he doesn’t know how to bake. He wants to ask you out on a date but not to the expense of burning his whole apartment building down. 

“I can’t—I can’t bake, Garcia,” he squeaked out. “Did you know that 44% of all reported home fires are caused by cooking and baking. Those fires have resulted in an average of 470 civilian deaths and 4,150 civilian—”

She interrupted. “I’ll give you my recipe and detailed instructions to follow. That’ll make it easy peasy for you, boy genius.”

“C-can’t I just buy from her favorite bakery instead?”

“No can do, Doctor. Her favorite cookies just so happen to be my creation. She told me so herself.”

“Well, can’t I just ask you to make it for me? I’ll buy the ingredients!”

“Nope,” she dragged out her refusal. “Think of it as an act of service to her. Plus don’t you think it’s highly romantic when she finds out that you baked them yourself?” She swooned just thinking about it.

“Romantic? It won’t be romantic when I burn my apartment down, Garcia.”

She sighed. “Fine, I’ll supervise if you want. This weekend, granted if we’re free. But you—” she pointed her feathered pen at him. “—better be prepared and I’m just supervising, okay? I’m not baking it myself.”

He sighed. At least having Garcia around would make it easier.

———-

It did not in fact make it easier. Spencer burnt two batches before six pieces were considered edible. Garcia couldn’t understand, hell, he also couldn’t. Baking was precise and from his scientific viewpoint, it was a lot like chemistry. He loved science and anything academic, so how is it that he failed miserably, twice, when it came to baking? 

He shook his head as he entered the office. The first one—he stole a glance at Hotch’s office and saw movement—correction, the second one arriving early. Sometimes he wondered if the unit chief ever goes home, first in and last out.

He settled in his seat before promptly fidgeting from anticipation. Statistically speaking, you arrive earlier than Morgan or Elle which gave him enough time to gift the paper bag of cookies sitting hidden in his satchel without bringing attention to and embarrassing himself. He’d like to have little to no audience if he ever does mess it up for the third time. 

He brought out the cookies, afraid they’ll get crushed between his hardbound books, and placed them on your desk before standing to wash his clammy hands and make coffee. Counter intuitive of him to do as he was already a bundle of nerves and by drinking caffeine he was doubling that but maybe the smell would calm him before shooting up his energy by drinking.

As he exited the mens room, Penelope stepped out of the elevator and squealed. “Is she here? Is she? Did I miss it?”

He shook his head vigorously, trying to silence her excited glees. “No, she’s not here yet. She’ll—” he looked at his watch and ran the numbers. “—be here soon. I’m about to brew coffee. Do you want some?” He opened the door for both of them to enter the bullpen.

“Ick, no thanks,” Penelope said, scrunching her nose at the thought of drinking even a sip before scurrying away to her cave. “I’d rather not ruin my taste buds on bad coffee.”

He laughed and turned towards the kitchenette. With the coffee brewing, he drummed his fingers on the counter and mentally rehearsed what he would say to you. If he practiced, there’s less chance of messing it up like the first time, right? In his state of concentration, he missed you entering the office in all of your beautiful glory.

“Ooh cookies!” you exclaimed as you opened the unknown package on your table.

Spencer abruptly turned, hitting his side on the corners as he did. His eyes widened as he registered you holding the unsigned paper bag of treats on your desk. 

“They must be from Penny,” You continued on, oblivious to his presence and the devastation your remark caused him. Of course, he’d find another way to mess it up. You glanced around and your smile widened as you took in his handsome presence. “Oh hey Spence! Look, Penny made me cookies!” You tip-toed out of excitement. 

He smiled at your enthusiasm for something as simple as treats in the morning. The giggle you gave out as you entered the kitchenette was enough for him to slightly care less for the truth. He loved bringing out the happiness in you. It was like his own personal sunshine shining down on him, soaking him with vitamin D and boosting his overall sense of wellbeing. “Do you want coffee with that? It’s still hot,” he offered. 

You tapped the side of your hips with his as a sign of good will. “Thanks, Spence! This is turning out to be a great day, don’t you think?”

He watched as you busied yourself with putting cream and sugar in your of cup and sighed wistfully. “I think so too.”

And the last move Spencer did was recommended by no one but himself, the awkward 187 genius

With all three acts not delivering, he promised to try one last time without any outside interference besides from yours in his memory. You always did tell him to be himself in any situation, no matter how much he stumbled through any awkward situation—always there giving him a pat on the back for encouragement. 

Over the weekend, he spent his time reading two of your favorite books—which didn’t take much but he did read them again and again, regardless of his eidetic memory, trying to understand why these specific books were your comfort. Always pushed within the confines of your go bag, dog-eared and brown from age. He wanted to know how they’ve become an extension of you and how it had shaped you to the woman he has fallen in love with. 

He found himself hunched over his dining table, underlining sentences that made him think of you, scribbling away on the margins (and sometimes on post its too), and tabbing the written pages with a variety of colors that each represent an emotion. The act in it of itself made him feel closer to you than he thought possible. Lines in the books that made him think, ah so this was what formed your kind spirit. This is why your empathy knew no bounds. And this is why your beauty is inside and out.  

Spencer laid down to rest, anxious for the next day, Monday, to come. His heart threatening to beat out of his chest but his mind oddly calm as if it had a precognition that everything would turn out just right.

———

You arrived earlier than he did, throwing him off balance. 

“Hey Spence!” You greeted with a smile. “I got you a croissant and some coffee from that shop near my place.”

He blushed and stammered out a thank you. You were wearing a deep purple blouse that matched the scarf around his neck—the birthday gift you’ve given. He was no believer of the mystics but he took all of these as a sign from the stars. There was no way he would mess this up now.

“I—I got you something too,” he looked inside his satchel, hands shaking from it all. Gods, he wished this would go well or else, he might just die from embarrassment. “It’s nothing much but—I read your two favorite books and just—I wanted to discuss it with you,” he brought out the tabbed copies and presented them to you. “These are for you. I know you have copies of your own but I-I put my own notes on which lines reminded me of you.”

Your face turned red at the notion behind it all. Here was the BAU genius, the certified lover of the classics and the academia, the man who had your affections since day one, reading two contemporary literatures just for him to present you a gift like no other. You reached out and hugged the precious copies to your chest. 

“Thank you, no one’s ever done this for me before,” you breathed out, falling deeper into attraction with the perfection in front of you. “ Hey Spence, I may sound delusional asking this and you can say no if you want to but—” you visibly gulped, unaware of the audience nearby. “—would you like to have dinner with me? I make a mean lasagna.”

He turned red and vigorously nodded. “Y-Yes. Yes, I’d love to have dinner with you.”

You giggled, sounding like wind chimes to his ears. He did too, giggle I mean, from the triumph of finally knowing that his feelings were willingly reciprocated.

“Finally, you love birds!” Morgan shouted as he swung his arm around Spencer. “Didn’t know how much we could take from this pretty boy—” pointing at him “asking for advice and you—” pointing at you “—pretty girl is as dense as a rock. Tell me again how’d you end up as profiler with those observation skills.” 

A hand whacked him at the back. “Way to ruin the moment, Morgan.” Elle chided before turning to Spencer with a smile. “See told you, you could get a date.”

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

They are friends, but Spencer is in love with her. Spencer gets in one accident and thinks she is more than a friend. He believes she is his wife. (Happy ending, please)

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem! Reader Trope: Friends to Lovers; Fluff! Just fluff Warning: Medical inaccuracies A/N: Reader is part of the BAU, hope that's alright. I had fun writing this, hope you enjoy anon! Main masterlist

Hallucinate. // Spencer Reid

It was Morgan’s turn—based on Garcia’s glitter paper schedule, to keep watch of Reid lying uncomfortably still on the hospital bed. The team was out for a local case—a series of murders that targeted male divorcees. They’ve profiled the unsub to be male in his late 20s, shy in nature, and comes from a broken household. The profile was correct. The team just didn’t factor in the possibility of another unsub—a subservient willing to do anything to let the dominant evade capture, including intentionally ramming a four door sedan to a government owned vehicle. The same vehicle that Reid and JJ were driving to the unsub’s residence. 

Spencer’s finger twitched, bringing his guardian out of his musings. “Reid. Reid,” the dark skinned agent called out.

A series of whispers escaped the patient’s mouth. “W’fe—” Spencer wetted his lips. “Wife, where—wife?” 

“Kid, what wife?” Morgan’s brows furrowed. As far as he knew, Reid wasn’t married. All he had was a tongue twisting, IQ dropping crush on the newest BAU addition, you. 

Spencer tried once more. “Y/N. Y/N, my wife—where?”

And as if you heard his pleas, you quietly entered the hospital room. Tilting your head to the side, silently questioning why Morgan was standing very close to Spencer. The agent smirked at your presence and waved you to come close. 

“Spence?” You asked, taking his hand into yours. His fingers cold, and for a moment, it reminded you of how still he was when he was pulled out of the driver’s seat. 

His eyes flickered under the lids. “Y/N. Wife—y’safe?” 

“I’m here, Spencer. Safe,” you murmured in a soft tone as you note that his hazel eyes were glassy and unfocused. A physical manifestation from the concussion that the physician had theorized when he was admitted. 

He turned his head to the sound of your voice in comfort before tightening his hold and his pupils blowing wide. “Wife—the baby? Is—baby okay?”

Your eyes widened in return. “What?” 

“Aurora—she, strapped in car seat, I need—need to see her,” his voice getting louder and louder as he unsuccessfully tried to push himself out of bed. 

You gently pushed his shoulders. “She’s—she’s fine, Spence. The team has her,” you coaxed him to relax back. Morgan cleared his throat beside you, clearly trying to not let a chuckle escape. 

“Good—good. Safe.” Spencer was locked in a hallucination where you were married and had a child, a girl—Aurora. You pictured a tiny long haired brunette with his waves, clinging to Spencer’s neck and smiling at you, a set of innocent hazel eyes looking at you with such adoration and trust. 

“Wife—you, love you,” he mumbled before closing his eyes and falling back to unconsciousness. 

Morgan took that as his cue and turned to face you—still clutching Spencer’s hand—with mirth dancing on his face. “Damn. Wife and kid huh, pretty boy sure moves fast.” 

You felt your cheeks grow warm. “It’s the concussion talking.”

“Uh huh, keep telling yourself that. Y’know I heard he said the same thing when Emily was keeping watch,” he paused dramatically to watch your reaction. “But there was no kid—that’s new.” 

“What. I—we’re friends,” you jested. Even to your ears it sounded like a feeble excuse.

Morgan appraised your reddened cheeks, your free hand repeatedly raking your hair, and your lips tucked between your teeth. His well experienced profiler eyes cataloging everything. “As I said, pretty girl, keep telling yourself that.” 

———

A few days later, away from the Morgan and Emily’s constant teasing, it was your turn to keep Spencer who was now alert and awake , company. His eyes darted all around the room, finding everything and anything interesting, except you.

“Spencer? You alright?” You sat on the chair near his bed.

He cleared his throat. “Morgan—Morgan said I called you—” his voice trailing off at the end, too hesitant and mortified to repeat what his fantasy conjured up and what his lips had let escaped in his state of confusion and vulnerability. 

“Uh—yeah. Yeah, you did.” 

“And that we—”

You nodded as you watched his blush travel down from his cheeks to neck.

“I also said that I—”

“That you love me?” You clarified in a whisper.

“You did.” 

He covered his face in chagrin. Spencer wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole or better yet, for all of this to be just a dream—a horrible dream. It was no secret to the team, except for you, that he had feelings for you. Amazed with how your mind noticed patterns in cases, grateful with how you actively listen to his conjectures, and stunned with how beautiful you look even on cases that leak into the late nights—how could he not fall in love with someone as incredible as you. It was impossible, trust him, he tried to deny it to himself and to others. He mumbled something in reply but his hands muffled it too much to understand. 

“What was that?” You asked.

He repeated again but made no move to remove his hands.

You sighed. “Spence, I really can’t understand.”

He steeled his nerves before facing you, without a blockage this time. “According to studies, hallucinations are simply a result of neurons firing incorrectly. But I-I meant it. What I said, I mean.”

Silence ensued. He’s been your ride or die since you entered the BAU. Your partner on cases and your person off cases. Penelope always teased you two together—attached to the hip. Like some magnets that need to move in unison, that need to be within reaching distance. “Oh.” 

His shoulders drooped, taking that as a sign of rejection. He wished he could have kept his mouth shut. He’d rather be your close friend than be an awkward colleague.

“It’s not like that,” you hurriedly explained. “I—it’s just—take me out on a date first,” your cheeks enflamed as the idea of progressing your relationship beyond what it was now excited and set butterflies on your stomach.

He perked up and smiled. “Okay, yeah. I can do that.” 

You watched as his hand slowly crept towards yours, stopping an inch away, as if waiting for your permission. You took the initiative and intertwined yours with his, watching him shudder from the warmth and settled back into bed. 

“Okay,” you breathed out. 

He didn’t let go of your hand even when Morgan entered the room to relieve you from watch duty. The profiler zeroed in and opened his mouth, unable to stop himself from teasing the blushing couple.

“So love birds, since you already named your first kid Aurora. How about naming the next one Derek?” 

My inbox is currently open for any more fluff requests! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Death of a Love Affair

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times you understood and the final time you couldn’t.

Warning: angst with no happy ending

A/n: this felt oddly personal to me this is my first time writing in the Y/N perspective and in a one shot format so please be kind. I kinda left a possibly for p2, not sure about that yet, but let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in!

Main masterlist || Part 2A (happy end) || Part 2B (sad end)

The first time it happened, you completely understood. 

You had an inkling as to what you were getting into when you started dating a 187 genius who graduated at a young age and who was scouted straight from college by the FBI. It wasn’t hard to comprehend these external circumstances mixed with his internal need to prove himself worthy of belonging with the big boys would result in missed personal events. It was a given, you expected it.

You just didn’t count on him missing your graduation. After all, he gave his word that he’ll be there to see you walk the stage and receive your diploma. He promised you and yet, as you scanned the crowd of loved ones hugging the attendees, there was no sign of his tie wearing, button up lithe form weaving through the crowd, no sign of his slicked hair, meticulously tucked behind his ears and no sign his doe eyed hazel eyes shining with pride as you joined the ranks of adulthood and unemployment.

You reach for your phone, now finally free from the nerves and adrenaline of going up the stage, with a single unread message from the one you wished to be here with you.

I’m sorry, angel. There’s a case and Gideon needs me. 

You sighed with a mild smile sprouting on your glossed lips as you sent back a reply.

No worries! We can celebrate when you get back. Be safe, I love you.

“Oh honey, I’m so proud of you!” Your mom exclaimed, reaching for a hug. “You graduated and with so many achievements—I mean look at all these cords hanging around your neck!”

You laughed as you stepped out from her warm embrace and watched joyful tears gather under her eyes. “Thanks, Mom! Hopefully all these cords help me get a job soon, huh, or else I’ll be moving back home with you.”

“Oh honey, stop joking! As if I wouldn’t welcome you back with open arms,” she quipped back. 

A hand holding a bouquet of flowers shot up to your face. It was a bundle of your favorite, carnations, in ranges of different colors. 

“Congratulations, lil sis,” your older brother, Trevor, breathed out. “Do I get a hug too or is that just for Mom?” 

You giggled as you stepped into his arms, happy to be sharing this moment with your ever loving protector of a brother, no matter how busy he might be as a head chef for his own highly rated restaurant.

“Hey big brother, thanks for being here,” you mumbled in his tight grasp. “Did you pass along my invite to Dad?” 

You felt him subtly shake his head causing your smile to slightly falter. You knew better than to expect the man who gifted you half of his genes to show up—a workaholic, absentee of a father whose love language was to deposit checks to your bank account from his fattened pockets as a lawyer for the rich. It was the cause of your parents’ separation when you were five years old. The matriarch tired from taking up the mantle as both the paternal and maternal figure for both you and your brother. Your mother exhausted from repeatedly believing broken promises uttered to herself and to her babies.

Having seen first hand how each lie wrapped as an oath chipped a piece of the loving and bright woman who gave birth to you and your brother, you vowed to never let that happen to you. It was a cautionary tale engrained in your mind. A fable—a curse really and in hindsight, you should have seen the markings of history repeating itself.

“Now, where is your nerdy pipe cleaner of a boyfriend?” He asked as he scanned around the vicinity for a sight of Spencer.

You shrugged, genuinely alright with your FBI agent of a boyfriend missing this milestone in your life. “Duty called. But that’s okay, we’ll celebrate when he gets back.” 

A pair of eyes, similar to yours, inquisitively studied you as if making sure there was no hidden hurt behind those words uttered. “If you say so,” he stated, turning to your mother who was smiling at the both of you—her greatest treasures. “Mom, let’s get out of here. I had John prep the kitchen for a feast.” 

You and your mom chattered excitedly at the passenger back seat as Trevor backed the four-door navy sedan out of the parking and drove off to his restaurant for the promised lunch graduation.

———

It was well into the night as you were settling in bed when the tell-tale signs of the main door being unlocked echoed through the dark green walls of his apartment. 

“Spence?” You called out, letting him know that you were there instead of in your own apartment, 30 minutes away. 

More shuffling was heard before the object of your love and affection rounded the bedroom door with a set of his own flowers on hand. He breathed out your name in reverence as he went for a kiss, pleased that he had still caught you awake.

“Congratulations, my love,” he smiled as he pulled away from your soft lips. “These are for you and I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.” 

You smiled back, gladly accepting his apologies and flowers. “It’s all good, Spence. I know how demanding your job is. I missed you.” 

“I missed you too. I told Gideon and Hotch that’ll I’ll be unavailable this weekend. It’s just you and me,” he said as he went in for another kiss, unable to resist any longer. Not long after, his outside clothes and your sleepwear were strewn all around the bedroom floor as both your bodies merged into one and reached a mutual crescendo with your gasps and his groans as the choir. 

***

The second time, you moderately understood.

You noted that the BAU was back in full swing with Gideon being brought back to the saddle after what happened in Boston. As his birthday treat, you both agreed to fly in for the weekend to Vegas to visit his mother at the facility. He never would have gone alone should it not have been for your enthusiasm to come with. You loved talking to Diana about Spencer’s childhood during her good days and you also loved being in her presence still even when she was lost in her teaching past—acting out as a student as you got to hear her lectures about literature. 

The bustling at the airport had you tip toeing up to catch a sight of Spencer, your flight departing in about an hour. It was a late Friday afternoon, travelers were piling in for a weekend trip, and he promised to head straight from the Bureau to the airport to meet you by the entrance. Your head swiveled from left to right, biting your lip as the minutes ticked by with no sign of your boyfriend running towards you.

The phone in your jean pocket rang and your heart slightly dropped at the sight of the caller ID.

“Hey pretty boy,” you greeted, naively wishing that this phone call wasn’t a bearer of bad news. “Are you almost at the airport?” 

There were muffled voices heard in the background. “Uhm—actually—”

You sighed, understanding what he wanted to say. “There’s a case,” you stated as a matter of fact. “It’s alright, Spence. I’ll tell your mom something popped up. No worries.” 

“You—you don’t have to go alone. We can always reschedule,” he suggested, the timber of his voice going up an octave as if he was in a panic at the idea of disappointing you.

“You and I both know Diana’s excited about this trip,” you chuckled as you recalled how her doctor had described his mother’s face lighting up every time she was reminded of the visit. “I’ll go and spend some time with her. Maybe even get her to tell me more embarrassing childhood stories about her perfect boy.”

He lightly laughed at your joke to ease the tension and remorse he was feeling. “I could have told you all of it if you just asked.”

“Well, does it include pictures of you too?” You teased as you were checking in at the counter.

There was a stern voice calling for his name in the background, it was Hotch, you silently guessed. 

“Listen, I have to go. The team is about to give the profile,” he rushed out to inform you. “I’ll see you when we both get back. I love you.” 

The call ended without so much of a chance for you to say it back.

As the plane got ready to take off, your mood continued to further dampen. He promised to go—to you and to his own mother via the phone. An ivy seed of doubt was planted in your mind. Did he try to excuse himself from the case to his boss as some sort of birthday gift? It really didn’t work that way, you knew, with how of a high demand his job is but still, you wondered if his team was informed about the plans for this weekend or were they purposely kept out of the loop. That notion wouldn’t surprise you at the slightest, thinking back. The profilers weren’t even aware of his mother’s state and condition. Hell, they didn’t even know that you existed, a girlfriend of two years, until well into his first year at the BAU. 

Deep down you grasped why he keeps Diana a secret. You were aware of the shame and embarrassment he felt for himself, having had to have her institutionalized by the time he reached the age of eighteen. You got that, didn’t mean you understood it but nonetheless, you respected his decision and was even proud of him for reaching out for professional help no matter how much he viewed that action of his cowardly. But what you weren’t really privy to was really why your relationship was kept in the dark. It could have saved him from Morgan’s incessant ribbing of his inability to pick up women.

During one night where your insecurities got the best of you, you asked in a small voice if he was ashamed of the relationship. He vehemently denied it, repeatedly saying that he just wanted to have a secret solace—a happy home to return to that was untouched by the worst human terrors that he encounters on the daily. That was what you were, he explained, a sunlit luscious reprieve filled with flowers and laughter where he could rest his weary bones from the ravaging, dark waves. His own piece of heaven here on earth. He then kissed your fears away that night, hugged you tight into his chest—the vibrations from his humming lulling you to slumber.

———

“I always knew it would take a special girl to understand my special boy,” Diana mused out loud as you plated a slice of cake for her. 

You blushed, sitting down beside her with your own. “He’s perfect. I wouldn’t trade him for anyone else.” 

She affectionately combed through your hair, similar to how her son would. “Thank you. For visiting and being understanding of his erratic schedule.”

“It’s no problem at all, Diana. I love him, I knew what I was getting into when we started dating.” You stated as the ivy seed of doubt sprouted in your mind—did you really? Did you really understand what you were getting into?

***

The third time, you still tried to understand.

There you were surrounded by the purest celebration of love and matrimony, sans your long-haired, sweater vest wearing plus one. Your brother was getting married to the love of his life, vowing himself to be with her for better, for worse and your other half was in another state catching criminals. Fiddling with the diamond engagement ring adorning your finger, you recalled how you ended up alone, dateless, in this joyous occasion. 

You RSVP’ed with a date when the invitation arrived four months ago. Your brother even calling in to make sure that he, your well-celebrated FBI fiancée, will be able to attend a month before the wedding. You internally scoffed at his repeated checking but in retrospect, maybe he saw the end well before you did. You promised to him, as Spencer did to you, that he’ll be available to watch the union and to save all the slow dances with him. But the day before the wedding, the phone rang for a case in Dallas and you knew what it meant. Without so much of a fight, you kissed him goodbye by the door of his now shared apartment and let the dreary silence enveloped you as you think of how to inform your brother of the new change without hearing the pity and patronization in his voice. 

Nursing a glass of red wine, you watched your brother dance with his newly wedded wife and in your peripheral, you spotted your mother approaching you at the table. 

“Now why are you being such a sourpuss during this festive event?” She chimed out as she pulled a chair beside you. “You should be out there, dancing and getting to know our new extended family.” 

You shrugged, unsure on what to say. She was right, of course. All the guests were enjoying themselves and basking in the warm, infectious glow of the happy couple but you didn’t have the courage in you to mask the despondent emotions inside of you.

Your mother sighed and took your left hand in hers. “You know, when your dad and I were going through the proceedings of the divorce, I had moments when I wanted to back out from it. I loved your father, still holds a piece of my heart till this day, and I thought the small moments of happiness when he was around would be enough to tied me through the days when he wasn’t. I thought those times and our love for you kids were sufficient to keep our love from wilting. If I poured out affection and devotion to the home we once built, it wouldn’t crumble surely. But you know what I forgot—”

You turned to face her somber eyes, looking into yours as if searching for something that seemed to no longer be there. 

“—I forgot to take care of myself. I gave a pieces of me away so willing and so many times that when I reached the end of the marriage, I no longer knew who I was. Where the piece of me started and where it ended. You’re withering, my flower. The vibrant life that I once longed to protect in your eyes is slowly dying. I don’t want you to reach the finish line and not know how you got up there. How you ended up giving all yourself away with not a flower bud left to blossom just for you.” 

You felt your hackles rise to defend the relationship. In hindsight, this was you denying the truth that was staring you right in the face. “It’s not like that with Spencer, Mom. It’s just—the job is hectic and it’s been his forever dream. He had finally started to gain his footing when Gideon and Elle left and then the kidnapping happened and that pushed his progress back a bit. But he’s getting there now. We’re stabilizing and we had a discussion—there’s less broken promises. It’s just that this recent case in Dallas was urgent and they needed the team to solve crime. I don’t want to take him away from the country and the people who needs his help and from his dream of solving crimes. I love him, Mom, in all of his entirety and he deserves all the respect and understanding from me as his partner.” 

She squeezed the hand in hers—the left hand adorning the ring, the material manifestation of his vow to you that you had happily accepted. “I‘ve grown fond of Spencer. I see him as another son of mine but darling, sometimes the love you feel for each other is not enough. A relationship takes continuous work—a task that both individuals must pull in the effort and prioritize. Just think about it,” she stated as she stood up. “Now, no more of this depressing talk and this serious energy from you. Go around, dance with your brother, and enjoy.” 

You mustered up a smile as you proceeded to do just what you were told until your feet were sore from all the dancing. But no matter the joyous occasion, it didn’t stop the realization in the form of ivy from taking roots and slowly covering all corners of your mind. 

***

And the final time, you could no longer understand.

The grandfather clock stationed at the corner of the dimly lit apartment struck at two. Your figure was still dressed in your purple fitted dress as you waited for your soon-to-be other half to walk through the door. It was another night of getting your hopes up and broken promises and you were no longer sure how much you could take before the love you held in your heart festers and turns into resentment. 

You promised yourself you’d never be in a situation that you had seen your mother once be in. You became the careful daughter of a careless man who gave little to no effort to cherish the love a woman had freely given to him. You thought with all your cautiousness and logical thinking, the mistakes of the mother would never be repeated. That was naive thinking—you realized now. By actively being aware of the past, you’d forgotten to look ahead and fell deep into the pitfalls of doing the same as your mother did.

Spencer once mentioned that there was a high divorce rate in his line of duty. How he worried and vowed that you both will never join that rate. And that was a promise he’ll be able to keep, you scoffed to yourself, as you spun the ring on the table.

Another shared piece of information floated to the forefront of your mind. How Haley had recently served Hotch, his unit chief divorce papers. You’ve grown close with her over the years, being the only two constant partners to someone working in the BAU. You’ve seen first hand all the missed milestones in Haley’s and Jack’s life as her husband flew around the country with the cavalry, saving the innocent one case at a time. Never taking the time to realize that the once solid foundation of their marriage was crumbling down with every flight he took. Similar to what was happening in the doctor’s own home. 

A set of keys unlatched the mahogany door and a fresh batch of florals were the first that entered through, followed by Spencer looking sheepish as he noted your presence by the sofa. “Angel, I’m so sorry I missed your promotion dinner.” 

Silence greeted him as he stumbled to get to where you were. “Carnations for you.” 

Tears started to form under your eyes. You didn’t want to break but the reality of your decision was setting in. You wanted to falter, to change your mind, to give him another chance but you knew you couldn’t. You’ve given too much of your understanding away and you doubted you have any more to give to this beautiful man who once promised to make you his top priority. 

“I can’t accept them, Spencer.” 

His eyebrows furrowed and his body tensing as if sensing the finality behind your words. “Why not? They’re your favorite.” 

“They are but—” you took a deep breath, steeling your resolve. “—I think we should stop.” 

“W-what? No. No, please,” he stammered out as his own set of tears started flooding his eyes, blurring you from his vision. “I’m sorry I missed the dinner. I’ll make it up to you—I promise just—”

The dam of your emotions broke causing you to freely sob out all the sadness and anger that had collected in your heart. “I’m tired, Spencer. You can’t promise anything to me anymore. You’ve broken so many promises that you’ll only end up breaking them again.” 

He took your hands into his, letting the bouquet fall crushed on the hardwood floor, recognizing the ring missing in your finger. “This time, this time it’ll be different. Please, don’t leave me.” 

“The country needs you, the BAU needs you. But I need you too, Spencer. I love you, I really do but I can’t be your third priority anymore. I don’t deserve that—don’t I deserve to come first before the country and the job?” 

He tightened his hold on your hands as if afraid that you were slipping through his fingers, denying the reality that you already had. “I love you so much. I don’t want to live without you by my side. Tell me how to fix this. Do you want me to leave the BAU? I’ll—I’ll do it, just stay with me, please.” 

You shook your head. “I don’t want you to leave the FBI. Your ambition and integrity is one of the facets that I loved about you and you might end up resenting me down the line if you leave now. It’s not yet your time to leave the BAU, you and I both know that,” you pulled your hands away and slid the ring in front of him. “This belongs to you, I’m giving it back.” 

His shoulder caved in on itself, the weight of it all too much for him to carry. “I don’t want this to be our end. I just don’t.” 

“I don’t want this too, but I need to,” you whispered as your hand reached out to push shoulder length hair out of the way. “Maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe in the future we’d meet again and continue the pages of our love story but for now, I have to do this Spencer. I can’t keep giving a piece of me every time your top priority needs you, I’ll end up hating you if I stay.” 

You leaned in for one final kiss. A salty, tear filled kiss of death to a future you had once envisioned with the beautiful boy before you. A white picket fence with children laughing at the backyard—the American dream fading into nothing as you start to pull away.

“Goodbye for now, Spencer.”

He stared at all the curves and dips in your face one last time as if etching every detail into his already perfect memory.

“Goodbye for now, Y/N.”

risk ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you have the sweetest regular, and it’s probably too soon to tell him you love him!

pairing: spencer reid x barista!reader genre: fluff tags: s1 spencer. who rambles. biblically accurate career!reader sorry if some of the coffee talk makes no sense to you. reader makes all the first moves. y'all kiss (aww). written in timeskip sorta it's not crazy (like maybe a month). not proofread sorryyy (im not). word count: 2.2k a/n: first instalment of my spencer reid eras tour🙂‍↕️ season 1 spencer reid i freaking adore you. he's so cute. gif!! i thought gifs in this series could be cute lol. envisioned 1x10 spencer bc of his nightmares if that means anything. enjoyyy ily im off to work 🏃 

There are many reasons you come to work each morning. The money (an obvious one), your coworkers who usually make each day a little bit more bearable. And Spencer. A regular who had become a little notorious for having an odd coffee order, that most of the store workers hated making. 

Except for you. 

It wasn't especially odd. But in a store that thrived on making the perfect cup of coffee, sometimes it meant remaking it three or four times because the shots didn't pour at the right amount of time, and recalibrating the machine was a hassle you all didn't want to deal with in the middle of the morning rush he usually came during. 

You had taken note of him the first few times he came in — always keeping to himself, flashing the most awkward smile you think you've ever seen on a human being, and ordering his old order (a large latte with as much sugar as you could fit in the cup). It was by the seventh time that had you thinking of him a little more often than just while you were at work. 

He looked a lot more exhausted than usual. His usually tame hair now loose and hanging over his face as he took a weary step towards the counter, fingers brushing strands away and tucking them behind his ears. 

"The latte, right?" you had asked him, and he had frozen, and you stood in fear of this not being the Spencer you thought he was, and you had just asked a total stranger about a coffee they've never ordered. 

But then he let out a nervous laugh, shaking his head. "Uh, no. Not today. Um—do you guys have a limit on how much coffee I can have?"

Your eyebrows furrowed. "No... we don't. I wouldn't recommend any more than like five shots in our largest size, though. It'd probably taste gross. But we can add as much as you need."

"Five's good. Yeah," he nodded his head, fingers wrapped tightly around the leather strap of his messenger bag. 

"Just... a five shot latte?" you clarified, and he froze again, shaking his head once more. 

"Do you recommend anything else? I—uh, I want it to be sweet enough still."

"I can do you a mocha?" you offered. "White chocolate mocha if you're looking for it to be even sweeter."

"I'll try that," he nodded his head, and out came his awkward smile, which had you smiling back just as awkwardly. 

Which was how he got to his current usual. It honestly became a test to ensure your coffee machines were actually running well, considering pulling five well-done espresso shots at once was no easy feat. And, again, most of your coworkers hated making his drink. 

Which was why it was palmed off to you. Every single morning without fail. And maybe in another universe you would join them in the hatred for this man's frustrating drink order. But then, in that universe, you wouldn't get to talk to him every morning (and slowly break him out of whatever shell he had locked himself up in). 

"I never asked," you began, staring at him over the top of the coffee machine while putting white chocolate fudge into the bottom of the cup. "Why did you change your order randomly?"

He parted his lips and his eyebrows creased together for a few seconds, as if he was deciding whether or not to tell you. You were kind of grateful he concluded on trusting you. 

"I wasn't really sleeping. When I asked about changing my order," he explained, hands letting go of the bag strap so he could talk with them. "Then I guess I just liked the taste of it? And it kept me awake. Which is a bonus."

"I can imagine it would," you nodded your head in agreement, flashing him a small smile, which he returned, bashfully. "Why weren't you sleeping?"

He went silent, and you almost cursed yourself for asking. Maybe you had gone too far. It was why, when you had begun to busy yourself with making his drink a little faster, you jumped when he spoke up again.

"I was getting these nightmares," he said, and your head lifted from the milk you were steaming. "Because of what I do for work."

"Law, right?" you asked, and he let out a small laugh, tucking hair behind his ear. 

"Sort of. I'm with the FBI."

"Oh, that's right," you replied, nodding your head in recognition. He had said that to you at some point in the earlier days when he first started coming in, because you had asked where he works so close by to be coming in as often as he did. "Can you tell me what part? Or is that confidential?"

"No, no, I can. I'm with the Behavioural Analysis Unit," when your face twisted into confusion, he added, "We use psychology to analyse serial killers and catch them. Well, not just serial killers, actually. But that's what we focus on."

"And it works?" you asked, eyebrows rising as you placed a lid atop his coffee, sliding it out on the pick-up section where he was standing by. His face fell slightly, and so you were quick to add, "Not—I didn't mean it like that. I just mean I'm shocked. That psychology is all you really need to catch a serial killer."

"It's not all we need. There's a lot of other elements that go into finding one. But our primary focus is how their brain works and we use behavioural science to figure that out. Actually, we used to be called the Behavioural Science Unit when it was first created."

He was too busy talking animatedly with his hands for him to have picked up his coffee, and you were too busy watching him with a smile to remind him it was ready. 

When he did reach for it, you could feel the familiar pang of disappointment that had started shooting through you every time he was picking up his coffee and leaving. A weird sensation that left you clawing at the walls of your brain to come up with something to say to keep him there. 

It was probably why you blurted out, "Are you seeing anyone?" Which was followed by stunned silence from him, and regretful silence from yourself. What a question. 

Slowly, he began to shake his head, his lips twitching into a confused frown. "No. I'm—I'm not." 

It shocked you a little. He wasn't jaw dropping, per se. But he was attractive. You had said it a few times to your coworkers whenever they asked why you talked to him so much — there was a running joke that you were already secretly dating him behind their backs. Not funny.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to..." you hesitated. "Go out for dinner? Maybe? I'm so sorry if I'm totally overstepping. In fact, I encourage you to say no, because this is a little weird. I'm so sorry," you rambled when you were met with only silence from him, wondering if you had weirded him out of the ability to talk. 

"With me?" he pushed out, his voice a little higher pitched than usual, and you nodded your head, because maybe he wasn't weirded out. Maybe you had just flustered him. You hoped so, at least.

"Yeah," you said. "Is that weird? Or is it okay? To ask that?"

"It's okay. Yeah. Yes. I would love—like to. I mean, that would be nice. Yeah," he stammered, and you smiled. 

"Here," you held your hand out and gestured for his coffee, taking it back and picking up a Sharpie to write your number atop the lid, before you slid it back to him. "I get off work at one. Call me?"

"I will," he nodded, eyes fixated on the number for a few seconds more, before he returned his eyes to you. "I will. Um—bye!" he took a step back, and you let out a loud laugh when he stumbled into a chair behind him. 

He was sheepish as he waved to you, bidding you another goodbye, the sound of the bell above the door ringing once, and then again when it fell shut. 

And you had, somehow, secured a date with Spencer.

Which turned into two dates. Then three. And then, with some weird stroke of luck and twist of fate, you were spending every evening you could at his apartment, and him at yours. 

But you were yet to kiss. 

Not by any particular reason. Really, nothing either of you did ever really called for a kiss. Which was as frustrating as it was understandable. Frustrating, because you felt like you were simply friends, who sometimes went out for dinner, and had feelings for each other. But he had told you very early on he'd never been with anyone before, let alone ever been on a date. Hence; understandable. 

But frustration was more overwhelming than you had thought, because you were on his couch, blanket draped over both of your bodies, as he read you a book — The Chameleon. A short story by Anton Chekhov (an author whom you were only barely familiar with). And yet, all you could think about was kissing him. 

In your defence, he was very kissable, as you stared at his lips while he spoke, your heart stuttering quite uncomfortably in your chest. You weren't sure what it was precisely about him that made him like that. Maybe it was the natural pout of his lips, or how they twitched in humour at the little jokes Chekhov had written into the book that only made sense in Russian, despite him attempting to translate it for you. 

Whatever it was, it was overriding your senses, and in true Spencer fashion, he hadn't noticed you weren't intently listening to his reading until he glanced down to catch a reaction to something he said. You caught as he closed the book and placed it off to the side, jostling you from your haze. 

"You don't like the book, do you?" he asked, and you were quick to shake your head. 

"No, I do," which was true. The parts you were actively listening to you enjoyed. "Sorry, I'm distracted."

"By what?" he shifted on the couch to face you.

You fell silent at that, the answer hanging on the tip of your tongue, unsure whether or not saying it could ruin things. You didn't think it would. "You."

"I'm distracting?" he asked, eyebrows creasing together and a confused frown pulling his lips down. 

Which confused you. "Yes?"

"I don't think I'm meant to be sorry for that," he said. "But I am."

"You shouldn't be," you breathed out with a small laugh. 

"Right," he nodded his head, laughing too, awkwardly. "How am I distracting?"

You studied his face for a few moments, which ended up being a pathetic excuse for a lip study, because you were fixated on them again, and you decided Spencer probably didn't even realise that that was what you were doing. 

"We haven't kissed yet," you told him, instead. 

"No. We haven't," he agreed. 

"Do you just not want to kiss me?" you asked.

He did that thing he does when he's thinking — furrowed eyebrows and parted lips, eyes blinking a few times, before he comes up with his response. 

"I just don't want you to be disappointed. I've never kissed anyone before."

"I concluded that," you answered. "I won't be disappointed."

"You might be," he mumbled, and his gaze averted from your own, which had another smile stretching across your lips. 

"Only one way to find out, right?"

He hesitated before nodding his head, lifting his eyes back up to look at you. It was then that you learned that, like everything else, you might have to make the first move on him. Again.

The thought made you laugh, and though he wanted to, he didn't get a chance to question why you were laughing, because your hands were on his face and you were pulling him into you, lips meeting his in a gentle kiss that elicited a surprised squeak from him. 

"You've gotta kiss me back," you murmured against his lips, and his response was a quiet 'oh'. 

But he was a fast learner, because soon after he was. Objectively, it wasn't the best kiss you've ever had in your life. But it got better by the second, and he was doing enough to make your heart stutter in your chest, his hands reaching up to cup your own face, palms and fingers covering the mass of your cheeks. 

His hands there provided him the ability to keep you there, and you had to pry them off your face so you were able to pull back for air, breaths coming out in short pants. Only for a short second, because he was chasing your lips again, and you laughed, before letting him kiss you again. And again. And again. 

Until both of you were out of air, and he was glassy-eyed and pink-lipped. Though, you were probably his mirror image of that.

And he smiled at you, crookedly. And you wondered if it was too soon to say you loved him. 

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

Marked

Summary: Your secret relationship is nearly exposed when Natasha spots Bucky's neck covered in hickeys.

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky x reader

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, unprotected rough sex, lots of hickeys, swearing, pet names, fluffy feels, very minor angst, protective natasha, avengers tower au, beefy!bucky (he needs a warning).

Word Count: 1.3k

Like, comment, and/or reblog to put a giant smile on my face ♡

“Hey babe, I’m really sorry,” Nat sat down beside you on the couch, looking at you with a sad smile. 

You furrowed your brows, trying to process her words. What did she have to be sorry for?

“Um, why?” 

“Because of you-know-who,” she subtly nodded her head towards Bucky chatting with Sam in the kitchen. He was laughing at something Sam had said, and despite the fact that he was wearing a hoodie, the hickeys on his neck were still visible. She knew you couldn’t miss those prominent love bites. 

Nat was well aware of the giant crush you had on the dark-haired supersoldier, and she also thought that those feelings were requited. Bucky had seemed entirely enamored by you ever since you joined the team. She couldn’t believe he would do that, especially because everyone including him knew how you felt. You must have felt terrible about the whole situation.

“Oh,” biting your lip, you willed yourself not to react. Nat could read you like a book and you didn’t want her to know about the sordid details of this chapter. Not yet at least. “He’s a grown up, and he can do whatever he wants,” you stood up in haste, giving her a nod before walking back to your room. 

She missed the wink Bucky shot you, and the way you smiled at the ground as you left. 

Bucky assured you that the marks would heal fast, giving you free rein to do whatever you wanted to him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t fast enough. 

“What the hell?” Nat muttered under her breath. She figured his actions must have hurt you so much that you couldn’t even properly react to it. Deciding to confront the man himself, she stormed into the kitchen, pulling out a chair and sitting next to Sam. 

She glared at Bucky as he finished up his story, catching the eyes of both men. Sam exchanged a look with Bucky, neither having any idea why she was staring like that. 

Bucky grinned at Nat cautiously, “What’s up?” 

“She was literally in the room, and you couldn’t think to maybe pull your hood on, or wear a scarf?”

“Nat,” he tried to think of an explanation, but the truth wasn’t his to tell. You asked him not to. “It’s no big deal,” he lied. 

His time with you was everything, and he couldn’t fight the flashback his brain had of you in his lap the night before sucking and biting his neck as you rode him. If only Nat could see the state of your chest and the marks that you had thanks to him, she’d know there were no hurt feelings. 

Sam watched on, trying to keep his face neutral because he already knew about the two of you. He’d seen Bucky slip out of your room a few mornings ago, however he respected your privacy and kept your secret. Although, he had no problem teasing Bucky about it when you weren’t around. 

“Live your life, but you could be more respectful of her feelings,” she said before standing up and leaving. 

Bucky pursed his lips as he looked at Sam. 

“Should’ve covered it up, man,” Sam smirked. 

Nodding his head, “Yeah, for her sake.”

“What are you guys waiting for?” 

He shrugged his shoulders, “I’m letting her set the pace, it’s up to her.” 

┈┈┈┈┈・・

“Fuck, Bucky,” you cried out as his powerful hips snapped into you at a relentless pace. The sheer look of pleasure and determination on his face made you shudder as you watched him take you apart. Your legs wrapped around his waist, an impulse for more; to be closer, to be consumed. 

Metal fingers began to circle your clit, making your body contract beneath him. 

“Oh baby,” you whimpered. He fucked you like a god, a self-assured divine being. 

Bucky smirked, “Do you like that?” His fingers continued their sweet torture as he took what he needed. With each fierce thrust he brought you closer, to your end, to his soul. 

Unable to speak, you watched your perfect man lose himself inside of you. 

It hit like lightning striking your body, electrifying every nerve with blissful euphoria. You threw your head back as you heard your pulse ring in your ears, wet walls squeezing tight around his cock. 

Unable to think, simply feeling the sensory overload. 

He groaned out your name as his hips stuttered erratically. Pushing impossibly deeper, he came hard. Shuddering his release, pumping himself empty inside his favorite place. 

Collapsing on top of you, he kissed you softly before turning you on your side as he stayed nestled inside of you. 

Dark blue eyes connected with yours, his thumb dusting over your bottom lip. 

Tangling your hands into his hair, you pulled him closer, pressing your lips to his. Tongue sliding between his parted lips, chest pressed against his, close. 

This was where you were supposed to be. 

Bucky pulled back and playfully started peppering your face with kisses. Down your jawline, all over your cheeks, on your nose, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling. 

“Bucky!” you tried to grab his face. But he wouldn’t relent, gripping the back of your neck, kissing you until you were squealing in laughter. 

He loved that sound, he adored seeing you so happy. How Nat could ever think that he’d go for any other girl was not something he could comprehend. Bucky only had eyes for you. 

“Doll,” he kissed your lips before letting you catch your breath. He couldn’t wait any longer, he had to know. “What are we doing?” 

“What do you mean?” you whispered. 

“Why are we hiding this?” 

You sighed. “Because I want this to be our thing for a while longer, we’re having fun aren’t we?” you grinned, not understanding his concern. 

“Of course we are, but… this is more than just fun for me,” his eyes searched yours. 

Oh this sweet, soft man. 

“Then we’ll tell the team, we can tell anyone you want.” 

“Really?” he beamed. 

“Yes, really. It’s more for me too, I don’t want you to think for a moment that it isn’t. I didn’t want anyone casting doubts on us – but I’m sure about you, so it’s okay.” 

“Thank you, I can only take so much mad-dogging from Nat,” he breathed a sigh of relief. Although, his true solace came from the knowledge that the feeling in his heart was reciprocated – he was damn well certain about you too. 

“Right, because that’s your thing, isn’t it tough guy?” you teased. His penchant for staring often intimidated others, but you knew the kind-hearted man under the hard exterior. 

Bucky narrowed his eyes, rolling you on top of him in one swift movement. His hardened length still inside of you told you that the time for talking had ended. Your hands fell onto his strong, broad chest as you held yourself up, ready to take him for a ride. 

His fiery gaze landed on your breasts, the heat from his stare capable of scorching the earth. He ran his warm fingers over the fading marks he’d left from the night before, admiring them. 

Desire flooded your body and when your eyes locked, an idea came to your mind. “Why don’t you bite my neck?” you raised an eyebrow. 

He sat up, the offer one he wasn’t willing to pass. Bucky trailed his lips along your jaw, nibbling his way down until he whispered, “Only if you promise to bite me back,” he licked up your neck. 

With a racing heart, you circled your hips before grinding down on him. “Deal.” 

There was no point in concealing this connection that meant so much to the both of you. And as his teeth bit down on your skin, a rush of arousal ran through you. The sting of his possession, the way he felt so deep inside you; this was it.

The two of you would likely tell your friends the following day about your relationship – or they could just take a look at the matching marks on your necks that let them know exactly who you belonged to. 

ꜰɪɴɴɪᴄᴋ ᴏᴅᴀɪʀ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴅ (part six)

ꜰɪᴠᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ 70ᴛʜ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴏʀ, ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴅʀᴀɢɢᴇᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴇɴᴀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ — ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ-ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ʙʏ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ɴᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴘʀᴇꜱɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ꜱɴᴏᴡ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ : ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴀɴɪᴛʏ

"DON'T BE SCARED," Dean's voice slid into your thoughts; breaking into your reverie as you visibly flinched. Instinctively, you looked up to meet his gaze, allowing his hand to squeeze your arm comfortably. "The fabric is light, not thermal," Your stylist revealed, referring to the wetsuit you were wearing, trying to dissipate the tension in the air. "So, I'm guessing tropic."

You swallowed hard, trying to take in his words. You were in the Launch Room in the arena, waiting for the countdown to begin as Dean finished braiding your hair down your back.

"And tropic means water," Dean acknowledged, offering you an encouraging smile as you slowly nodded. "You're good in water."

He was right — you were good in water, that's how you'd managed to win your first games. You remember it all too well; an earthquake breaking the dam, the flood in the arena, and you swimming for your life. You swallowed hard at the memory, trying to ignore the pain that tormented your chest. After all, you supposed Dean was right; having an arena close to home could be a great advantage to you and Finnick.

You exhaled sharply.

"Sixty seconds to launch."

You swept Dean a glance. He was looking back at you with a familiar warmth in his eyes — one you'd seen before, and you couldn't help, but reach for him. "Are you still beating on me?" You whispered in his embrace, and his arms immediately tightened around your frame.

"Always." He answered, a little strained.

And with that, he stepped back — wiped the tears in his eyes, and watched as the glass cylinder slid down around you. You watched him blow a kiss at you before you felt the plate underneath you moving upwards. The plan was simple in your head as you leaned against the glass: get to Finnick, get some weapons, and run the hell away from the blood bath.

Simple, simple, simple.

You eventually forced yourself to straighten up when the glass started to retreat, but you found yourself frozen in place when the arena stumbled into your line of vision. For a moment, you faltered as you took in the sight of water in every direction you turned. Only one clear thought formed in your brain as you took in the landscape: Snow was beating on you too.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games begin!" The voice of Claudius Templesmith, the Hunger Games announcer, suddenly broke into your reverie. And, instinctively, you searched for Finnick around, but panic quickly flitted across your features when you couldn't find him.

"He's on the other side of the Cornucopia," Peeta's voice slid into your thoughts, and your shoulders slumped in evident relief when you heard his words. "Don't lose focus."

Belatedly, you realized Peeta was standing on the plate next to yours. And he was watching you with concerned eyes, trying to quench down the panic that threatened to break you in front of the cameras, but you didn't notice. You were far too preoccupied with staying alive.

Eventually, you dived into the water.

Hence to your ability to swim, you were quick to reach the spoke of land that balanced your plate and Peeta's. But, to your surprise, you didn't run towards the Cornucopia right away like the others; instead, you found yourself looking back for Peeta. He was struggling to reach the land, so, you impulsively offered him a hand and pulled him out of the water. 

"Allies?" Peeta asked, trying to catch his breath as he climbed onto the land.

You didn't answer, but your silence was quite telling, and it took everything in you to ignore the smile that curved Peeta's lips, before sprinting towards the Cornucopia. Within a few minutes, you eventually reached it and immediately grabbed the closest weapon at hand — a trident. A satisfied smile twitched your lips as you balanced the weapon in your hand, but the moment was fleeting, before you knew it; Peeta was already back in the water fighting a tribute.

"Peeta!" You shouted and made to run in his direction when a steady hand dropped on your shoulder. Instinctively, you made to throw the trident, but another hand on your wrist stopped your movements altogether. "Oh." You breathed out, in sudden relief, when you realized it was just Finnick. "Are you okay?"

"Stay with Katniss, I'll get Peeta," Finnick commanded, dismissing your question, his voice powerful enough to make you obey him. In that moment, as Finnick dived effortlessly back into the water to help Peeta; you realized he'd made his alliances too. Katniss was close by, watching the scene with a horrified expression on her face. At the sight of her distress, you couldn't help but wonder if this was all an act like everyone else said. Or, if Mags was actually right, and there was something real about it?

You couldn't quite piece together an answer yet.

When the canon finally fired, your heart skipped for a moment, but relief quickly washed over you when you caught sight of Peeta's moving figure and Finnick pulling him back onto land.

The other tribute had died.

"You okay?" You eventually turned to ask Katniss, when Peeta was finally out of danger and you were both waiting for him and Finnick to come back. Katniss threw you a skeptical look, one that underlined you were not friends. "The baby, I mean."

Realization quickly dawned on her face, as if she'd suddenly remembered she was supposed to be pregnant. "Yeah, we're fine."

You nodded.

"Are you alright?" Peeta was quick to ask you, when he rushed back to the group, with Finnick strolling right behind him. The concerned tone in his voice caught you off guard, but you decided not to show it as Katniss watched you.

Carefully.

"Are you?" You asked instead, scrutinizing him for a moment; just to make sure he wasn't terribly hurt. To your surprise, he wasn't. "I barely even left you." You mumbled as you recalled he was running right behind you before he was even thrown back into the water.

"Don't." Peeta scoffed, a little faintly.

And you blinked in surprise.

"Hey," Peeta suddenly turned to Katniss, as if he'd suddenly remembered the cameras. "Are you okay?" He asked, before pressing a kiss to her cheek. You watched their interaction with curious eyes, unable to hide the perplexed expression on your face as you studied the scene.

"Yeah," Katniss replied, offering him a faint smile before turning to look at you. The weight of her gaze made your muscles tense; for a moment, you could've sworn she was throwing daggers at you. "We're okay."

The atmosphere suddenly grew thicker.

"We need to head to the jungle." Finnick suddenly spoke, breaking the tension, before sliding his free arm unexpectedly behind your waist. "We need water and a place to rest before night falls."

You nodded and made to move forward, but Finnick kept you in place; making sure Peeta walked past you first. "What?" Finnick asked innocently when you raised an eyebrow in silent question. "He can take the lead."

You opened your mouth to reply something along the lines of, " We should probably separate" but he muffled your words with his mouth— silencing you with a kiss.

"Come on," Finnick whispered against your lips, beckoning you to follow behind the group. You hesitated and lingered there for a moment before he lifted your chin to look at him. "Trust me."

You pressed your lips together and — for a split second, you thought back to the conversation with Haymitch you'd overheard from the previous night. Perhaps, this is what it was about, you thought, about this alliance with them. So, with that in mind, your grip tightened around the trident in your hand and you turned to follow Peeta and Katniss.

With Finnick right behind you.

Peeta took the lead, cutting through the patches of vegetation with his long knife as you walked through the jungle. Now and then, Katniss turned back to look at you and Finnick; as if she was almost expecting for you to attack them at any moment. You supposed you couldn't blame her for that.

You, yourself, didn't trust her either.

"God, it's hot," Peeta hissed, stopping suddenly on his track to catch his breath after a few miles. The jungle was hot and humid; you could feel your hair damp and plastered over your forehead from the sweat. Simultaneously, your lips were chapped and dry from the lack of hydration. "We need to find fresh water."

"You don't say." Finnick deadpanned, to which Peeta threw him a glare in response.

"What if we move to the other side?" You suggested, cleaning some of the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. "Maybe there's a spring or something."

"There isn't." Katniss limited herself to answer.

"How do you know — " You started, but the words quickly froze on the tip of your tongue when the cannon started to go off again; indicating more deaths.

"I guess we're not holding hands anymore," Finnick quipped, stifling a chuckle as he counted the number of times the cannon fired.

You counted three.

"You think that's funny?" Katniss hissed, throwing your husband a heated glare.

"Every time that cannon goes off, it's music to my ears," Finnick replied, matter-of-factly, before he added. "I don't care about any of them."

"Good to hear," Katniss scoffed, reaching her arm back to pull an arrow from her quiver. Instinctively, you aimed the end of your trident at her, but Finnick was quick to lower your weapon.

"You want to face the Career Pack alone?" Finnick questioned her, rather indifferent to her threat. His reaction took you aback; for some reason, he seemed certain she was not going to shoot him. "What would Haymitch say?"

You, on the other hand, were not.

"Haymitch isn't here."

You tilted the trident towards her direction again, but Peeta was the one to break the interaction this time. "Come on, let's keep moving." He said, beckoning Katniss to move along. And, from the corner of your eyes, you could've almost sworn he threw you an apologetic smile.

You watched them walk ahead of you for a few seconds without a word. She's going to kill us, you thought to yourself, as you watched the girl on fire with cautious eyes. And if she doesn't, she's certainly going to try to — at one point or another.

You nibbled your bottom lip pensively. Would this be a good time to separate? You wondered again, trying to think of a coherent plan. To turn the other way and let them face the Career Pack on their own? It's what Snow would want. But what about Peeta?

You paused, the question caught you off guard; as if you'd suddenly realized what you'd asked yourself subconsciously.

What about him?

"Put the trident down, baby," Finnick's words slid into your thoughts, and you blinked; belatedly realizing that you were still holding the trident up defensively. "They're harmless."

"You sound a little too sure about that," You questioned him, tilting your head suspiciously. "As if she didn't just threaten to shoot you."

"Just — " Finnick paused as if he were choosing his next words carefully. " — just trust me, love."

Your eyebrows knitted together. "I'm trying to."

Finnick's lips twitched, clearly dismissing the seriousness of the conversation. "You're gorgeous when you're mad."

"I'm not mad," You clarified, but the annoyance in your voice betrayed your words. "But if it has to come down to choosing, I'm choosing you."

Finnick looked at you for a moment, eyes softly lit with vulnerability. "I know."

You opened your mouth to say something else, but the sound of Katniss screaming quickly cut you off. In a split second, you watched as Peeta flung back from a force field he'd just hit, bringing you and Finnick down along with him.

"Peeta!" You screamed, rushing over to his motionless body, where Katniss was trying to shake him awake — with no luck.

"He's not breathing!" She yelled, almost frightened. "His heart's not beating!"

At the sight of this, you suddenly remembered something Mags had taught you a few years ago — when your dad had almost drowned once, and you didn't know how to bring him back. Instinctively, you pushed Katniss aside, ignoring the way she immediately reached for an arrow.

Finnick yelled something at you, something along the lines that he would do it, but there wasn't time. So, you pinched Peeta's nose and pressed your mouth over his to blow air into his lungs. You did this for a few minutes until a cough eventually slipped out his mouth and you leaned back to look at him in relief.

"Shit." You breathed out, subconsciously resting a hand over his chest as you watched his eyelids part. For a few seconds, he lay there on the ground, simply looking up at you as he slowly regained back his consciousness.

"Careful," He eventually mumbled, wrapping his fingers around your wrist harmlessly. "There's a force field up ahead."

A small laugh escaped your lips. "Thanks, I almost didn't notice."

Peeta smiled, despite the evident pain he was in, and you were just about to help him get back to his feet when Katniss slightly shoved you aside. You didn't mind, you supposed she was in the right too. But you could've sworn Peeta's grip tightened around you — for a split second as if he almost didn't want to let go.

You decided to dismiss it, thinking nothing of it as you made your way back to Finnick and Katniss pulled Peeta into an embrace.

One that made you look away — for some reason.

"I thought you wanted to separate." Finnick confronted you sometime later when you were both leaning against a tree, trying to catch some sleep before sunrise. Your head rested on his shoulder sluggishly as you watched Katniss take the first watch from a comfortable distance.

"What?" You returned, unable to hide the confusion in your voice as you looked up.

"You saved Peeta." Finnick suddenly pointed out, but his tone was hard to label. Was he angry? Unhappy? Nonchalant? You couldn't tell.

"You said they were harmless." You answered, throwing his words back at him. But he didn't answer, instead, he looked down to scrutinize your features carefully — as if he almost wanted to decipher something, but couldn't. "What?"

"You saved him twice."

Your eyebrows knitted together. "I didn't — "

" — During the blood bath, when he was pulled into the water, you were willing to jump back in to save him," Finnick interjected, and you supposed he wasn't entirely wrong. You did go back for Peeta, but only because you considered him a friend. Someone who would, strangely, do the same thing for you. Or, that's the first thing that came to your mind anyway.

"Where are you going with this?" You eventually asked, trying to read the emotions that flitted across Finnick's face, but — like always, there was nothing you could place a finger on.

"It's — just an observation." He simply said.

But you didn't like the tone of his voice, it made your skin pepper with goosebumps. If you didn't know any better, you were almost certain his tone was accusing. But of what exactly? You didn't know, he didn't elaborate any further.

"Mhm," You hummed, trying to move the conversation elsewhere. "I'm starting to get the impression you just want me to yourself."

Finnick stifled a chuckle, grasping onto the fact that you wanted to change the subject. "You? My gorgeous wife? I don't think so, no."

Your heart skipped at the word "wife". The truth was, you were still not used to it. And the word alone was enough to have your heart hammering against your chest. "Dork," You quipped, snapping your eyes to the side, but Finnick didn't miss the pink hues that tinged your skin.

"You're pretty when you blush." He teased, dissipating the tension in the air, as he curved the side of your face with the palm of his hand to make you turn to look at him again.

"I'm not blushing.” You argued, but it was a futile attempt when you felt the heat rolling up your cheeks. Naturally, Finnick pulled your face closer to his; until you could feel his breath pressing against your skin and there was barely a gap between you. Instinctively, your eyes dropped to his lips and he took the opportunity to brush them against yours.

"Sure you're not," Finnick whispered into your mouth before he allowed his tongue to sweep past your lips in a passionate kiss. As if he was almost needy; as if he almost needed to prove something. Whether it was to the cameras or himself, you weren't exactly sure, but you kissed him back — with equal fervor.

Until the sound of the arrival of a silver parachute broke you apart. For a moment, neither of you reached for it; allowing the item to land before you peacefully. After a few seconds, Katniss walked over to your spot and, subconsciously, your eyes traveled past her frame in search of Peeta.

"He's sleeping," Katniss informed you, just as Peeta's body stumbled into your line of vision. He was a few feet away, curled on the ground — sleeping almost peacefully. You nodded, trying to ignore the fact that she'd just read your subconscious thoughts.

"Whose is it?" Katniss eventually asked, eyeing the parachute on the ground with curiosity.

Finnick shrugged, pushing himself back to his feet. "I have no idea."

"Open it." You encouraged her, ignoring the way she narrowed her eyes at you. "Or not."

Katniss sighed audibly, but she eventually took your advice and opened the parachute. Curiously, you peeked over to catch a glimpse of a metal object inside alongside a note. "It's a spile!" She informed you, to which you only blinked — dumbfounded. "It's to access water."

Relief washed over your features when Katniss took the metal object and hammered it into the green bark of a tree. For a few seconds, nothing happened as you stood there watching; until a stream of water eventually ran out. After Katniss, you rushed to hold your mouth under the tap, allowing the water to wet your parched tongue.

And, it wasn't until Katniss was waking up Peeta and Finnick's back were facing you when you finally decided to search for the note that was attached to the parachute. But a chill soon kissed down your spine when you took the parchment paper in your hands and read through the letters:

Remember why you're here for.

— S.

Finnick was sleeping next to you, his arm was wrapped around your waist and his face was buried in the crook of your neck. The jungle was quiet — too quiet to your liking, but you supposed you could appreciate the silence as you warred with the thoughts inside your head.

To say the note scared you was an understatement. You were terrified. Because Snow was watching each and every one of your moves; listening to every one of your words. Unsure of how everyone else would react, you fisted the note in your hand before anyone else could read it. And when anyone asked about it, you simply answered it was from Haymitch.

But, now that you were lying down and thinking about it — one thing was clear; Snow wasn’t content with your choice of alliances.

He didn’t approve of them.

How could he? If you and Finnick were both reaped for a purpose and one only: to kill the Mockingjay. To annihilate any chances of her winning, to win over her sponsors, and to make the fight seem fair. And, so far, Snow had done his part of the deal; he’d placed you and Finnick under the limelight, made you both the Capitol’s favorites and even incarcerated you inside an arena close to home.

With tridents, especially made for you.

So, now, it was time for you to do your part too.

You swept Katniss a look, then Peeta. They were both sleeping on the other side of the ground; just a few feet away from you.

One wrong move and everything could go wrong very quickly. For you — for Finnick, and the thought alone forced a sickening feeling to retaliate in the pit of your stomach. Because you didn’t want to kill Peeta or Katniss, as much as she managed to get under your skin.

But if it had to come down to that, would you do it? Was Katniss right in mistrusting you after all? Would you really kill her and Peeta?

You exhaled pensively as your eyes searched for Peeta again — almost subconsciously. The mere sight of his chest rising and falling with each breath he took made your heart skip. Would you be able to kill him? His soft features, the strands of blonde in his hair, and his kind heart.

No, you thought quietly, not Peeta.

And then, as the thoughts quietened inside your head, something in the distance caught your attention. For a moment, you watched as a wave of fog slid into the jungle. Instinctively, the hairs of your arms rose and you pushed up on one of your elbows to examine the scene a little closer.

Simultaneously, Katniss stirred awake and quietly turned her attention to the mysterious curtain of fog too. In a matter of seconds, you watched as she reached to touch it with the tips of her fingers — and a scream quickly erupted.

“Run!” She yelled in pain.

Finnick snapped awake instantly, pushing your body behind him; ready to encounter an enemy, but to his surprise, Katniss clarified. “It’s the fog! It’s poisonous! We have to run, Peeta!”

Katniss helped Peeta climb back to his feet as Finnick beckoned you to run. For a few minutes, everyone sprinted, but the curtain of gas was expanding in every direction you turned. And it didn’t help that Peeta was tripping over everything on the ground either — he was weak, you could tell, perhaps it was the aftereffects of hitting the force field. So, without thinking, you gripped his arms securely and pulled him forward.

“Come on!” You encouraged, but your eyebrows jumped when he pulled his arm back. You opened your mouth to berate him — tell him there wasn’t time for this, when he intertwined his fingers with yours instead. Amidst the circumstances, you didn’t have time to coherent a reaction or a reason to let go.

Droplets soon sprung free of the vapor and landed on your bodies. You hissed in pain, it burned your skin searingly — like a chemical. After a few minutes, Peeta eventually fell to the ground and, despite your and Katniss’ efforts to pull back to his feet, his legs gave up.

“I’ll have to carry him.” Finnick eventually sighed, when there was a good distance between the fog and your group, and Katniss nodded.

For about a mile, you watched as Finnick carried Peeta on his back until he eventually collapsed on the ground too. You rushed to him, but the pain that seared your skin was equally as defeating, and, along with Katniss, you hit the ground almost instantly. But Finnick mumbled something under his breath, something along the lines of “go to the water” when you belatedly realized you were just a few feet away from the water that surrounded the Cornucopia.

After a few tries, however, you eventually faltered and turned to face the curtain of fog. But the chemical didn’t suffocate you as you’d expected. Unlike, it grew thicker and condensed as it suddenly pressed against a force field.

After a few minutes, it eventually went away.

“It’s gone,” Katniss murmured, but her voice was strangled and barely audible. “The fog.”

Your body was still twitching when you heard a wail slip out of Katniss’ mouth from somewhere close. Then you heard Peeta’s and then you heard Finnick’s. You tried to part your eyes when you eventually felt someone slide his hands under your armpits, but you couldn’t even do that. Naturally, you hissed in pain, but the action was abruptly interrupted by another pair of hands on you.

“I’ll do it.”

“I already got her.”

“Peeta.” The voice, you later recognized as Finnick’s, was dangerously low — as if he was suddenly speaking through his teeth.

Giving out a warning.

The only thing you could remember after that was your skin being torched. As Finnick pulled you into the water, a heart-wrenching scream ripped out your lips; as if you had suddenly been thrown into an open flame.

“I know, baby,” Finnick cooed, pressing a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “I know…”

After a bit, the blisters in your skin slunk back into your flesh and disappeared along with the pain. “Motherfuckers,” You cursed, falling back against your husband’s chest in evident exhaustion. “I’ve never run that much before.”

Finnick laughed, incredulous at your sense of humor. “You and me both.”

You didn’t say much after that, instead, you allowed yourself to indulge in the fleeting moment of peace in Finnick’s arms. But the moment didn’t last for long when you began to wonder if maybe— just maybe, this was a warning from President Snow.

And you needed to do your part of the deal soon.

Author’s Note

I’m back after a horrible writersblock! It took me so long to write this, I’m sorry, besties, but don’t worry, I have the rest of the chapters planned already. Anyways, I would really appreciate you guys could interact with the story! Lately, I don’t have that much motivation and reading you guys thoughts and comments on my inbox helps so much!

With that being said, I left some Peeta content for those of you who are #teamPeeta. Enjoy!

@serrendiipty @avoxrising@queerqueenlynn

@darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts@stayc-a-I-m

@chaoticcoffeequeen @wonderland2425

@leilani788 @nexxus13 @whatsupb18

@maxinehufflepuffprincess @meri-soni-meri-

tamanna @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake

@syd649 @flavorofsalt @wisewidowweasley-

blog@meikoo@mozz-are-lla

@nomorespahgetti

@aestheticOcherryblossom

Unwilling Wingman

Summary: Bucky, Steve and you are friends. They like to go out with you, flirt with you and you assume there is something between you and the super soldiers…

Pairing: Stucky x Reader, OF’s Stacie, Tiffany, unnamed bartender

Warnings: angst, unrequited feelings, sad reader, did I mention angst???, heartbreak, hurtful truth, stucky being douches

  The club has crowded as you walk toward the bar to order drinks for Steve, Bucky and you. Both men flank your sides. Bucky to the right, Steve to your left. 

You feel protect, safe and you love being around your best friends, the men you admire and, to be honest, secretly are in love with for nearly two years.

Only one thing is keeping you from admitting your feelings – you are afraid to ruin your friendship and you assume Steve and Bucky are the same.

Continua a leggere

Mrs Barnes-Rogers Writes Masterlist

A Second Chance Is A Better Chance

Marvel AU

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader; Alpha Steve Rogers x Omega reader; Alpha Steve Rogers x Omega Witch reader; eventual Alpha Steve Rogers x Omega witch reader x ?

Theme: A/B/O

Summary: Rejected by your true mate at 21, you’ve given up on the Fates and the Moon Goddesses giving you a second chance. Being a Roamer for the last 9 years, you’re an Omega hardened by the world. You’re safe on your own because of your witchcraft, but it doesn’t stop Alphas and plenty of others sniffing around, especially when you’re an unmated Omega witch, who’s wolf also happens to be white, the rarest kind. You don’t need anyone, but why do you keep coming back to Brookville and why do you keep walking into trouble and helping people that you don’t know but for some strange reason feel like family. And where is that smell of apple pie coming from?

The Fate Of A Fae

Marvel AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader x Steve Rogers

Theme: Soulmates / Monster/Fantasy AU

Summary: Natasha Romanoff is a meddling, pain in the ass Sprite, who you wrongly thought would leave you alone once you introduced her to your best friend, Darcy. News flash, she doesn’t and she won’t. Not when she thinks you’re a perfect match for two of her best friends. Could she be right? Maybe. Just don’t tell her that.

“Never tell Natasha Romanoff she was right” - Clint Barton

Sometimes Your Soul Family Is The Only Family You Need

Marvel AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader x Steve Rogers

Theme: Soulmates

Summary: 18 months ago you were a mess but with the help of your close friends you start to rebuild your life. Your soul friendships maybe chaotic but they're your family, just as you're theirs. With one of them about to have a baby, you and your misfit friends are here to visit. But will you stay? And what will the small town think of you having two soulmates and why do you keep finding yourself in the same place as a bunch of hot bikers.

"Sometimes families are assholes, sometimes your soul connections mean far more than family ever can. Sometimes your soul family is the only family you need." - Nurse Maggie

Pretty As A Picture

Marvel

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Theme: Soulmates

Summary: When Bucky fell from the train, their soulmate was told he was gone. When Steve Rogers disappeared into the ice, their soulmate was again told one her soulmates were gone. But she didn't believe it. Couldn't believe it. Committed to a mental health institute, she dies of a broken heart. That's at least what the hidden S.H.I.E.LD files say, but if that's the case than why is there a photo of her. A photo that shows her side by side two redhaired Avengers.

The Pull Of You

Marvel

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Theme: Soulmates

Summary: You meet Steve and Bucky on a Tuesday. Steve ignores the soulmate pull, Bucky can't. There's something about you that neither can shake, even when you're wearing one of Clint's tshirts and your unicorn slippers. After weeks of slipping into your bed Bucky decides he can't hold back anymore. He's telling you after the mission, whether Steve is all in or not. When you don't come back from the mission, they are both ready to burn the world down and the team have the matches to help. But is everything as it seems and have they been betrayed by someone on the inside.

Angel

Marvel AU

Pairing: Alpha Steve Rogers x Enhanced Omega Reader x Alpha Bucky Barnes

Theme: A/B/O

Summary: It's different when you're enhanced. Everything is different, every smell, every sound, touch, feelings. The way it's different doesn't make sense unless you are enhanced. Throw in what comes with Alpha and Omega instincts, and the intensity of your presentation is even more than any other. When you find yourself in need of help you can call on the alpha you trust the most, Natasha Romanoff. You just don't expect to find your alphas at the same time. Are you really enough for them? And can you really be the Luna to the Avengers.

"To be loved, to be loved by your mate is everything." - Wanda Maximoff

Our Lost Girl, Our Babydoll Masterlist

Marvel AU

Pairing: Alpha Steve Rogers x Omega Reader x Alpha Bucky Barnes

Theme: A/B/O

Summary: A bookshop and a spilled coffee leads you to Clint. He leads you to Natasha, and you lead them both to your best friend Darcy. They try to introduce you to Bucky and Steve but you're full of excuses and Irish goodbyes. Until Bucky catches your scent on Natasha and he's sliding in your DM's and offering to help pack up Darcy's apartment. Steve wants to give their bookworm the world and your Irish goodbyes won't slip passed him, because his eyes never leave you. But what's giving you the lost look in your eyes?

The Feral Princess Masterlist

Marvel AU

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Theme: Soulmate AU / Medieval / Fantasy / Soulmate Marks

Summary: Bucky and Steve have known they were soulmates since they were children. Fate bringing a then sickly Steve and the future King together. War takes them apart and throws them back together over and over, in and out of each other lives, arms and beds. But something is missing and throughout, they know they are missing their third and final piece. The kingdom is now Bucky's and Steve's, the latter now a leader and no longer a sickly child. Both are war heroes, with the respect of their country and those that surround it. They are a force to be reconned with, admired and respected within the other royal houses. They could have any maiden or princess they wanted, but they don't want just anyone. They want their soulmate. They want their princess. Even if she is known as The Feral Princess.

Fancy a cuppa? My Ko-Fi.

heaven sent

See my full list of works here

It's finally here! A chaotic piece brought about by this post that somehow turned into another love story between Loki and the reader. Whoops.

Summary: The guys try a bunch of angel-themed pick up lines on you to see which one makes you fold.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: none. this is fluff.

Things to be aware of: cheesy pick up lines

"These are terrible. Who actually thinks that these work?" you heard Natasha groaning from the common room. "Because I was praying so hard? Really?" 

"The one about taking off your shirt so he could see your wings made me want to put them in a death grip," Wanda chimed in. "Although something tells me they might actually like it if I do, so I'll have to blast one of their appendages off, I suppose."

"Alright, what has you two in a quest to chop off limbs? Again?" you asked as you walked in to the common room, Wanda immediately scooting over so you could sit between her and Nat. 

"The guys here are trying to see if they could get us to fold with cheesy angel-themed pick-up lines. Tony's convinced that it's all in the delivery. So far he's not proving his theory right." Nat looked like she'd rather endure getting her teeth pulled out than having to receive another line, so you decided to relieve your friends. 

"Alright boys, these two look jaded and ready to cut your throats out, so consider me their reliever. Gimme your worst." You pointed at the direction of the guys with a 'come at me bro' motion. 

"I wanna try, Miss Y/N." 

"Go ahead, spiderling, but pro tip? If you wanna pick a girl up, let's start by not calling her Miss. Makes us feel older than we are." Peter grew red at the advice but nodded and stood up, straightening his shirt and shoving his hands in his pockets. 

"Will you tell me about your home, Y/N? I wanna know what Heaven's like." 

You nodded your head slowly, as if you were grading his line. "Your delivery lacks confidence, sweetie. You're gonna need some more time mentoring with Stark if you want his swagger to rub off on you."

"My turn," Wilson boomed, standing and doing a comical swagger type walk, clearly taking this entire exercise as a joke. Just like you were. "Y/N, does it hurt to always spend Christmases sitting on top of a tree?"

You furrowed your eyebrows at him. "Why would I be—"

"Because we always put the angels on the top of the tree," he finished with a move to smoothen his brows that had you bursting out in cackles. 

"Well I can't say anything about the trees but I do like spending my Christmases, and any other time of the year really, on top," you answered with a saucy raise of your eyebrow that had majority of the men in the room either doing a spit take or choking on their drink. 

You heard your friends cheering you on from the railing at the top of the stairs. "That's our bitch right there!" Nat hollered. 

"Alright I'll have a go at jellybean over here," Tony announced, standing from his seat and walking over to you with his signature 'Yeah I know I'm hot shit' walk. "I gotta make some training simulations just in case we ever have to face off against angels. You never know. You mind if I use you as the reference?"

You did three slow claps. "I will give you points for creativity, Stark. You still can't get a woman to fold with that line, though. Sorry." 

"I still want to get you scanned for that training sim, though. I’m not kidding, jellybean." 

"Just say when, Tony."

"May I have an attempt?" Your body felt like it froze on the spot at the sound of Loki's voice floating across the common room. Tony and Sam threw you knowing smirks before the former retook his old seat. Asshats. The two were the worst offenders when it came to giving you shit about your crush on the raven-haired Asgardian. 

"Uhm…sure, Mischief. Knock yourself out." You straightened your stance and fought to keep your composure as he took slow, purposeful strides towards you. "Although I'm pretty sure you'll get any woman to fold because fuck it that voice should be a registered weapon," you quipped as he crossed the distance to you. 

He chuckled. "You flatter me, little mortal." He tucked his fingers under your chin, making you look up at him, into his eyes. Focus, Y/N. Don't fold, don't fold, don't you fucking fold. "My mother used to tell me of a legend, that the Norns had crafted an individual for each of us so perfectly, so exquisitely, that when we meet them the only thought that will come to mind is 'There you are. Finally. I've waited centuries to reach you.' I once believed those tales to be pure works of fiction, to give one hope in a hopeless world. But upon meeting you, darling Y/N…"

"Mischief, this doesn't sound like a pickup line," you whispered frantically as he placed his thumb on your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth to form a pout, and used his free hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

He leaned in until your noses were touching, and then he spoke again. "There you are. Finally. I've waited centuries to reach you." 

"Fucking hell, I fold," you breathed out, staring at him with wide eyes, your heart thumping so loudly in your chest you could swear that Nat and Wanda could hear it from the second floor. "You win, Mischief." 

You saw his expression drop just a fraction as he released you, backing away by the slightest. 

"You're gonna need to teach us that, Reindeer Games," Tony quipped from his seat. "So…you win, pick your prize." 

"I didn't know you guys were playing for a prize," you said, turning to face the others, not even so much as daring to look at Loki after…what ever just happened.

"Well earlier the prize was just to not get kicked in the nuts by Romanoff," Tony answered. "Tell you what, Rock of Ages, you go think what you want as your prize and then just text Y/N. Game's over, boys. Let's pack it up." 

You looked up towards Nat and Wanda who were now frantically motioning for you to come upstairs and meet them, and you took that as your cue to run out of the common room. "I'm not even into him but I have to say that would've had me fold, too," the Russian spy commented as you stepped into their arms with a frantic wide-eyed look on your face. 

"Y/N, my friend, that…that didn't sound like he was playing." 

You took a deep, steadying breath. "What're you talking about, Wan? Of course he was," you mumbled. "I'm gonna go out for lunch today, you two wanna come with?" 

You received a text in the middle of lunch that nearly made your heart start sprinting and almost made you choke on the sandwich you were trying to chew.

I meant it. Every word. Come to me when you're ready. I'll be in my chambers.

"Y/N, you look like you've seen a ghost," Wanda prodded, her tone laced with concern. "What's wrong, dear one?" You showed her the text. "Fucking finally." 

"Fucking finally what?" Nat asked as she got back to the table. You showed her the text. "Oh. That. Well it's about damn time." 

"Excuse you two?? Something you wanna share with the class?" you all but shrieked in the middle of the deli. 

"You might wanna put the mozzarella stick down until after we're done telling you," Nat advised and you stopped yourself from taking a bite. "Mischief's had the hots for you. For months. You've been too busy having the hots for him and making sure that he doesn't figure that out, to even notice. We were hoping that he'd finally fess up when he asked if he could have a shot at the game earlier, and look at that, it finally happened. Hence, fucking finally." 

"So we should finish our lunch, go find you a cute outfit, so that you can be ready for him," Wanda said, wiggling her eyebrows at you, making you throw the mozzarella stick at her face. 

Two hours later, you were back in the tower, wearing a black sundress that fell midway down your thighs, and a gold belt around your waist, making your way to Loki's room. You took a deep breath as you rapped on the door before you could change your mind.

Almost immediately, the door opened to reveal the god in loungewear set in his signature green. He looked at you with a softness in his eyes as he reached for your hand. "Come in, darling." 

As soon as the door closed behind you, you started, "What did you mean--"

Before you could get another word out, he gently pushed you against the closed door and laid his lips on yours. The shock of his actions admittedly caught you off guard, but you quickly shook that off and placed your hand behind his neck, returning his kiss and weaving your fingers through his hair. 

"I know what I want," he murmured against your lips as he lifted you into his arms, making you wrap your legs around him, effectively trapping you between him and the door. 

"You mean out of the game or out of life?" you breathed out, letting out whimpered moans as he pressed kisses from your jawline to your neck. 

"Both, darling," he breathed against your neck. "Out of life? I want you to become mine." He pressed another kiss and groaned against your skin. "But the game, my precious mortal…" he trailed off, kissing a path from your neck to your ear. "I will need your answer before I tell you that."

"My answer to what?" you gasped as he lightly nipped at your ear. 

"Will you be mine?" He punctuated his question by kissing the skin below your ear and then proceeding to softly suck on the spot, making you all but moan your answer. 

"Yes."

"Well then…" He trailed a path of kisses back to your lips. "As my prize, I want you—"

"You have me, Loki. I'm yours—"

"On top." 

Your eyes snapped to his, the air leaving you as you saw the devious smirk on his face. Oh. 

A/N: Fun fact…the working title for this story while I was writing it was "lines from the corn factory". That is all.

Here's a little bonus gif for everyone who reads 'til the end:

Taglist:

Everything: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @avoliax @devilsadvocactus @purplegrrl27 @lokiprompts

onyx pt1

See my full list of works here!

Summary: You're stuck in the Avengers Compound because of an injury from your last mission, and you come across an adorable and affectionate little kitten.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: language (no i'm not sorry, Rogers); talks of explosions and injuries sustained from explosion [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: one-sided crushing (but is it really…?)

An eerie silence served as your only company in the Avengers Compound the last few days, some of your teammates off to finish the HYDRA mission that left you injured while the others took time off to visit their families over the holidays. With the promise to keep their comms on in case they would be needed until the New Year.

Now all that remained in the Compound with you were a few junior agents that drew the ends of the short stick, Val, and Loki.

Sadly your teammate, friend, and occasional drinking buddy Val was out blissfully spreading holiday cheer throughout New York with her girlfriend.

And Loki? Well, the God of Mischief wasn't exactly on chummy terms with you. Didn't even so much as give you a passing glance when you were at mission briefings.

Which was a damn shame because what you would give just to get lost in those stormy ocean eyes.

You made your way to the pantry in the common room to replenish your stash of snacks, towing along a little wagon to help you on the way back. Every step had you feeling every square inch of bruising on the left side of your body that you got from being unlucky enough to be caught in the blast radius of an explosion at the HYDRA base you were trying to infiltrate with Shaun just a few days ago.

Your phone buzzed with a new message. "Speak of the devil," you muttered to yourself, seeing Xu's name on your screen as soon as you pulled up next to the elaborate barista setup, putting a few Lindor truffles in a small bag for your wagon. "Hey FRIDAY?"

"Yes, Agent Y/L/N?" the AI answered immediately.

"Could you make me a white chocolate mocha with peppermint while I raid the latest Costco delivery for uhh…supplies. Yeah, I'll go with that."

"Right away, Agent Y/L/N." The sound of the barista setup whirring to life filled the kitchen area as you checked on Shaun's message.

Thor just mentioned that he'll ask his brother to take a look at your injuries. Maybe get him to kiss it all better. He finished his text with a smirking emoji, along with some hand gestures that painted a less than family friendly picture, making you roll your eyes at the screen.

You recorded a voice memo for him. "You know that he'd need to actually be willing to look at me so that he could see the damage from the blast, right? And last I checked I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm Medusa reincarnated and I'll turn his Asgardian ass to stone."

You went on to the ridiculously stocked pantry to rummage the delivery that came just a few hours ago, trying to find a bag of Jalapeño Cheetos somewhere in the mix, when you heard a tiny meow from somewhere behind you. You looked to the ground to find a black and white munchkin cat looking up at you with wide blue eyes.

"Hi there, baby…" you cooed, surprised the adorable little creature hadn't hissed or scratched at you yet. Cats normally didn't take to you, which was a shame because you often found yourself fighting the urge to pick one up or stroke its head whenever you crossed paths with one during your errand runs. "How'd you get in here?"

The tiny kitten caught you by surprise with what it did next, walking up to your feet and proceeding to rub its cheek against your ankle, a little purr emanating from its small fluffy body. You decided to risk the hissing and scratching and bent down to pick it up, your heart melting once he placed his paws on your cheek and proceeded to nuzzle your face with his nose.

"Aren't you a complete darling." He settled into your arm as you carried him out of the pantry, a little whine escaping him when you placed him down on the counter. He stood on his hind legs and made grabby hands towards you, blue eyes wide and pleading for you to pick him back up. "Just a second, sweet baby, I'm just getting you something to drink."

You took out a tiny sauce dish and poured some cream into it, pushing it toward the kitten that responded with a slow blink and a meow before licking away at the rich liquid.

"I'm sure your owner's gonna crucify me for giving you that but I can't help spoiling little fur babies especially when they're as adorable as you are." You took a sip of the coffee FRIDAY had finished making before shouting out a question for her. "Hey FRIDAY, you have any clue who this little bub belongs to?"

It took a second for her to answer. "Negative, Agent Y/L/N. There is currently no other agent on the premises looking for their pet. I also see no collar on them and from a preliminary scan they do not seem to have a microchip on them."

Those words stopped the kitten from drinking to look up toward the ceiling and hiss at the source of the voice. He only relaxed once you started stroking his fur again, going back to drinking and letting out a few purrs along the way. "No owner, huh? Does that mean I can invoke Finders Keepers then?"

"It appears so, Agent Y/L/N. What would be your new companion's name?"

The kitten looked up at you, as if expecting your answer. You wondered briefly if he could actually understand what it was that you and FRIDAY were talking about. "How about Onyx? I know I know it's absolute garbage for originality to name a black cat after a black gemstone but--"

His eyes widened before he climbed up your arm, only stopping once he'd reached your shoulder to nuzzle at your neck again. "It seems he likes the name, Agent Y/L/N."

"Then it's settled." You placed a soft kiss on top of his head. "Hello there, Onyx."

You brought your new kitten back to your apartment, setting him down on your bed while you tried to take off your sweatshirt as gently as you could manage.

"Ah, fuck it," you hissed as you felt the bruising around your ribs, letting out a pained sound when you opted to whip the garment over your head as fast as you could instead. Your reflection revealed that the bruising on the left side of your torso was quickly becoming a frightening deep purple.

Onyx meowed from your bed, again standing on his back legs and making grabby hands at you, eyes wide with evident pain.

"What's wrong, little baby?" He placed his paws gently on your side when you made your way to him, pressing his nose to the skin near where your bruising began. "Oh don't you worry your pretty little head about those, sweetie. They'll heal…eventually."

He kept on pressing his face to the area, your heart melting for the tiny kitten even more realizing that he was pressing kisses to your wounds.

"You really are such a precious little bub, aren't you?" You picked your new kitten up, placing him on the armchair in your reading nook before setting an alarm for dinner in a few hours and settling into your bed. "Get some sleep, sweet baby Onyx. I'll see you in a few hours."

Your eyes had only closed for a few seconds before you heard another tiny meow followed by a soft thud, immediately making you sit up on the bed looking for the kitten. He'd already made his way to your bedside, standing on his back legs and reaching up trying to climb up the sheets.

"Alrighty then," you mumbled, picking him up and placing him on the pillow beside yours. You rolled over to lay on your right side to remove any pressure to your injuries the best you could, hovering your finger near Onyx's nose once you'd settled in. He leaned up and pressed his nose to your finger, paws kneading on his pillow. "Boop," you giggled. "Sweet dreams, baby."

Just as you'd closed your eyes to try catching an hour or two of rest before you had to eat again and take those pain meds that Banner prescribed you, your phone began to blare Immigrant Song way too loudly by your nightstand. There were only two contacts you gave that ringtone to and one of them was currently out with her girlfriend.

"Talk to me, Thunder," you muttered, groaning when your stretch to reach for your phone made your bruising smart a bit. "You all good over there?"

"Absolutely grand, Lady Y/N," the blond god's voice boomed from the other end. "I was just wondering if you could check on my brother, he refuses to answer his phone yet again."

"That's gonna be a hard pass from me, buddy. I've already been cut and bruised, I'm not too keen to add stabbed to that list. He's probably just practicing spells. Or out on a date." You winced at that last part, an irrational part of you flaring up with unwarranted jealousy at the thought of Loki out with just about anyone. "Just--I don't know, check up on him yourself when you get back. You can take a stab better than me anyways."

Thor sighed loudly, the low rumbling making Onyx step back from his pillow and start hissing at the phone. You stroked the top of his head to calm him down. "Very well then, Lady Y/N. Rest well. We're scheduled to return after nightfall."

"I'll have pizza here waiting for you guys. Bring your own mead." You clicked off and tried to get some sleep, having FRIDAY place an order for pizzas and wings for when the team gets back. Your new kitten padded his way over to you, resting his head on your outstretched arm and letting out a soft purr.

The sound of the Quinjet coming back roused you from your nap, along with the feel of little paws on your arm and Onyx nuzzling your cheek.

"Looks like everyone's home," you mumbled, pressing a few kisses to the kitten's head before making your way out of bed. "Come on, little baby. Time to meet the team."

With a whole lot of discomfort and groaning, you slipped your sweatshirt back on before presenting your hand to Onyx and patting your shoulder, prompting the kitten to climb up your arm and perch himself on the spot, nuzzling his face behind your ear.

The team had already arrived and filled the common area when you made your way there, some of them helping themselves to the pizza. Barnes and Wilson walked in with coolers, probably filled with chilled bottles of beer inside.

"Hey, there she is!" Shaun exclaimed, pulling out a bottle of Pepsi before making his way over to you and pulling you into an embrace. "How's the healing go--Whoa there." He took a step back as Onyx hissed in his direction. "Where'd you come from, little guy?"

You shh'd the kitten, pressing kisses to his little cheek to calm him down. "It's okay, baby, Shaun is a friend. One of the good guys." You turned back to your mission partner. "Shaun, this is Onyx."

"Always thought you were a dog person, Babes," Natasha spoke up before taking your arm and walking you to the food. "We leave for one day and you become a cat lady. Where'd you even find the time to go to a shelter and get baby blue eyes over here?"

"I didn't, actually," you answered the master assassin. "I just went to the pantry and poof there he was, meowing at my feet. Like the cat distribution system mailed him to me by magic or something." He nuzzled your cheek again before starting to knead at your face.

"And he doesn't belong to anyone? You're sure?" Shaun spoke up, backing up immediately when he tried to pet your new kitten and getting hissed at. "Easy, kitty. I'm a friend, I'm not gonna hurt you." The martial artist turned back to you. "He wasn't collared? Or chipped?"

"Nope. FRIDAY scanned him and everything."

"You wanna think about getting him chipped?"

Onyx hissed again at the question before swishing his tail around to curtain your hair around him, his little body shaking on your shoulder. As if he was silently pleading for you to not take him out to have him chipped.

"Don't you worry, baby. I won't get you chipped, I wouldn't hurt you like that," you cooed, letting out a little giggle as he placed his paws on your cheeks and nuzzled your nose, giving the tip tiny licks. You were so focused on your cat's affections that the bellowing of Thor looking for his brother was a distant muffled noise in the background.

Until he got to where you were standing and his booming voice was impossible to ignore. "What an adorable little beast you have, with you, Lady Y/N." Onyx buried himself in the crook of your neck, shaking at the sound of Thor's voice.

"It's alright, Onyx. It's just Thunder, he may be all big and menacing on the outside but he's just a fluff ball on the inside. Come on, go say hi."

The blond Asgardian approached you, examining your new pet carefully before a knowing grin graced his bearded face. "Hello, Brother."

A chill went down your spine at his words. "What the fuck d'you just say, Blondie?"

He motioned toward the kitten on your shoulder. "This is the explanation for his lack of replies on his phone. His absence from his quarters. Lady Y/N, the little beast hiding himself in your hair…is my brother. That is Loki."

In your stupor, the only words you could manage to say were, "Bitch what?!"

A/N: Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to the members of SAS, beloved besties, and fellow whores! I've had this idea doing a slow lurky crawl in the microwave that is my writing noggin for the last few months, and I'm so excited that I finally get to share it with y'all! Part 2 is coming in a few days, and then it's a coin toss on whether I'll be trying to end the year with crossing off some things on my writing todo list, or crossing off some titles from my Tumblr TBR 😳👀

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover

Language (Part 2)

Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 (in progress)

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: Captain Rogers thinks you curse far too much at work so he came up with a way for each word to cost you fifty cents no matter where you are in the Tower. You are desperate for it to stop and go to Loki to see if he has a spell or trick that can help you outsmart J.A.R.V.I.S.

Warnings: swearing lol... obviously?

A/N: I'm so sorry @soubi001 lol and you know why. I've been kicking this idea around in my head for a while because I'm very aware that I swear way more often than a normal person lol hope you enjoy it 💚

"I found a few spells I would like to try when we finish eating," he changes the topic a moment later.

"Think one of them will work?" you ask hopefully.

"I certainly hope so," he says. "Of course, I could accidently turn you into a frog if something goes wrong."

"That's not funny," you tell him.

"I wasn't joking," he smirks.

You take a bite of pizza and as you chew, you respond by giving Loki the finger. In turn J.A.R.V.I.S charges you another fifty cents and you roll your eyes.

"Serves you right," he says and you can tell he is trying to sound serious but a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "You are quite rude to me when all I am trying to do is be helpful," he places his hand over his heart, pouting to appear hurt by your gesture.

You ball up your napkin, throwing it at him but he deflects it easily back towards you, a smile spreading across the god's face. You stick your tongue out at the prince when the paper ball hits your shoulder and he laughs light heartedly. Loki's hand rests gently on your knee for barely a moment and he removes it almost before your mind can register the action.

He gets up abruptly, clearing his throat and you feel a sinking sensation in your chest at his sudden shift in mood. You had what you imagine is a rare glimpse of Loki's playful, mischievous side and you can't help but wish he wouldn't return to the cold, overly sarcastic demeanor he had when you first knocked on his door. Closing the pizza box, you decide to clean up the table and put the leftovers in Loki's fridge. It's a small but welcome distraction, keeping you from thinking about how much you enjoy Loki's company when he allows himself to relax around you.

"Thank you for the food," he says without looking up from his book. He sits crossed legged on the floor and holds the book a bit closer as his fingers trace the text across the page.

You smile then sit back on the couch, "You're very welcome... and thanks for trying to help me." He nods quietly in response as he continues to read.

Loki stands slowly a few minutes later, his eyes lowered as he reads the book in his hands. He walks towards you with the book still open and you suddenly become nervous as you realize this is actually going to happen. You are actually going to let him put a spell on you.

"Okay... so what's this supposed to do?" you are almost afraid to ask.

Loki sits next to you and places the open book on the coffee table. "Well, in theory it should-" he starts to explain, his eyes meeting yours as he glances up from the book.

"In theory?" you ask, your voice shaking.

"Yes," he answers seriously. "This is not what the spell was originally intended to do but I should be able to adjust it slightly so that it will fix your issue."

"So... I'm starting to think maybe having someone put a literal spell on me is a really fucking stupid idea," you say and shake your head, ignoring J.A.R.V.I.S.

"I am not just someone," he says, it is clear from his tone he is trying to sound offended but he doesn't hide his smirk as well as he thinks he does.

"Right, you're an actual trickster god," you reply, gesturing towards him. "The title doesn't exactly inspire trust, you know?"

He shrugs, "It's not too late to change your mind and either give up swearing or simply ask for a raise."

You groan and sit back, crossing your arms against your chest, "Just promise me you won't turn me into a frog." His lips curl into a smirk and you sit up, quickly adding, "Or a snake or a bug or anything else not human. Please?"

"I promise you will remain a Midgardian," he says in a sincere voice. His eyes flicker from yours to your hand and his fingers move slightly towards you but he pauses then places his hand on his knee. He shifts a few inches closer to you on the couch but keeps his eyes focused on the open book. "Do you still want me to do this, Y/N?" he asks, glancing back at you.

"Yes," you take a deep breath and nod. "Yea, lets do this. What's the worse that can happen?"

He chuckles and without thinking, you put your hand over his mouth before he can say anything. His eyes widen when your palm touches his lips and for a split second, your brain registers how soft they are. Loki has a look of utter confusion on his face when you remove your hand quickly with a nervous laugh.

"Sorry, I just don't really want to hear all the horrible stuff that might happen if this goes wrong," you tell him, lowering your eyes to avoid looking at him.

"Nothing will go wrong," he promises, touching your arm lightly but he moves his hand the moment you look up. "Are you ready to start?" he asks.

"As ready as I'm gonna be," you tell him with a shrug, feeling slightly more confident in Loki than you had moments earlier.

He flashes you a small smile then leans forward slightly towards the book, his fingers tracing the lines of text as he mumbles to himself. He nods confidently when he is satisfied with the spell and looks at you. "Stay still," he warns you gently then he holds his open palm inches from your neck. Your heart beats faster as he begins to read the foreign words, his voice just above a whisper. The green glow of his seidr slowly reaches out from his fingertips and you feel it's warmth wrap around your throat loosely. You force yourself to remain perfectly still, keeping your eyes focused on Loki.

When he finishes reading, he closes the book and looks at you. "Care to test it out?" he asks, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice unsuccessfully.

You clear your throat and say, "I hope this *silence* spell worked..." You look at him in shock when your voice goes suddenly silent as you swear. "What the *silence* was that?"

"Interesting," Loki says, opening the book again.

"I really *silence* hate when you say *silence* like that," you tell him, trying not to feel worried as your voice cuts in and out.

"The spell was supposed to block J.A.R.V.I.S from being able to hear you swear but it seems to have silenced your words completely," he explains, running his fingers through his long, dark curls as he leans closer to the open pages. "Ahh..." he nods as he flips the page.

"What the *silence* does that mean?" you look at the page over his shoulder.

"I seem to have misjudged the potency of this part here," he points to a passage from the book that you have no way of understanding. "Still, it seems as if it was successful," he forces a smile as he can tell you are unhappy with the results.

"Successful?" you ask, sitting back you put your hands over your face.

"The computer is not charging you," he reminds you. "Was that not the goal of this whole evening?"

"Yea," you agree. "I guess you're right."

"Than you should be thanking me," Loki smirks proudly. "Feel free to throw in as many compliments as you would like."

You can't help but laugh, "Thank *silence* *silence* *silence* *silence*..." Your heart sinks and you fill with dread as all of your words are soundless but Loki doesn't seem to notice as he closes the book again.

"I am waiting for the flood of complements I am owed and then you are free to leave," he chuckles and you swat his shoulder with the back of your hand. He looks at you with a confused expression and you gesture towards your throat as you open your mouth to speak but no sound comes out.

"Oh, no..." he shakes his head as he realizes what you are trying to tell him. "Okay, don't worry Y/N, I can undo the spell," he assures you as he opens the book. He mumbles under his breath as he flips through the pages quickly and you can only imagine he must be swearing in Asgardian. He finds the page he had been on previously and pulls the book onto his lap.

You tug on the sleeve of his shirt nervously and he looks at you. "I am going to fix it," he promises again, taking your hand and squeezing it gently. "I just need a moment to think," he explains and you can't do anything but nod.

"So that was awful," you laugh nervously a few minutes later when your voice is fully restored. You rub your throat gently and Loki frowns, holding your gaze for only a moment before he looks away.

"I truly am sorry," he says, shaking his head. "I have no idea why that went so wrong," he skims the page again, his fingers comb through his hair as he thinks.

"Do you think it's cause you messed with it too much?" you ask as he closes the book heavily and stands up.

"It may have been," he responds, placing the book in the pile of useless ones. He sighs and looks around at the books still remaining on the shelves.

"Can I ask you something?" you tuck your legs under your body and pick up one of his pillows to hold against your chest. He nods but doesn't face you, his eyes searching for the next solution. "How come you have to alter the spells? Wouldn't it be easier to just use the right type?"

"Ah yes, why didn't I just look in my hundred year old book of spells that deals with artificial intelligence?" he says sarcastically.

"Okay, that's fair," you roll your eyes. "I guess I didn't really think about that part. I just figured... well I'm not really sure how I thought your magic worked honestly."

"No one on the team is concerned with how my spells are created," Loki says over his shoulder then he picks up a thick, leather bound book and quietly adds, "So long as the spells work properly, my magic rarely interests anyone."

"I think it's cause you make it look so natural," you try to explain as you get up and walk towards him. "Like when you are on a mission, you don't sit around a read a ton of books or recite all these spells before doing anything, you just sort of," you wave your hand towards a stack of books and mime moving them to the table, "and stuff happens. Am I making sense?"

He chuckles, "Yes."

"So how do you do it?" you ask.

"Do what?" he looks at you confused.

"Make it look so easy?" you respond with a shrug.

"Roughly nine hundred years of practice," he answers.

"Nine hundred..." you say quietly and he nods. "I forgot you're like a thousand years old."

"One thousand fifty three," he smirks, "And I will assume you forgot because of my stunning good looks."

"You're not unfortunate to look at," you laugh, unable to admit he is completely correct.

"You wound me, truly, Y/N," he shakes his head but can't contain his laughter.

There is a loud knock on Loki's door and you turn towards it but Loki makes no move to answer it. He opens the book in his hand and you shrug then walk to the door.

"What are you doing?" he asks without looking up.

"Answering your door," you tell him. "It's what normal people do when someone knocks."

"I am still dealing with the consequences of the last time I opened my door to someone," he says followed by a heavy sigh but you can tell his annoyance is faked and you fight to hold back a smile.

"Oh... hello Y/N," Thor says slowly, unable to hide his shock. "What are you doing in my brother's room?"

"Um..." you hadn't thought far enough ahead to come up with an excuse when you opened the door. "We were just- we're hanging out. Do you need him?"

"I was just wondering if he had seen my wallet," Thor says. "Or have you?"

"Brown leather wallet with a big script 'T' embossed on the front and a picture of Jane in the little plastic picture space?" you describe the wallet Loki had given you money from earlier.

"Yes, that's it," he says excitedly.

"No, sorry I haven't seen it," you tell him and instantly have no idea why you lied.

"Oh, okay well if you do, let me know. I had about two hundred dollars in it," he says.

Minus the money Loki already gave me, you think. "Will do Thor and I'll check to see if Loki's seen it," you tell him.

"Thank you, goodnight Y/N," he says as he leaves.

"Your brother is gone," you tell him when you close the door. You notice Loki is now sitting cross legged on the floor in front of the stack of books with one open on his lap.

Loki nods in response, his eyes scanning the open pages in front of him.

"He was looking for his wallet but I told him neither of us had seen it," you inform him.

"Mmhmm," he mumbles and nods again.

"Thor asked why I was here so late so I told him we've been secretly dating for months and we're madly in love," you say as you walk closer to the prince.

Again, Loki nods slowly, turning the page he hums, "Mmhm."

"I told him you are a really good kisser but you never know what to do with your hands," you smile as you stand right behind him.

Loki turns the next page and without looking up says, "I know exactly what to do with my hands."

"Oh-" you say in surprise. "You were listening to me."

"Yes," he chuckles. "I can read and listen to you lie at the same time."

"Right well..." you fidget with your fingers and try to think of something to say.

"Why are you standing so close to me?" he says finally looking up to see you reading over his shoulder.

You take a large step back and giggle nervously, "Sorry. I- Umm... Did you find anything useful?"

"Possibly," he says as he gets up.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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❝i hope i was your favorite crime.❞ || coriolanus snow x f!reader

| request- hi! i was wondering if you could do a corio x plinth reader where he aproches her bc she is a plinth (and she notices and gets mad bc she think that corio takes her for a stupid girl who would just fall for his lies) but he slowly falls for her. i would really like if it ends well, like them together. i hope you understood my idea, i love your work btw.

| A/N- i wanted so bad to make sooooo angsty but i fought the demons. def ooc everybody besides festus. fuck you festus. hope you like it as much as i do 🫶🏻

| WARNINGS- alcohol consumption, creepy men, bad fathers (relatable), nice coriolanus snow, festus creed (he deserves a warning), eating, making out, traumatized sejanus (im sorry sejanus i love you)

the eldest plinth daughter. not an heir, but something you’d want to marry into. if you could get her, you’d never need to do anything again in your life. coriolanus knew that, he reveled in that. he’d never met her, all the times he went over to the plinth’s apartment she was either out or the door to her bedroom was tightly locked- not accepting visitors.

he wondered what she did with her time, was she in university? sejanus seems to never talk about his sister unless someone asks. but yet here she was. a floor length silver dress caught coriolanus’ eye, turning his head to follow the figure. she stood tall and confidently next to her brother. his eyes cascaded over the entire family, all in the same tantalizing silver. they were brightly shining in the ballroom of the benefit. it’d be hard to ignore them. he hated that.

he studied her, they way he could almost see a resemblance to sejanus but feeling as if he’s grasping at straws. her left hand holding a champagne glass she hasn’t drank from, and her right hand resting on sejanus’ shoulder. she’s nodding along to whatever nonsense pup harrington is spitting at her, no doubt making a pass.

she excuses herself and points at her glass, which is now empty after having to listen to the poor boy. when she reaches the full glasses lined up on the table coriolanus makes his move. “hello, ms.plinth.” her head turns to him and her eyes narrow. “coriolanus snow. my brothers supposed best friend- where’s tigris? i like her.” she quickly downs the glass and reaches for another. coriolanus can feel the disdain for him leaking out of her pores.

“she’s, um, she’s back at home. with grandma’am. she is quite nice to be around, isn’t she? how are you enjoying your night?” he attempts to flip the conversation back to her- oh wait, she’s not even looking at him anymore. her eyes find sejanus’ as he’s talking to livia cardew, and she begins walking in his direction. “nice talking to you, coriolanus.” but he felt like it definitely wasn’t nice. was he wanting to marry her for her money? yes. but was she also beautiful and apparently quite funny, as ma plinth has said? also yes.

she spent the rest of night collecting champagne glasses and not leaving sejanus’ side. even he was beginning to get bothered by the bachelors approaching his sister. she leaned against the back wall, yes, another glass in hand. she’d gotten roped into a conversation with festus, clearly tortuous. coriolanus was standing with sejanus about a foot away, so sejanus could keep and eye on festus.

“it’s just so frustrating, coryo! all these guys coming up and trying to make a pass at my sister while i’m right there, if i didn’t know any better i would’ve taken pup harrington outside. you should’ve heard some of the stuff he was saying to her. it’s horrible.” sejanus rants while staring at festus. “well, she’s gonna have to get married eventually, sejanus.” coriolanus says with a slight smile to his bestfriend.

“i know that, just none of these guys. we’ve been everyday with them at the academy. you know how bad they are, the shit they say about women in general. i don’t want those guys with her.” it’s obvious he’s quite over protective of her, even though she’s three years older than him. coriolanus nods along with him and pats his back.

“i’ll go save her.” coriolanus comforts his friend and makes his way to festus. “sejanus said he needed your opinion on some ideas for the food, seemed urgent.” she nods and offers a knowing smile to coriolanus. festus leans his head on the wall “man! i really felt like i was getting somewhere with her” coriolanus rests a hand on his shoulder. “trust me, you definitely weren’t.”

the party has picked up and died down, everyone sitting to eat but coriolanus couldn’t seem to figure out where she was. she wasn’t sitting with her family and unless she had friends he didn’t know, he couldn’t see her anywhere. he’d made his way outside to take a breather from all the talking and hugging old people who knew his parents.

that’s when his eyes laid upon the girl in the silver dress, and he took a seat next to her on the steps. she’s staring out into the gardens and her eyes are glazed over. no champagne glass in her hand this time. she doesn’t turn to look at him.

“i’m really drunk right now and i hate almost everyone in there. all they care about is money and those stupid hunger games.” she confided in him and rested her chin on her arms that are wrapped around her knees. “yeah, you didn’t look like you were having a great time. i tried counting how many glasses you had but i lost count after ten.” she lightly laughed and shook her head.

“i think it was thirteen but i’m not sure, i drank four while festus was chirping in my ear about how many children he wanted.” she feigned chills at the mention of his name and they laughed. she turned to look at him with a barley noticeable smile “you’re not like them, are you? you’re more like sejanus. quiet and doesn’t bother women they want to marry.” the comparison of sejanus would normally upset him, but coming from her it felt the highest compliment a man could receive.

she rubbed her hands over her arms to conserve warmth and coriolanus quickly removed his blazer to wrap around her and she muttered a small thanks. resuming her staring at the gardens. “would you like to grab you some water? or something to eat? it’s not gonna be very good for you tomorrow morning if you don’t eat something.” he whispers towards and she nods her head.

as coriolanus is walking back in, the plinths are walking out. “hey coryo. we’re heading home for the night as ma doesn’t feel too well, have you seen-“ coriolanus points outside “she’s on the steps, make sure she eats something when you get home. way too much champagne for a human.” seianus claps his hand against coriolanus’ chest and continues outside.

the sun is battering down on the capitol but the plinths home is cooler than a beautiful spring day, probably for the hungover girl inside. coriolanus knocks on the door and smiles as his eyes meet ma’s. “oh! coriolanus, it’s so good to see you. we didn’t talk much last night. come in! i just finished up some pies!” she ushers him inside as sejanus joins them in his mothers corner of the kitchen.

after the grueling and quite long conversation with ma coriolanus excused himself. sejanus seemingly interested in this new sugar ma had found. as coriolanus rounded the corner to her room, he stopped. suddenly feeling quite nervous and as if he might throw up. her bedroom door opened and her eyes meet his, he looks down and she’s holding his blazer out. “i heard you talking to ma, here this.” her calloused tone returns, maybe she only likes him she’s drunk. he better find a lot more champagne.

the plinth family plus coriolanus are sitting in the sun room, drinking iced tea and munching on whatever treats ma had baked. “so, coriolanus, do you have any plans on getting married after university?” strabo’s deep and rough voice cut over his wife’s story.

coriolanus set his tea down “i’d hope so, certainly.” his eyes skip between strabo and his daughter. she’s sitting with her knees pulled up to chest and she’s looking out the window. “well you know how much we’d love to have you in the family, we could arrange your marriage with-“ she sets her cup down harshly and stands up.

“you always do this! could you just leave me alone? maybe i don’t want to get married, ma said it was fine if i didn’t marry.” she’s waving her hands around and waits for him to answer. when she’s met with silence she storms out and slams the sunroom door. “strabo, you can’t make her marry someone she doesn’t love.” someone she doesn’t love.

coriolanus stands up and thanks them for the tea. “tigris wanted to head to the market and i’d never let her go alone, i’ll see you guys tomorrow night.”

he walks by her door and tries the handle, quietly. he fully expected it to be locked but the door swings open and she’s laying face down on the bed. “sejanus, go away.” she grumbled through her mattress. “it’s not sejanus.” she sighs and sits up, staring at him.

“do you not knock before entering a room?” she tilted her head and studied him. “i expected it to be locked, sorry. i’ll knock next time.” his eyes seem to gravitate towards the floor and he can’t will himself to bring them back up.

“i’m sorry about my father. i’m sure it made you very uncomfortable, he’s just always trying to marry me off.” her hands fidget awkwardly in her lap. “i wasn’t too uncomfortable, any guy would be lucky to marry you. i always heard that you were quite mean, i’ve yet to see that.”

she scoffed and turned her head to the window. “they only say that because i don’t hesitate to speak my mind. i taught sejanus that. i am definitely what they call me, but only to them.” why does she feel so comfortable spilling her guts to him?

“i saw you and sejanus’ sister a few minutes ago, coriolanus. are you willing to deal with her grating voice and attitude for the plinths money?” arachne sneers towards him and the group laughs. “it helps that she’s pretty, it’s already hard enough trying to talk to her.” coriolanus regrets it the second it escapes his mouth.

she liked him. she really did like coriolanus snow, but who doesn’t? she weaved her way through the crowd trying to escape him. he was hot on her trail until he catches up to her in one of the various bedrooms inside the ravinstalls estate.

“do you think i’m stupid, coriolanus? be honest.” he scrambles to find the words but his brain couldn’t function in the one moment he desperately needed it. “i said you were different, i talked to you about things i liked, i would tell ma all about you. but you aren’t different, you’re just like the others.” he ran his hand through his hair. “i was different, i am different. i don’t know why i said that, it just came out. i didn’t mean it, i promise.”

he attempted to take her hand but she ripped out of his grasp and stomped out of the room. shit.

the next day her door was locked. and the next. and the next. he wasn’t even sure she was there anymore. sejanus hasn’t mentioned anything but he wished he would. he wished he would tell him if she was okay or if he majorly screwed up.

as coriolanus and sejanus sit in the sunroom attempting to study, there’s a knock on the door. coriolanus cranes his neck to see festus ravinstill standing there with a bouquet of flowers. god, this kid is tragic. but then he sees you, take the flowers with a smile and a kiss on his cheek. strabo’s never looked happier.

coriolanus suffered in silence watching festus become a daily guest and drowning out sejanus’ complaints about him being there. for once in his life, he agreed with sejanus. when he enters the kitchen to refill his glass of lemonade he sees her watering the plants in the kitchen.

“don’t marry him. he won’t be good to you.” she drops her head and turns to him. “and you would?” she spits back sending him into a whirlwind. “yes.” he whispers out and she takes a few steps closer to him. “festus is nice and fathers happy with this. i don’t have another choice, coriolanus. i have to do this” how does she always sound so sure of herself? maybe coriolanus could take a class from her.

their eyes finally meet, after weeks of not seeing her eyes, she’s finally looking at him. “you could marry me, instead. i wouldn’t treat you like a prize, like festus would.” she steps impossibly closer and he feels like he can’t breathe when she’s around. oxygen becomes molasses and his knees become jelly.

she looks over coriolanus’ shoulder and stands up on her toes to kiss him. he takes a moment to catch on but he his hands find purchase on her waist and he leans down. all nerves thrown out the window and all he can think of is her, how she tastes, how she smells, he can’t even remember who festus is.

her hands wind his curly hair around her fingers as she swipes her tongue against his own and he pushes her against the refrigerator, causing a few magnets to fall onto the floor. his hands are trailing up and down the waist of the yellow dress she had decided to wear that day.

festus had left the plinths the second he saw her look at him over coriolanus’ shoulder. knowing he lost and there’s nothing he could’ve done.

she pulls back, panting. “i’ll marry you, just don’t call me annoying again.” her lipstick is smeared across both of their mouths and he gives her a dopey smile. “i wouldn’t dream of it” he brushes stray hair out of her face.

“in the kitchen?! we make food there!” sejanus is standing in the doorway, seemingly traumatized. “sorry, sej.” he shakes his head walking away but throwing a secretive thumbs up at coriolanus.

hii love!! i'm new to your work but i've fallen deeply in love with your writing and your way of writing Tom 😭😭 i absolutely love the actress!au stories so i thought about one myself: where tom and reader are already in a established, public relationship; and they attend a gala or some kind of event together, and maybe one of them had to host or talk in front of the guests and they keep mentioning and talking about each other. and the fans are going crazy after that interaction 💘 thank youuu

"A peculiar moment."

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader.

summary: at an event and being the host, Tom interviews the first person of the night, you.

word count: 1.452!

“You look so beautiful, Y/n!”

A mix of voices asking, clamoring for photos, autographs or at least a four-second attention exclaimed in your ears and of course, echoed throughout the environment. — Also, accompanied by several flashes, one stronger than the other, from cameras; it bothered you a little, but nothing too profound.

After all, besides being used to it, this had already become a routine for you.

Walking, carefully and holding a small part of your dress so you don't trip in your steps, to a large one that separated the fans from a part of the carpet, you are greeted by more screams, compliments and smiles. — Along with several photos of you, posters for "The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes" and other films that featured you, and some notebooks looking for her autograph. — Doing your best, you tried, completely, to pay attention to everyone.

There came a time when you needed to draw on a fan's arm, because she warned you that she was going to get a tattoo; a completely surprising request for you. — There were a lot of people, so paying attention to all of them was a very difficult job, but you did your best to welcome and talk to them. — Also, thanking everyone for the support and so much love.

After a specific period of time, which was a little long, preparations for future brief interviews had already begun, along with the photo sessions; the cameras were already recording and capturing everything that passed in front of their lenses. — A good number of the interviewers were already organized, talking and interviewing some people and some were talking to the event employees.

The environment was magnificently exquisite and dazzling; flowers of different colors, but most of them reddish in pigmentation, possibly intended to match the red carpet and the charming decorations that were present. — Everything was impeccable. — And the lights, lighting matching the color palettes.

Continuing to walk along the carpet, and being careful with your steps in your dress, you greet the photographers, quickly answering questions about your well-being and requesting attention for their respective cameras. — While posing, smiling, in a gratifying way, you looked for a certain person who was scheduled to be present at the event.

Perhaps, it could be considered a little rude as your eyes were roaming, freely and lightly, across the large hallway as the flashes captured your every movement. — Well, just maybe. — But your chest was anxious, more than usual, during your silent and barely disguised search.

"Here, Y/n!" — An unknown voice passed through your ears, removing your thoughts from your attention and consideration, and the owner of the request waved holding his camera; trying to attract your focus and succeeding. — "That!" — His small smile of gratitude became visible.

Even though he directed a smile accompanied by a pose for the camera, fulfilling the photographer's request, your eyes remained on his objective, but in a discreet and not so flashy way. — In each flash, you moved your eyes to the side and observed person by person. — Until, instantly, your eye sockets collided with the image of a familiar person. — He turned around quickly, and finally his eyes met yours.

Holding a microphone, which had a marking saying "host", and standing next to the camera that was in front of him, Tom watched your photo session with a proud smile. — The recording, which was live, did not focus on his entire smile, just a part of it. — He wasn't just watching, he was admiring, contemplating you; he always did it and could never get tired of it.

Tom received an exclusive invitation, considered splendid by you, to host the event; a large and responsible role and mission, too. — It was a great emotion, at the same time you received it, your boyfriend immediately told you; and, of course, you were the first to know about it. — Therefore, one of his fundamentalist roles included interviewing the guests.

Blyth was nervous, that was obvious, but also confident; perhaps, due to the fact that you would be the first person he would interview that night.

Your genuine, radiant smile went through the photos and stood out among them, making them all magnificent, and already being planned to be posted. — And the photographers were more than satisfied. — Before leaving and heading towards the interview point, you moved your head towards some cameras and said goodbye to them.

The small point, which resembled a small stage, where the host's interviews began was not far from where you were; Just a few steps and you could walk without any problems or worries about your dress. — Something you were grateful for, mentally.

It was only when you were going up, on one of the steps of the small stage, that you needed a little help. — Your boyfriend offered his hand towards you, which you quickly accepted, and carefully directed you onto the platform. — And yet another camera focused on you, now, broadcasting everything live.

"Look who we have here." — Remembering the microphone in his hands, Tom brought it to her mouth, at an appropriate distance. — "Good night, y/n!" — He tilted his head, with an inviting smile paying attention to the sparkle in his eyes while directing the microphone towards you.

"Good night, Tom!" — You answered. — "How are you, darling?" —Imitating your gesture, your head is tilted, delicately awaiting his answer.

"Better now and you?" — Tom raised his eyebrows, uttering a answer that was perhaps bold but sincere; and there was no trace of concern, even in front of the cameras.

"I can say the same." — Your eyes roamed to a small point that cried out for your attention, the necklace he wore; the one where your initial was carved. — It was the third time Tom had worn it in public; an action that enchanted you. — "I can actually say the same."

"On a night as beautiful as this, did you come with someone?" — He decided to play, relax with you, acting as if your relationship wasn't public; you laughed, understanding what it was about.

"Oh, unfortunately not!" — Your ears heard a brief laugh from the people working behind the cameras. — "However, i met a guy, by pure coincidence, who has your name and looked like you, but i lost track of him." — Anyone would be impressed by how quickly you created that story, Tom thought it was funny. — "He's an incredible man, in fact, a special man to me."

"From your words, i can see that." — Your boyfriend didn't seem embarrassed at all, he was appreciating your words, even though they were short and also coming from a small joke; Tom had forgotten where he was, in fact. — "I know him?" — You turned your eyes upward, pretending to be thoughtful.

"I don't think so, but it should." — A corner of your lower lips were nibbled by your teeth. — "I feel like he's definitely a charming man in my life." — You shook your head, confirming your words, losing the meaning of the little joke. — "The only downside is that i lost track of him."

"I'm sure you'll find him soon, my dear." — Blyth assured with a beautiful smile on her beautiful face, which was probably accompanied by a reddish tone on her cheeks. — "You're perfect, my love." — In just a few seconds, the joke was put aside; Tom couldn't resist, much less you. — "Always is."

"Just like you, dear." — You approached of the oldest, subtly placing your hand on his arm and placing a kiss on his cheek; it was a little slow, but not so slow as to complain, and Tom would never dare make a complaint. — "See you soon?" — You referred to the end of the interviews.

"Of course, love." — He replied holding your hand; noticing the only ring on your finger, the one he gifted you. — "It looks like someone is going to be reunited with a certain companion." — Tom commented, looking briefly at the camera with one eyebrow raised and helping you get down from the small platform.

Tom admired and followed your steps with his eyes, contemplating your sweet smile when greeting people; If he had the chance, he would spend his entire time watching you. — And even forgetting that it was being recorded and broadcast to thousands of people.

Now, it seemed that there was a mark, so soft and delicate, of a kiss with lipstick present on his cheek, it was not very visible, only if it came very close to his face. — The camera managed to capture and notice the small mark, bringing it into focus.

And your fans brought immense focus to the point of commenting about it on twitter, causing an insane moment for them.