#I could substitute the reader for another character I suppose | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emberfrostlovesloki · 9 months

Text

A Warm Bath [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@cozyreadings) Center (@weleavetomorrow) Right (@milla984)

Prompt: Aaron is having negative thoughts about his body and aging. The case the team faces puts Hotch’s physical ability on the line, as he attempts to save the BAU-reader from a violent fate.

Pairing: [established relationship] Aaron x gender-neutral reader. The reader uses They/them pronouns.

Category: Angst/comfort

Word Count: 16K

Content Warnings: Body image issues [mostly related to aging (Hotch)], brief mention of food and diet, mention of 2000s celebrity tabloids, multiple deaths [via dogs eating them], victim’s body parts are mentioned, animal cruelty [some dogs are described as living in bad conditions and being mistreated]. Animal death [dogs (not explicitly shown or described, but implied], a good bit of swearing and language, Hotch and the reader are naked in front of each other [no smut], and slight drinking.

A/N: Hi loves! I’m back with another long, angsty fic. This was written for my love Rome (@criminalskies) from my December prompt list (linked) #28: Character A hears Character B sing for the first time. This was supposed to be short and sweet, and like most of my writing, it got a bit away from me, but in a way that I like. I will say I think this is a bit darker than some of my writing given the means of death, but I hope I handled it and the animal issues okay. If you know me, you know I love some insecure Hotch plus lots of angst, and I hope you find that here. Once more, thank you Rome for being my friend. ILY. If you like this story, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. I hope ya’ll have a great rest of the week. - Love Levi ❤️

P.S. There is a mention that the reader’s favorite song is Hozier’s “Unknown / Nth” If this is not your favorite song, feel free to substitute your own!

List with all stories

_y/n_ = your name

_y/l/n_ = your last name

_y/f/c_ = your favorite candle

Aaron stood in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom. The mirror was half-steamed from the warm air and moisture seeping from the bathroom. The white towel draped over his hips sat in a way that did not reveal anything inappropriate. Those areas and his legs were not the spots on his body that bothered him. Those areas didn’t bother _y/n_ either. Not that any part of his body bothered _y/n_. When they were bare to each other, _y/n_ seemed to worship him in a manner that Aaron didn’t feel he deserved. Where these insecurities had arisen from. He was unsure or unwilling to explore. But he couldn’t stop judging his body as hard as he tried. He knew he had little time before _y/n_ would come back from the store. They had just gone on a small grocery run. The winter weather called for some soup and toasted sourdough, but Hotch had been woefully short in the bread department. Probably because he hadn’t bought it in weeks. He was trying to add more protein to his meals. Because it was December and flurries fell on the ground almost every day, Aaron’s daily runs had been cut, almost completely, out of his schedule. His body ached too much in the cold. His knees and back gave small pops of protest, and his chest was particularly sensitive around the scars left by Foyett. That attack had been over a year ago, but the pain lingered and reminded him of how weak he had been that day. How he’d been off his feet for weeks. He hadn’t liked his body after that spell either. Of course, he could always go to the Quanitco gym, but most of the men there were more built like Derek. Pumping iron in some unspoken competition of who could look better in a tank, shorts, and being sweaty. Even if Hotch could zone out while he did his workout, he just felt like he didn’t belong in that space anymore. ‘This is so stupid, Aaron, and you know it,’ his internal critic droned out. Hotch tried to still the voice and ran a hand over his stomach. He could still feel his muscles under the slight layer of fat, tissue, and skin. ‘At least you have that,’ the voice continued. Aaron pulled his hand away as if he was burned by his own body. Aaron had planned to move to his dresser and cover the body that was bothering him so much, but his face, cast in the soft glow of his lamps caught his attention as well. Hotch moved closer to the mirror. The bags under his eyes, crow's feet, and the small, grey hairs that peppered his dark locks seemed to bother him as much as the rest of his body.

Aaron wasn’t dumb, far from it, but as he looked at his reflection, he couldn’t help but judge how age had changed not only his body but his face as well. Aaron hadn’t expected to age like a celebrity or anything; his work ensured that his body was worn down weekly, and the stress of the job did nothing for his frown lines. He knew late middle age would catch up with him one day, but he hadn’t expected it to be like this. The aches and pains, the look of wariness that haunted him. His reflection only mocked him. Reminded him that he wasn’t young anymore. His intrusive thoughts got louder: so loud that he didn’t notice when _y/n_ entered the room; cheeks flushed from the cold they had been in just a minute ago. _y/n_ was going to give a cheery, “I’m back!” But stopped in their tracks as they saw Aaron absorbed by the mirror. This wasn’t the first time they had seen him like this. Hotch tried to hide it in the morning when he showered, and _y/n_ brushed their teeth in the sink. They could see his eyes dart to the mirror for a second and then away like he was assessing himself negatively. They didn’t know when this had begun, but _y/n_ caught him doing it more and more recently. _y/n_ knew they would have to say something soon. Whatever was going on didn’t seem good for Aaron’s mental health. Realizing that now might be as good a time as any to breach the subject, _y/n_ cleared their throat and said, “See anything interesting over there, mister?” Of course, to _y/n_, Aaron clad in a towel was the same as looking at a statue of a Greek god, and him without a towel -- well, that could be blinding, but it seemed that Aaron was less than pleased with himself, and _y/n_ sought to understand why. Aaron’s eyes snapped to the side, realizing he’d been caught body-checking. Hotch turned and faked a half smile and said, “Hey, love. I felt something in my eye. I was trying to see it before I tried to wash it out in the sink.” The lie was so half-assed that Hotch wouldn’t have believed it. And _y/n_ was far too perceptive a partner and profiler to be taken in by a white lie. Aaron wasn’t even sure why he had lied. He assumed it was because it was embarrassing. He felt like a teenager looking at the cover of Stars where Miley Cyrus, or Brintey Spears, or Ann Hathoway’s heroine chic figures were splashed on the front page with the headline “Starlet gains pounds - Fan wonder where X fell off the wagon?” And below that would be the advert for a page about dieting or exercise. It was all too shameful to admit to something like that to _y/n_. _y/n_ matched his lie by stating, “Come here. Let me see if I can see what’s in your eye.” Aaron hesitated and stumbled through the response with, “Well, well I… I think it’s gone now, _y/n_. I’ll be okay. Just need to get some clothes on. Did you find the bread you wanted at the store?” He spoke quick as if he were trying to cover up some secret. _y/n_ tilted their head and raised a brow. In as gentle a voice that was also pseudo-commanding, they said, “Come sit with me on the bed for a second, Aaron.”

Aaron listened to _y/n_, especially when they used that tone that was half-concerned and half-wary. Wary not for themself, but for him. It was rarely employed, but when _y/n_ did use it, he listened. He padded over to the side of the bed with _y/n_, and they both sat down. _y/n_ looked into his dark brown eyes. _y/n_ knew if they saw them in the light, they were tinted hazel. But that wasn’t what this was about. _y/n_ looked from him to the mirror and said, “That thing isn’t doing you any favors, Aaron. A reflection can be a cruel companion. Hotch flushed and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, _y/n_.” _y/n_ smiled softly and said, “How many times have you told me I’m not stupid when I doubt my logic on a case?” _y/n_ let that question hang in the room for a second before replying, “Hundreds at this point. And you know what? It’s true. Now I see how you look at yourself. Doubting. Hesitant like I am sometimes. You wear darker colors. I know what those things can mean. Aaron. Where is this coming from, love?” _y/n_ had only known Aaron to be confident since they started their relationship. There had been a small period of doubt after Foyett, but shortly after that, it had been replaced by rage. There was a short silence as Hotch looked at the soft woven blanket that covered his bed and then to the window. He watched the snow fall lazily to the ground. He sighed and said, “I feel different. My body, it feels different now.” _y/n_ placed a hand over his and gave it a squeeze. That got him to look at them. _y/n_ moved their hand from his hand to his defined jawline, running a hand down it before dropping it back to the bed. _y/n_ asked, “Did this start in December?” Hotch half nodded and said, “Kind of. I’ve felt it worse now that I’m not working out as much. It just happened so slowly. Age has hit me differently than I thought it would.” Somehow this wasn’t the conversation _y/n_ had planned on having today, but it wasn’t something that could be put off. Not with Aaron seeming so upset. _y/n_ asked, “What do you mean that it’s ‘different than you expected,’ exactly?” Hotch looked back at them and said, “I can feel my body changing in various ways. I don’t feel like I can perform the same way I did on the field. That if I’m put in a physical situation, I might fail.” _y/n_ resisted sighing. They knew how fragile a conversation this was and wanted to address it with care. _y/n_ held his gaze and said, “Hotch, you’re allowed to age. We all do. You’re the Unit Chief of the BAU. If Strauss had a problem with your performance, she’d tell you again. The team would tell you. You’re a competent, capable agent. As for your physical prowess, you’re strong, Aaron. Did you forget how you carried me over the huge puddle in the parking lot the other day because I was wearing my nice shoes?” At this, Aaron chuckled. He remembered it clearly, as Morgan had teased _y/n_ about getting their good leather shoes wet. But Aaron knew they didn’t want to get them wet half because they were very nice shoes and, also, because they had been an anniversary gift from him. At his laughter, the mood seemed to lighten. Even with that being the case, _y/n_ still worried about him; these types of thoughts, if he’d been having them long, didn’t bode well for the long term. _y/n_ leaned in and kissed him gently. They started at his neck and up his jawline. Aaron relaxed into the touch, and as _y/n_ pulled back, the look they gave him reassured him that _y/n_ meant every word they had just shared. _y/n _added, “Hotch, I think this is something that a professional should hear about if these types of thoughts continue. If they make you feel bad about yourself?” Aaron let out a sigh, and said, “You’re right, _y/n_. I’ll speak to someone if I start feeling this way again. Thanks for the affirmation. I didn’t know I needed it that much.” _y/n_ smiled at him and ran a hand over his right arm. _y/n_ was about to suggest taking a warm bath together to decompress from that conversation, but before the words could come out. Aaron’s phone rang.

Hotch stood and moved to his nightstand. He swiped to answer the call and put the cell to his ear saying, “Agent Hotchner. There was a pause, and then he said, “Yes. Got it. Be there in a few, JJ. Have you called the rest of the team? … Okay, and yeah, _y/n_’s here. We’ll be over soon. … Okay, bye.” Once Aaron hung up, he moved decidedly to his drawer. He dropped the towel and pulled on his briefs and an undershirt before moving to his clotheshorse that held his outer shirts, suit jackets, and pants. _y/n_ didn’t even have time to admire his nude body, as they needed to change into their formal attire as well. _y/n_ moved into his closet, changed, and unlocked the gun safe, pulling Aaron’s two guns out for him with their sidearm. _y/n_ called from the closet, “Does it sound bad?” the audible sigh from Aaron in the next room told _y/n_ all they needed to know about the type of case that had just landed at the BAU’s door. Twenty minutes later, Aaron and _y/n_, plus the rest of the team were seated in the conference room with JJ and Aaron standing up front and Penelope running the slideshow from the far side of the table. Hotch looked at his media liaison for a second almost for reassurance before saying, “I’m just going to show you the photos first. I think once you see them, you’ll know more about the type of person we are dealing with. Aaron rarely prefaced the photos attached to the case, so the team looked with some anticipation at the screen. Garcia clicked for the next slide and everyone, even Hotch, cringed at the gruesome, bloodied, almost unidentifiable body parts of one victim. Then the next, and the next, and the next. The victims varied in skin color, build, and sex. There were three female victims and one male victim. Each of the deceased was missing various parts of their bodies. Since their bodies were so exposed, half-eaten, the elements had only decomposed the bodies faster. Aaron gave the team enough time to see the photos on the big screen before having Garcia turn the screen off. Hotch said, “As you can see, we’re dealing with something strange here. The coroner knows it’s some kind of wild animal, and we are waiting on the diagnostic report from the hospital two counties over. Some of the victims were so badly mauled that teeth prints had to be taken to identify the victims. We know all of their identities. Hotch nodded to JJ, who had Garcia show regular photos of Katerina Lia, Jeffre Domingez, Sherry Paine, and Dusty Hoffner. When this was done, Hotch continued, saying, “Their profiles and the photos can be found in your files after the briefing. The police in Kansas were hesitant to call us the first two times, as they thought it might just be a tragic accident by a wild animal, and they involved the Game and Fisheries authorities as well as contacting State Troopers. The few parts of the first victim were found strewn on the main street and although it seemed unlikely, the authorities wanted to rule out the possibility that it wasn’t a wild animal, or pack of animals first. Given the external damage to the bodies, it’s unlikely that it’s only one dog or coyote. In the following two weeks, the three other bodies were found in similar popular areas in town, like the park, outside the movie theater, and at the middle school. After that, there was no denying that this was just a wild animal. Thus we were called, but a bit later than I would have liked. But that’s what we’re working with. This case is undoubtedly an odd one, but the unsub seems to be amping up his kills, and if we don’t stop them quickly, well, we’ve seen what happens. Now. Wheels up in thirty.”

The team scattered to their desks, each repulsed by what they had seen. _y/n_ was so grossed out that they even skipped getting coffee for the plane. _y/n_’s mind kept flashing to whoever had found each of the bodies. Probably a young worker moving to clean the theater for the first matinee show. Or a janitor or coach arriving early in the morning trying to get some extra work done. This fact twisted _y/n_’s stomach even more, as they grabbed for their go bag from the deep drawer in their desk, plus the pair of tennis shoes that they always stuffed in their duffle. It constantly bothered _y/n_ that not only the victims that the BAU saw were often minorities of some kind, but those who found them also often lived in difficult situations or worked hard jobs. This irked _y/n_ more than they would admit. _y/n_ found it hard seeing the gore and violence they did, and they were acclimatized to the sight. How could a normal person recover from seeing such a thing? It seemed insurmountable to them. The possibility that dogs might be involved in some way also twisted _y/n_ insides. They loved animals, and using man’s best friend in such a brutal manner felt more than psychotic. As _y/n_ stood up, they were surprised by Aaron, who already had his go bag and briefcase ready. He looked at _y/n_ and noticed their visible distress. He asked, “Are you alright?” He brushed a hand over theirs, and _y/n_ replied, “Yeah. This case is just weird. It feels different. But I can’t put a finger on it yet.” Aaron nodded and said, “We’ll look out for each other on this one. I promise.” _y/n_knew what Hotch meant by “look out for each other,” was “I’ll look out for you, okay?” _y/n_ nodded, reassured by his words and continued support. Hotch held out his hand for their duffle, and _y/n_ gave it to him. Aaron swung the bag over his shoulder and waited for _y/n_ to follow him to the airstrip. He didn’t need to do this but felt that _y/n_ might need some extra support right now. He didn’t blame them. He’d dropped a load on their shoulders this morning, and now they had this case. It felt like a lot, even to him. So he was going to be there for _y/n_ -- even if it was just physical closeness.

On the jet, the team debriefed about what their initial thoughts were. Spencer had stats on the town and how rare animal attacks were one in every 70,000 deaths a year. Derek mentioned how the bite marks looked like dog bites. Morgan had seen a few bad bites in his previous Chicago beat. After the debrief, the team slipped into their normal groups. Em moved to JJ’s side. Reid and Morgan found each other, and _y/n_ put on some wired headphones and pulled out the brief again. As much as _y/n_ found the team's chatter comforting when a case troubled them, they found silence or an easy soundtrack or song to help them focus on the case. Aaron settled next to Dave and Emily. The trio started talking about Cottonwood Falls, its population, and the type of police force they should expect there. Small towns often called in State Troopers to help with bigger investigations, which just meant more bureaucratic red tape; something that all three agents were all too familiar with. Hotch looked over his team and _y/n_ sitting near the back of the jet. He was sure that _y/n_ that they were either listening to white noise or one of their five playlists which mostly consisted of Hozier and other music in that genre. Aaron appreciated _y/n_’s need to find moments of calm and clarity at the start of cases. When they had first joined the team, Aaron had overheard _y/n_ speaking to Garcia about feeling weird about isolating themself from the team early on in the case, but it helped to ground them in the new whirlwind of events. They liked to annotate the brief written by JJ and thoroughly look at the photos. This often helped later on as trends or niche things from the crime scene would be useful if the team got stuck. Aaron listened in as Penelope said, “Sweetheart, everyone has their own method. Your contribution to the case is essential and, however, you need to do that is fine. I promise. Stick around this group for long enough, and you’ll see that we all have our strange habits.” Aaron had been thankful and was still thankful for Garcia for being so uplifting and understanding of the team. Together they made an odd group, but it worked. The next case after that conversation had happened, Hotch had made sure to shoot _y/n_ a hint of a smile as they distanced themself to read the case file beginning to end -- pen and highlighter in hand. It was a similar scene now, as _y/n_ opened the case file and looked at the brief. It read:

Location: Cottonwood Falls, Kansas, USA

Population: 851

Victim No.: 4

Names of Victims: Dusty Hoffner, F (28), Jeffre Domingez, M (39), Katerina Lia, F (45)

Sherry Paine, F (19).

Victim’s Occupations: Unknown.

Report of crimes thus far: On December 15th at 5:00 a.m. A local refuse worker (Jim Vaunt) found a mangled left hand near a trashcan on Locust and Union St. He quickly called the police, who quickly arrived. Mr. Vaunt and the officers were disturbed to find other body parts of the first victim (Katerina). The areas where body parts were found were condoned off, and a thorough search went out looking for a wild animal. The residents were informed, and school was canceled for the day. Little progress was made and the next week, the three other victims were found in similar states of decomposition and decay. Though the cooler weather and frost have kept some of the body parts better preserved. The town is in a panic, with parents pulling their children from school early and groups going looking at local farms for any animals. This had resulted in the death of one family dog that had gotten loose earlier on the afternoon of the 17th. The State Troopers have been called in. Two town meetings have been held, but little progress has been made so far.

_y/n_ then moved back to the vile photos. Sherry’s stood out the most as she was the youngest victim. One photograph of her left hand showed that she had been wearing bubble gum pink nail polish. It was slightly chipped from wear. _y/n_ frowned at a life so young being snuffed out in such a brutal, literally animalistic, fashion. It wasn’t fair. But that was where the BAU came in; _y/n_ reflected. Not that they could change the past, but at least they could ensure that the human who committed such atrocities paid for their choices. There was a reassurance in that. When _y/n_ had finished taking notes and looking at the crime scene photos, they paused their playlist and took off the headphones. _y/n_ grabbed their file and moved over to Derek and Spencer to see what they were thinking. Now _y/n_ was ready to add their voices to the preliminary profile being built. As the jet cruised toward the small landing strip a few miles from Cottonwood Falls, the team all felt anticipation, an undercurrent of tension at what would face them in the small town below.

Cottonwood Falls was as small and quiet as Spencer had described. But it wasn’t a peaceful quiet. It was a disquiet. The team saw large groups of men sitting in the backs of various trucks, holding shotguns, and scowling as the Chase County Police Department got closer. The team didn’t see any children out, and the schoolyard and playgrounds lay quiet. Devoid of kids. It made sense, of course, four unknown people had been torn apart, literally. _y/n_, who was in an SUV with Spencer, Derek, and JJ, hoped that there would be more information once they got to the stations. _y/n_ was right as the team was slightly heard into the station, Sheriff Welsh had hastily introduced himself to the team, with Aaron running as the point man. Sheriff Welsh seemed more prepared than most small-town cops who had a bizarre crime happen in their jurisdiction. A whole corner of the department was dedicated to the case, with multiple maps and boards up on the walls with the photos neatly grouped. The information that they already had was neatly placed on two pop-up card tables. The Sherrif had the team stand near the tables, and the dark-haired man said, “I have two new bits of information to share with you now that you folks are here. The first is that although it’s not growing season, we still have some workers that hop from farm jobs to far jobs through the slow season. It turns out Katerina Lia was one of those workers. A farmer in Olathe noticed her picture in the paper and called us, saying that she had signed a two-week contract for his sorghum harvest. It was late in the year, and he needed fewer workers, but Katerina was one of them. Also, though this is a small town, we do get tourists driving through because the highway runs toward Wichita and Topeka on either side of us. So I’m thinking that these might be some people or visitors hoping to pass through and something went horribly, horribly wrong. The other big item is that the coroner has stated that the cause of death was bleeding out and shock, and the bite marks found on the body were made by dogs. Various breeds and sizes, but for sure, it was dogs.” The horrible idea seemed to weigh the Sheriff down. It made him look ill. Hotch absorbed the information and quickly said, “Thank you for those updates. For now, I’m going to send my team to various sites to gather data and when we have more information and regrouped, we’ll present a preliminary profile for yourself and your officers.” Aaron could see the question, “What’s a preliminary profile coming,” and stopped the man saying, “And I promise to explain all of the practical jargon this afternoon if that’s alright?” The Sheriff raised his hands and said, “You got it. I’m just grateful ya’ll came out here to the sticks. Take all the time you need. There are three SUVs that you can use.” Aaron nodded and signaled to the team. He stated clearly, “Morgan, Reid, you go to the hospital and look at the victims. See if there’s anything we’re missing about them. Anything that might give us a location of death. Em, JJ, you go check any animal shelters in the area. Then call the school and theater. See if you can interview the janitor and employee who found the victims. Rossi and _y/n_, come with me. We’ll check out the other two sites and see if the vets around town have had any reports of wild or rabid dogs in the last two weeks.” The team understood their roles and moved to their respective cars. Just before Hotch had stepped outside, keys in hand, he asked Weiss, “How many farmers have dogs around here?” The Sheriff shrugged his shoulders and said, “Heck, all of them that I can think of. I’d be stupid not to.” Aaron nodded and let out a sigh. He realized that it was going to be harder to track down the dogs than he might have thought, but the method of killing was so specific that he hoped they could at least find the unsub quickly. Someone in a town this small had to know something.

There was a shocking amount of vets in such a confined space. However, it made sense given how much livestock there was in the farming and ranching community. Be it hobby farms or cattle, those animals needed care. As they were driving to meet Mr. Vaunt for an interview, _y/n_ had an idea and called Penelope. _y/n_ put the techie on speaker, and Garcia answered with, “Hello, my loves. How can the Office of Supreme Intelligence assist you today?” _y/n_ couldn’t help but smile at Penelope's pep, and said, “Can you compile a list of people that visit and more importantly adopt dogs regularly in the surrounding towns and counties? It probably won’t be all at the same time, maybe two or three weeks apart.” _y/n_ caught Hotch’s eyes in the rearview. He gave them a nod of approval at thinking of this. After a short pause, Garcia said, “I’ll have to get back to you on that my sweet. These small towns seem to have fewer electronic records, but that doesn’t mean I can’t find them somewhere. I’ll get back to you when I have something.” Before Garcia hung up, Aaron said, “Garcia, nothing illegal,” in a semi-stern tone. Penelope let out a bright laugh and said, “You got it, Hotch.” After that call, the day seemed to slip by quickly. By the end of it, the team had discovered and then presented to the small police force that the unsub was most likely a white male in his mid-thirties, a recluse or someone that rarely came into town, owned land to hold a pack of dogs who had at least five large canines. The land potentially had a field of tall June grass, as lots had been found on the victims' clothing, thanks to Spencer’s keen eye, and the unsub was only targeting out-of-towners. Lastly, if the man finds another person to kill, he will take the chance to do so again without remorse as the unsub was most likely a psychopath. After the basic profile was delivered, the team worked late into the night. They speculated that the unsub might have had a bad incident with a dog in his past, or some significant trauma with an animal of some kind. Emily recommended going back to the hospital in the morning to see if there were any medical records of such an event happening around thirty years ago. Hotch agreed and made preliminary assignments for the morning. With nothing else to really go on, the team headed to their motel to turn in for the night. It was odd getting to bed before two a.m. on a case, but this was not a normal case. In his room, Hotch showered and changed. He slumped into bed, trying to ignore looking in the mirror, at this body again. It was hard for him to imagine that it had just been that morning that _y/n_ had reminded him how much they loved him in his entirety. It was funny to Hotch how quickly he forgot those things. Aaron rolled onto his stomach, grabbed his phone, which was charging, and texted _y/n_ simply writing, “I love you, _y/n_. Sleep well.” He read the quick reply of, “Love you too, Aaron,” before he turned off his lamp, set his alarms, and attempted to sleep. Aaron was having a hard time with his rest and he sat up. He moved to the door and down the hallway. He knocked on _y/n_’s door and he could see the lamps still burning bright in their room. _y/n_ let him in, headphones still in their ears. Hotch slumped down on their bed, comforted to be in _y/n_’s calming presence. They didn’t bother him as he closed his eyes. They sat down and kept reading over their notes, again, and again, and again. Aaron could hear _y/n_ tapping along with the beat of their playlist on their leg. He knew the rhythm well at this point and it lulled him to sleep as _y/n_ kept thinking deep into the night.

The dawn woke the team, and everyone was relieved to find that there wasn’t a new victim. That didn’t mean there wouldn’t be, but they would strive to make sure it didn’t happen again. At the precinct, the team drank the poor-grade coffee and talked briefly about how quiet the town was at night. Spencer had stayed up all night and heard an owl and one time the barking of a dog. The genius had admitted that even that had him scared. Of course, Morgan had made fun of Spencer for this, except he had to eat his words because one of the police dogs had barked right after his joke, and Derek nearly jumped out of his skin. That had brought a moment of lightness to a very grim case. The team, little did they know it, would need that for the rest of the day, and their time in Kansas.

Rossi suggested to Aaron that he, Derek, and Aaron go and speak to some of the men running their patrols looking for dogs. _y/n_ suggested she and Emily go and check the medical records, and JJ decided to try and contact the farmer who had employed Katerina to get more information while Spencer found maps of the area. He wanted to see if there were any large swaths of June grass in the surrounding areas, and the lean agent knew he could guess pretty well with a topological map where large patches of the native grass would grow. Aaron agreed, and everyone moved to their respective tasks. Hotch, Morgan, and Dave were told by the sheriff that most of the menfolk had met at a local dive bar down the street, made plans, and then drove out for the day to ‘explore.’ Aaron thanked the man for the information, and his group headed out. The dive bar was ironically called Shooters. The theme of the place was hunting-oriented with mounted deer heads and some old-style rifles adorning the walls. The proprietor, who was standing behind the bar was potbellied and red-cheeked. He seemed more chipper than appropriate. but Derek assumed it was because he had the room half full with lots of people holding beers or shots in front of them. The place was tackily decorated for Christmas with a small tree in the corner and lights up on the walls. One of the deer heads had a Santa hat askew on its head. Morgan and Rossi moved to speak to the owner of the bar. Aaron began talking to a few of the men, showing his badge when questioned. As Hotch moved toward another group, he noticed a small faded flyer. It had the picture of an English Springer Spaniel with a duck in its mouth. The blocky, white text read: “Here to hunt at the Lodge on Route 75? Make your time here more fun and successful by renting a purebred hunting dog! $80/day, including drop off and pick up at your designated hunting site. Call: 390-785-0092 for inquiries. There was no name attached to the flyer. Aaron moved to the man behind the bar and asked, “Do you know who put up that advertisement?” The man looked at where Hotch was pointed and took on a reflective gaze before nodding and saying in a deeply accented voice, “Yeah. That’s Jeff Karon’s side business. Man has corn and wheat crops, but in the summer we get swamped with hunters and he breeds dogs on the side for some extra cash. He’s an odd one. Lives way out there past the town limits.” Hotch nodded and wrote down the name and number. He would call Penelope and see what she came up with as well as speaking with Sheriff Weiss when they returned to the station.

_y/n_ and Emily at the hospital started to make converging discoveries with Hotch. The pair sat in the medical records room. A kind nurse had pulled out some boxes from the 1990s that she remembered being memorable cases for such a small town. After an hour they found nothing and moved to put the boxes back in the correct place. However, as they had quickly been putting the files back in chronological order, one folder was misplaced. It was much older than the rest. The front read Jeffery C. Karon 1958 - Infected Dog Bite. Emily let out a laugh, and _y/n_ turned to face her and said, “What is it?” As they put a box away on top of a dusty old one, Prentiss replied, “A file in the wrong box. Coincidentally it sounds related to the case.” _y/n_ stepped off of the one small step they needed to reach the tall, top shelf and walked over to Emily saying, “Let’s look at it. We’ve almost looked at every other file in here anyway. Maybe we can learn something.” Pretiness scoffed and opened the file as _y/n_ stood at her shoulder. However, after both agents' eyes skimmed over the first paragraph, they realized that they might have stumbled across something important. The patient data was typed and the case notes were written in cursive. They read read:

The young boy of twelve was bitten pretty severely by a rabid dog in the wheat field on the father’s farm in Oldsdaile. Ten stitches were needed to seal the wound and a rabies shot was given along with a course of antibiotics. There was a note about the patient’s father and then something about how if the wound wasn’t cleaned and cared for carefully, the boy could develop an infection in the bone and might need major surgery or worse.

_y/n_ and Pretiss looked at each other and then the photo of the young boy on a sepia-toned brownish grey. Emily grabbed the file and said, “Let’s ask around and see if anyone knows who this Jeffery Karon is.” The two agents moved to the nurse in charge of records and _y/n_ asked, “Ma’am. We found a file accidentally misplaced, but we think this person might be helpful to our investigation and the recent deaths. Do you or anyone here have any idea who this person is? If they still live around here?” The nurse took the file and looked it over. She said, “Just a moment, let me ask around.” Em and _y/n_ waited for a few minutes and the nurse returned and said, “Sorry but no one here seems to know who this is. Our old doctor. Dr. Anderson. who just retired and moved to Texas to be with his grandkids would know. I would recommend going to the town hall and looking at the records there. I can also print you a copy of this file and give Dr. Anderson’s number. Just don’t spread any of this around -- And Dr. Anderson is notorious for not answering his phone. He never really learned to use one, but perhaps that’s changed now that he’s around some youngsters.” Both agents thanked the nurse for her help and waited for the copy of the medical file and the number. It was only a few minutes before Emily and _y/n_ were back in the car and headed to the station. Instead of going to the town hall, Prentiss and _y/l/n_ decided to call Garcia instead. Before they came to that choice, they reflected how small-town cases were so different from those in the city. How they offered a change of pace to the often hectic cases in sprawling metropolises. Not that this case wasn’t urgent, just different. Emily was driving, so _y/n_ pulled out their phone to call Garcia, but just as they started to dial, Penelope called _y/n_. _y/l/n_ said, “Speak of the devil,” as they smiled and swiped answers. Garcia, always her chipper self said, “Alrighty my little chickens. It took me a while. but looking at the ten adjacent counties surrounding Cottonwood Falls there was a startling pattern. One man seems to go into these shelters and has been adopting a surprising amount of dogs that are up for euthanization. But the dude is picky. He only takes in big breeds from Shepards to Heelers to Great Danes. You name it. If it’s a big dog and it seems on its last legs, this guy will take it in.” Emily asked, “What’s this dude's name?” Garcia replied, “Jeffery Karon.” Prentiss and _y/n_ looked at each other knowingly. Both simultaneously thought, ‘Bingo.’ _y/n_ let out a sigh and said, “How many dogs are we talking about here? And how often are they being adopted?” Penelope clicked a few keys on her computer and said, “I’d say three to four a month. So maybe thirty-six a year. But some months there are no adoptions. I don’t know how one man can care for so many dogs. Feeding them alone must cost an absorbent sum each month.” _y/n_ didn’t say it but thought, ‘One way to cut costs would be to not feed them. Thus the need to adopt so many dogs.’ They thought back to the photos of the victims. They all had really been torn apart. The image of that happening was to sickening to the stomach and _y/n_ cleared her throat and said, “As always Garcia, you’re the best. We’re pulling up the precinct now and it looks like Hotch is back too, so I’ll call you with any updates when I can.” Garcia replied, “Anything for you sweetness, and I texted you the dude’s address too. It’s headed to your phone as we speak. Supreme genius out.” Emily put the car in park and they both jumped out. They both had a lot to share.

As the pair got inside _y/n_ realized that Hotch, Morgan, and Rossi had also just gotten back as well. Emily let out a breath behind them. The brunette was excited to share their news and said, “I think we might have our guy!” The three men, and JJ and Spencer in the back looked over at her. Hotch spoke first and asked, “Is his name Jeffrey Karon?” Aaron’s statement seemed to take the wind out of Emily’s sails and she replied, “Hey. How’d you know?” The small sub-teams merged, and they all got updated on what they had all learned that morning. When everyone was caught up, the team moved to Sherrif Weiss. Aaron asked the head of the police department, with a copy of Jeff’s childhood photo, “Do you know this man? Jeffrey C. Karon?” The Sheriff nodded after a moment and replied, “Yeah. Yeah, I do. He’s an odd one. He’s lived on the farm his father, Jean Karon lived on. It’s a farm out in the boonies. Jean’s wife died in childbirth and from what I understand, Jean wasn’t exactly dad material. So it was just those two for a long time. Then the town they lived in dissolved. Too many people moved out in the 70’s. A few years after that, Cottonwood Falls proposed taking the land into our county. By that point old man Karon was pretty worn out and sickly, but he was vehemently against reintegration. He waged a moral war on the idea and, well he kind of died while losing that battle and Oldsdaile became part of Cottonwood Falls. That left his twenty-year-old son with the farm and a small sum of cash the man had stored away. Jeffrey tried to go away and get an education at a local college. He fell in love with a girl. I couldn’t tell you why, but Jeff dropped out of school and brought his new wife back with him. Allegedly they had a kid together, but anytime I’ve visited that farm I’ve never seen a kid. So I guess when Jeff’s wife inevitably left him, she must have taken the kid with her. And honestly, good for her. I wouldn’t want to spend a long time out there either. But I haven’t honestly seen Jeff in over two years. Guess he ended up a recluse like his father.” The Sheriff gave a whistle after the long monologue. The Sheriff had almost forgotten the wheat farm on the far outskirts of town. The whole team took a second to absorb that the Sheriff had described the perfect unsub. Breaking from their shared trance, Hotch emphatically asked, “Where does Mr. Karon live!” As the Sheriff murmured, “Let me look. I haven’t thought of him in a long while.” While the man was puttering about, _y/n_ pulled up her phone and said, “I have it Hotch. Penelope sent it to me while we were on the way back here.” Aaron shot _y/n_ a small smile and said, “We’ll need LEOs for this Sheriff Weiss. Five men at least.” The law enforcement officer looked at Aaron with apprehension and asked, “You think Jeff is our guy?” The look Hotch shot Weiss was enough to shut the man up and then turn and order two cop cars and five officers to accompany the BAU team on their trip out to the isolated farm.

The white SUVs and two cop cars rushed down the isolated dirt and gravel road. The Karon farm was a good thirty-five minutes outside of town set on an isolated road that left the highway. As they moved down the road. _y/n_ noticed that random patches of the tall grass seemed pressed down or pushed aside unnaturally. Hotch was driving too fast for them to see what was happening but after the third time seeing the phenomena, _y/n_ called out, “Aaron, stop for a second. Somethings off on the side of the road.” Hotch threw _y/n_ a look with his classic raised eyebrow from the front. His sunglasses were blocking his eyes but after a moment, he slowed to a roll and then a stop. _y/n_ jumped out of the car with Morgan, who was also in the middle row of the car. Derek called out, “What did you see, _y/n_?” As they both ran toward another place where the grass looked odd. _y/n_ didn’t need to answer him as they pushed the tall grass aside to reveal a long wooden board with over two dozen nails pounded through the wooden beam. Morgan whistled and said, “Well that’ll stop a car alright. How many of these have you spotted already kid?” _y/n_ looked up at Derek and said, “This makes four.” The pair of agents didn’t disturb the plank in case it was needed for evidence later, and they both jogged back to the stalled car. Once inside, Morgan said, “Hotch there’s a homemade parking block spikes in the grass, and _y/n_ spotted three more before that one.” Aaron nodded and then started the car again. As he pushed the gas pedal, he said, “We did wonder how he got his victims out of their cars. Maybe they get turned around and go ask for help, but then get a flat instead. Aaron turned briefly and looked at _y/n_ and said, “Good catch. Keep a count of how many of those you see as we keep getting closer to the house.” After another four minutes, the cars reached an old rushing iron gate with a big sign in the font that read: “PRIVATE PROPERTY - DO NOT ENTER: BEWARE OF DOGS!!!” The line, “Beware of dogs,” sent a chill down everyone’s spine. Aaron attempted calling the home number twice, which Penelope had also dug up for the team, but nobody picked up, and there was no option for voice mail. One of the police officers got out of his cruiser with a pair of bolt cutters and broke open the chain that held the fence closed. The gate made a terrible screeching sound that had the team’s skin crawl. All of the cars pulled into the drive. The house was a simple farm-style house, painted white with green accents. All of the paint was badly chipped and there was a large truck parked out front. It seemed to be the only sign of life on that part of the farm. Aaron got on the radio and spoke to the other car saying, “Everyone’s wearing their FBI vests here, and everyone has weapons drawn. We can’t be sure what we’ll find in the house or on the farm. Lastly, no one, and I mean no one goes off alone. Rodger?” There was a crackle on the line and Emily replied, “Got it, Hotch.” As the team stepped out of the cars, a symphony of howling and then barking could be heard from the house Everyone went on the defensive. Hotch pulled out his microphone and stepped a few feet closer to the glass and screen door. _y/n_ followed after him a few paces. From their angle, they could see what looked like three to four big dogs at the door barking up a storm. _y/n_ had their gun aimed at the door. If something went wrong, they would have a bead on one of the dogs and would shoot if it came to that. They prayed it wouldn’t. Rossi sidled up next to _y/n_, they felt better knowing they weren’t alone in keeping Aaron safe as he clicked on the microphone and said, “Jeffrey Karon. This is Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. If you’re inside I’m giving you three minutes to restrain your dogs and come out of your home with your hands up. I’m starting a timer now.” Aaron’s voice echoed across the face of the house and the yard. It was a very tense minute and thirty seconds as the dogs continued to bray at the agents and police officers.

It felt like an eternity before one of the windows on the side of the house revealed a haggard-looking man who shouted, “Get off my goddamn property before I get a shotgun and shoot you, people. ‘Tis is an ‘nvastion of ma rights. My God-given rights ‘ye hear me!” All eyes turned to the window and again, Aaron stepped forward and said, “You don’t have any right Mr. Karon. You’re suspected of five counts of first-degree murder and tampering with remains. Now come downstairs and restrain your dogs or my team and I will come in and do what we have to restrain you. And I don’t think you’re so stupid to not know what will happen to you if you do try and get a gun.” Jeffrey was red-faced and spluttered, but in a half-show, Aaron looked at his watch and said, “You have a minute and a half left,” then Hotch angled his gun at the front door. Of course, _y/n_ knew that Aaron wouldn’t shoot one of Mr. Karon’s dogs unless it was a life-or-death scenario, but Mr. Karon didn’t. Hotch’s threat was enough to have the man at the window shout, “Fine, fine I’m coming. Don’t shoot the dogs. God damn you. I’m suing if anything happens to those dogs!” Aaron lowered the sidearm and let out a breath, slightly surprised that his strategy had worked. The team watched with bated breath as Jeff moved down the stairs slowly. He looked like he was in pain, as he walked with a significant limp, gripping the white stair rail tightly. The man called his dogs loudly enough for the team to hear him say, “Here boys, here.” At the call of their owner, the dogs all moved away from the door and to the foot of the stairs. Now that they were farther back, _y/n_ could see that it was five dogs, not three. All of the canines' tails seemed to wag happily as they saw their owner. Jeff petted all of them and seemed to give them a treat from the pocket of his robe. Something the older man said had the dogs stop barking. Jeff moved toward the door and Aaron and the team stepped onto the porch. Aaron looked at Jeff as the man moved to open the door. Hotch gripped the handle and closed it as soon as the man tried to open it. Aaron said clearly, “Put your dogs on leads and attach those leads to the stair rail.” Jeff blustered and said, “My dogs don’t go on lead. No State Commie can make me do that.” Hotch glared at the man and said, “They go on leads when I say they do. If you don’t do as I say I’ll add intentionally delaying a state investigation to your list of charges. Do you want the state looking into you more than we already are, Mr. Karon?” Jeff furrowed his brow and turned. The man who had tanned and spotted skin like many men who spent hours in the sun let out a litany of curse words as he moved to the other side of the room and grabbed five old faded leads. Again, the team watched as he moved painfully toward his dogs and one by one attached the lead to their collar and then tied the collars to the staircase. This took about seven minutes and finally, Aaron motioned for Rossi and _y/n_ to follow him as they breached the door. There was some chaos as Hotch cuffed Jeff and the dogs barked at seeing their owner get angry and yell again. Aaron twisted Karon’s arm uncomfortably and said, “I’d put a rag in it and answer any questions asked to you, Mr. Karon.” The added pain had the farmer shut up for a second before the man spit at Aaron’s shoes and said, “I’ll shut up. I want a lawyer. You big city types think you can break into an honest man’s house and threaten him, well. We’ll see about that, Special Agent Hotchner.” Jeffrey seemed to have a glint of malice in his eyes, and Aaron pushed him toward one of the officers, not letting the threat affect him. Aaron told the officer he handed Karon off to, “Put him in the back of one of the cruisers and read him his Miranda’s. If he says anything, record it. Anything could be important in this case. And once you're done that, take the dogs out and attach them to the wooden railing on the poach. Make sure they have shade and water.” The officer looked a little hesitant but nodded and began hauling Jeffrey off.

Now that the house seemed quiet, Aaron had the team split up into groups of two and look over the whole abode. Even though the dogs and Karon were out of the house, that didn’t mean that they dropped their guard. As the echoes of “Clear” rang through the upstairs and downstairs, the team seemed to lighten up. The most interesting things in the house were the profound amount of liquor bottles in the bedroom and kitchen, as well as the cabinet full of assorted pain meds in the bathroom. It was obvious to Spencer, Emily, and _y/n_ that Karon was self-medicating. If it was just for the leg injury that he had gotten as a child or something more, they couldn’t know until someone interviewed the potential unsub. Spencer took a moment too long looking at the multiple narcotics bottles for _yn_’s comfort and they gently said, “I’ve got this Spencer. Why don’t you help Morgan.” Reid looked at _y/n_ with a hint of gratitude and nodded softly saying, “Thanks, _y/n_.” _y/n_ just smiled at him and said, “No prob, Spence.’ With that, Spencer left the bathroom while Emily was looking over the bedroom. _y/n_ gave a small sigh. They knew Reid was clean, and had been for a few years now, but they knew how easy it was to fall back into bad habits, and alleviating any possibility was the least they could do for their friend. But the most interesting thing in the house was the little boy’s room on the first floor next to the living room. The pastel-blue walled room was caked in dust. So much that Hotch had a coughing fit for three minutes after leaving the room. It was hard to tell if it was Karon’s old room or his supposed son’s. Garcia hadn’t been able to find a record of Jeffrey Karon having a son, but she did find a name and address for his ex-wife who now lived in Tennessee. Hotch was beginning to think that the story about Mr. Karon having a son was a local legend of some kind. A story passed around about the strange old recluse with a tragic backstory who lived at the edge of town. Either way, the room being so well preserved and unused would prove helpful in trying to crack Jeffrey in the interview process. The child’s room meant something to him. When the house had been gone through, the team spread out in groups of two again to search the rest of the large thirty-acre property.

Behind the house was an ATV with the keys still in the ignition. Derek speculated that that was the easiest way to navigate the bumpy roads between the fields. The largest wheat field had two barns on one side of it. The first barn was for a large group of chickens that squawked when Spencer and Derek entered the smelly space. The other barn seemed to have regular farming equipment and feed for the assortment of animals that resided on the land. However, as _y/n_ moved a rake through the deep chicken feed containers, something snagged on the tines of the object. Pulling the tool up revealed a very tattered shirt sleeve. _y/n_ called in and let the team know what she’d found. Emily was up in the hayloft and said, “_y/n_, there’s a pillow and blanket up here too. Let the team know I think someone might be sleeping up here.” _y/n_ acknowledged Prentiss and let the team know the new information. Once Em had documented the small and narrow loft space, which was barely seven boards wide and could be accessed by a ladder, she climbed down to help _y/n_ to see if they could find anything else in the grain bins. As it turned out, a lot more was to be found including shoes, pants, IDs of the victims, and cash. Not only did they find the personal identification of all of the victims so far, but they found three new IDs and a passport of victims, who had not yet been found or reported missing.

The last metaphorical nail in Jeffrey Karon’s case was when Aaron and Rossi plus two other officers neared the oldest and largest barn on the other side of the wheat field which Spencer aptly pointed out had been tilled and Blue grass had been planted as a filler crop until next planting season. Neither car needed to even roll down its windows, as they neared the barn and heard the near-constant cacophony of barking and growling that filled the air in a disorganized symphony of sound. All four men drew their guns again. Obviously, they couldn’t just open the barn doors because Aaron didn’t know how the dogs inside this barn were being contained, or if they were contained at all. The BAU men moved around the barn, and Rossi found a ladder that would let them look up and into the barn’s higher windows. Aaron and Rossi moved the ladder to the window. Dave kept the ladder steady and Hotch climbed up to the dusty glass. Aaron slipped off his sunglasses and used his keen sight to look into the dim barn. He could see that one-third of the barn was empty but the other two-thirds had a strong very tall metal fence containing the bodies of a dozen dogs or more moving, writhing, and barking at the almost darkness. Every now and then one of the canine’s teeth would catch the light of the window Hotch was looking in, and Aaron couldn’t help but imagine how those teeth felt tearing into a human's flesh. The idea revolted him. He caught something odd, a red glowing light on the front of the cage. Aaron called for a pair of binoculars which were quickly brought to him. Hotch carefully shot out the windows which only set the dogs inside off more, but without the glass in the way and with the aid of the binoculars, he could see that there was a locking mechanism on the front of the padded gate. This reassured Aaron that they could get into the barn, but it only added that Jeffrey was smarter than he let on. Lawyering up was one thing, but having a timed gate assured that Mr. Karon didn’t become an accidental victim to the dogs inside the barn. Aaron quickly stepped down the ladder and told Rossi and the officers that they were clear to enter the hostile den. The officers seemed hesitant, but Rossi brushed past them, trusting Hotch and opening the doors of the barn. The dogs went wild and rushed the gate but couldn’t get out. Hotch and Dave covered their ears, and they stepped into the barn. Even though it might be safe for them to be inside the dank-smelling space, they kept a good five-foot distance from the dogs. Aaron observed that all of the dogs were malnourished and had their tails docked. Many of the dogs had bite marks and looked in ill health. Rossi noticed the feathers on the floor of the cage. There was a children’s pool filled with stinking water and flies on the far side of the cage. Aaron took pictures of the dogs, the cage, and the locking mechanism which seemed to be turned on via a switch or remote timer. Hotch felt a pang of pity for the dogs inside the barn and what a horrible life they had been put through. However, he realized that these animals had also killed up to seven human beings. There was no nice way of putting that. When Rossi and Aaron had seen what they needed to, Aaron called Sheriff Weiss and brought the man up to date. He detailed the need for animal control and that they would need a lot of animal control. Weiss had paused and said that he would have to call into multiple counties and vets for help getting all the dogs out of the barn. Hotch understood and agreed. Aaron left one of the policemen to sit in his cruiser just outside the bard to wait as long as it took for the animal control members to arrive and take care of the situation inside the barn. The officer seemed to relax when he realized that he could wait inside his protected vehicle.

With the farm mostly searched and a lot of damning evidence gathered, the team left with Mr. Karon to conduct their first interview. The unsub had said very little except for cursing the officer in the other police car out. The team left another three officers to cordon off the farm and sites of interest. At the precinct, Jeffrey was quickly moved into a room that was normally a holding cell for those who had too much to drink and needed the night to sober up before going home to their wives in shame with another fifty-dollar ticket of disorderly conduct or public indecency. It was the best the small police station had for an interrogation room. Sheriff Weiss had a table and chairs brought in and Derek and Rossi had the first round of trying to get the unsub to talk. Outside the cell _y/n_ paced and Aaron watched them while also looking into the room with Jeffrey. Something was upsetting _y/n_ and he could tell. It was not only the pacing, but the way _y/n_ was just slightly biting the inside of their cheek. After a minute of this, Aaron turned to them and asked, “What it is _y/n_?” _y/n_ turned on their heel and said, “It can’t be him Hotch? You smelled his breath when we first got in the house. It reeked of alcohol and he was stumbling around either because he was drunk or high on meds, or both. I don’t know how a man like that can pull something like this off. Not by himself. Not to mention his leg injury. He can barely walk. He couldn’t possibly handle those dogs in the barn. Plus, we’re looking for a supposed psychopath. Mr. Karon might be disturbed, but he loved those dogs in the house. How does that work?” Aaron nodded. He had felt that something was off too, but having _y/n_ put it into words helped solidify how he felt. _y/n_ said, “It’s something to do with that boy’s room. That makeshift bed in the barn. I think we’re missing something big. I think I should go back.” Hotch nodded and said, “I’m coming with you.” _y/n_ gave him just the smallest smile and said, “Alright. I’ll tell the team, why don’t you start the car? I’ll be out in a minute.” Aaron agreed and moved outside. It didn’t take long for them to get back to the farm. Aaron had an officer go with _y/n_ to the boy’s room, and he and another officer moved back to the barn to look at the cot again. The two were determined to find out what vital piece was missing from the bigger picture.

Back in the interrogation room, Karon wasn’t talking and it had been nearly fifty minutes. Derek was saying, “So what, you get bitten by a dog when you're a kid and then have dogs kill people? What do you gain from that, Karon? Apart from some sick need to see people be torn apart.” The man didn’t answer and Rossi tried another approach saying, “Why keep your bedroom the same Jeffrey? Why lock it up and keep it preserved? Why is it so important to you?” This finally had a response for the unsub and he said, “That room’s special to me, yeah. Gotta keep it like that for when she comes back.” Morgan and Dave looked at each other and Rossi asked, “Who comes back, Mr. Karon? You’re wife? Your son?” Jeffrey put his head in his hands and said, “That goodman bitch of a wife you idiot. My son’s still there. But he’s not like he used to be. And I’m not like I used to be, get it. Before that bitch of a city slicker wife left me everything was fine. FINE! Get it, but she left and it all went bad. Went to goddamn shit.” Morgan cared less about the wife and more about the fact that Jeff had said his son was still on the property, on the farm. Derek asked, “Your son, Karon. Where is he!” Jeff laughed and the built agent raised to his feet and slammed his hands on the table near the unsub, getting him to stop laughing and Morgan said again, “Where is your son!” Karon chuckled a little and said, “Sleeps ‘n the barn at night. I hear four of those cops are still out there, and two of your agents. Pity for them. Jason’s better with the dogs than I am. Has been for the last ten years since my fucking leg’s been acting up more. Motherfucker of a leg.” This realization hit the two FBI agents like a ton of bricks. There was a beat of silence before Rossi rushed out of the room to call Aaron and let him know that Karon’s son was on the farm while Derek worked his best to not beat the crap out of the man in front of him and try and get something that might help Hotch and _y/n_. Rossi paced as he waited for Aaron to pick up. Finally, his friend did, saying, “Hotchner.” Dave nearly yelled, “Karon’s son is still living on the farm. He’s the one letting the dogs out. Where’s _y/n_? Are you with them?”

Aaron’s stomach dropped like a bag of stones as he realized _y/n_ hadn’t checked in in over twenty minutes. He put Dave on hold and called _y/n_. He prayed that they’d pick up, but _y/n_’s phone went to voicemail. Aaron then tried radioing the officer with _y/n_ but all he got was the man sitting outside the barn. Hotch almost threw himself down the ladder to the loft and shouted at the officer at the bottom to follow him. Hotch drove faster the he ever had toward the farmhouse. Something told him that he would find answers there. It had been _y/n_’s last location for starters. Aaron didn’t even bother turning off the car as he and the officer rushed into the house, guns drawn. There was no one in the main room, but sounds were coming from the kitchen. Aaron breached the room and found a large man standing with a clever aim to cut apart a de-feathered chicken. The man froze when Aaron rushed the room and pointed the gun at him, Jason Karon. Hotch shouted, “Put the knife down slowly or I shoot.” The man didn’t seem to care that he was moving incredibly slowly while he set the knife down on the butcher block. Hotch then shouted, “Where is the other agent and officer?” The large man shrugged, and Aaron shouted again, stepping within a foot of the second unsub’s face, “Where is my agent!” Jason said slowly with a small glint in his eyes, “Middle of the wheat field I guess. That fucking agent bit me. Had to tranque ‘em. Dogs ‘ill get ‘em soon. But don’t ya worry. I gave ‘em a fighting chance. Set a timer for the dog's release. It’s no fun to watch them die if they’re tranqued. Dogs ‘ill be out in ‘bout fifteen minutes and if I timed it right, the drugs ‘ill wear off a bit before then. I ain’t never seen a cop die before. Should be fun” There was a devil-may-care attitude that indicated the unsub cared nothing for human life. The rage that filled Aaron nearly had him shoot the man in front of him, but the fact that _y/n_ was still alive and could be torn apart had Aaron brush past Jason and ran out the back door so quickly that he didn’t even tell the officer to restrain the man. He only had thoughts for _y/n_. Hotch straddled the ATV, turned the key that was miraculously still in the ignition and pressed the electronic throttle. Aaron could feel the wind in his face and his hands held onto the handlebars of the ATV with a death grip. He entered the wheat field in around seven minutes and slowed slightly as he got closer to the center. He didn’t want to run over _y/n_, but he knew he had only minutes to find them before both of them were going to face the same fate as all the other victims from before. Just as Aaron heard the first howling of the dogs, he found _y/n_ on the cold ground.

Hotch jumped off the vehicle and ran to _y/n_. Their eyes were open but glazed. _y/n_’s hands were bound, but not their feet. Aaron grabbed _y/n_ and pulled them onto the ATV in front of him. _y/n_ was lucid enough to move their feet with Aaron’s. As Hotch kicked the ignition on again. He saw the first three dogs breach the tall grass. Hotch opened up the throttle. He held _y/n_ to his chest while he tried to press the gas and control the ATV all at the same time. Even at the full thirty miles per hour, the dogs were catching up to them. Aaron felt his heart beat faster than it ever had before. It was like he could hear the breaths of the crazed animals following him, could hear their feet hitting the ground, which would outpace him and _y/n_ soon. Another three minutes and they’d be out of the field, and the police would see what was happening and come to help. At least that was what Aaron hoped. But a sound had Hotch’s heart nearly stop. At the edge of the wheat field, the engine of the ATV spluttered loudly. Hotch looked down at the gas gauge: E. Aaron pushed the machine as far as it would go but it slowed after another thirty seconds, then died.

There was a split second when Aaron thought there was no way for them to live. His mind went blank, black. But _y/n_ stirred, and he knew they couldn’t die. He’d happily die, but _y/n_ couldn’t die. Not like this. They deserved warmth, retirement, and old age, and happiness. And because Aaron couldn’t have the love of his life die, he was forced to think in a split second. This brought up two options. The first was to shoot as many of the dogs as possible. He knew that he wouldn’t get to all of them before the rest overpowered them, but this was an option that would reduce the number of animals that would kill them. Maybe the others would get scared off by the sounds of gunfire. The other option was to make a run for the barn with the loft inside. It was about ten feet from the open barn door. Something in Aaron’s gut told him this was the only option where _y/n_ lived. Aaron didn’t care if he died; he just needed _y/n_ to live.

So with his soul telling him, compelling him forward, Aaron dismounted, pulled _y/n_ over his broad shoulders, and ran the fastest he had ever run before.

Step, step step, breath. Step, step, step breath. Pothole. Twisted ankle. Step, step, step, shooting pain up the leg. The reek of dog breath, and teeth at his legs. Breath. Door, ladder, Teeth in the leg, Foot to dogs mouth, Last step.

Aaron’s heart felt like it might burst, and his muscles had never hurt so much, never been pushed so hard. However, there wasn’t time for that, as one of the dogs had used its legs to get to the top of the ladder. Not even thinking of his gun, Aaron kicked at the dog's head, trying to avoid the now bloody and snapping teeth. When the dog had fallen, Aaron used his hands to tear the old ladder from the loft sending it crashing to the ground below. Even though the ladder was old, it was rusted in place with only Aaron’s adrenaline that allowed him to get it off the loft. Hotch slumped back next to _y/n_. How he had managed to get them both up the ladder, he wasn’t sure. Aaron pushed _y/n_ to the wall and lay very closely pressed to them as there wasn’t room for both of their bodies in the loft. Aaron was half in shock. He didn’t really hear the gunshots from the officers below, but he could somehow feel the heat from the blowback and saw the light flash from the ignitions. The noise seemed to rouse _y/n_ more, and Hotch moved to cover their ears. He was blocking their view of below with his body. Even he didn’t want to see what lay beneath the loft, but after a few minutes, whatever chaos had been happening stopped. Aaron could now see the red and blue lights of either an ambulance or police car on the wall of the barn. Sound suddenly rushed back into Hotch’s senses. He also registered the pain in his body and leg where he had been bitten. Due to his shock, Aaron felt like stuff happened to him for the next two hours. Aaron did make sure that _y/n_ got into the first ambulance that had arrived even though they started saying that he needed it more because he was hurt and they weren’t. In the end, it didn’t matter as the only other ambulance from the small local hospital arrived shortly after. Hotch was given a local anesthetic in his left leg which had been bitten to the muscle below. Aaron was so exhausted, and now that he knew that _y/n_ was safe, he closed his eyes and let everything else that was happening to and around him just wash over him like a flood

It turned out that Aaron needed ten stitches for his bites and a set of antibiotics to make sure that he didn’t let the bite get infected. _y/n_ had been given a larger dose of Tiletamine and they needed to be kept on close observation as that medication was related but not the same as Ketamine and the side effects of that drug on humans were not known as it wasn’t a drug not meant to be used on humans. _y/n_ felt queasy and said they had a bad headache and were weak, but thankfully the symptoms didn’t get much worse than that. After a few hours of close monitoring for both Aaorn and _y/n_. The hospital staff felt that both agents would pull out without too much physical damage. However, the hospital required Aaron to stay put until the local anesthetic wore off so they could assess his pain, and that _y/n_ stay for a full twenty-four hours to ensure there were no long-lasting side effects of the drugs they had been given. Rossi went in and checked on Hotch first, letting him know that _y/n_ was going okay apart from some slight discomfort and nausea. He then explained what had happened since Aaron had been out of the loop for around three hours. How the police had handled most of the dogs by the time the rest of the BAU had arrived. How Jason Karon had been taken into custody and his father had agreed to throw his flesh and blood under the bus for a potentially lighter sentence once he found out that his son had been caught. How Jeffrey Karon had delusions about his wife coming home, how Jason had all the makings of a psychopath, and how together the father and son had made a fun hobby of killing anyone unlucky enough to land on their farm that they both wanted to protect with their lives. Hotch listened with disgust at the narrative and how so many had died for nothing more than a game, a distraction. He reflected on how in some cases, no one seemed to win. There were just losers. But then again, _y/n_ could have died. He could have died. Not that he valued his life much, but _y/n_ was physically okay, and that was enough of a positive to let him relax just a little bit into the bed. Rossi looked down at Aaron from his chair, gave his friend a pat on the shoulder, and said, “You did everything you could, and sometimes that just has to be enough.

The next morning, _y/n_, who had been given some medication to help them sleep, woke to Aaron sitting by their bedside. They rubbed the sleep from their eyes and looked over the parts of their love that they could see. _y/n_ noticed the bandaging on Aaron’s leg, and they asked, “Should you be out of bed?” Hotch chuckled and tried to lighten the mood by saying, “Oh, I just had to fight two nurses to get here from my room.” _y/n_ leveled him with a glare that had him honestly say, “But seriously, they let me out last night after you were under. Rossi insisted that I not stay here all night waiting for you to wake up.” That got a small smile from _y/n_, and they replied, “Remind me to send Rossi a thank you card when we get home.” Aaron laughed again and rolled his eyes before asking, “How are you feeling today? I’m sure the nurses will be in here in a moment to ask you the same, but I’d like to hear it first.” _y/n_ took a moment to think about their physical state before saying, “Better. I still have a bit of a headache, but much better than last night.” Hotch nodded and then looked to the door as two nurses entered the room as he had guessed. The medical staff asked Aaron to sit in one of the chairs near the wall as they performed some routine checks on _y/n_ and assessed their vital signs. After the nurses had given _y/n_ a dose of medication to make sure they remained stable, they left Aaron and _y/n_ alone again, promising to be back in half an hour to check up on _y/n_.

When they had gone, Aaron moved back to his prior seat. _y/n_ held out their hands for Hotch and he took it in his, running his thumb over their knuckles. Aaron looked up and _y/n_ was looking at him with sad eyes, like they knew something already, but they wished it wasn’t true. _y/n_ had a vague memory of some of yesterday, but with the drugs and the excitement, it had seemed to fade; they asked Hotch softly, “Tell me what happened yesterday. Everything that happened.” Aaron hesitated before replying, “_y/n_, it’s not very pleasant. Maybe you should wait a bit.” _y/n_ sighed and said, “Once the team comes to see me they’ll talk about it and I’d rather hear it from you. I do remember the doctor telling me I’m stuck here for twenty-four hours last night which leaves me with about ten hours to spare.” Aaron sighed before realizing that they were right. He recounted the events of the former day to _y/n_. They squeezed his hand as he described how he’d gotten them out of the field and to the barn. How he couldn’t let them die, and how that had saved his own life. _y/n_ didn’t have the right words to thank him for saving their life at that moment, but Aaron could see it, the look of thanks in their eyes. Instead of saying anything else, he leaned down and kissed _y/n_’s forehead. His lips lingered on their skin. Aaron knew that they had saved each other in an unspoken way. Aaron couldn’t let _y/n_ die, and deep down, he knew that they’d never forgive him if he’d died yesterday either, which had pushed him to run instead of shooting at the dogs. _y/n_ seemed to notice his shift in thoughts, and they asked, “And the dogs?” Aaron knew they would ask about the dogs soon. As someone who cherished animals, he knew his response would bring _y/n_ pain. Hotch pulled back and just nodded his head no, indicating the worst. _y/n_ closed their eyes and let out a half breath, half sob, saying, “They didn’t do anything wrong. They didn’t know what was happening.” Aaron squeezed their hand and said, “I know, love. But maybe it was a mercy. They weren’t treated well, and I heard from one of the officers that a lot of them looked sick. The state wouldn’t have let them live, and they went quickly.” A few tears fell from _y/n_’s eyes, but they nodded ever so slightly, wanting to believe Aaron. Trusting what he said, even if he had fibbed, even if they could hear him lying to make them feel better. _y/n_ opened their eyes and asked, “What about the dogs from in the house? Those were good dogs? Nice dogs.” Aaron replied, “I’m not sure. I didn’t think about them when we got back to the farm. I’ll call the Sheriff later and see what he says. Maybe animal control came and took them before we got back.” _y/n_ nodded, also remembering how the other dogs had been gone once they arrived. They hoped that at least those dogs that they had petted on the first visit to the barn would find good forever homes, far away from the farm. Far away from Kansas.

Later that evening, _y/n_ was discharged, and the following day, the team was headed back to Quantico after the largest thank you from Sheriff Weiss. Aaron ever so slightly accepted the gratitude but knew with a weariness that another, possibly worse case was waiting for them on JJ’s desk, and the two men shook hands. On the plane, Hotch and _y/n_ both took their mid-day meds from the hospital. _y/n_’s medication left them drowsy, and they moved to sit next to Aaron on the couch, slipping on their headphones and slipping their right hand into his. _y/n_ nestled slightly closer into his side and rested their head on his shoulder. Aaron pressed a kiss to _y/n_’s temple and moved back to the file in his hand. After about twenty minutes, the words began swimming in front of his eyes, and Aaron closed the file and realized he was defeated for the moment. Hotch tapped _y/n_ on the shoulder, and they roused a bit, mumbling, “What is it, Aaron?” Wordlessly, he put out a hand for one of their headphones. _y/n_ smiled and handed one over. Hotch slipped the earbud into his right ear and let the soft soundtrack of Hozier’s “Francesca,” “Northern Attitude,” and _y/n_’s favorite Unknown / Nth” envelope him like a hug. Aaron realized that whenever he listened to this playlist, he could picture _y/n_ so clearly in his mind. Their time together. The soft longing in the Irish man’s voice had become a connection for how much he loved and longed to spend his days with _y/n_. As he slipped off to sleep, he pictured them back home, already nestled in bed, under the covers, skin to skin. His face rested in a calm facade for once as the jet flew thousands of miles above the ground, taking them home.

When they all got back to Virginia, the team went to their separate houses, Aaron and _y/n_ arrived home, ready for some sleep. Aaron went to the kitchen to make them an early dinner while _y/n_ unpacked their go bags and replaced their dirty clothes with fresh ones whenever the next case came their way. Turning on the light, _y/n_ caught sight of their reflection in the mirror, reminded them of how Hotch had looked at himself before the case, the way he spoke of himself. _y/n_ remembered the idea of getting him into a warm bath and showering him with praise while they sat by the side of the tub, rubbing his shoulders and massaging his scalp. The idea sent a flush through them, and they were determined to make it happen after all they had been through on the last case. _y/n_ had to wait a few days until Aaron could be safely submerged in water. His leg had significantly healed, and he was now putting on a topical antibiotic cream to the bite area instead of the stronger oral tablets he’d been taking before. It was Wednesday evening, and _y/n_ sent Hotch off on a short errand to get some tomato sauce and zucchini for dinner. While he was gone, _y/n_ filled the tub with hot water, lit some of their _y/f/c_’s, and dimmed the lights to low in the bedroom. _y/n_ also put a sheet over the standing mirror in the bedroom and a towel over the mirror in the bathroom. This was about Aaron cherishing his body, not putting it under a microscope. Just when all of this was done, _y/n_ heard Aaron enter the apartment and set the grocery bags on the counter. _y/n_ slipped out of the bedroom and found Aaron, kissing him. Hotch smiled at them, and as _y/n_ wordlessly pulled him into the bedroom, he didn’t question it or protest. Aaron did, however, look a bit taken aback as _y/n_ started undoing the buttons of his shirt He asked softly, “Is everything alright, sweetheart?” _y/n_ smiled at him tenderly and said, “It will be when you have your clothes off.” Aaron flushed. _y/n_ was rarely so brazen, and he didn’t know what this was about, but he didn’t stop himself from undoing his belt and sliding his trousers to the ground. Now that his shirt and pants were off, and his skin exposed to the cool air of the room he took _y/n_’s hand and looked at the bed as if asking if they wanted to move there now. _y/n_ leaned down a bit and kissed his chest, running their hands down his torso and beneath the band of his underwear. Hotch took in a sharp breath, flexing his muscles. _y/n_ pulled his last article of clothing down and simultaneously began gently sucking on one of the scars Foyett had left on his upper torso.

Aaron whispered their name and made to move to the bed, but _y/n_ said, “Actually, I drew you a warm bath. I, I kind of thought you might need something relaxing after that last case.” Hotch’s dark eyes changed from something filled with desire to a different kind of want; to be shown affection, and his gaze softened ever so slightly as he whispered, “Would you lead the way?” _y/n_ nodded, taking his hand as they led him to the bathroom. They checked the temperature of the water, and it felt perfect. Aaron kissed _y/n_ once more before settling in the tub. He lowered himself slowly into the water, letting it lap at his thighs, groin, and finally, his chest. He let out a sigh at how comforting the bath felt. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d treated himself to something like this. He could sense _y/n_ move behind him with soft steps and then get onto their knees near the lip of the tub. _y/n_ dipped their hands in the water and ran them over his broad, muscled shoulders, which were tight from the stress he kept in his neck and upper back. As _y/n_ began running firm hands over the knots, Aaron turned his head to the side and asked, “Would you get in with me, _y/n_?” _y/n_ paused, and though that had not been their original plan, a bath with Aaron sounded like bliss. _y/n_ put their head near this mouth and said, “Okay. Just give me a moment to put away the groceries. I’ll grab you a drink too.” Hotch smiled and nodded. He was happy that if he was going to be so relaxed, that _y/n_ would get to revel in it too.

Aaron didn’t think much about how long _y/n_ was taking to put away the groceries, get him a drink, and then strip in the next room. He kept his eyes closed and pictured _y/n_ and really, without thinking about it, started humming _y/n_’s favorite song. When the tune to the chorus came around, he murmured the words as well in his soft tenor voice. Little did he know that _y/n_ was standing in the doorway listening to him. When _y/n_ stepped forward, he stopped immediately as if embarrassed for singing aloud. _y/n_ didn’t comment yet as they stepped into view, now stripped of their clothes. Aaron looked up at them, reveling in the sight of them fully revealed to him. Not that he didn’t see this every day, but it never failed to take the breath from him. _y/n_ handed him a chilled glass with an amber liquid inside saying, “Thought you might enjoy a scotch.” Aaron downright beamed at _y/n_’s thoughtfulness and said, “You’re singing my song.” _y/n_ smiled and cheekily replied, as they got into the bath, “Actually, I think you were singing my song.” Hotch flushed, as he took his first sip of his drink. There was a silence before _y/n_ asked, “Would you sing the rest of it for me? I don’t think I’ve ever really heard you sing before.” Aaron spluttered for a second, and he said, “Probably because I’m not a good singer, _y/n_. I think my talents lie elsewhere.” _y/n_ gave a soft pout and said, “I think you sounded lovely before. Please, Aaron.” Hotch knew he could never refuse them, and he steeled himself as he finished singing the third verse, bridge, and chorus of Hozier’s lyrics. He was shocked that the words just came to him, as he’d never actually looked them up before. But he guessed he’d just heard it so often and listened to _y/n_ sing them in the car or the shower that they had soaked into his neural paths naturally. After he finished, he looked to _y/n_ for some response.

Their smile told him what he needed to know, and he relaxed back more fully. For a moment there was just the soft sound of water lapping at their bodies. Eventually, _y/n_ said, “You know I love every part of you, right?” Aaron opened his eyes and met _y/n_’s as he responded with, “_y/n_ I…” He dropped the sentence because he didn’t know how to finish it. He did know that they loved every part of him, but he felt this was more than just about their perception of him. Aaron’s silence told _y/n_ that he was thinking and they gently said, “I mean it, Aaron. I love your mind that’s sharp as a razor, and I love your determination to do the right thing and protect people, and I love your body too. No matter how you change with age and time, nothing is going to stop me from loving you wholly. I need you to know that. I wouldn’t be here right now if it hadn’t been for all three of those things a week back.” The cynical side of his brain had him say, “_y/n_, that was all adrenaline in the heat of the moment.” _y/n_ scoffed at his logic slightly and said, “And? So what? That was your adrenaline that saved me. No one else's. Not the cop’s, not Derek’s. It was you who put your body on the line for me and didn’t let me die in a field in Kansas. You think you’re not capable of things because you’re getting older, but me being here is proof that you’re more capable than you know. And you always will be Aaron.” Hotch felt the weight of their words and emotions in _y/n_’s statement, and he almost started crying. He looked at _y/n_ through bleary eyes and said, “Thank you for taking care of me, _y/n_.” That was all he could get out without letting his tears actually fall. _y/n_ gave him a soft smile of understanding and opened their legs to make space for him, and they patted their chest for him to lean on. Aaron moved so his back was against their chest, and _y/n_ said, “Always, Aaron. We’ll always be there for each other.” Aaron closed his eyes and chose to let go of his negative thoughts for now. Choosing to accept _y/n_’s reality. Choosing to believe that he was worthy. As he settled back into their embrace, _y/n_ started working his aching muscles with their hands, whispering words of praise. He knew he had made it home.

______________________________________________________________

Tag list: @tgskitten @geminitapestry

Want to be added to the tag list? Please see this post, CM Tag List (linked)

110 notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 2 years

Text

a guide to writing 'baby talk'

i've been writing and reading fanfiction for years! over that time, i've noticed that a lot of people attempt to either write a young child speaking with a speech impediment, or mimic the way a child with a speech impediment would talk. this form of dialogue is generally known as 'baby talk'. sometimes it's perfect, and i can hear the voice in my head when i'm reading. but sometimes, it goes wrong, and i want to explain why.

where people make mistakes is when they add letters instead of replacing letters. common baby talk in fanfictions is either switching 'r's to 'w's, or switching 'l's to 'w's. both are good examples of how children with speech impediments speak! of course, there are other speech impediments, but those are fairly common ones, and as such, are used the most in fanfictions.

so, let's talk about adding versus replacing. when you want to say 'love', while replacing 'l's with 'w's, you'd say 'wove' or 'wuv', right? because that eliminates the letter that the child is mispronouncing, and replaces it with the letter they substitute in. What you don't want to do, is something like this: "Mister" -> "Mwister" (There's no r after the m in 'mister' to be replacing), "Candy" -> "Cwandy" (there's no r after the c in 'candy' to be replacing), "Play" -> "Plway" (Both letters are left in instead of the correct one being deleted). These are all real examples that I've seen, and by pointing their errors out I don't mean to shame, I mean to use them as tools for education. Your goal is to replace a letter, not add a letter.

Sometimes, baby talk isn't easy to spell. Wardrobe is a hard word to spell phonetically with a speech impediment. The rs get substituted with w's, meaning that just swapping out the letters would get you Wawdwobe. However, phonetically, or at least, to my eyes, that reads like wah-dwobe. Be conscious of how your readers could hear the word you've typed, and if I were to adjust the spelling of that to make it sound more accurate as 'baby talk', I'd write wohdwobe. "Woh" being pronounced akin to "War" with a british accent. of course, that looks near unintelligible without context, but if I were to have a young character read out the phrase The Lion (Wion, if i was subbing l's for w's), The Witch, and the Wohdwobe, you could figure it out. And if you don't wanna go through that trouble at all, just pick another book.

I tell people whenever they ask for writing advice to please read your dialogue out loud!! this is even more important here, when you're listening for the voice of a child. say your 'baby talk' out loud, does it actually sound like something a kid would say? i work with children, specifically young ones who are just learning to speak, so I suppose I'm privileged with a better understanding of how language develops and sounds from a young child than some are. But use what you've seen on tv and movies if you don't have a real-life source! if you read your 'baby talk' dialogue out loud, and it sounds unrealistic, you might have some more research to do.

and, uh, something i never thought i'd have to say - don't use baby talk in sexual situations please.. if i ever see the word 'pwussy' under a smut fanfiction again i'm going to shoot myself in the face (also that's not even done right anyways so)

#mei the tutor #writing advice #writing tips #writing help

239 notes · View notes

ramzawrites · 2 years

Text

ARIA - Autonomous Research Interactive Assistant | AI!Reader in the Krang Apocalypse

Gen

Part 2

Pairings: None

Characters included: Future!Donatello, Future!Michelangelo, Future!S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N

Warnings: n/a

Series: Part 1

Summary: Donnie is stretched thin in the apocalypse. Everyone needs the help of the genius but there is always so much to do, even with the help of his family and Shelldon.

But luckily Donnie is a genius inventor. Might as well create a robot that is simply there to answer everyones question.

Thus the Autonomous Research Interactive Assistant, aka ARIA, was born.

Word count: 2539

Authors Note: This is just a personal project I will work on in between Dream World and my college work. I just love the idea of Donnie creating a second AI and Shelldon immediately taking the mantle of the older brother. I just wanna write the robot siblings causing chaos while Donnie scrambles behind his robot kids to make sure no one dies. Also i just wanted to take the chance to maybe write in the future Casey jr and Shelldon hang out bc you can't tell me those two wouldn't kinda think of each other as cousins lmao

Also I gave Reader a name (Aria) in this one but Y/N will be used sometimes at some point in the future.

In the apocalypse Donnie’s mind has probably become one of the most important assets. He provides clean water, weapons, protection, and intel. And he makes it look so easy. You had a problem? He probably has multiple ways to solve it for you.

The thing was everyone had some kind of problem.

“Hey Donatello, we have problems with this water purifier. We can’t find the correct replacement parts, do you know what we can do instead?”

“Oh, Mister Donatello! We are trying to bioengineer crops that work well with the destroyed soil here somewhat. We need your expertise!”

“Aha, Donnie! Our weapons seem to be less effective against the Krang. Got something to juice our weapons up more?”

“Donnie, we really need you for this recon mission to determine what the Krang are building there.”

“Donnie, how is your research going into reversing the effects of Krang infection?”

“Donnie, we need more prosthetic limbs.”

“Donnie, medical supplies are running low. We need a proper substitute if possible.”

“Donnie, you really should sleep more.”

Hah, sleep.

Sleep felt like it was only a distant memory at this point.

He wanted to help! He really did but it was just impossible to follow every inquiry with the same priority. Either because some things were frankly impossible at the moment, they didn’t have the correct materials for the project or there just wasn’t enough time.

There was always so much to do and never enough time.

Even with the help of his brothers and sister. The work seemed never ending.

So, as a way to try to mitigate it, Donnie decided to upgrade Shelldon. Over the years the bot made great strides when it came to learning more about behavior and seemed to get better at interacting with people. His rebelliousness faded over the years. Understanding that there were more important things to do and if he can help his creator, or father as he began calling him over the years, then so be it.

That said he still acted often more like a young teenager than the recon bot he was supposed to be. Frankly Donnie giving Shelldon proper limbs like legs, arms and of course hands seemed to have enabled him more when it came to his mischievous behavior. Now being able to interact better with the world around him.

Still, he was reliable and was able to assist with recon missions and relay important information from one point to another in record speed.

Besides, Donnie would never admit it out loud, but he did appreciate Shelldon’s attitude somewhat. Somehow his mischievous behavior brought him a sense of normalcy. Something that survived the start of the apocalypse. Sure, he was an AI and part of this could be then attributed towards Donnie’s programming but still. A lot Shelldon learned himself. Even more he seemed to have picked up from Donnie’s family to his chagrin.

As much as Shelldon helped him out though it never seemed enough. Shelldon was meant more for recon rather than as an information bank to help other parts of the resistance.

There was a knock on the door to his workshop. Donatello didn’t even bother answering already knowing it was Mikey who would just let himself in. If Leo, Raph or April did that he’d make an annoyed comment. Mikey had the younger brother privileges. Not at all times but most times.

Enough to particularly annoy Leo with that fact.

“What can I do for you, Mikey?” Donnie asked as he hurriedly continued to type on his computer. New lines of code appearing on the screen in a scarily fast tempo. His battleshell was laying on the ground against the desk. The design having become more sleek over the years. Though even in the apocalypse Donnie couldn’t help himself adding a few LED lights for the aesthetics.

The Krang were the absolute worst thing that ever happened to the world and the universe but when they do manage to liberate a Krang labor camp they did get access to interesting Krang materials that he didn’t hesitate to use for his own projects.

One such project was currently sitting on a workbench on the side connected to his computer with a ton of cables. Charging as he worked on upgrading the programming of his new invention.

Mikey was now standing behind his chair “We haven’t seen you longer than a few moments the last few week. We’ve been worried about you. Gotta eat and sleep, Donnie.”

He wanted to roll his eyes but his eyes were too busy scanning his code since there seemed to be some kind of mistake. Probably a missing semicolon.

“I am eating and taking rests. Don’t worry. Besides once I’m finished with this I will hopefully have an easier time taking breaks.”

This obviously piqued Mikey’s interest “Oh? Why is that? What are you working on?” He finally moved to his side, his eyes now scanning the code as well which was amusing to Donnie. Mikey probably tried to gleam any kind of information from it while barely know anything when it came to programming. Not that Donnie hasn’t tried teaching him. He never got past the basics with him.

But this was way past the basics. This was genuine GeniusTech programming that can create a sentient AI.

“I’m making an assistant.” He simply stated.

Mikey paused “What like… what? Isn’t Shelldon already kind of filling that role?”

Donnie tilted his head to one side and back, as if he was mulling this statement over “No. I want to create an assistant that can store a vast amount of information on all kinds of subjects while being able to autonomously do research shouldn’t the correct answers be there.”

“So, we don’t have to bug you anymore when asking you how god and the world work, eh?” He didn’t need to look at his younger brother to know that he was smirking. At this point this has been one of his biggest grievances after all. Sure, he loved infodumping but topics like the filter of a water purifier weren’t exactly on the top of that list.

“But more importantly.” Mikey drawled out the last word “Does that mean Shelldon will have a sibling?”

Donnie bristled at that, as well as a turtle can bristle “No! This is just my Autonomous Research Interactive Assistant. Nothing more. I’m building it to give us room to breath to work on more projects at the same time.”

His brother chuckled at his response “You say that but you aren’t even correcting Sheldon anymore when he calls you dad.”

He couldn’t even respond before Mikey spoke up again “Anyway, is that them?” Probably pointing to the slumped over robot on his workbench.

The robot was just like all his tech purple. The head was more humanoid in nature with a screen for where the face would be. They also had a shell on the back. Knowing Donnie there were probably a ton of hidden compartments that held all sorts of interesting gadgets. It was probably only around four feet tall which would put it around the same height as Shelldon.

This actually felt rather short even for Mikey nowadays. All the Hamato brothers have had growth spurts over the years. All but Mikey were almost towering over other humans at this point. This just seemed to be one of the other effects of originally being created to be soldiers to fight in a war against humanity.

It was a bit ironic and almost heartbreaking that this gave them now an edge while warring against the Krang. Even though Draxum created them for this reason he still seemed somewhat sad about that fact now. Though Mikey was sure he was the only one who noticed that about the goat yokai. He was probably the only one who could read the yokai almost like an open book at this point.

Donnie’s gaze flitted over to his workbench, looking at the robot that Mikey was now closely scrutinizing without actually touching it “Yeah, yeah. That’s the Autonomous Research Interactive Assistant. Or will be.”

Mikey furrowed his brows, his hand running through his short black hair that he was slowly growing out, mostly on Donnie’s orders since he was still a bit perplexed by his sudden hair growth “Why not just call them Aria. Seems easier than to say the whole name out loud.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure. Aria.” Donnie sighed.

“Shelly knows about them, right? Like he has to since you work on them in the open like that.”

Donnie scoffed at that “Of course he knows. He helped assemble the pieces and calibrated the joins while I worked on other things or the code.”

“That might explain why he has been more high energy than usual.”

“I swear if Shelldon touched one of the Krang energy cells again-“

Mikey laughed “Nah, I think he is just excited at having another robot around soon.”

Donnie didn’t respond to that. He was too busy adding more lines of code. Everyone seemed somehow way more excited at his new invention than he anticipated. Aria, as Mikey had dubbed it now, would be hopefully a big asset in the base.

“Anyways. Stop working on them. It’s Hamato dinner time. I was supposed to just grab you. Let’s go Donnie, we actually scrounged up some nice ingredients for once. Come on, come on. I cooked real food after ages.”

The prospect of honest to god real food sounded fantastic. It sounded so good after months of just military rations that he immediately saved his project and got out of his chair to put on his battleshell. It was just dinner with the family but especially nowadays he despised walking around without his artificial shell.

After being caught in a fight without it he almost glued the piece of tech on him. He even slept with it on for a while. His brothers had to practically peel him out of it. Leo then had to take care of any chafing on his soft shell. This whole experience was unpleasant enough that he learned to at least take it off again when he sleeps or when he is hunkered down for days in his workshop.

“Food sounds good.” He agreed as he followed his brother out towards where his family was undoubtedly waiting for them. If they started without them Mikey would probably beat them all up. Knowing him he probably wanted to see everyone’s reaction to his cooking after such a long time.

It took a good while longer for the work on Aria to progress. A lot came in the way of that but Donnie tried his best to work on this project whenever he could.

Donnie was currently working on Shelldon’s left arm that got a bit jostled during his last recon mission. He had to admit he always felt a few trepidations when he sent out Shelldon with others for missions. This time it seemed somewhat warranted since a Krangified human apparently got close enough to get ahold of him to pull his arm out of its socket. Were he a living being trying to set the arm back in would be painful as all can be but luckily for Shelldon this was mostly a thing of moving it back in and just repairing and fastening screws to hold it in place.

Maybe he should upgrade Shelldon again and give him even more defensive capabilities even if it’d slow him down.

A metallic scratching sound pulled him out of his thoughts “Shelldon. What are you doing?”

Shelldon was using his other arm to look at the exposed wiring and exoskeleton of the robot next to him. Aria was still sitting on the workbench slowly collecting dust.

“Just seeing if I can do something while you work on me, dad. I wanna see them finally come online.” He simply replied.

Donnie pulled one small screw tighter “If you want we can work on it more once I’m done with your arm.”

Even if Shelldon was incapable of an actual smile due to his build, Donnie swore he could see him do so in his own way. He obviously perked up at the prospect.

And as promised as soon as the arm worked again and was calibrated to Donnie’s standards, which took way longer than Shelldon would have liked, they jumped at completing the chassis.

Completing the code took longer than that. It took a couple more weeks between missions and work for Donnie to feel confident enough in his work to try to activate the robot for a test. He just wanted to see if his code started up correctly.

Shelldon was at Aria’s side while Donnie worked on the computer side of things. Starting up multiple of his analysis programs to record how the technology worked with each other. If there were parts that unexpectantly heated up for example.

He pressed on his enter key to start up the Aria program. Immediately turning around to see his GeniusTech logo appearing on the screen of Aria’s face.

A few commands appeared. Showing him exactly what programs started and loaded up only to disappear again and a pixelated face in a neutral expression appeared. Huh, he swore he designed it in such a way that it should start with a resting expression.

Aria blinked.

“Hello. I am your Autonomous Research Interactive Assistant. How may I help you?”

Donnie couldn’t help his glee as he yelled out “By Galileo! It works!” It loaded up and reacted just how he wanted when being approached by someone else. There was definitely too much static in their voice and there was a weird echoing effect on it. Something he will have to work on.

But now to test its capabilities.

Something easy to test the waters.

“At what temperature does water boil?”

The response was immediate “Water begins to boil at 99.97 °C, 211.9 °F and 373.15 Kelvin.”

Ah just as precise as he had hoped.

“Explain to me what the measurement of metal strength is.”

Once again, the response was fast “Tensile strength is a value that indicates a metal's ability to resist deformation and failure when loads are applied that pull it apart. Tensile strength is typically quantified through units of pounds per square inch, PSI, or pascals, Pa.”

Perfect! Now what else should he ask to really test their ability to pull the correct knowledge out. What would be a complicated enough question?

“Brah. Come on. They just came online! Do you just want to quiz them?” Shelldon whined. Sometimes Donnie was really confused where he got his attitude and speech pattern from. Then again Leo did sabotage him years ago.

Sighing, he relented “Alright. Autonomous Research Interactive Assistant. Register an alias for yourself.”

They tilted their head to the side to look at him inquisitively “What name do you want me to register?”

Shelldon’s head snapped up to his creator. There was something pleading in the way he acted and looked at him. Donnie nodded.

The turtle robot walked in front of the new one “Aria. A-R-I-A.”

“Aria.” They repeated. “The name has been registered as an alias. You may refer to me now as such.”

#rottmnt #tmnt #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt reader insert #tmnt reader insert #tmnt x reader #reader insert #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt shelldon #rottmnt michelangelo #future donatello #future michelangelo #ramza writes

62 notes · View notes

neroli9 · 2 years

Note

☟☜☹☹⚐ ☞☼⚐💣 ❄☟☜ ⚐❄☟☜☼ 💧✋👎☜

✋ 💣🕆💧❄🕯✞☜ 👍✌☹☹☜👎 ✌ ❄☟⚐🕆💧✌☠👎 ❄✋💣☜💧

Reader, Sasha, Jerren, Frisk and Asriel crowd around to squint at the message. "It's probably him acting like he's clever," Sasha says scowling at Jerren.

"I'm as baffled as you are," he says, putting his hands up in a conciliatory gesture.

"Which symbol shows up most often?" Reader says, studying it. "Maybe it's just a character substitution..."

"And if it is, the most common one is probably E!" Sasha picks up her sister's train of thought, bending her head over the message and studying it. "Everyone who knows anything about cryptography knows that."

"There's a lot of snowflakes," Frisk observes. "And fingers pointing left."

"Five snowflakes, seven fingers," Asriel adds.

"So if we assume fingers is E..."

☟E☹☹⚐ ☞☼⚐💣 ❄☟E ⚐❄☟E☼ 💧✋👎E

✋ 💣🕆💧❄🕯✞E 👍✌☹☹E👎 ✌ ❄☟⚐🕆💧✌☠👎 ❄✋💣E💧

"'The' is the most common English word," Sasha continues. "If we assume the three-letter word ending in E is 'the,' then..."

HE☹☹⚐ ☞☼⚐💣 THE ⚐THE☼ 💧✋👎E

✋ 💣🕆💧T🕯✞E 👍✌☹☹E👎 ✌ TH⚐🕆💧✌☠👎 T✋💣E💧

"Clear as mud," Reader says, shaking her head.

"No, we can get it!" Sasha says, starting to get excited. "Not ALL of us are hopeless at Scrabble."

"I am not hopeless at Scrabble! I won $10,000 in a game of Scrabble with Sans once." She pauses. "Well, technically I lost." But she's already lost her sister's attention.

"I think 'HE☹☹⚐' is the key," Sasha continues, tracing her finger over the letters and symbols. "How many five-letter words can there be that start with HE and have a double letter?"

"Hello," Asriel says. "Plus, it makes sense, if it's some sort of greeting."

"I can't even think of any other words that fit," Frisk says.

"Henna," Jerren says smugly. "Hella."

"No one asked you," Sasha says, scowling as she writes down the letters.

"'Hella' isn't even period-appropriate," Reader says, scowling as well.

"Since when has anyone in this story cared about being period-appropriate?" But the others are ignoring him.

HELLO ☞☼O💣 THE OTHE☼ 💧✋👎E

✋ 💣🕆💧T🕯✞E 👍✌LLE👎 ✌ THO🕆💧✌☠👎 T✋💣E💧

"That gives us another word immediately," Sasha says, filling it in.

HELLO ☞RO💣 THE OTHER 💧✋👎E

✋ 💣🕆💧T🕯✞E 👍✌LLE👎 ✌ THO🕆💧✌☠👎 T✋💣E💧

"'A' is the second most common letter," Asriel says. "What if we assume the water drops are A?" Sasha starts rewriting.

HELLO ☞RO💣 THE OTHER A✋👎E

✋ 💣🕆AT🕯✞E 👍✌LLE👎 ✌ THO🕆A✌☠👎 T✋💣EA

"I bet we can figure the second word out," Reader says, trailing her finger over it. "Hello something the other something, middle letters are RO. 'From'?"

Sasha nods excitedly as she starts adding the new letters. "Nothing else fits."

HELLO FROM THE OTHER A✋👎E

✋ M🕆AT🕯✞E 👍✌LLE👎 ✌ THO🕆A✌☠👎 T✋MEA

"Hello from the other acre?" she says, frowning at the code.

"Axle?" Frisk suggests.

"Ache?" Asriel says.

"Arse?" Jerren adds.

"Shut up," Reader says. "Acne?"

"I mean, acne isn't much better than arse," Sasha points out.

"It could be a code name," Reader says, pressing her lips together.

"They really got unlucky when the code names were passed out," Asriel says, grinning.

All five of them stare at the message.

"Where's Sans? He's supposed to be so brilliant," Sasha says suddenly.

But none of them can find him.

(I'm not doing any more Wingdings coded messages so don't send them, but I did enjoy it! If you haven't figured it out, use the translator. https://lingojam.com/WingdingsTranslator)

#november 2022 ask the cast

6 notes · View notes

daughter-of-the-slaughter · 2 years

Text

Pyramid head x |Innocent reader [Platonic!]

Authors note: Hope these little imagines I put together bring you lots of comfort and happiness! Personally, Pyramid head is my favorite character.

Includes: fluff, comfort, angst!

•The killer you favorited the most was Pyramid head. Now, you may be asking yourself, why would you ever like a seven foot tall horrifying creature who’s created to punish and torment. Well, here’s why.

•You feel relieved when you see him in trial. He doesn’t mind your presence.

•When you first encountered him, you were a mess. The other survivors fended for themselves, their own survival mattered more. This was life or death. When you were hooked, you let out the loudest cries. Which is why no one wanted to save you. They weren’t going to risk it. In search of survivors, the Executioner noticed you were still on the hook. Survivors can be selfish.

•You attempted to hop off the hook yourself. How could they be this cruel..we’re supposed to be a team.. You had trouble calming down from not only the piercing pain in your right shoulder, but the fact that no one bothered to help you. You located a safe corner surrounded with bushes and sobbed. Guess you were going to die anyway..no hope whatsoever.

•Your heart was beating faster than it normally did, almost as if it were going to burst out of your chest. The killer could hear you weeping.

• “It’s not fair..how come none of my team mates came to rescue me. Not fair!” You cried. The silent killer just stood there, hesitating on striking his sword. “I care about my team mates, that’s why I cooperate! But oh! When I’m in danger , no one cares!” You ranted to yourself out of anger, forgetting your place. You were in a middle of a mental break down. You didn’t give a shit anymore

•Pyramid head just left you, going after the other selfish survivors. He made sure to punish them. Even including a mori! Ouch!

•You were the last remaining survivor. The hatch was open, for you. The Pyramid Head just let ya escape. Not that he cared, he just feels that shitty people like that should be put in their place.

• you were a pretty shy person. But it didn’t take you long to warm up to him since he’s quiet.

•Pyramid head doesn’t care if you follow him around, he needs to do what has to be done within time he is given. He wonders why you always followed him around. Although he doesn’t want u watching him torture his victims. He shooes u away as if ur a little kid who should mind their business.

•You give him a dead flower as a little gift u find in the woods. “Pyramid head I found this and I want to give it to uuu :D” He slowly looks down, wondering wtf that is your holding. He plants his sword in the ground and reaches for the dead flower, accidentally crushing the dead flower with his natural strength. He meant to hold and observe it..

•He didn’t mean to crush it, he just can’t control how strong he is. You thought he didn’t like it…So you immediately teared up. You were kinda a crybaby..He noticed your tears. Pyramid Head wasn’t the comforting type. He just patted your head, just to stop you from crying. Pat pat.

•You looked up..confused. “Do you want another one…or..? Now he couldn’t nod with that pyramid substituting for a head. So he just gently patted you on the head again. You assumed he did. “Okay!” You smiled.

•whenever you were scared, you always held Pyramid Head’s hand. The realm was pretttyyy scary. He held your hand back, using the other hand to drag that giant sword. He’d just quietly listen as you chatted away about whatever! He’s a very good listener! :3

•Trials were overnight, your eyes eager to close. It was sooo tiring having to stay awake and alert. You were fighting to keep your eyes open while working on a generator. Focus! You’re almost done! Your eye lids were closing. You weren’t concentrating, therefore you connected the wrong colored wires..causing the generator to bomb. BOOM!

•Pyramid Head noticed you were lacking energy, you kept messing up on everything. So! He just carried you up on his shoulder in the way he does to every survivor. Anddd yea, he just mindlessly wandered the map while you were in his grip sleeping. You slept peacefully. But at some point he probably put you down somewhere to complete his to-do list!

#fanfic #dbd x reader #pyramid head #pyramid head x reader #platonic #fluff #dbd fanfic #dbd headcanons #dbd survivor #comfort

1K notes · View notes

puggemon · 2 years

Text

* Dustin’s Babysitter *

You are Lucas’ substitute

for the big game.

EDDIE MUNSON X READER

[ TW: Cursing ]

If someone had asked you earlier on in the day of the big game what you would have been doing later that night, you definitely wouldn't have suspected you'd be in a dark, ominous, room filled with Eddie Munson and the group that everyone deemed "Freaks". But you'd been approached by Dustin Henderson during lunch time, who was clearly in distraught, as he rambled to you the story of why he needed a substitute for the Hellfire Club meetup.

*•*•*•*

"Lucas backed out on us and left us missing a player for tonight," He sighed, pressing his hands together in a begging motion, and sticking out his bottom lip in a pout. "And you're the first person I thought of!"

He'd done this puppy-dog bribery many times before, every time you babysat him and he wanted something that was on the list of things his Mother wanted him to avoid. Any violent movie, or sweet snack that could possibly induce a sugar coma.

"What's in it for me?" You spoke sarcastically, knowing that in no way could you say no to the young boy who you'd grown super close to. But that didn't mean you couldn't tease him, exactly like an older sibling would.

"You can have one of our t-shirts! They're handmade. And we all get one." He pulled the fabric in between his fingers and smiled a big, dorky, smile. "Super soft too,"

"Fine, Dusty. I'll go. But I definitely want mine in [FAVORITE COLOR] or I'm not wearing it. Deal?" You held out your hand for the not-so-secret secret handshake the two of you have.

He let out a sigh of relief at you agreeing to the DND session, before playing into the handshake. "Deal."

*•*•*•*

Thus how you ended up here, creating a DND character and living out in a fantasy world, under the gaze of a few males you'd never even introduced yourself to, and Dustin's friend, Mike Wheeler. You didn't know what to expect out of this game, but it was definitely different than what you expected. Everyone was genuinely enjoying their time, knocking back Mountain Dews and bantering back and forth, going through the scenes that the Dungeon Master, Eddie Munson had created.

That was, until he revealed the ultimate plot twist in the map and everyone grew tense, as they all fought against Vecna, who was supposed to be dead. Multiple people from the group of players, got downed along the way, until it was just you and Dustin...

"We have to just give up, there's no way we can win this," One of the guys said, as all of you were huddled in the corner, away from Eddie, discussing game plans. "Give up? But he's on such low health!" Dustin argued, looking over to you, hoping you'd agree with him.

"Dusty's right. We've basically got this guy in a body bag,"

"Did they even have body bags in medieval times?" Questioned the other party, in attempts to settle the situation down. Each one of you let out a soft chuckle, before Mike spoke up with his opinion. "I think it's pretty risky, but there's only two of us left, so I think it should be their choice."

They all turned their attention to you and Dustin, who were already looking at one another. Silently, you agreed to continuing the fight with a nod of the head. That's when the circle disbanded and all of you went back to the table.

"What did the jury decide?" Eddie asked, a smirk on his face as he looked between you and Dustin.

"Let's kick some ass," Dustin spoke up from beside you, making you give a side eye and scold him on his foul language. You were still his babysitter, after all.

"Sorry, let's kick some butt." He reworded his sentence making Mike snort from the sidelines.

"It's all or nothing, one of you two must roll a twenty on the dice, or you'll be at a loss." Eddie explained, hand holding out the blue die. You grabbed at it, your hand briefly brushing against Eddie's, making goosebumps form along your arms. Your eyes were locked with his as you handed the dice to Dusty, who was impatiently waiting beside you. "I'm going in," he spoke up, blowing the dice in between his hands for good luck. It was at this moment that you broke the staring contest with Eddie Munson, heart beating out of your chest. Your eyes wandered down to the dice that Dustin had just let go onto the board. 12. Everyone groaned, Dustin facepalming at the sight of not meeting the goal. It was now your turn.

Eddie watched carefully as you took your turn, checking you out, his eyes going up and down your figure. How had he never met you before tonight? He'd never even heard Dustin talk about you. He actually didn't even know Dustin was young enough to have a babysitter. But with Dustin's Mom being who she was, he wasn't surprised about it. The fact that you would actually be seen around with them, as you'd walked around campus with the group, meant that you were just like them, even though you looked nothing like them. He dug it. Totally and utterly, dug it.

In fact, the first moment he saw you he thought you would be mean. He thought that nothing was going to work out, and you'd probably piss on his gameplay. But as you started getting more into the game, he started getting more into you and your presence.

"Oh my god," Dustin whispered, watching the dice fumble around the board, before landing on a 20. "OH MY GOD! [Y/N] YOU DID IT!" He screamed, happily, wrapping you up in a giant bear hug. You reciprocated the hug, and everyone around started cheering you on, excited that the one in a million chances you had, was enough.

It was at that moment that Eddie had deemed you to be a permanent part of the HellFire Club. Knowing that if it needed anyone, it needed you, and solely because he had a fascination with the idea of having someone who looked like they didn't belong, belonging.

Everyone stepped out into the night sky, a smile swept across all of your faces. You'd really enjoyed your time, and was thankful Dustin had thought of you first, to play the game with him. "Goodnight guys," Mike spoke up, receiving a few goodnights in return, before running off towards his chained up bicycle.

"Thank you for coming today," Dustin said, happy that he got to spend some bonding time with you outside of babysitting and school. And because you saved his ass.

"No problem, Dusty." You ruffled his curls, causing him to groan in dissatisfaction. He bumped his shoulder into you, playfully as the two of you continued walking along the concrete path.

"Hey, wait up!" Eddie called from behind, in a slight jog, trying to catch up to the both of you. Once he was finally beside you, he smiled, and it was the cutest thing you'd possibly ever seen.

"What's up, Ed?" Dustin asked, looking towards the leader of his club, awaiting an answer.

"I don't think I properly got to introduce myself to you before the game. I'm Munson. Eddie Munson." He held out his hand for you to shake, which you took happily into your own. "I know who you are, I'm [Y/N]."

Eddie wasn't quite surprised at the fact that you knew of his existence, considering he was called the biggest freak in school.

"Well, just so you know Hellfire Club is every Friday night, and you're welcome to join anytime that you like. What you did today was pretty great."

"Enough flirting kids, I'm ready to go home." Dustin interrupted, taking both of you aback. You shushed him before playfully pushing him away, to the side. "But you're my riiiideee," he whined, before taking the hint to leave and walking over to the other group members who were in another conversation.

"I should probably get him home, but.. it was nice finally introducing myself to you, Eddie."

"Not quite the freak you thought I was, huh?" He laughed, twirling his hair in between his fingers, mocking the actions of a flirtatious woman.

"I never said that." You retorted with a playful tone of voice, and a wink, before walking off to collect the kid that you had to take home for the night.

Eddie was left there with an extra beat to his heart, and a newfound desire for you.

#x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #netflix #imagine #fanfic #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #short fiction #stranger things fluff #fluff #reader insert

344 notes · View notes

f10werfae · 3 years

Text

My Smart Girl☁️

Pairing= Professor! Tom Hiddleston x Student! Reader

*Tom is 31, the reader is 23*

Word count= 953

Summary: Y/n is losing motivation, but Tom won’t let that slide, never

Requests are open!

Likes, Re-blogs and Comments are appreciated♥️

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨

(Y/n’s P.O.V)

My head was absolutely aching, I was sitting on some cushions on the floor, currently in the middle of creating notes from a lecture I had attended earlier on in the day. It’s now 1am.

My eyes were dropping, the only thing living in my head was the idea of a nice warm bed. Sometimes I did question why on Earth I studied English Literature at university.

But how can I regret that, when it has led me to meeting the love of my life.

Tom Hiddleston

No he was not another student, he was and is my current professor. Usually when I tell people this, they tend to question the age gap but it’s honestly not that bad, it’s a good 8 years.

It all started when he came in one day to substitute our professor who was off quarantining, and a day slowly changed to months to 2 years.

How could I not fall in love with him? He’s drop dead gorgeous, intelligent and a gentleman. Tom may as well have come out of a romance book himself with the way he is.

Our families are incredibly supportive, however I didn’t exactly want to tell people in my class because next thing you know it’s all about favouritism when it isn’t. Sure sometimes he winks at me in class secretly or touches my hand when he is giving out papers, but that’s about it.

Anyways, trying to construct notes after a long day is not exactly the easiest thing, my motivation is at an all time low and all I want is my boyfriend.

“Love? Why are you still up?” I heard a groggy voice say coming out of the bedroom switching the living room lights on.

“I’m doing work for YOUR class i’ll have you know” I said cheekily putting my cheek to my page, looking at him blankly.

“This is why I said, you should make your notes in class, you can’t be overworking yourself like this darling” Tom said crouching down to my level combing his hands through my hair.

“Yeah yeah, I know, the English language is just so hard babe” I said feeling myself dropping off to sleep little by little.

“Y/n your first language is literally English, it’s not the end of the world”

“Shut up Tom, you’re not helping your poor girlfriend whatsoever” I said now with my face in the page.

I heard no reply and instead felt the cushion sitting behind my back being pulled away and being replaced with Tom?

I now sat between his legs as his arms encircled my waist, his head laying on my shoulder as he overlooked my work, his breathing fanning my neck only lulling me more into a deep trance.

“Okay love, I know it’s hard to find motivation especially during a global pandemic. No, I don’t know what you’re going through, but I want to help you. I know i’m supposed to treat you like every other student, but I can’t just sit here and watch you drown yourself in work constantly. So i’m going to cuddle you while helping you annotate your notes okay? Then we are going to bed in half an hour, work done or not. Your health is important to me, never mind the work due for me.”

“Tom are you sure you’re not from a book, because how on Earth did I find someone like you” I said slightly more awake leaning back against his chest, with him nuzzling his face into my neck and hair as he took my hands and placed a pen in them.

“Less talking, more writing babe”

“Ok Ok i’m going”

[10 minutes later]

“Toooommm”

“Y/nnnnn”

“Can I stop now? I can’t be bothered anymore babe” I said tilting my head slightly to the side so I could see him in my peripheral vision.

“Nope. How about this, each time you write a sentence i’ll give you kiss? Is that sufficient”

“YES, yes that is very much sufficient” I said picking my pen back up and continuing to now annotate a play, with Tom occasionally giving me pointers and tips.

[20 Minutes Later]

“Ok i’m done, I-I think” I say my head going fuzzy, only wanting sleep and cuddles.

“Well done, i’m so proud of my smart girl, I knew you could do it” Tom said looking at me, both of our lips clearly swollen from the amount of kisses he gave me while I was writing. Guess writing all those sentences was pretty worth it.

Tom’s hands reached over and closed my laptop and notebook, he stood up first then proceeded to crouch down and pick me up. One arm under my legs and one under my back, my arms wrapped around his neck with my head directly listening to his calming heartbeat.

Next thing I know, I was placed onto our bed, the fluffy blanket drowning me in comfort.

“Alright don’t get too comfy without me beautiful, I don’t want to miss out on my cuddles”

“Mhm” I hummed half asleep, only feeling Tom’s hands come from behind and pull me back flush against his bare chest. His chin on the top of my head as he spooned me, his left arm rubbing up and down my arm, he always knew how to get me to sleep. He continued to place soft tiny kisses on my nape, so light you could hardly feel them but the love was clearly there.

“I love you so much Y/n, i’ll always be here for you”

“I love you too Tommy” I said reaching my hand back and running my hand through his hair once. Before retreating back into his chest, my safe space.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddelston x reader #girlfriend #x reader #boyfriend imagine #fluff #boyfriend #imagine #writerscorner #marvel #loki #oneshot #romance

430 notes · View notes

syneilesis · 2 years

Text

[fic, wip] Let It Stand | chapter one

Let It Stand

Ikemen Prince | Chevalier Michel x Main Character (Emma) | T ao3 link

Emma gets a new editor. This editor doesn’t like her that much.

A/N: Here it is! The Novelist AU Nobody Asked For. I confess that I know very little about the publishing industry; this was just written for fun. Originally this is supposed to be a one-shot, but I'm having a difficult time writing the second half, so I'm splitting this into three parts. I was gonna title this Stet as a pun, but I ultimately chose its definition lol. Emma's novels in this fic are Ikemen games lmao but it's been a while since I've played the alluded routes.

chapter one

“What do you mean my editor suddenly disappeared?”

There was silence at the other end of the line, punctuated by a heavy exhale then followed by a distant scream. Emma didn’t know who it was and why they did. She imagined that Sariel was in his office, and that there was probably some poor intern who bungled up the photocopying machine and was now facing Sariel’s slithery wrath. She silently prayed for the intern’s unfortunate soul.

“Not to worry,” Sariel’s baritone voice came back on. “We’re conducting an international manhunt right now, so it’s not going to be a problem—”

“Wait, international manhunt?!”

“—in the meantime, we’ll assign another editor to you as a substitute for Luke. We don’t want our schedules derailed just because one of our editors thought it nice to have an unannounced vacation.”

Emma was still stuck in ‘international manhunt’. “Excuse me, Sariel, what do you mean by ‘international manhunt’?”

Sariel’s voice was cheerful, which was an indication. “Expect an email from your new editor any time this week.” The line clicked.

Emma stared at her phone, willing for Sariel to materialize from the aether, just to explain what he meant by international manhunt. It sounded ominous—not for her, but for Luke. She hoped that wherever Luke was right now, he’s happy and enjoying life, because the moment Sariel found him it would be game over.

Outside the storeroom where Emma remained staring at her phone, the door chime jingled and Rio greeted the customers with bubbly energy. It’s a slow day, but the weather was nice. Emma thought about inviting Rio later to boba tea and telling him about Luke. Rio might be able to decode what Sariel was saying. She really couldn’t move on from ‘international manhunt’; it was going to drive her insane, she just knew.

“Emma!” Rio called. “Special order pickup!”

“Coming, coming!” Emma pocketed her phone and sighed. Work first, worry later.

✏︎

Emma was a reader first and writer second.

Her first book was about a girl who became a princess, and it stamped an indelible mark on six-year-old Emma’s mind—the magical transformation and the swell of true love. The climactic kiss between prince and princess after defeating the evil dragon. It was all so grand and exciting that she made her parents buy all the fairy tale books they could get, which filled half a wall in her room. Each book was an adventure, a journey, a window to all the things she couldn't experience and feel but wanted to someday.

In her teens she tried writing. At first: fanfiction. Exploring some untouched aspects in the stories she liked, Emma learned how to translate her imagination into words. It was a heady feeling—all the possibilities. After graduating from college she went on to original fiction, having enough encouragement from her readers and a few published stories here and there.

Rhodolite Press took her in with her debut novel, about an aspiring fashion designer who time traveled five hundred years into the past and met a haughty but competent feudal lord. It sold well—not to the point where it became a bestseller, but well enough that it ensured Emma the possibility of writing a second novel. Her readers, most of whom emigrated from her fanfic days, were solid and loyal, and she enjoyed interacting with them.

Luke was her editor, a towering teddy bear with the discipline of a lumpy bedsheet. If it weren’t for her literature degree, Emma would have floundered with an editor such as Luke. Though to be fair to him, while he forwent the technical aspects of fiction writing, Luke had impeccable intuition when it comes to storytelling. It would be nice if the warlord panicked over the main character so I can see that he’s already fallen for her, he had once said, after returning the original manuscript to her, pages clean and unmarked. It boggled Emma back then, expecting a thorough commentary of her characterization and narrative choices. But she noted Luke’s observation and revised the manuscript anyway. The second time they met, Luke was smiling and said, I really liked how he cried after he lost her. That was when Emma realized that she could work with this, with him.

And now, with Luke vanishing to who-knew-where, Emma was worried. Who could be her substitute editor? She hoped that they’d get along well. She’d adjust her work ethic, if need be.

✏︎

The email came on Wednesday, terse and to the point:

from: [email protected] to: [email protected] subject: Manuscript Editing I’m taking over while Four-Eyes is looking for Jumbo. Read my comments. Send the revised version in two weeks. CM

Emma blinked at the message. Then blinked again. Rubbed her eyes and blinked some more. The words didn’t change.

She opened the attachment; it was her draft manuscript littered with highlighted passages and comments. There’s less white and more color. Not a single page was spared from scrutiny.

She randomly picked one comment and it read: The mechanics of the portal is unexplained. If anybody can access that portal, how come only a few do that? Everybody would get curious about it, don’t you think.

Another one: The antagonist is weakly written. Motivation is vague; his goal is underwhelming. It does not match well against the motivation of the male lead.

And another: It is unclear whether this important scene happened within a dream or reality. How consequential is a dream in this world? And why is it brought up near the end of the story? There is no buildup at all. Review your world structure.

Emma read and read and read the comments. By the time she had reached the end of the document she’s ready to challenge C. Michel to a fistfight. The notes were less a review and more an execution. Was C. Michel a legitimate editor? Emma thought about the other writers who were assigned to this jerk.

She closed her laptop without replying. A walk to clear her mind was in order. It wouldn’t do her good if she replied right now, with her mood ready to erupt like a volcano. It wouldn’t be professional, and she’s also scared of Sariel anyway.

“Rio, I’m going for a coffee break,” she called out. With Rio’s affirmative, Emma donned a light jacket and went outside.

✏︎

Thirty minutes later and a white chocolate mocha on hand, Emma decided that C. Michel maybe had a point.

There were some parts, she felt, in her manuscript that required revising and restructuring. She wasn’t too keen on the world building aspect of this particular novel, but perhaps she had to flesh out the mythology and history in order to have a better grasp of the magic system embedded in the narrative.

If only C. Michel had been kinder with his words. They needed the editing more than hers.

The ringing of her phone jolted her out of her thoughts, and her brows raised when Sariel’s name appeared on the screen.

“Did you find Luke?”

“There had been a slight mistake,” Sariel said, which didn’t bode well for Emma.

“Um, what mistake?”

“Apparently somebody meddled with the names of editors available to handle you—” There was laughter in the background, and Sariel let out a resigned exhale. Emma could feel the exasperation coming through despite the mechanical filter of the speaker. “Chevalier isn’t supposed to be your editor.”

“Chevalier?” That’s what the C stood for?

“That’s right. Chevalier has enough work to last for ten years. I don’t want to saddle him with another task. I was actually thinking of asking Leon to guide you. He’s closer to Luke in approachability than to Chevalier.”

So. Chevalier was always like that, huh. Was it because he had a lot on his plate and the stress morphed him into a rude asshole?

Then Sariel said: “I’ll make the necessary arrangements.”

Emma didn’t know what possessed her—her smarted pride, perhaps, or the sheer number of Chevalier’s offensively incredible comments—to hastily say, “Wait, Sariel—”

There was a pause. “Hm?”

“If it’s all right with you—with Chevalier, if he agrees—then I’d like to stick with him as my editor.”

That pause became a deafening silence, as if the air was sucked out of the room. Emma could picture Sariel taking a moment to stare at his phone and confirm what he’d heard. She didn’t blame him.

“This is …” He hesitated. “This is quite a surprise. I’d like to ask why.”

Why, indeed.

Emma bit her lip and groped for the right words. “To be honest, I got upset with Chevalier’s feedback on my manuscript. He could have worded a lot of things differently. But when I finally understood what he was saying, it dawned on me that I truly wanted to improve my novel. I’m going to revise it according to his remarks. I think … I think I need that kind of guidance.”

She waited for Sariel’s response, tense amid the evaluative quiet. When Sariel finally said, “I see. I’ll talk to Chevalier about it,” Emma released a relieved sigh, before realizing that she voluntarily offered herself to a bossy snob.

“Are you sure about this?” Sariel asked, telepathically sensing Emma’s burgeoning regret.

“I—am,” she said, almost sounding like she swallowed something bitter. “Bring it on.”

That elicited a chuckle from Sariel. “Fine. I’ll call you when something comes up.”

“Right. Thank you.”

The moment she hung up, doubt filled her very core. What was she thinking—why would she willingly enter a tiger’s den? To hell with proving something—she didn’t need that level of stress in her life!

Emma frowned at her already-lukewarm drink. She’s beginning to anticipate a lot more coffee in her future.

✏︎

from: [email protected] to: [email protected] subject: Re: Manuscript Editing Four-Eyes asked me if I’ll continue being your editor. All that time and energy I spent reviewing your work would be wasted if you pulled out. I have no patience for a blustering writer.

from: [email protected] to: [email protected] subject: Re: Re: Manuscript Editing Dear Mr. C. Michel, I hope this email finds you well. I have expressed to Mr. Sariel my desire to have you remain as my editor while the search for Luke is ongoing. I have found that your wisdom in editing is crucial for my growth as a writer, and thus seek your continuous guidance. I am currently revising the parts you pointed out in your comments and will do my utmost to send you the edited version on the date you’ve provided. I look forward to our prosperous partnership. Have a nice day! Sincerely, Emma

✏︎

Rio offered to look into Chevalier Michel.

“He probably has a profile page on the website, but I’ll ask around for some further information if you want.”

He and Emma stayed in the bookstore after it closed for some inventory, with Emma crouching by the romance section and Rio starting with nonfiction. The fluorescent lights flickered, which nudged Emma into noting that they need to replace them soon.

“That’s sweet of you, Rio, but it feels weird to do it behind his back, you know?”

Rio paused midway in taking out a hardcover and shot Emma a funny look.

“It’s not weird at all! He should’ve introduced himself in the first place—he should’ve been professional about it!”

Rio had a point. If it were other people, acting the way Chevalier did would result in getting fired, but Chevalier had held on to his and, based on what Sariel had revealed, juggled more workload than other editors. Emma never recalled any dark undereye circles or stress lines maligning Luke’s carefree face, which meant that he took only what he could handle. Chevalier tackling work ‘to last for ten years’ would imply that he was competent at his job; plenty of people relied on him, and that included Sariel.

Rio had been tinkering with his phone while Emma agonized over Chevalier and job stability, and she was about to remind Rio to go back to work when he cried in triumph and rushed towards her, phone screen tilted in her direction.

“Look, I found him! Let’s see … it says …”

The sunny tone in Rio’s voice petered off and he suddenly went quiet. Emma craned her neck to see where his gaze was trained on and—oh.

“Oh, no,” Rio whispered.

“Oh, no,” Emma agreed.

On the screen was Rhodolite Press’s website, displaying the information page of one of its editors. A profile picture was affixed on the top-left of the page, and in that picture was the most beautiful man Emma had ever seen. Blond hair framing his ivory face, with eyes the color of the sky reflected on a placid lake, an aristocratic nose and steel-set lips embraced by a magnificent jaw. He was all elegant curves, sublime geometry. Emma was certain she would never meet another one as beautiful as him.

“Emma, you’re blushing!” Rio’s voice was frantic. “Don’t fall in love with him!”

He snatched his hand back and Chevalier’s radiant face disappeared before her. It was ridiculous for Rio to think that a pretty face would sway Emma quick and easy; she only had to remember his manuscript comments and her simmering ire for him would rekindle like it never went away.

“I won’t, Rio, don’t be silly.” She glanced at her inventory list; she doubted they’d finish work tonight. “What are his credentials?”

He read Chevalier’s profile overview aloud, and Emma felt her brows rise and her eyes widen.

“—best editor of 2018, 2019, and 2021. In just three years, he singlehandedly catapulted Rhodolite Press onto mainstream radar to the point that Obsidian Publishing expressed interest in acquiring them in the past. Edited consistently bestselling books. Hm, hm, graduated top of his class, has master’s degrees in publishing and comparative literature … O-Oh, Emma, I’m serious—don’t fall for him!”

“Honestly, Rio! Stop that. I’m not going to fall in love with him. He’s my editor who writes mean comments that drive me mad! How could I fall for him when he’s my primary source of stress?”

Rio seemed appeased by that, but a pout still lingered.

“Anyway, what else can you find? Are there any bad rumors about him?”

“Well …” Rio kept scrolling on his phone. “It says here that he started out as a writer and published a few books, but now he’s focused as an editor.”

“Oh? What books did he write?”

“No. No, Emma.” Rio pocketed his phone definitively and adopted a chastising tone. “We’re behind work and need to finish our inventory.”

The panic that settled over Rio had Emma laughing. It was cute, in a sisterly kind of way, that Rio—almost comically—was keeping up with the facade of an aspiring husband around Emma. It’s one way of easing her worries, and Rio knew that, so he wore that role like second skin. Sometimes, Emma wondered if Rio was serious about it because it felt at times that he was being too sincere.

“Fine, fine, let’s get back to work.” And because she couldn’t help it: “You know that I’ll just google him later, right?”

Rio’s wailing could be heard throughout the street that night.

✏︎

And Emma did. Google Chevalier Michel.

One novel, one nonfiction, and three translations (one on philosophy, one on politics, and one literary novel). Emma checked if the bookstore had copies of any of Chevalier’s books; there were none, and she found that his books were no longer reprinted, which was unfortunate. Fascinatingly enough, his books were published by Rhodolite during its pre-mainstream days.

His nonfiction book was interestingly a monograph about historical literature. It was most likely an expanded version of his master’s thesis, based on the back cover description. The summary of Chevalier’s novel, titled A Solitary Moon, launched Emma into an upright sitting position.

A Solitary Moon was about an art historian who fell in love with the woman in a painting and spent the rest of his life searching for her. It piqued Emma’s curiosity, more so because never in her entire exchange with Chevalier would she peg him as a romantic. How could a man like him—curt, gruff, and irritating—conceive, much less write, a love story?

The novel had a Goodreads page, with a couple of reviews dated some years ago. It had an aggregate of 4.6 out of five stars. Impressive.

Most reviews praised Chevalier’s prose and his talent for imagery. Some had high hopes for his writing career. Few lamented his stoic approach to emotions, but overall, the readers enjoyed his novel. Emma belatedly realized that her mouth hung open in shock.

There was one bizarre review that captured her attention, though:

My boy Chev wrote a novel! This is great! Have to give it 1 star though, just to even things out hahaha

It was from someone named Lulu SH, and it had three likes. Emma just chalked it up to the nature of the internet.

Now she wanted to read his novel. She wanted to know what the fuss was about, even if she’s late to it. She wasn’t certain if reading his novel would shed light on Chevalier, but there had to be something she could glean from it.

If the bookstore didn’t have any copies of the novel, maybe the public library did.

✏︎

He came in like a whirlwind of bad news.

Emma had a healthy, functioning radar for trouble; it helped her on a number of occasions when she had to bail Rio out from picking a fight with customers—not to mention those who’d bother her on the way to work.

When the door chime tinkled and a streak of purple flashed in her periphery, alarm bells rang inside her head, loud and frenzied. It confused Emma, who had no reason to suspect the color purple, so she tore her gaze away from the logbook and redirected her attention to the source of her sudden discomfort.

A handsome man stood in front of her wearing the most suspicious smile in the world.

“Finally we meet,” he declared.

Emma weighed her options: there was neither a bat nor a stick in proximity to her, so should the man make a move to harm her Emma had no weapon to bludgeon him with; her phone was tucked away beside the cash register, three shelves between her, but she’s a slow runner so the man could have caught her long before she could reach the counter; Rio was out on an errand and there were no other customers—she could stall for time until Rio returned, and they might have a greater chance of overpowering the man.

She chose to stall for time.

“I’m sorry,” she began, silently proud her voice didn’t tremble, “but should I know you?”

If anything, the man’s smile grew wider. “The Four-Eyed Fiend would say you shouldn’t, but I’ve always wanted to meet you. We have a mutual friend—ha—Chev, Rhodolite’s beloved editor. Let’s bond over him.”

‘Chev’? Did he mean—“Chevalier Michel?”

The man clapped his hands in delight. “Are you having a difficult time with him? He may be your temporary editor, but I can share with you some secrets to win him over. I know a café that makes excellent mille-feuille. We can talk about him there.”

His suspicious smile became winning as he talked, like he’s used to getting his way through life. He did give off an air of being spoiled, indulgent—his movements languid that bordered on sensual.

“No, thank you. You haven’t even told me your name.”

“I haven’t, have I?” His eyes narrowed in amusement and the alarm bells inside Emma’s head rang louder and louder. “My name is Clavis. I already know who you are, so you don’t have to introduce yourself to me. Now that we’re acquainted, off we go.”

He grabbed Emma’s wrist and panic set in. “Wait, Clavis, wait—Rio hasn’t returned yet! I can’t leave the store unmanned!”

Clavis paused, glancing around the bookstore and finding no other people. He released Emma and pondered over this development as if it was some national security problem, a hand migrating to his chin, humming in deep thought.

“Well, if we can’t go to the café …” Clavis began. Emma had a wishful thought that Clavis would drop his attempt to ‘befriend’ her and leave the store, never to return.

Of course, her wish went unheard.

“Then I’ll just have to bring the café here, hahaha!”

Emma blinked, wasn’t sure if she heard right. “I beg your pardon?”

✏︎

Rio returned to the shop forty-five minutes after Clavis arrived, but by then Clavis had already: 1) set up a makeshift coffee table and chairs for him and Emma; 2) filled said table with the most mouth-watering pastries and the most heavenly coffee Emma had tasted; 3) ordered somebody else to entertain customers as they passed by Clavis and Emma, shooting them curious glances as they did so; and 4) spoke about Chevalier like he was some walking encyclopedia of the guy, regaling Emma frame by frame of what Chevalier had done to a young but arrogant writer who took offense at Chevalier’s admittedly brusque manuscript comments and thought it wise to disparage the editor. Emma winced at the story; even if she hadn’t personally met Chevalier, she agreed that it was in character for him to flay people alive for something they’d foolishly done.

“Right, right?” Clavis laughed, and something in his laughter jogged a memory from Emma.

“Hey—you’re that guy! The one who Sariel said meddled with the list of my editors!”

Clavis grinned, rakish and gleeful. “How did you know?”

“I heard you laugh while I was talking to Sariel on the phone. You sounded like you enjoyed giving Sariel stress ulcer.”

“Haha, it’s all very exciting, isn’t it? You have me to thank for arranging Chev as your editor.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, Clavis.” For emphasis, Emma took a large bite of chocolate cake. It tasted divine. “He may have given me helpful feedback on my novel, but he could’ve been nicer about it.”

“Nice? A nice Chev? I can’t wrap my head around the idea of a nice Chev. The world would end before that happens.”

“Emma, what’s going on?! Who’s that guy with you?”

“Rio!” Emma was midway to standing before she thought the better of it; the pastries and the coffee called to her more strongly than she expected. “Clavis and I were just talking about, um, work. He’s from Rhodolite Press.”

Clavis did nothing to alleviate the suspicious look Rio tossed his way; in fact, he seemed to stoke it further by waving and wagging his fingers, as if to taunt Rio that he got to disrupt whatever normal day they should be having.

Rio tore his eyes away from Clavis and then did a double take. “Emma, who’s the guy behind the register?”

“As I was saying,” Clavis intervened, denying Emma a chance to answer, “I thought it would be fun to put your novel in Chev’s editing pile. I’m so glad you liked it!”

“‘Liked it’? He said that my protagonist was an idiot!”

“Haha! Classic Chev.”

Clearly Clavis was living in a different reality from her. He deliberately misinterpreted anything Emma said about her experience with Chevalier as her editor.

“He wanted me to delete a whole chapter! A whole chapter!”

Clavis nodded in sympathy—or in schadenfreude, because that seemed more consistent with his personality in the forty-five minutes Emma had known him.

“In another chapter, he said that I had the main character and the male lead fall in love with each other so quickly it didn’t seem realistic. But my goal was exactly that—the magic of love!” Somehow the cake on Emma’s plate disappeared; ranting about Chevalier took a lot of energy. She procured another slice of cake—cookies and cream this time. It was equally divine. “How would he write about love?” she continued, waving her fork like it was some metronome for haranguing. “I want to know. I can’t rely on his Goodreads reviews alone. I have to read his novel.”

As if magic words themselves, her last sentence froze both Clavis and Rio. Clavis, sensing blood, perked up in predatory glee, while Rio clicked his tongue in irritation.

“No—you really googled him, Emma!”

“You want to read Chev’s novel?”

Their piercing and expectant gazes discomfited Emma. She shifted on her seat and took a huge gulp of her coffee, which was tragically lukewarm now.

“Um,” she said, convincingly. “It stopped reprinting, if I recall correctly.”

“Well, Miss Writer, today is the best day of your life,” Clavis announced, his excitement vibrating out of him like a defcon 1 alarm. Emma debated whether to decline him outright or inch away from him until she’s outside the bookstore altogether. “First you’ve met me—a very handsome, very attractive man; and second you’re going to get Chev’s novel—courtesy of me! No need to thank me, of course. I already know that I’m kind as much as I’m handsome. Now, do you want an autographed copy? Because I can needle Chev into signing a book. Don’t be shy—say, ‘Yes, please, Master Clavis, you’re my hero!’”

“No thank you, Clavis. I can always go to the library to borrow a copy.”

It’s Clavis’s turn to click his tongue. “Tch. You’re no fun at all. But I’m still giving you one, because Chev has some extra copies in his office that I can pilf—ask for.”

“Were you about to say ‘pilfer’?”

“Of course not, you must’ve been mistaken,” Clavis said without missing a beat. “All right, ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid I must leave you now. Busy man and all. Don’t miss me too much.”

He made a show of bowing with exaggerated flourish, like a circus ringmaster, and then strode towards the door, patting Rio’s shoulder along the way. The sound of the door shutting was a relief that had Emma heaving an exhausted sigh, and Rio took over Clavis’s place across the table.

“He paid for this, right?” Rio asked, as he hoarded all the bread. They were, unsurprisingly, soft and divine as well.

Emma sighed once more.

#fic #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen prince fic #ikepri fic #chevalier michel x emma #chevalier x emma #novelist au #stet fic

51 notes · View notes

justathoughtfulangel · 3 years

Text

The Night Changes ~ Colors, Chapter 4 (Kai Parker Fanfiction)

Hi again! Welcome to Chapter 4 of Colors, my Kai Parker Soulmate AU Fanfiction. This is NOT meant to be read as a standalone piece. Events of the story and even the universe it is set in vary greatly from the original show. If you haven't yet, please read the Details post and previous chapters linked on this masterlist.

*not my gif

Word Count: 3,094

Pairings: CovenLeader!Kai X witch!Reader (soulmates), vampire!Damon x vampire!Elena (soulmates), witch!Liv X werewolf!Tyler (soulmates)

(Yes, I know in that Tyler is a human again in Season 6. That doesn't work for the purpose of Tyler and Liv being soulmates, so for the sake of this story, he is still a werewolf but can control when he shifts.)

I don’t like writing with Y/N in the place of character names, but this IS a reader insert fanfiction. I use Rosalie Wilson as a placeholder. Use Rose/Rosalie as a substitution for Y/N.

Warnings: Minor swearing, depictions of violence/murder, and unhealthy alcohol use.

There is no smut, but for all intents and purposes, this chapter is best suited to mature audiences. You have been warned.

Alright, I'll stop blabbing now. Read a short recap of the last chapter + a new one after the break :) I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I loved writing it.

Chapter 3 Recap:

Gritting his teeth, Kai wrenched Luke’s hand off of his face, clutching it and moving closer. What did it matter if he won or died? If he won, he’d never be at someone’s mercy again. Never be weaker than others or depend on siphoning someone else’s magic. If he died, he’d get his second greatest wish. He’d no longer live in a world where no one wanted him.

“Fine. It’s your funeral.”

A few miles away, Rosalie made herself a comforting mug of hot cocoa. Seven tabs were open on her laptop, and she needed the sugar boost to get through the mountain of post-Thanksgiving assignments. With her chocolate by her side, she sat down to complete them. Rose had just taken one scalding sip and was cursing her impatience when the mug fell from her hands. It splashed onto her cream carpet, streaking it with brown.

Or at least, it should’ve been brown. She couldn’t see the color anymore.

~~~

Her heart leaped into her throat, stealing her air. For weeks, Rosalie hoped her world would become colorless. She had prayed she’d go back to a time before she’d never known Kai. The cost of going back to that time was one she never comprehended. Rose had lost too many people already; she couldn’t bear to lose her soulmate too.

She squeezed her eyes shut, pleading with the universe to let this just be a cruel trick. When her eyes opened, the color had returned. Her pity party didn’t last long. Now, she was just confused. What could have possibly caused the color to leave her vision for mere minutes?

The merge.

The merge must have happened, and Kai had won.

He woke on the cold ground. A few feet away, Josette cradled their dead brother’s head, sobbing over his loss. It was strange. Kai expected to feel different somehow. Everything was the same… until it wasn’t. It hit him without warning. Unimaginable power coursed through him, now his to command and control. Kai would never have to siphon magic from another again. He was now Coven Leader, and because of his abilities as a siphon, he’d be the most indestructible of them all.

“He saved me, and he’s gone!” Josette’s choked cry rang out into the night, and Damon’s lips pressed together in helplessness. “You win some, you lose some, right?” Kai was flying far too high to feel any remorse. “Except for me. I always win.” Damon’s eyes narrowed and he took a step in his direction. Before he could take a second step, Kai had vanished.

It wasn’t like he had a destination in mind. Actually, he was lost. This was what he’d craved for eighteen years. Kai chased after it single-mindedly, living for no other purpose. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

~~~

Another week had gone by, and Kai was in hiding. Being Coven Leader was nothing like he had envisioned. Slowly but surely, he was recognizing this wasn’t what he truly wanted. Not by a long shot. That was only the lie he told himself. Kai lied to himself so often, he didn’t know when it had become the only digestible truth. Wanting to be Coven Leader was simply a façade, a cloak over his real desire.

What Kai really wanted was acceptance: acceptance from his family, acceptance for who he was, and… acceptance from his soulmate. Rosalie was closer than ever in physical distance, but she couldn’t have been farther in every other possible way. Kai hadn’t laid eyes on her in weeks, not since he killed that taxi driver.

The memory made him freeze. Why did he kill him? Because he didn’t find change in the jeans he stole? That was all it took for him to take someone’s life.

Kai found himself clawing at his own neck as if the wire was choking him and not his last helpless victim. The mirage pressed against his windpipe, and though Kai knew it was all in his head, he felt like he deserved it. What right did he have to live when he’d killed so many?

The home of the Parkers was eerily silent. The eldest son, Malachai, strolled the halls. Two of his siblings were hanging from the stairwell railing, their bodies jerking like puppets on a string. There was some fight left in them, and in a truly twisted way, it was satisfying. No one knew his struggle as a siphon. They were just getting a taste of it. They’d die and be free from it soon enough.

The bloody knife Malachai used to tear out Josette’s spleen clattered onto the floor harshly, splattering the oak wood with maroon droplets. Just one annoying little brother and the twins remained. Jo could be left alive for now. After all, he did need his twin for the merge.

Malachai’s hands closed around his youngest brother’s throat as he siphoned power away from him. It wasn’t like he’d need it. Silencing his screams with one palm, he carried him to the pool. Forcefully holding him beneath the water warmed by the May sun, Malachai growled at how much his victim struggled. “I saved you for last, you ungrateful little…” One last, sharp inhale rang out, mixed with the garbled sound of water filling the youngest Parker’s lungs. He, too, was dead.

Humming in soft satisfaction, Malachai watched his body float there. He then made his way back to the house, tearing behind the twins’ favorite hiding spots in the living room. “Josette! Where are they?” His voice sang out cheerfully in stark contrast to the blood on his hands and shirt. There was a high he was riding. Pure glee was rushing through him, a kind he’d never known before – glee that comes from the prospect of murder.

“Oliviaaaa? Lucas?” He trampled up the stairs, taking his sweet time and letting the sound echo throughout the house. “Come on out, Jo. You must be hiding them somewhere.” From beneath the bed, Jo and the twins saw his pink sneakers – white originally but soaked in red. Malachai could sense they were under the bed, but he decided to toy with them a bit. His other kills had been far too quick. He pretended to look in the closet, unsurprised to find it empty.

When Malachai’s hands gripped the base of the bed, Jo hid the twins with her magic, protecting them the only way she could. He found only his twin sister, and he snapped. No longer playing games, he kicked her wounded stomach in. “WHERE ARE THEY?!”

Kai jolted awake, not realizing he’d fallen asleep. A thin layer of sweat painted his skin, making his clothes sticky and cold. His exhausted, sunken eyes – courtesy of the same nightmare every night since the merge – seemed lifeless. The digital clock on the bedside table of the motel read 2:34 AM. The night changes, but how many nights does it take to dissolve guilt?

Dragging his feet, Kai made his way to the small bathroom. The face staring back from the mirror was pale, sallow. No more sleep was going to come to him. Stripping off his sweaty clothing, Kai grabbed the phone (yet another stolen item) and Googled how to process emotional pain. Maybe this would get him somewhere.

~~~

In the morning, Kai drove to the Salvatore House. Last night had been an experience, to say the least, and he needed to ask a favor of Damon. “Hello?” He heard mumbling from the kitchen and Damon’s voice slowly increasing in volume. “…merged and packed and on his way to Portland!”

“Ooh, I forgot how massive this house is.” His eyes fell on the decorative tray of treats. “Yum, cupcakes! Sorry, am I interrupting something?” Completely ignoring the answer, Kai snuck past the lovers, reached for a cupcake, and hopped onto the kitchen table Damon and Bonnie ate pancakes on in the Prison World. “What are you doing here, Kai?”

“Funniest thing. I need your help. I need you to give a letter to Josette for me.” Elena was completely indignant. “Why would we do that?” He munched on his cupcake, speaking with his mouth half-full. “I haven’t been able to find her with a locator spell, which is probably intentional on her part since – under normal circumstances – I’d be super jazzed to gouge out her belly button.” Scraping up the last bit of frosting, Kai licked it off her finger.

“Why would we help you, Kai?” He just came in here and proclaimed nothing had changed since the merge, yet he expected them to contact Jo for him? “Well, in case you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m a sociopath. I know, shocker. I like being a sociopath, you know? I’m not burdened by things like guilt or love.

“So then, this merge happened with my brother Luke, and I won, which was great because I absorbed his ability to do magic. But now I can’t stop thinking about how Luke died. How Liv’s life is ruined. For some horrible reason I can’t shake… oddly, I feel bad.” Kai forced out a laugh because he could feel his throat closing up again.

“You feel bad?” Elena didn’t bother to cover up her disbelief, and Kai continued his rant. “Yeah, so when I absorbed Luke’s magic, I must’ve gotten some of his qualities or something, like… empathy? So I Googled how to process emotional pain, and they said if you write everything down in a letter and burn it, you’ll be healed.” He waved the envelope in the air; encased within it was a letter addressed to Josette. “I started writing, and this water literally started pooling in my eyes. Has that ever happened to you? Like… like… water just oozing out of my eyeballs like I’m some alien creature excreting fluids.”

“You mean you cried?”

“Yes! And after that was done, I burned the letter, and the feeling is still there. So, I really feel strongly that Jo needs to know how sorry I am for destroying our family… as does Liv. But let’s face it guys, alright? I mean Elena, you of all people should be willing to look past all the questionable things I’ve done to see that there’s good somewhere in me. You did it with Damon.”

“Okayyyy, I think we’re done here.” Damon moved to take Elena’s arm and began guiding her out of the kitchen when she stopped him. “No, Damon. He has a point.”

Kai raised an eyebrow, surprised she gave in so quickly. “Don’t get me wrong. I don’t just believe you’ve become someone else overnight. You should get to prove it, though. Just once. You won’t get another chance, so don’t screw it up.”

“Well, you’ve shown more faith in me right there than anyone else has before, so thank you.” It was a weird feeling. Warm, somehow. It was the support he’d never known. “Yes, well, I’m not doing it for you.” Damon suppressed a sigh, his lips pressing together. Kai was confused. Who else would she do it for, if not him? “Damon, you need to call her. I know you miss her.” Ah. Her.

A quick flash of anger burst through Kai once more. Elena – a complete stranger to him – was willing to give him a chance to show he had a sliver of good inside him. Why couldn’t his soulmate do the same? “Yeah, alright. I’ll try again.”

“And you keep trying until she talks to you. Rosalie has every right to be mad at you, but you need to make more of an effort to be there for her. Kai, we can give the letter to Jo for you.”

Kai shook his head slightly, snapping back to his senses. “Yeah, um, thanks. One more thing. I wrote them all letters and burned them last night… even one to Luke – which was probably unnecessary considering we’ve literally merged – but only rewrote the one to Josette. I feel like I should apologize to Liv in person. Where do you think I could find her?”

“Um, Whitmore, I guess?”

Rosalie and Liv were both at the Scull Bar. Rose had offered to take all her shifts, but Liv was stubborn and would come to work anyways. She tried to pretend everything was fine and went about her life as if nothing happened. Tyler and Rosalie were very concerned, never drifting far from her. Liv was a ticking time-bomb; it was only a matter of time before she snapped and her grief exploded. Denial didn’t last forever.

Their shift would be ending soon, and Tyler started packing up his things, glancing around more. It seemed like they were the only ones there. Rose was organizing a new shipment of mixers when Kai slipped in. He hid in the shadows. Despite all his talk and external bravado, Kai was terrified of confronting Liv. But he had to. He owed it to her. He owed it to Luke.

Before he could make himself known, Liv accidentally shattered a bottle of bourbon. The brown liquid spilled across the floor, spilling any ounce of Liv's composure along with it. “God fucking damn it!” She thrashed the rag in her hand across the counter, her knuckles turning white.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s just a bottle.” Rosalie rushed over to her, and Tyler moved closer to them both. He pulled Liv away from behind the counter, making her take a seat. Rose poured her a glass of water before clearing up the alcohol and glass with magic – no one was in here, and Liv needed all of their attention.

The cool water sloshed along the sides of the cup. Liv’s eyes tracked the movement, and when they met Rosalie’s, she could barely stop herself from lashing out. “Stop looking at me like that. Both of you.”

“We’re just worried about you, Liv.”

“Yeah? Well, don’t be. What’s worrying going to do? Is it going to bring Luke back? No.” Liv harshly carded her hand through her hair, pulling at strands and shaking them from her trembling fingers. Tyler took hold of her quivering hand, squeezing it softly. Not even her soulmate could calm her down now. “You should talk to someone about this, babe. We’re just doing our best to be here for you.”

Rosalie held her other hand, and Liv shook it off. She wrapped her arms around Tyler, hiding her eyes in his shoulder. She wasn’t crying, but her shoulders wobbled under the weight of unbearable emotions. The rejection stung some, but Rose wasn’t about to make this about herself. “We can understand what you’re feeling, Liv. We’ve lost family, too.”

Liv’s body froze, separating from Tyler slowly. The hatred in her eyes seared through the icy demeanor she was fronting. It burned Rosalie exactly where it hurt most. “What would you know about losing family? You killed your own mother, brother, and father.” Her words were a knife to Rosalie’s heart. Apparently, Liv wasn’t done.

“You and Kai really deserve each other.” Tyler’s face fell. He knew about Rosalie’s past, and he would’ve never believed Liv could go there. Speechlessly, he guided her away. An apology on his soulmate’s behalf shone in his eyes, and Rose only gave half a nod in response. She let them leave and locked the door with magic, not knowing that Kai was locked inside with her.

He had come to apologize to Liv, but he wasn’t about to leave Rose alone. The empathy that was far too new struck again, and Rosalie’s hatred for Kai suddenly made perfect sense. He could see how the memory tormented her. It had begun tormenting him in the same way, but it had only been a week for him. She must have been dealing with it for months, maybe even years. How could she accept someone who went around flaunting murders like they were trophies on a bookshelf?

Meanwhile, Rosalie’s feet had remained frozen to the same spot. She didn’t cry. Her tear ducts were far too barren to shed droplets. Her expression was mostly unreadable, but it flickered with some emotion or other every so often. Grief, anger, shock… relentless hurt above all. Swallowing it all, she dropped the wooden shutters around the bar and lit some scattered candles. When the flames rose higher than normal, fueled by the tornado of emotions within her, she forced herself to sit down.

“Let’s not burn down this building, too, Rosalie. Let’s not do that.” Scoffing and shaking her head, Rosalie grabbed a glass. She found herself mixing the same cocktail she made for Kai weeks ago. “Great, I’m talking to myself now. That’s just… super sane behavior.”

“Hey, I talk to myself, too.” Despite the situation, Kai couldn’t help but smirk at the astonishment on her face. “God!” She nearly dropped the shaker but narrowly avoided another drink catastrophe. “H-how long have you been in here?” He took a seat at the bar exactly where he had a few weeks ago. “Long enough.” Sighing, Rosalie went back to mixing the drink but poured it for him before making another that was even stronger for herself. “Figures.”

Rosalie didn’t want to kick him out, and Kai wasn’t keen on leaving. He’d only had one drink, but Rose had downed at least seven within two hours. She was still speaking– which was actually insanely impressive – but he worried about leaving her alone. Every time he tried to get her to stop drinking, she reached for another. He could tell she was hoping to mute whatever she was feeling. Kai had done the same in the prison world numerous times. He couldn’t judge.

“I’m gonna say something that I’m either gonna regret or just not remember… but your eyes are sooooo pretty. Did you know that? They’re like so blueeee and sparklyyyy.” Kai hopped behind the counter this time, making her next ‘drink’ with only water and no alcohol but keeping the flavors the same. “Sparkly, huh? What makes them sparkly?” Kai was trying to keep her awake. If she fell asleep in such a state, her hangover would make her very remorseful tomorrow.

Her very last drink was settling into her system, and Rosalie started growing quieter. Kai silently placed her new beverage in front of her, confident that she was too intoxicated to notice it wasn’t alcoholic. “I didn’t mean to do it, you know? I just got upset. It was after I heard about the death of Elena’s parents. They were our family, too. All the… feelings didn’t have anywhere to go. I couldn’t control my magic and it… destroyed everything.”

Kai didn’t speak. He didn’t want to interrupt. He wanted to know more about her, and if she felt comfortable sharing the deepest parts of her agony, he wanted to bear it with her. It took all his self-control to keep from touching her, from taking her hand, or from hugging her. Hugging her? Since when did he do hugs? He’d barely been hugged a day in his life, but that seemed like the appropriate response when someone was in duress.

“That’s why I hate you, you know? Because you were so gleeful about murdering your family. Bonnie was telling me how you bragged about your methods, and it made me hate you. You were happy about the same thing that eats me alive. But you know the funny thing?

“I don’t hate you. Not even a little bit. Maybe not at all.”

~~~

That concludes Chapter 4 of Colors! Please feel free to send any thoughts/comments/constructive criticisms my way. I always welcome them :)

Chapter 5 is now completed! Read it here.

If you’d like to be added to the taglist for this story and/or for my other Kai Parker pieces, please send me a message or leave a comment on this post!

Until next time, JustAThoughtfulAngel <3

Taglist: @socio-kai-path1972, @bluelicious, @genevivetaylor, @prettybitchfatwitch

95 notes · View notes

zenitsuharadagoku · 2 years

Note

Hiiii

Ogmfkfkdkdk

You're writing

Ohoooo

Can I get uuuuh

Smiley x male reader?

Possibly domestic?

Smiley x Male reader

I do not own the picture. Or Tokyo revengers

Sorry for the wait Rome hope you like it. I named the character as it’s more natural for me than to use Y/N but just substitute your name . This goes for all readers . Notes alive Baji, Toman does not split up, Nayoha, Souya, and Haku are 27. Drakken and Emma mutually decide to break up

Haku was in a state of total concentration nothing was allow to distract him from his current task not the random thoughts swirling around his head . Not even the hotness of his boyfriend Smiley. His boyfriend …… No stay focus Haku, don’t waver. What is the very important task you ask ? Baking homemade chocolate ship cookies. Don’t sound to hard you say? Why the intense focus? Well their is one simple answer Haku is a really bad cook and baker like really bad. He once made Dorayaki and Taiyaki for Mikey who was in tears never thinking that Taiyaki and Dorayaki could taste bad. Or that time Draken had to use a fire extinguisher on a grill Haku was supposed to be paying attention too (he got distracted by a shirtless Smiley). Or the time he cooked some minute soup for a sick Baji and it made Baji sicker with Chifuyu commenting that Haku should pray to the gods that he becomes a better cook in his next life. Toman feared nothing except Haku’s cooking . But this time Haku wanted to succeed he read and reread cooking books he practiced and practiced and almost threw up a bunch of times for his failure cookies but not this time he was determined to succeed because today was his , Nayoha and Souya’s birthday and each of them was making a gift to give the others , and Haku had no more money cause he lost a bet with gremlin ohh wait he means Mikey who took the majority of his money for his Dorayaki and Taiyaki addiction.

In another location Mitsuya was watching as Smiley once again poked himself with the sewing Needle , ounch darn it stupid needle said Smiley why does Sewing have to be so hard. Why was Smiley sewing well he was Making or trying to make a scarf for His Boyfriend Haku see Haku knitted a very Comfortable Blanket that he and Smiley used every time the cuddled when they were watching movies or if they wanted to nap together. So Smiley enlisted the help of Mitsuya but it was a bit of a slow process and today was the last day to give Haku his handmade birthday gift . See Smiley sometimes Had bad money management he spend all his Money on Souya’s gift . So for the last 6 days he been learning to sew so he can knit a scarf. Mitsuya said that sewing was not Smiley strong suit . Smiley list count of how many times he poked himself with the needle but I will be worth it to see Haku face when he sees a scaff with his favorite anime in it a Water dragon lizard to be specific . So time passed until he finished ok done what do you think Mitsuya does it look ok. It looks decent you know your boyfriend will love the effort you put into this right you got nothing to worry about ok now go and enjoy the rest of your day with your Boyfriend and Brother in your house watching movies and having fun in your house . See you Mitsuya thanks for everything .

Haku Pov

Ok this is it if these cookies are not edible I have nothing to give Smiley and Angry Nothing. Here goes I bite into the cookie oh my goodness yes I finally made good tasting cookies take that Mikey I can make edible food Smiley and Angry are going to be so relieved and happy they won’t get food poisoning from my cookies this time. Ok time to get washed up. I turn around and see Angry in the kitchen doorway holy shit !!!Souya how long were you there . The last 9 minutes. You were so focused you did not hear me at all. Okay well please don’t do that again you going to give me a heart attack. Well my cookies are my gift to to and Smiley I hope you like them I had Mony problems it’s cool I also had money problems . Small little timeskip. 35 minutes later

Smiley arrives Haku! What up my love kisses and hugs Haku , hi Sou how my wonderful twin doing ? I doing great Nayoha. So let say it at once Happy birthday !! So Babe here you gift I made it for you . Hoya you made me a scarf ( Kiss) thank you I love it. Souya I got you the full Complete Manga collection of Demon slayer and Seven deadly sins you wanted . Souya’s eyes widen you didn’t I did ( big Hug thanks so much Bro) says Souya Smiling. Ok so love , Souya my gift is in the kitchen , don’t worry I did not mess what I made , it is edible I promise ok so please try it , I say with my hands together 🙏. Ok I will don’t worry . 5 minutes later Holy Shit Babe these chocolate chip Cookies destroy . They are so good you did it babe . Smiley hugs and kisses Haku ruffling his Hair . I am so proud of you!! Souya clears his throat so now is my turn I got you both Tickets to that Yu Yu hakusho movie you wanted to see and paid 4 days in hotel Ishgria so you two can have additional fun days Souya. You hear that Babe I got to eat your cookies , now I get to eat your cake said Smiley , groping Haku butt. Hoya!! Said Haku blushing hitting Smiley on the chest. So Souya what will you be doing while we are gone ? I will be with my boyfri- I mean I will hang out with Drakken. So your dating Drakken huh Souya well I respect and trust Drakken and your choices but still as your brother I am going to have some words with him said Smiley. Words , your going to challenge him to a fight right said Haku , that is part of it . So Souya you Dog you wanted to get me and Haku out of the house so that you can have fun with Drakken right, just make sure to use protection said Smiley , ha ha , Fuck off said Nagoya blushing.

Just another day in the Kawata house.

#tokyo revengers x male reader #Smiley x male reader #Nahoya kawata x male reader

31 notes · View notes

innerchorus · 2 years

Text

Okay, so this post is going to contain spoilers for Chapter 108 and a few novel spoilers, too (those will be under a Read More). I wanted to take a closer look at why Gurgin is featured in the latest chapter, and what might happen next. As I mentioned in my last post about how closely this chapter follows novel canon, in the novel, the sorceror in this scene is named Pulad.

Here’s Arakawa’s character designs for the Team Zahhak disciples, with handy translated names added by me:

The reason I’m sharing that?

I don’t think he’s actually mentioned by name in the manga, but in Arakawa’s version, Pulad is in fact ALREADY DEAD. He was the one who was attempting to steal Bahman’s secret letter, and was killed in Chapter 64.

Yep, definitely him.

So that’s why someone else had to be substituted in.

Here’s Gurgin. Did I just want another excuse to post a picture of him? Yes.

So, why did Arakawa make this change? In the novel, the sorceror who steals the fake letter isn’t referred to by name, but why assign Pulad to those scenes in the knowledge that he’s supposed to play a part later? It would have been easy enough to work out which members of Team Zahhak could be killed off here without issue, but everything Arakawa does is intentional so there must be a good reason. That’s what I want to look at here!

(SPOILER WARNING for discussion of novel scenes from here onwards!)

To try and make sense of this decision, first you’ll need to know what happens to Pulad in Tanaka’s version. So far, Gurgin’s actions and dialogue match up directly with Pulad in this scene in the novel. After being interrupted by the Parsian forces attacking the camp at night, Pulad retreats, but when Isfan correctly identifies Guiscard as the leader of the Lusitanian army and begins to fight him, Pulad interferes again, the end result of which is that he gets killed by Isfan. It’s a really exciting scene and one that I was looking forward to seeing in the manga...

...BUT NOT IF IT’S GURGIN WHO DIES 😭😭😭😭

Do I really think Arakawa is going to kill him off like that? I definitely think it’s possible, but it’s not a certainty by any means.

(I’m holding on to some hope because in the novel, Gurgin was watching all this as it happened, since he’d been sent there along with Pulad to convince Guiscard to serve Zahhak. So perhaps in the next chapter, we’ll see that the same is true here, Gurgin is working with someone else, and it’s that other sorceror who is going to attack Isfan and get killed.)

What is interesting to consider, is why Arakawa changed things around in the first place? Personally, I think it’s more likely that Gurgin is the reason rather than Pulad (that still doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll get to live, though). I think she knew she wanted to give this scene to Gurgin, and that necessitated moving Pulad’s death to an earlier scene (which she could do without issue, because as I said the sorceror in that scene isn’t named).

So, Arakawa wanted to show us Gurgin here. I think there are a few possible reasons why.

1. He’s the most important of Zahhak’s disciples, so she wanted to use this opportunity to introduce him to readers so that we have some familiarity with him in the future. This one is more likely to be true if the series is going to continue to adapt the novels in full, as most of Gurgin’s scenes are in the second half (or, I suppose, if Arakawa is down to leave things open-ended by having some of Team Zahhak remain.) In this case, I think he’ll survive.

2. If the series is going to end before the timeskip, perhaps she just wanted to give Gurgin a bigger role in this scene, as otherwise we won’t see much of him. If that’s the case, the likelihood that he will die increases (and I think that would indicate the manga taking a route that will feature an early defeat of Team Zahhak as a whole). I’m not convinced by this, though.

3. Or, there’s another reason why she wanted Gurgin in this scene — everything Arakawa does is for a reason, and here she wants this scene to tell us something about Gurgin’s character. This is what really interests me!

I only have access to the raw at the moment, but Gurgin’s dialogue in this scene matches up with Pulad’s in the novel. However, it does make a lot of sense to give these lines to Gurgin instead ⁠— specifically because of how he uses Guiscard’s lack of faith in the Lusitanian god. (As an aside, I really like that panel earlier in the chapter where Guiscard learns of Baudouin’s death, and his hand goes to his chest to touch on the cross of Yaldabaoth that hangs around his neck.)

Things aren’t going well for Guiscard. He overhears some of his soldiers praying fervently for Yaldabaoth to save them, and mutters to himself “What has god done so far?”. In the novel, this is part of Guiscard’s internal thought process and not something he voices aloud. Arakawa often moves thoughts or details from the narrative to dialogue, and in this case it not only conveys to the reader that Guiscard does not believe Yaldabaoth will intervene on their behalf, but also makes it clear that Gurgin knows this is something that can be exploited.

He says (rough translation): “The god Yaldabaoth does not exist. If it did, it would have come down to save you. Aren’t you the ones who left your homeland and travelled across the world on an expedition for the glory of god? Surely you are faithful, worthy believers! So why does god not save you from this crisis?”

Yes, these are Pulad’s words from the novel, but hearing them from Gurgin’s mouth called something to mind for me — Gurgin’s backstory. If you haven’t already done so, I recommend reading the spoilers about it here!

So Gurgin, who was training to become a priest alongside his brother and Farangis, is so angry and inconsolable after his brother’s untimely death that it prompts a crisis of faith that ultimately leads to him fleeing the temple to join Team Zahhak. His dialogue with Guiscard immediately brought to mind the fact that Gurgin himself has been in a similar position, where he asked himself why Mithra did not save his older brother, despite his innocence.

(Would Gurgin have drifted towards Team Zahhak anyway? Yes, very possibly, he was interested in Zahhak’s power... but it’s also possible that without the injustice of his brother’s death, he would not have taken that path.)

Anyway, the answers that Gurgin arrived at are clear — as he tells Guiscard, the god of Yaldabaoth does not exist, but the Snake King Zahhak is real, and that’s why Gurgin is acting as his messenger.

I think the context of how Gurgin came to be part of Team Zahhak is the reason why Arakawa chose to give him this scene. I hope that means he’ll survive, and we’ll one day get to see his past covered by the manga too, but at the very least, the choice to place these words in his mouth rather than Pulad’s is a nod to what drove him to abandon his own faith and serve Zahhak.

Look at his face, surely that’s the face of a character we’re going to see more of in the future? I LOVE HIM ARAKAWA PLEASE DON’T KILL HIM!

#arslan senki #the heroic legend of arslan #arslan senki spoilers #arslan senki novel spoilers #pulad #gurgin #i love one (1) member of team zahhak

22 notes · View notes

despressolattes · 4 years

Note

Soooo, I was scrolling through Bakugou angst hashtag and I found that SOMEBODY 👀 wanted some requests... So here I am :3 💖💖 I couldn't find rules sooo sorry if I break one, also if it's too much characters, just choose from them 💖 Can I get Bakugou, Hawks and Denki if they cheated? 💖 Some scenarios about them cheating and their s/o finding out and breaking up with them? And make it really sad? 💖💖 Thank you :3 💖 Make sure to drink enough water and get enough rest 💖 Have a great day 💖

CHARACTERS: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

a/n: sorry, i just started watching the show last week and have yet to get to see hawks! i also feel like i haven’t seen enough of kaminari to write about him, so for now, this will just be bakugou! once i see more of those two i’ll write one for them!

WARNINGS: cheating, angst

•─────────°❋❀°─────────•

DON’T GO DESTROYING PEOPLE’S PERSPECTIVES ON LOVE; katsuki bakugou

You had known Katsuki Bakugou for as long as you could remember. The two of you went to the same grade school, and then the same junior high. Despite not being friends with the explosive boy:—quirk and temper wise—at that age, you watched him grow from the sidelines. You watched as Izuku Midoriya went from one of his childhood friends/admirers to someone Bakugou couldn’t stand the sight of.

You watched as his inflated ego burned the dedication of beating anyone and everyone into him.

You watched.

It was when he found out that you were applying to U.A high for the Hero Program that he started to pay attention to you. Your quirk had been the opposite of his: you could manipulate water in any of its three forms.

He paid attention to how you racked up points at the Battle Trials, he paid attention to you when you ended up in Mr. Aisawa’s class together and had to go through the weird first-day of school quirk assessment tests together.

He paid attention.

And watching and paying attention slowly became asking one another to spar together, sparing together turned into talking, talking turned into walking to class together, and walking to class together turned into hanging out at each other’s house’s to do school work.

And THAT turned into the development of feelings. From Kirishima noticing that you two were always together at school and asking Bakugou about it just a tad bit too loud, piquing the interest of your fellow classmates. Mina then wanted to know everything about what was going on, and Ochako insisted that she was there for you if you ever wanted to talk.

Todoroki, who seemed like he somewhat possessed both yours and Bakugou’s quirks, just in the form of ice and fire, nonchalantly added that he saw you two together outside of school.

Oh how you and Bakugou both wanted to hit Mr. Half-n-Half for that subtle comment, said in his normal monotonous voice, acting like he had no care in the world.

“Yeah? And why the hell are you even looking at me and Y/N, huh, Icy-Hot?” Bakugou barks at him, and Todoroki merely looks away, acting uninterested in the conversation.

•─────────°❋❀°─────────•

You suppose reminiscing on your U.A days together wasn’t the best decision to be making as you packed your bags. Standing at the foot of your bed—old bed—with your luggage on top, piling clothes into it, you had to gulp back tears that threatened to spill.

You heard the door to your apartment—old apartment—open, and you instantaneously tensed. You had hoped that you could get out of the apartment before Katsuki got home, but apparently nothing could go your way.

“Hey, Y/N?” you heard Bakugou’s voice call out from either the living room or kitchen, sounding a bit grumpy, which was his default tone anyways.

You stilled, not daring to say anything.

“She left a note? Silly woman?” you heard him mumble to himself, and you realized he was now looking at the farewell letter you had left on the coffee table.

It almost broke your heart to hear him say silly woman. Bakugou’s vocabulary almost always consisted of insults and curse words, but he tended to substitute his normal vulgar language for something more tender if it was directed at you. Now, if he was speaking to Kirishima, he’d probably get called a shitty man.

Tears fells rapidly down your face, and you held your hand to your mouth to try to muffle any sobs.

“What the—” you heard Bakugou curse, and an explosion followed. You could already imagine the crumpled up letter in ashes and scorched.

“Like hell she thinks—”

His footsteps vibrated through the apartment, and you knew he was making his way towards the bedroom. Unsure if he knew you were home or not, you quickly manipulated the tears on your face to the door, freezing the lock.

As if that would do anything, you scoffed to yourself, really hating the fact that Bakugou could easily melt the ice or just blow up the entire door.

“Y/N?!” Bakugou’s voice was frantic when he realized you were home on the other side of the door. “You silly woman, open this damn door and talk to me!”

He wiggled on it a few times, pounding on it.

You didn’t answer, and frantically closed your luggage. You glanced around, seeing nothing else you needed. The rest of them could be repurchased if you were to just leave now.

You looked at the window, at the jump it would be to get to the floor from your fourth floor apartment. It was a good thing you were a hero trained for stunts like this.

“Goddamit,” Bakugou grumbled. “If you’re near the door, stand back, I’m blasting it to shreds.”

But you weren’t by the door, before you were jumping out of your old bedroom window with your suitcase in your arms and tears flying down your face. Bakugou ran to the window, watching as you ran down the street, not even stopping to look at him.

His eyes drooped, and he watched you go, replaying the words in your note over and over again.

“Katsuki,

If you’re reading this, then I’ve made my leave from the place we once shared together and called home. I suppose you’re out right now, with that girl. You know the one I’m talking about. The same one I saw you with last month while I was grocery shopping, and I brushed it off as a fan or civilian who had borrowed a few moments of your time. Then, it seemed as if you grew more distant from me. Always on your phone, always distracted, always with a guilty look behind your ruby eyes.

Then, I saw you with her a few more times, but again, I tried to push the image of you to the back of my head because who said you can’t make new friends?

The image I couldn’t push to the back of my head was the image I had yesterday, walking into the apartment around noon to surprise you with lunch on your day off. You had expected I’d be out all day, and there you were, asleep on our bed with a woman who was not me, letting her sleep on my side and letting her cuddle up to the man who was mine. Mine since high school. Mine since the days when he was intolerable to most of our classmates, but I saw through his angry demeanor and tried to pour and push and shove as much love into his sorry personality as I could.

And all of our friends had thought I had done a good job. I guess I didn’t do as good a job as I thought.

But how dare you? I’m not saying that I deserve to be loved back all because I loved you, but I did deserve more than being half-loved. I deserved more than being loved just enough to not want to leave, but seeing someone else on the side. I deserved more than this deception and betrayal.

If my best was no longer good enough for you, you should’ve told me instead of allowing another person in our home.

Don’t go destroying other people’s perception of love just because you no longer feel any for them. I wish you had just broken up with me instead.

So, I’m the one that’s leaving, and like you, I’m offering you no chance to talk about it. Just like you gave me no chance of talking about what to do with our relationship when you began falling out of love with me.

I think I might always love you, Katsuki,

But today, I am going to do what you couldn’t, and love me more.”

479 notes · View notes

shurisneakers · 4 years

Text

shut in [7]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, implied abuse, death, implied ptsd, injuries, broken bone, origami and paper planes

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: ONE MORE WEEK !!!!!!!!! ONE MORE WEEK !!!!!!!! also gif is somewhat related except steve isn’t there sorry to crush any hopes

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“Is there a reason you’re back so early?”

Both of the men nervously glanced at each other, silently urging the other to talk. A quiet form of encouragement.

“We chec- we checked all the neighbouring towns. All your safehouses,” one of them finally sputtered up after his partner elbowed him in the ribs.

“And?”

“We coordinated with all our guys across the country to look for them-”

“All I’m hearing are a bunch of excuses,” they twirled the gun on its barrel like it was a plaything. “Get to the point.”

“No one knows where they’re hiding,” he finished, swallowing thickly. “We’re still looking though. We just thought-”

“What?” their voice was surprisingly calm. “That your little status update would impress me? That I’d feel sorry for you for working so hard?”

“N-no boss,” his partner finally pitched in, saving face for his companion who opened and shut his mouth wordlessly. “Just keeping you in the loop. We’re close, I can feel-”

“Do you remember what I told you the last time you were here?”

Both of them shut their mouths immediately. Knuckles white, nails digging into their skin as they clenched their fists shut.

“That you wanted them dead,” the first one said with faux confidence. A waver in his voice gave it away.

“Yes, but you’re forgetting the important part,” they tsk’ed, shaking their head, eyes downcast.

They didn’t give anyone a chance to react. They slammed the gun down, swiftly picking it up before taking aim at his partner’s face.

“I said I’d blow your brains out.” They pulled the trigger.

Bits of bone fragment and blood splattered across the first agent’s face. He inhaled sharply, chest rising and falling haphazardly. He had his eyes shut tightly, face away from the carcass slumped over next to him..

“I want every fucking part of this country searched,” they roared, throwing the gun to the side carelessly, leaving someone else to scurry after it. “And since it’s so fucking hard for you to finish two tasks, just get me their location.”

The agent barely nodded, looking like he was about to throw up. His partner’s blood trailed down the side of his face like sweat.

“I’ll kill them myself.”

Hugh Grant was starting to look less appealing on your 6th rewatch of Notting Hill. In fact, he was starting to blend together with the characters from Die Hard and it was becoming difficult to differentiate which part belonged to which movie.

Sam sat opposite to you at the dining table, a set of papers assigned in front of him. The TV was left on, serving as background noise and occasional fillers to substitute the lack of conversation.

“That movie is not making sense anymore,” he stated objectively.

“It stopped after the third time for me.” Your words were hushed, your focus remaining on the swan you were trying to create from scratch.

“If I hear her say ‘I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy’ one more time, I actually think I’ll projectile vomit.” You could tell that his eyes didn’t shift from the screen though. “I can feel the bile. It’s going to happen.”

You only hummed in agreement, more interested in his lamenting than the actual movie.

Although origami wasn’t one of the skills you picked up in the fucking mafia, you still knew a few basic things. The rest you just folded with confidence and prayed it would work.

What other options did you have when you were stuck together in a house with no WiFi?

Sam had made a paper bowl to hold the car keys and the few dollars you picked up from Pierce’s place. It looked like it would fall apart at any given moment, its structural integrity questionable at best.

You had made a small flower that rested on the table in front of you. You were sure it would go missing the minute a draft entered the room.

He had given up after his contribution of the bowl. Apparently his creative expertise extended only towards that and paper airplanes, not that that stopped him. He was folding and manufacturing them with a vengeance.

“How is this supposed to help, Wilson?” you questioned, unable to contain the smile that grew on your face at the sheer number of planes he was making.

“Just because it’s not a decorative marvel-” he shot back in its defence, “-doesn’t mean it’s useless.”

“Oh, yeah? What else can it do other than not fly?” You watched as he launched one of them. It did a loop before falling miserably to the floor.

“Hey, you can put a message in it. Maybe one of those button trackers, a microphone. The possibilities are endless.” He laughed, folding another one out of the limited supply of paper he had left. “Besides, your thing won’t even lift off the ground.”

“Yeah, but this one can float.” You held up the swan that you had created. That about concluded your knowledge of origami.

“That’s actually… pretty cool,” he admitted. “Teach me how to make one.”

“A true master never reveals their secrets,” you eluded, placing it on the table.

“I dare you to make another.” Sneaky bastard. He knew you wouldn’t be able to replicate it. He saw you struggle the first time.

“Why, so you can just copy off of me?” you dodged, and Sam narrowed his eyes at you. You followed the same.

Neither of you blinked for a while.

“I’m out of paper,” he finally relented, gesturing to the fleet of planes that littered the table.

“I’m out of ideas.” You paused, looking down at how you’d spent the last hour. “Do you wanna go test these outside later?”

Sam looked up eagerly and you could just tell he was intending on getting competitive. “Hell yeah.”

“I’m going for a run in some time.” You got up to stretch your limbs, shrug off the fatigue that was setting in. Along the way you left the swan and one of the paper planes on top of the mini fridge alongside the car keys. It was cute. “We could do it then?”

“Sure,” he affirmed. “What time?”

“At around 6-” your eyes landed on the clock on the wall before widening, “-shit, shit, shit, I didn't realise it was five thirty. We have a call with Ransone.”

“Phone’s on the couch,” he mentioned to the living room, sitting up straight. “Why are you freaking out? We still got a few minutes to go.”

You pushed yourself away from the table, forcing yourself to shakie off the drowsiness that had begun to set in.

“You wouldn’t get it,” you mumbled, “He gets pissy if I don’t do things his way.”

You grabbed the phone, punching in the buttons and having it at the ready.

You noticed Sam focused on you with knitted eyebrows but not voicing whatever he had on his mind.

“Ready?” you questioned, but more as a formality. You had to do it regardless.

He simply nodded, looking on as you let the phone ring. If he had noticed your antsiness towards the call, he didn’t bring it up.

Ransone picked up on the last ring, not skipping a beat in answering, “Y/N.”

“Hey Ransone.” You switched the call to speakerphone.

“Are you alone?”

You glanced at Sam. He shook his head, arms crossed over his chest, edging you to continue with the arrangement you had planned the day prior.

Ransone trusted you more. He was more likely to communicate openly if Sam wasn’t around.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Where’s the other one?”

Sam silently scoffed.

“He’s taking a nap.”

“Ah,” Ransone’s tone was condescending. “How have things been?”

“It’s fine.” You press your lips into a straight line, not elucidating. “What’s the update out there?”

“Everything is a mess. We’re trying to figure out who attacked you but since there wasn’t anything left behind or any kind of trace, it’s proving to be... inconvenient.”

“Is it safe to travel?”

“What, with your face on national television?” he laughed. “Nah, I’d say it’s a little too early to be thinkin’ of a road trip. Just stay where you are, I’ll tell you when you can come out.”

Your fingers were thrumming at the table rhythmically, peeking at Sam every now and then for anything he found suspicious or wanted you to ask about.

“Listen, we’ve paid off every big guy to keep this under wraps as much as possible but Pierce was an important person. All the higher ups want this to be solved as quickly as possible. They don’t care about sacrificing a player here or there.”

Pinning the blame on you was easy enough. The faster you were put away, the faster they could stage an “accident” in prison so that none of their secrets were exposed. Wasn’t like they hadn’t done it before.

“Others in the business aren’t likin’ us accusing them of attacking one of our own. Our best bet right now is Serpentine but we haven’t gotten anything to prove it.”

You doubted they ever would. Even if they did do it, Serpentine was notorious for being cunning and stealthy in their operations. They made sure there would be no tracks leading back to them.

“So, we’re at a dead-end,” you verified. There was no telling when this would end, your exit looking further and further away. “We’re fucked.”

“No. We’ll just- Y/N, listen to me,” Ransone called out, drawing your attention back to the call.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve always protected you,” his voice was noticeably softer. “Don’t you trust me?”

You felt the temperature in the room drop.

“You said there would be no one there!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ransone scoffed. “I never said that.”

“I walk in there and there’s four people, completely armed.” Forcing yourself to recall it was making your head spin. Maybe you could ask the nurse for a painkiller. “It was supposed to be empty.”

“I think the blood loss is making you delirious,” he chided, looking at the bag of drips hanging above your bed. “It wasn’t even that bad-”

“You’re lying.” The words slipped out before you had the chance to think it over.

“Excuse me?” he tilted his head, tone suddenly sifting to that of warning.

You knew he was. You had agreed to this mission because it was supposed to be easy. It was a break.

“Ivan was there when you briefed me.” You lifted your good arm to point at him shakily. “He knows you’re lying.”

“Does he now?” Ransone quirked an eyebrow, studying his aid who stood in the corner of the dingy hospital room.

A beat of silence passed where Ransone stared at Ivan, waiting for a reply of confirmation.

Ivan only lifted his shoulders in unawareness. “I don’t remember you sayin’ that.”

Your mouth fell agape but you quickly rushed to shut it. Fucking liars. You shouldn’t have expected anything better.

“Told you.” Ransone shrugged. “You’re a smart one, Y/N, so I’m going to let that slide this time. But next time you accuse me of something I didn’t say…”

He trailed off, resting a hand on your broken shoulder. You flinched, jaw clenched so tightly you thought your teeth might break. You tried to imagine yourself somewhere else, desperate to reduce the quivering of your body when he squeezed it lightly.

“You know I’ve always tried to protect you.” He put a finger under your chin, tilting your head to meet his eye. “Don’t you trust me?”

A beat passed before you responded.

“I do,” you said through gritted teeth, pulling your face away from him.

“I’ll ask them to up your dosage.” Ransone took a step away from you, dropping his hand. “I’m going to need my best player on the field as soon as possible.”

You didn’t acknowledge his statement. Every part of your body felt like it was going to combust.

Did he really say that no one was going to be there or was it just the injuries playing with you?

“Get well soon,” he offered, one step out the door. “Buttercup.”

“You trust me, don’t you Y/N?” he repeated when you didn’t respond.

“Yes.” You swallowed, gaze falling to the floor.

“And I trust you. You wouldn’t do anything to break that, would you?”

Sam raised his one hand questioningly as if to ask what the hell he was talking about. An intimidation tactic. He had been using it for several years to reinforce your loyalty.

“I wouldn’t.”

There were things you weren’t telling him, of course. Details about that day or where you and Sam were hiding right off the top of your head. More if you thought about it deeply.

“Good,” came his response. “So if there’s anything you need, let me know. I’m always a call away.”

“Thank you.”

“Talk to you soon.” He ended the call there.

You stood there blankly for a while before dropping the phone to the ground and crushing it. Usually you wouldn’t have to do that; removing the battery would be enough. This time you wanted to.

Your chest rose and fell heavily. You loathed him. Yet, you couldn’t fucking leave.

“Hey.” Your eyes snapped back to Sam. “We still going on that run?”

The wind felt good.

Your muscles were burning and you could feel the constriction of your lungs but you liked it. The endorphins were working their charm.

Sam was right beside you, not questioning why there was so much aggression in your movement. You had lost track of how long you had been running. You couldn’t bring yourself to focus on that.

The path was paved with fallen branches and roots sticking out, forcing you to hop over some of them to avoid falling. It only annoyed you further.

You wanted to punch something. Or someone. The tension was rolling off your back in waves, and if someone saw you the’d probably believe you were going to commit an act of violence.

It was a while before you felt your steps begin to falter, the need for a proper breath taking precedence over the want to run more.

“Timeout?” you asked Sam breathlessly, slowing your pace to a jog.

“Sure about that, Usain Bolt?” he huffed, slowing his pace to match yours.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismissed it. “T’was fun.”

Now that you had slowed down, it forced you to come to terms with how much energy you had just burnt out.

“You wanna talk about what’s on your mind or ignore it?”

“Rather not talk about it for now.” The more you thought about him, the angrier you got. And as of late, you had realised that your method of dealing with that anger wasn’t the best.

The air was getting colder. It was getting harder to see what was in front of you, relying on the few rays of sunlight that shone through the treetops. You took a roundabout at your self declared checkpoint, changing course back to the house.

Sam followed wordlessly, but his presence was strangely comforting. Warm.

“Thank you.”

“For...” he trailed off, prodding you on.

“I don’t know. This.” You gestured to the path ahead of you. “I didn’t think you’d agree to it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” His eyebrows knit together in puzzlement.

You didn’t have an answer to that. Probably because you weren’t used to people just doing nice things for no apparent reason.

“How are you so calm all the time? I’ve never seen him get under your skin,” you asked quietly. “How do you do it?”

He didn’t answer straight away. He mulled over it as he dodged broken sticks and upended roots on the ground. You would be fine if he didn’t answer either; as long as he knew that you appreciated it.

“I just realised that everything he put into me was destructive. Actively worked on unlearning it,” he replied after a while. “It took me years to even begin.”

You expected to hear that but it didn’t make it easier.

“I don’t even know how to start,” you mumbled. It was so tiring, even thinking of where and how it began. It was all you knew. All you were taught.

“If I could add something?”

You looked at him questioningly.

“You had a different relationship with him than all of us, Y/N. A deeper one. It’s not easy to forget that,” he pointed out. “But… you’re not him. That takes strength.”

These weren’t new revelations. It was things you had told yourself earlier to rationalise all your actions. You knew it on a surface level but it was difficult to convince yourself sincerely.

You didn’t say anything, just continued jogging with an eye on the ground.

It felt better to hear it from someone else. A starting point to maybe get to where he was, too.

“I just can’t believe anyone took him seriously enough for him to get this far,” Sam added, a tick of annoyance in his voice. “I don’t condone bullying but someone should have just punched him in the face as a child.”

It wasn’t even the funniest thing you had heard him say but for some reason it elicited a snort from you, soon giving way to a laugh.

His face snapped to yours at the sound of your laughter, a small smile growing on his face.

His brief moment of distraction was all it took for him to not notice the tree root sticking out in front of him. His ankle got caught in the wood, sending him stumbling to the ground face forward.

“Oh shit,” you cursed, halting in your place immediately, dropping to your knees to where he was.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groaned, turning onto his back. “I think I broke my face.”

“That may be a bit excessive but your nose is definitely bleeding,” you knew this was serious but you were finding it difficult to control your laughter once you realised it wasn’t a life threatening injury.

“Just leave me here to die.” He covered his eyes with his elbow, refusing to look at you.

“C’mon, Wilson. Let’s get you fixed up.” You stood up, offering your hand. He grabbed onto it, hoisting himself up. “Can you stand up straight? Do you think you have a concussion?”

“World class assassin,” he grumbled, shaking his head to imply he was fine other than a possible broken nose.

“Promise I won’t tell. Your reputation is safe,” you said it humorously but with conviction, hoping to make it less embarrassing for him. Not that you’d let him forget it any time soon.

It took longer to walk back considering how far you had ventured out, along with the fact that you had to guide him as he held his nose in the air to try and control the bleeding.

You pushed open the door to the house, holding it open as he walked in. Sam made his way to the dining room after you told him you’d get the first aid kit for the second time during your stay there.

By the time you returned from the bathroom, grabbing an old t-shirt along the way, he had a single ice cube pressed to the bridge of his nose.

“That’s not going to be enough.” You dropped the kit onto the table, opening the mini fridge. You emptied the ice cubes from the tray onto the t-shirt, twisting it into a small ice pack.

“These are my battle scars.” You could tell that he was trying not to use his nose. He sounded ridiculous.

“Whatever makes you feel better, Sam,” you chortled. His mouth eased into a half smile and you didn’t get why until you realised it was the first time you had called him by his name. You didn’t acknowledge it, surprised by how easily it slipped out from your mouth when you weren’t actively stopping it.

You gave him a bit of cotton to wipe off the blood that had dried on his face.

“Look up,” you instructed, standing over him so you could assess the damage. He complied, letting you cradle his jaw softly, tilting his head to see if there were any signs of a fracture or anything worse.

It was a bad fall, but nothing he hadn’t been through before in terms of severeness. It wasn’t going to leave a mark.

“Definitely going to bruise but it’s not broken,” you concluded, going over it once more to make sure.

“Thanks, doc,” his voice came softly from below you. Only then did you realise how close you were standing to him. You could feel his breath on your wrist that was still caressing his face.

It felt like eternity, but he didn’t make an effort to move or shove you away. Your eyes flitted down to his lips for a second. If you just leaned dow-

“Right,” you cleared your throat, taking a step back. “Just hold this to your face for a while to reduce any swelling.”

You handed him the makeshift ice pack, feeling the heat creep up your neck.

“Your turn to use the bed tonight, right?” His voice was significantly lower than what it had been a few minutes ago, something you weren’t acclimated to hearing. It only made your face feel hotter.

“Yeah.” You avoided meeting his eyes, using the time to close the first aid kid. “Unless you want it.”

“No, go ahead.”

It was too early to retire for the evening but suddenly you weren’t all that hungry anymore. Apparently neither was he.

“See you tomorrow, then?” you inquired, turning away before he could see you cringe.

“See you tomorrow,” he confirmed, “Good night.”

You just gave him a short wave over your shoulder and physically restrained from walking to the room, shutting the door and never looking at him again. You hoped he didn’t notice or at least never bring it up if he did.

You couldn’t do this. Not again.

Not when you knew the consequences.

Next part

213 notes · View notes