#every once in a while someone in one of my discords stumbles onto something i was so normal about as a child and shit like this happens lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emmikmil · 3 years

Text

keep me in your heart for a while

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female!reader

Word count: 6,6K

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+

Warnings: Mild talk of injuries, a little sad, oral sex (f receiving) unprotected sex (this is fantasy ok IRL wrap that shit up and be SAFE)

Summary: You help Din after a chance encounter near your home. A friends to lovers with fluff, smut, some hurt/comfort and some mild angst. Set before and during season 1 of The Mandalorian.

A/N: This is part of the sl+ discord fic exchange and I wrote this for the amazing and lovely @koskareevesismyqueen I hope you enjoy!! Also big love to @soyelfuegoquearde for the beta read of my monster fic! Fic title is from the song Keep me in your heart by The Wailin’ Jennys <3

It takes you by surprise to hear blaster fire breaking the tranquil silence as you walk home. You had taken your bi weekly trip to the bustling city close by to stock up on supplies and it was unusual for any person, let alone people with blasters, to be nearby. Where you live is quiet and peaceful, nothing violent has happened in this small corner of the galaxy. Your house was tucked deep in the forest, nobody using this trail but you in your trips back and forth to the city.

You step off the path slowly to lean against a nearby tree to peer over to your left. The blaster fire had ceased for a moment but it renewed again, only closer this time. You drop down quickly, your heart jumping to your throat as an odd pinging noise rattles the air, like the shots were hitting something metal and a groan echoes throughout the trees. One last shot, then silence settles in the quickly dimming forest.

You take a few moments to breathe and get your heart settled before walking on shaky legs to the path. You have to get home, you can’t dwell on whatever fight has taken place. It’s over and it was best you got home before darkfall. As you continue down the trail, your adrenaline spikes again as you hear shuffling and more groaning. You pause and swivel your head back towards the sound. You had figured with the final shots there was no one left alive. Something inside told you to go, told you someone needed help. You pace for a moment longer, mind clicking into overdrive wondering what you were going to do. With a sigh, you walk off the path again, telling yourself you would just look and see. You doubt you can fix a blaster wound, but maybe your limited knowledge could help.

You make your steps as quiet as possible as you crept to the outskirts of the scene. Before you was a man, with his hands bound in front of him and several more men lay around him. None of them were moving and you assume it wasn’t them making those noises. Rustling to your left makes your gaze snap to another man, a very large armored man.

A Mandalorian.

You try in earnest to contain your gasp at the sight. Your eyes grow wide and you unknowingly take a few steps forward. You had grown up on stories about the Mandalorians. Their honor and creed at the forefront of every story about the armoured warriors. They had always fascinated you as a child and now one was right in front of you. He was trying to sit up now, struggling with his leg and holding a hand to his side. Before you could take another step his other hand snapped out, leveling his blaster point blank at you without even looking up.

“No, wait sir please, don’t shoot! I heard blasters and thought someone might be hurt, I just wanted to help!” You hold up your hands for good measure and back away a few steps. He finally looks at you, studying you carefully before slowly lowering his blaster. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. “Can I- Will you let me help you stand up at least?” you ask, still eyeing his blaster wearily.

“Thank you, that would be appreciated.” His reply startles you for some reason. You thought perhaps it was the fact that a Mandalorian was speaking to you in the first place, but really it was that despite the modulator in his helmet making his voice sound tinny, it still sounded so warm. Deep, warm and husky were the best descriptions, the only thoughts flying through your brain as you stare at the sprawled out figure below you. With a small shake to your head, you drop your heavy bag and walk forward to offer up your hand.

“You’re either very brave or not very bright for doing this-” His own words cut off with a grunt as he stands, leaning more on his right leg. He stumbles a bit before your arms reach out, grasping his forearms to steady him.

“It’s closing in on sundown, it’ll be cold. I didn’t want to leave a helpless person out in the forest alone.” You couldn’t help but huff, annoyed at his words, more so that he was somewhat right in his criticism.

“A helpless person with a blaster?”

“Hey, I only came closer because you’re a Mandalorian! Your people are honorable and you wouldn’t hurt an innocent person...right?” You hate the hesitancy in your voice, how it shakes a little in the pause before you finish your sentence. You had assumed, once he assessed you were not a threat, that the man in armor wouldn’t cause you any harm. Before you can doubt yourself or start to run, he lays a hand down gently on your shoulder.

“I won’t hurt you.” His voice, while still laced in pain, was soft and comforting, soothing any panic starting to swell in you. “If you could just help me to my ship, I can patch up before heading out.” You nod and gently take his arm to place it around your shoulders, slowly starting to lead him towards the path.

“Oh, what about the uh…” you point behind you to the bounty still on the forest floor before leaning down, heaving your bag to settle on your back before adjusting the Mandalorians arm back around your shoulders.

“Leave it, I’ll come back for them in the morning.” With that, you both start towards his ship in silence, which was parked not too far away from your own home. You had heard something late the night before, chalking it up to a dream and not paying much attention to it. That had to have been when he landed. You pause again for him to catch his breath, his movements getting more lethargic, his ankle dragging worse and worse.

“How much farther is your ship again Mandalorian?” you ask while steadying his form. It was nearly black out now, the only light visible was the stars above and the small twinkle of light coming from the small lamp in your window.

“It’s just there,” he points towards the right ”just past that treeline, down the hill. Another twenty minute walk.” you bark out a laugh and pivot him back to the left.

“No way, neither of us can last that long, especially in the dark. My house is right here, I can patch you up and you can stay with me for the night. No arguing” The last bit spoken quickly when you hear him take a breath to respond.

You already knew he was quiet and independent, and somewhat stubborn, but you were not helping this man limp another twenty minutes. You guide him up the small path to your door, leaving his side to open it and gesture him to come inside, He limps in and stands in the middle of the room, watching as you bounce around the room, putting your supplies down on the table and rummaging in a drawer in the kitchen for your small medkit. You turn back and bite your lip in thought, glancing between the large Mandalorian and the now comically sized couch and armchair behind him.

“Go through that door, my bed will be easier for me to patch you up on.” You turn, setting water to boil for some tea before following him back to your room. “You have to take off some of that armor for me to take a look…” you flush slightly as he sits rigidly on the side of your bed. You turn away fiddling with the medkit, opening it, taking out some gauze and bacta spray as the sound of armor piling up on your floor echoes around the quiet house. You turn back around as he clears his throat.

The armor covering his leg, stomach, and chest were gone leaving only his worn pants and shirt underneath. The armor piled up in the corner along with both of his boots. You gulp, shaking your head as you bend to examine his ankle. Not broken to his luck, just twisted and swollen. The graze on his side from the blaster fire didn’t look too bad either. To fill the silence as you work you half-heartedly ask the story about this bounty. To your surprise, the Mandalorian, or Mando at his request, told the story of the bounty. How it had only become trouble when several of his crooked buddies came to “rescue” their friend, but ended in all of them dying in the quick battle. You both finish around the same time and he murmurs a quiet thanks as you clean up. You gently touch his shoulder as he goes to sit up.

“Hey now Mando, keep off that ankle. You may hurt it worse moving it more tonight. You’re more than welcome to stay here tonight. I’m making tea now and I’ll bring you some food.”

“You don’t have to go to the trouble” he begins to argue, just like you knew he would, and that thought makes you smile.

“I don’t mind. It’s nice to have company and...it’s cool to meet a Mandalorian. I grew up on stories about you, so-” you shrug at that, shuffling your feet before moving to the door ”besides, the bacta needs to work on that ankle. Should be fine by morning.” you threw over your shoulder before scurrying to the now boiling water. You could have sworn you heard a soft laugh but push that thought away, instead focusing on a small plate of food and tea for Mando.

-------

He sits in the cockpit of the Razor Crest, leaning his head back for a moment to watch the morning light break through the horizon. He hadn’t slept a wink the night before, too on edge to rest his body how he needed to. The adrenaline of the day before from the ambush hadn’t faded as it normal did. Being hurt, feeling almost helpless as he heard a figure walk toward him. He is glad now he didn’t shoot first like he normally did. He won’t admit to being startled by this woman in the middle of forest, walking right onto a grizzly scene wanting to do nothing but help the person who was injured. It left his guard up, and he nearly rejected her, but that tree root twisted his ankle something fierce, and he was not looking forward to crawling back to his ship in the dark.

Din knew he wasn’t the most gracious guest with his stubbornness and attitude but she didn’t even bat an eye. He hopes the credits he left on her table would be enough to pay for the supplies she wasted on him. As he takes off, heading to take the now frozen body back to Nevarro, he finally allows his body to relax in his comfort space. He had seen very little kindness in his adult life, specifically kindness where some kind of reward wasn’t expected in return. Try as he might to ignore his exchange with the woman, images and conversation from the night before dance around in his head. He wonders when, if ever, they will fade.

-------

You admit you had been just a little disappointed that he had left so early, and he had been so incredibly silent. You had startled awake from the nest you’d made in your cozy chair well into the late morning. You had walked to your table to see his dishes from the night before, his empty tea cup and his plate that you had put bread and cheese on. You couldn’t help but laugh at the crusts, now incredibly stale, still left on the plate. The big, strong, and snarky Mandalorian didn’t like the bread crusts. Your laugh died on your tongue as the light hit the large pile of credits stacked just behind the dishes. You shifted everything around, hoping he had left a note or explanation for the credits, but there was none to be found.

Your mind drifts to him often in the next several weeks. Every time you use the credits you thought of him. You spent them to restock your med kit, and even treat yourself to some books you had been eyeing for too long now. Sometimes at night, curled in your chair by the fire with your new books your mind would wander. Mostly you wonder if he thought about you, if his own mind drifts to the quiet night you two had shared. It hadn’t been much. After patching him up you brought him some food and tea, slinking away with heat flooding your face when you realized he couldn’t take off his helmet in front of you. You two talked a bit later that night, when you came to check his ankle before bed. He had been quiet and watchful of every move you made. He did answer the few questions about his creed that you just couldn’t help but ask. You wish now that you had asked more, wanting to hear his voice more, but all you could do was commit the moments to memory, a tale to tell your future children of how you saved a real Mandalorian.

Perhaps that is why you were so gobsmacked when said Mandalorian walked up to you several weeks later as you tend to the garden. His shadow engulfing your frame as you crouch, urging the crooked plant to stand upright.

“Are you...here for a bounty or something? I-shit i’m sorry that was rude.” You can’t help but smile as his shoulders shook under the armor as you fidget with your gloves.

“Had to stop and get supplies. Figured I would come see if you’ve saved any other strangers in the forest.” you scoff at his teasing tone, standing up to brush the dirt off your legs.

“I did actually, they even ate the crusts on their bread, unlike the last guy.” Your glare and cocky smirk melt away to a large smile as the Mandalorian barks out a real genuine laugh. “Come on now Mando, I’ll put on some tea.”

This interaction happens time and time again, he would stop by every month or so on his way to turn in bounties. After a few visits he brought you different teas he would find in markets around the galaxy, or even a book he thought you would like. The air between you two was easy, and you could tell he was more and more comfortable, having no problem lounging by the fire listening to your rattle on about the book you were reading or what your friends had been up to in the city. He never stayed overnight at your house again, but he would stay late sometimes and those were your favorite times.

You two would sit close and talk more seriously, leaving your usual joking and playful banter to die out with the sunlight. He told you of his parents, his childhood, his early days when he was reckless and wild. In turn you shared your secrets, troubles and your dreams. Mando may not be the most talkative during some visits but he was always so attentive, soaking up every word you said. It was one of those moments where he first called you cyare instead of your name. As you looked at him confused, he confessed, quite nervously in fact, that it meant friend in mando’a and your heart swelled. You knew he was alone a lot of the time and it sent warmth to flood your body knowing that he considered you a friend, a real friend.

Before you knew it, it had been over a year since you two had first met. You never quite knew when he would arrive, but he did each time, gift in hand asking if you had picked up any more wayward strangers and each time you would accept his present and roll your eyes as he laughs. You believe it was in these moments, in the playful jabs, the afternoons spent talking, that you felt the joy of friendship blossom into a yearning unlike anything you've ever felt. It made you happy to be his friend, even if it stings with the wish to be more than that. So you took each visit and savored the moments,

This latest visit was on the shorter side, with him being behind from hunting someone down and he needed to turn them in ASAP. Yet he still stopped in to see you, handing you more of your newfound favorite tea. Time went by fast as you talk and catch up and soon enough he stands, heading for your door before turning to look at you.

"Be safe cyare, don't bring home any strangers." You roll your eyes playfully like always

"You too big guy, watch out for those tree roots on your way out!" Your giggle echoes behind you as he dramatically flings your door open and strolls out to his ship. You follow and wave from your doorway as he leaves, only going inside as you see him fly away. Your heart aches but your usual goodbyes always soften the blow of his absence, the nicknames and inside jokes bringing a smile to your face,

You just wished that you savored that last visit more, wished it had been longer. That last goodbye echoed in your mind as the next month comes and goes with no sign of Mando. Then two months, then three pass with nothing. His voice bounced in your mind, echoing in the silent nights. You knew how dangerous his job was, had seen a small portion of it first hand, but you never questioned the possibility of him just being...gone.

You had no way of communicating with him, knew of nobody else he knew. Asking around the town was hopeless, and with every month that passed, the more your heart cracked open. By the sixth month you just stopped hoping, stopped imagining him walking through your doorway. You continued with life, work, friends, and shopping. Before you always enjoyed taking walks through the forest, but now it left such an ache in your chest, passing the spot near your home where you first met him. Going back and forth to the city was now a dreaded task that you put off as long as possible.

This is where you find yourself now, hurrying past that area with your head down, swallowing down all your emotions. Your only focus right now was to get in the house, put your items away and lose yourself in a book to unwind. You repeat this like a mantra in your mind, focusing so heavily on it that hearing your name almost makes you stumble backwards. Your head snaps up, eyes widening as you take in the sight of Mando walking towards you. The moment feels like it’s in slow motion, feeling so dreamlike and it's not until he touches your face with his gloved hand that the spell breaks. With a gasping sob you throw yourself into his body, holding him for dear life and whimpering out his name as you try to catch your breath.

"Oh cyare, I'm so sorry. I came as soon as I could." He held you right to his chest as he soothes your hair back. He kept murmuring apologies softly in your ear as your cries finally dwelled and you two stand like this, clinging to each other in relief, only breaking away when a soft coo sounds from somewhere behind Mando. You sniffle and peek behind his body, seeing an orb floating midair with a small bundle inside. You look between the orb and Mando before stepping around him and walking forward. Sitting up inside the orb was the cutest little green baby staring up at you.

“Well hi there little one.” you say as you bend down to be at eye level with the baby. He stares at you with his large dark eyes before making another cooing sound and holding his tiny arms out to you. You glance back at Mando who nods, and you carefully nestle the baby in the crook of your arm, being careful of the obnoxiously big ears that now wiggle as he smiles up at you. The baby’s smile widens and he makes an almost purring sound as Mando walks up, placing one hand on your lower back and the other to pat the baby’s head with gentle affection. You smile as you look up at Mando. “Seems like you’re the one picking up strangers now, huh?” The low laugh Mando makes sets your heart leaping from your chest. You must be making a face because he slowly starts to rub circles into your back.

“It’s a long story, but the kid and I can stay awhile If...that’s alright with you?” He seems nervous and hesitant asking this, but on instinct you grab his hand and pull him towards your front door,

“I’ve got all the time in the world Mando. I’ll make tea and food while you talk.”

For the rest of the afternoon and early evening Mando tells you everything that happened with this small bounty, his change of heart, the harrowing close encounters and the overall life on the run these two had endured. While it hurt knowing how hard Mando pushed and fought to keep them safe, it made you happy that he wasn’t alone. It was easy to see how close they had grown, how much of a protective father he has become over this magically inclined green baby.

The baby quickly attaches to you, eating up every ounce of food you offer him, and you give Mando a knowing look as the baby eats every piece of bread, even the crust. As darkness falls, the baby is put to bed, easily going down from his busy afternoon and silence takes over. Mando fidgets, seeming uncomfortable much like his first visit here and it sets you on edge.

After a while he finally breaks the silence. “I’m sorry again, you know it wasn’t safe to come here before. I couldn’t bring any danger to you. I know you were lonely-”

“Wait, wait. Lonely? You think I was upset because I had been lonely?” Your harsh tone cutting him off made Mando pause and shake his head.

“That’s not what i meant cyare-” You stand up abruptly, shaking your head at him, cutting off his words again

“I thought you were dead. This entire time Mando. I thought all I would ever have are the memories of our stories, our jokes, that your laugh would haunt my dreams. Don’t get me started on that damn nickname you call me,” you stop yourself before you wake the baby and try to compose yourself. Your hand goes to your heart, almost shielding it before you force yourself to take a breath and look Mando straight on. “This wasn’t a friend leaving with no contact for months. It meant so much more- you mean so much more.”

Your confession hangs there between the two of you, making the air so thick in its resounding silence that you turn away, but a gentle hold on your wrist stops you from moving away. At his whisper of your name you turn, seeing him stand up slowly.

“Cyare means beloved.”

Those three words knock every ounce of air out of you and you blink away tears as you stare at him in wonder. “Mando does that...mean that you-”

“Yes, for a long time now.” He steps forward and bends his head, bringing your foreheads to touch. You then take hold of either side of his helmet, bringing him down even more so that you press your lips to his forehead. After he lets out a shaky exhale he asks quietly “Do you trust me?”

Without even an ounce of hesitation, you answer “Yes, absolutely I trust you.”

He gently takes your hand and leads you back to your bedroom. He pushes the door open and closes it as you walk in. You hope he can't hear how loud you swallow as he closes the curtains, blocking out the moonlight and plunging the room in complete darkness.

The next moments would be engraved into your mind for the rest of your days. A gentle hiss filled the room before you felt hot air near your face. “Can I kiss you cyare?” His lips are so close to yours and you shiver as your mind struggles to catch up. With a hitch in your breath you realize…

His helmet. He took off his helmet.

With that realization you surge forward, pressing your lips to his and throwing your hands up and forward to bury themselves in his hair. Mando lets out a small gasp at the contact, the true first bit of touch he’s felt on his face, and you take the opportunity to gently slide your tongue inside his mouth; Deepening the kiss makes both of your brains go fuzzy and it's a sloppy and beautiful tangle of lips and tongues. You have no idea how long you two stand there and kiss, learning and exploring each other’s mouths, but you wish with every bit of your heart that this moment, this feeling, everything that you’re experiencing with him will never end.

However it does have to end, and you break apart to catch your breath, noses touching as you both pant. Mando takes no time however, and presses wet kisses all over your face, seeming to not want to keep his lips off of you. You giggle at his affection, pulling him closer to slow his movements, fumbling in the dark to find his lips as you kiss him sweetly before pulling away once more. “Let's catch our breath a bit, Mando.” He’s so close to you, you can feel his lips turn up into a small smile.

"Sorry, got carried away there. I've never…" At his pause you want to smack yourself, remembering just how important this was. To take his helmet off to kiss you, even in the dark? You wonder exactly how inexperienced he is but his voice returns once more. "I don't regret it, this was-this was worth waiting for."

One of your hands leaves his hair and you cup his cheek, feeling the slight stubble beneath your palm. "Oh Mando, I-"

"Din. My name's Din. You can use it if...you'd like to."

You felt his jaw shake under your palm, could damn near taste his nervousness and that just wouldn't do. You whisper his name against his lips before diving back into his kisses. At this his resolve seems to snap and his hands tentatively start to wander from their place on your waist, one tracing up and down your spine while the other grips your hip.

You slowly start to walk him backward towards your bed, but Din surprises you as he flips you two around and falls back, sending you both tumbling onto the bed. The movement was so quick and unexpected you couldn’t help but let out a giggle as you cuddle up to him and continue to press kisses on his lips, the tip of his nose, and back to nip at his jaw. That contentment you both had just standing and kissing in your room fades as his body settles next to yours. You lay on your sides facing each other, sharing kisses wherever you could reach.

Before things could go further, you had a burning question to ask. "Din we can just do this. I don't want to pressure you into more, especially if this is your first time and-"

His laugh was somehow even more enchanting outside of the helmet and butterflies erupt in your chest before bursting into flames as he speaks. "I meant I had never kissed before, I have done...other things before, just with the helmet on."

You can't help but nuzzle his nose with affection before whispering "I want this if you do Din." The moment his pleas left his mouth you threw your leg over his hip and try to grind down on him as you pull him into a searing kiss.

He sighs into the kiss before he pulls away and starts tearing away his armor and clothes. At least that is what you assume he's doing by the dull thuds and clanks and muttered curses. You take the hint too, quickly peeling off your clothes. As you finish you feel his bare hand reach for you and he pulls you back into him, throwing your leg over his now bare hip and putting his lips back onto yours.

This lit a fire in you, unlike anything you’ve known. You wanted him now, needed all of him or else flames would consume every part of you. It took you a moment to realize the high-pitched whine you heard didn’t come from Din. He was currently whispering your name with his hand gripping your hip, stilling your hips.

“I just need, please I just-let me kiss you. I want to taste you, please.” he whispers against your lips and the desperate sound of his voice breaks through the kiss driven lust inside your brain. You remember with a jolt that he’s never kissed anyone, never tasted anyone before,and you take in a shaky breath before rolling onto your back. You couldn’t name what exactly that swell of emotions was inside you as he began to place kisses over your face and down your neck. Knowing that you are the first person he’s ever wanted or trusted to kiss brings a flood of warmth to your chest. That warmth however quickly rushed down to your abdomen as Din licks the hollow of your throat and presses a small kiss there. He takes his time as he kisses down over your heart and further to your breasts

He spends longer there than you expect, very clearly enjoying the feel of them in his hands as he massages and kisses every inch of them. He’s sucked more bruises on your breast than anything but you have no heart to complain. He only stops when you finally beg him to move, and he mutters a quick apology as he kisses and licks to your stomach. His hands move to your knees and prys your thighs apart. As he settles lower to place kisses along your inner thigh he stops. You realize with a rush of heat to your face, just how wet your thighs had become. You had been rubbing them together trying to find any relief as he devoured every inch of your breasts and you didn’t realize just how wet it made you. You suck in a breath as you feel Din’s fingers lightly trace over your slit and he groans as realization also settles in for him.

“We’ve barely...I haven’t even touched you here and you’re already this wet for me?” you can’t help but let out a breathless laugh at his voice, which sounds like he is in complete awe of you. Before you can reply his head dips down, licking your arousal from your thighs. He takes great care in licking both thighs clean and you nearly cry in relief when he licks from your entrance to your clit in one slow movement. You can feel his hands shake as he holds your thighs apart and slowly works you over with his tongue.

You know Din has never done this before, so you let him explore you like this, enjoying the sensations of his mouth all over your pussy. His unsure kisses around your lips, the long licks up your slit gave way to him being more confident with your hums and gasps of approval urging him forward. While it feels amazing, you need more, so you take his hair in your hand and with a slight tug, you get his attention.

“Up here, right here at my clit just-” you let out a choked out gasp as he licks right where you need it. “There Din, just suck there and- and put your fingers inside me, just one to start.” Din was all too eager to please you and gently sucks on your clit while he pushes one of his thick fingers inside you. You kept one hand twisted around his hair and the other to cover your mouth from the very loud moans now tumbling out. With a particularly harsh suckle, you gripped his hair even more, pushing him forward as your hips lift to grind down onto his face. The vibrations from Din groaning into your heat only magnifies the feeling and you melt, doing nothing but writhe and muffling your gasps and moans. As you feel a second finger breach you to join the first, his other hand curling around your wrist near your mouth. You close your lips to try and keep quiet as Din gently pulls your hand down to the mattress and intertwines your fingers together.

“I want to hear you, please, I want to listen to you fall apart.” His lips barely leave you, his warm breath coming out in pants over your sensitive clit, the puffs of air sending goosebumps down your whole body. With that, he returned to licking, sucking, and even biting a little, and soon enough, you did exactly as he asked. You didn’t hold back the sounds and moans spewing from your mouth and you damn near scream his name as a third finger entered you just as your orgasm hit. His fingers never let up their steady rhythm, only slowing when your body releases from its rigid state and you melt into the blankets beneath you. You twitch and sigh as you feel his fingers leave you and his tongue replaces them, gently licking you, drinking up every bit of your release.

As your breathing slows back to normal, you feel Din shift between your thighs, and you hear him grunt as a slick sound fills the room. The heat that melted from your body with your orgasm came back tenfold when you realize those slick sounds were Din stroking his cock. Stroking himself with the hand that was just moments ago finger fucking you, making his cock slick and preparing to enter you. Your every thought was lost in a lusty haze that you didn’t realize you began to murmur the word please over and over again, Din leans over you, pressing his lips to yours softly to quiet you down.

“Are you ok? You want to keep going?” His questions were so sincere, it was made funnier when you realize the fingers cupping your cheek were the same that were buried inside you and stroking his cock only moments before. Grinning, you push forward, kissing the edge of his mouth softly before wrapping your legs around his waist to guide him to fit perfectly between your open thighs.

“Yes, I’m good, please let’s keep going.” With that Din seals his lips to yours and shifts, slowly pressing inside you. You only broke the kiss when Din finally bottomed out, parting to both groan as your walls clenched around him. His thick cock stretches you just enough to almost be painful before it fades out into pure bliss as he grinds into you. You cling to his back as he starts to move. He keeps his thrusts shallow and deep, keeping himself buried in you as much as possible. All you can do is hold on for dear life as he steadily fucks you deeper into the mattress. His lips never leave your skin, mostly he keeps them on your lips to swallow down every gasp you let out. From this angle, his pubic hair was giving just the smallest bit of friction to your clit and while it feels good, you need a new angle. With every bit of force you can muster you clamp your thighs around him and roll the both of you over so you loom over him.

“Was that not good? Was I-" you cut off the questions with a mess of a kiss, and even if he can't see you, you gave him the biggest grin.

"Wanted to try something new. I can't let you always be in control Din, you have to learn to share." And with that you grind down and circle your hips, grinning even more at the gasp and slew of curses that escaped his lips. You set a faster past than before, the fire building inside was growing stronger with each second. Next time you tell yourself, next time you two will take it slow. Right now all that matters is the burning in your belly, the chills crawling up your spine, and Din moaning your name into the dark room.

It seems it is Din’s turn, his patience snapping, he moves his iron grip on your hips to your ass, gripping them as he slams you down onto him as he thrusts up. This sucks every bit of air from your lungs and you fall forward, bracing yourself on his chest as he picks up the pace. Just as your breath returns to you and you moan, the air whooshes back out of your lungs as Din spits out through clenched teeth. “That’s my good girl, I knew you could take my cock so well. So. Fucking. Well.” Each of his last words were punctuated by bone rattling thrusts and you scream into his chest before sitting up, prying one of Din’s hands off your ass, bringing it to your clit. He takes the hint and swirls tight and fast circles around you and it is just what you need. With a broken cry you fall apart, collapsing back onto his chest and groaning into his shoulder. Din holds you close and meets his end after a few more thrusts, clutching your back and burying his face into your hair. You two lie there tangled together until you can catch your breaths. Eventually you lean up and you giggle as you try and fail to find his lips. He chuckles too as your lips find his cheek and chin before finally pressing against his lips. You kiss lazily like this, basking in the afterglow; tongues tangling, your hands twisted in his hair, and his nails slowly tracing lines up and down your back.

Din is the first to pull away, rolling you both over to the side before he starts to pull away.

“No, stay” you mumble groggily, the emotions and actions of the day weighing heavily on your now sated body.

“I’ll be back, we need to clean up.” he huffs as you whine and paw at his body, but Din easily gives in, letting you win this battle. He gladly lets you position him back down, lying flat on the bed as you cuddle into his chest.

“Clean later, just hold me for a bit.” He kisses your forehead and you hum in contentment. As your body falls deeper into relaxing, sleep slowly taking over, you hear him speak quietly, lips till pressed to your head.

“Good night cyar'ika.”

This rouses you from your sleepy state enough to ask, “that one doesn’t mean friend, right?” You smile as you feel his body shake beneath you as he laughs.

“No, it doesn’t mean friend. Good night Darling.”

You both fall asleep with smiles on your faces and hearts fuller than either of you even knew possible.

#sl fic challenge #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian fan fic #din djarin x f!reader

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dabisburntsack · 4 years

Text

False Alarm

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing(s): Shigaraki Tomura x GN!Reader

Genre: Fluff !

Synopsis: When your long time gaming partner brings up the topic of May Day you can’t help but romanticise the olden holiday with your ever growing crush on him.

Wordcount: 1784

This is apart of a sfw flower collab done with the bnharem discord server! I loved the prompt for this collab and can’t wait to see how everyones fics turned out!! Special thanks to @pluviophile-imagines for helping my ass through this as I had a mental breakdown٩( ᐛ )و

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

⇾ signifies texting

May Day was a traditional holiday, one you wouldn’t have really heard of had your long time online gaming partner not brought it up in discussion as you fought against him to bring down the zombies on your screen.

“Yeah you pretty much leave a basket full of flowers with different meanings to them hanging on a loved ones door”

“I would have never pegged you for the romantic type” You replied amused.

“I’m- well, I’m... I would never do it-”

“You wouldn’t?”

“Pffft no, of course not”

“Shame, I think it's really romantic!”

The line went quiet, the only audible sound being the cock of guns and explosions going off in the game. You readjusted your mic wondering if he’d cut off when his voice came again; though quieter than the usual responses you would get.

“You think?”

“Yeah! Come onnn, tell me that isn’t the cutest thing ever”

The line paused again for the briefest moment, but when he finally continued speaking the conversation switched back to gameplay as if the short discussion about May Day had never occured. You shrugged and went back to chatting aimlessly about zombies yourself, though a small part of you may have wanted to carry on with the romance talk.

You had known the player ‘Decay_God’ for going on 3 years now and were as close as online friends could be. From what you’d gathered over the years, Tenko worked at a bar and had a shit ton of roommates. Though he constantly went on about how annoying they were, you could tell he cared deeply for them. He was passionate about what he did, whether it be his job (you didn’t know what exactly it was, just that his mood in your games would be whether or not he had received good news from his end) or his game play.

In the beginning, you didn’t really like him or his attitude; both being highly ranked in the gaming community you would constantly butt heads and his childish behaviour of when you would steal a victory off him annoyed you to no end. But as it went on, his temper tantrums died down and once you got to know him, you found his quips and wit to be quite entertaining. Now two years later, you would look forward to getting home from a stressful day at work to endlessly chatter about whatever topic was of the day.

You couldn’t lie, you had garnered a bit of a crush on him.

You didn’t even know what this man looked like. He could be a catfish! An old perverted dude! Hell he could even be a criminal and you’d be none the wiser! Although, if you were being honest with yourself… you couldn’t help but make the obvious connection to a certain infamous villain. One that happened to have pale blue hair and a decaying quirk. Even in personality they seemed interchangeable, from what you had seen on the news he was also akin to throwing childish temper tantrums and scratching at his neck when frustrated (a habit you regularly scolded Tenko for when you heard the telltale sound nails scraping along side the column of his neck.)

Whenever you did think about it though you stopped yourself, come on as if you would be gaming with Shig- no, you weren’t even going to say his name. So they had a few similarities, this was a whole villain compared to your sweet gaming partner. Dumb conspiracy theories aside, you couldn’t help the small flutter of your heart when he would say your name in a teasing manner or when he praised you for a particularly hard kill.

As you logged off for the night you laid your head against the wall your bed was propped next to and stared at the blank ceiling, your mind drifting back to the May Day conversation. A blushing Tenko came to your mind, his face obscured by a large hood, nervously rubbing at the back of his head before handing you a large bouquet of flowers. Your cheeks flushed and you slapped at them to stop yourself from heating up, vanishing the mental image mid thought.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t as much of a small crush as you wanted it to be.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

After having a three day break, getting ready for work so early in the morning proved more effort than it should have been. Still trying to blink the sleep out of your eyes, you dragged your dazed body to your front door. You checked yourself for your belongings as you unlocked it, but as you took your first step out your foot landed in...ash?

You lifted your shoe to inspect the little decaying bits stuck to it, looking down you realised there was a pile of decayed dust on your doorstep.

You paled.

Instantly you were on high alert, tearing your foot from the contaminated shoe and snapping a picture of the evidence. You placed the shoe in a bag for further examination and bolted your door before texting your boss, the number four hero: Edgeshot.

Having the job of a personal assistant to such a high ranked hero meant you were used to lives being threatened. So far it had never happened to you and although this was small you could never be too sure. With the inside information you had, Edgeshot had always told you to be aware that someone may pull something sooner or later. It wasn’t completely out of the blue.

After seeing your message to your boss had been delivered, you reached out for the metal baseball bat you kept in the storage cupboard under the stairs, your quirk not really suited for defence purposes as it was made for technological aspects.

Checking every nook and cranny of your small apartment you didn’t see anything out of the ordinary and flopped back onto the sofa. Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair before going through your phone, checking the news, any odd sightings, anything you should possibly be alert for.

However crime rates seemed to be low and the only recent stories were from three days ago. Still not having received a text back from Edgeshot, you automatically switched to your messages with Tenko to type out the events of your morning.

I think I just got threatened lol

Instant response.

WHAT?!

If you don’t hear from me in 24 hours call the police :DD

Y/N

Ok okaY, damn you’re such a buzzkill

There was a pile of ash on my doorstep this morning, with my work you know I can never be too careful

I’m fine though, I already told my boss

You waited as three dots appeared signifying he was typing but after a while they stopped. You furrowed your brows as they started up and stopped multiple times. After a full five minutes (during which time you grew bored and changed apps) a ping popped up.

With how long he had taken to type you were expecting a lengthy paragraph, what you weren’t expecting was a simple:

Oh? That’s all?

Yeah

You placed down your phone before another ping sounded out.

Are you sure they weren’t flowers

How the hell did you come to that conclusion

The typing ceased once more and you were left to your thoughts. What the hell did he mean by that? How did he come up with flowers out of all things like-

May Day?

You leapt from your seat, stumbling to look at the calendar attached to your kitchen wall, scanning the dates crossed off before turning the page and realising it was indeed the first of May. It surely couldn’t be a coincidence Tenko had brought up the holiday just yesterday. So he’d brought you flowers, because you said it was romantic… and he’d… dusted them. Dusted them, with his quirk, because he was…

Tenko could not be Shigaraki Tomura.

You did not have a crush on Shigaraki fucking Tomura.

Luckily at that moment the chime of your phone's ringtone going off distracted you. Looking at the caller ID you breathed a sigh of relief to see that it was Edgeshot. You could finally get to the bottom of this instead of drawing up ridiculous conclusions.

Edgeshot’s calm voice came through the other end of the line, stern but familiar. It seemed you’d been right to take the situation seriously, or so he assured you. But even as he talked to you, asking if you’d seen anything or if there was any other evidence of someone watching you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it hadn’t meant anything at all.

Of course, if your gut instinct was right and you’d been gaming (and falling for) Shigaraki Tomura for three whole years and he’d been trying to romance you then that was. Definitely something. You just weren’t entirely sure what that something was.

You’d been talking to Edgeshot for nearly two hours when a knock sounded on your front door. Had he come by? What was the point of ringing, then? And wouldn’t he have told you?

You made your way over to the door and opened it expecting the sight of your boss, but instead you were met with a large bouquet of flowers perched on your doorstep. You looked up just in time to see a mess of unruly blue hair tucked into a black hoodie turning rapidly round the corner.

“False alarm,” you said quickly, ending the call on pure impulse and making a dash after the stranger.

You weren’t entirely sure what the plan was. It seemed more and more likely that you were right with each new development. What were you going to do if your gamer buddy really was an S-rank villain? Would you still be interested? Would he? He’d gone through the trouble of getting you flowers not just once but twice, and honestly… the idea that he’d been so nervous the first time was kind of endearing.

That was a cute image, him standing at your door, so worried that he didn’t even notice he’d dusted the flowers in his hand as he set them down, probably running away quickly so you wouldn’t see him.

You reached out to grab the sleeve of your fleeing visitor and as they whirled round your suspicion after all this time was proven correct. You were speaking the moment his eyes met yours, all hesitation suddenly gone.

“You can’t just leave me flowers and run off like that, what if I thought it was another threat?”

Shigaraki’s scarlet eyes widened as they met your own.

“Hey Tenko” you grinned.

#sanaa writes #bnha x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki fluff #boku no hero academia #bnha #bnha imagines #league of villains #league of villians x reader #my hero academia #mha #mha imagines #mha x reader #shigaraki x y/n #bnharem #bnharem collab

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sokkisky · 3 years

Text

~baby bird part five~

Want to make a request?: https://forms.gle/NyZgUcqkCPzHRvVn6

Ghost School RP Discord: https://discord.gg/5mschvebTn

Rating: SFW (Angst, Fluff)

Pairings: Keigo Takami (Hawks) x Y/N

Warnings: Kidnapping, Pain/Torture (Not to the child, no toucha da child), Violence, Blood

A/N: OMG THIS IS INSANE! This is seriously a PART FIVE. This is such a cute little series. Part Five is a bit of a prequel though, it takes place BEFORE THE CHILD CAN USE THE WINGS. They’re not even there yet. So that’s a little important. Once again if any of the warnings trigger you, please do not read. And in the immortal words of Aphmau “No toucha da child”. No harm will come to the baby, nobody will be punting any children around here. But yeah! It’s crazy because this is how this whole series started. A kidnapping. Full circle. I’m planning on keeping this going if it continues to be requested, it’s so adorable and yeah, here are the requests. Yes with an S.

I think I request something where hawks x reader where there baby gets kidnapped something like that just in case I didn’t there we go angst to fluff <3

Sorry sorry me again LMAO I love your writing ❤️ Hawks x reader I think I requested this just in case though where the baby gets kidnapped so does the reader the reader gets tortured to save her baby but LUCKILY hawks brought endeavor and the rest of the hero commission and saves her but the baby is safe though ( no pain on the baby ) angst to fluff

Baby x reader gets kidnapped hawks series!!!!

READER AND THEIR CHILD GET KIDNAPPEDDDDDD and HAWKS has to SAVE THEM!

As you can see, this is a highly requested topic. Thank you @wafflesareniceandfluffy and anons. I’m vv excited and everything. While the second request is slightly different, i think I’m going to stick to the whole Hawks’ saves them. Also I’ve been asked a few questions

Your name? - Sokki <3

2. Can we have links to the rest of the series? - Yes <3

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Now let’s get started! Remember to take care of yourselves, be kind to yourself and you ARE WORTH THE WORLD! Please don’t ever forget that. I hope you guys enjoy!

Keigo slammed his hand on the desk. His wings fluttered sporadically with fury.

Again, he let it happen again.

You were gone. His precious baby was gone. He lost the two most important things to him.

Again

~~~

“Fro yo!” your two year old excited said pointing to the frozen yogurt stall up the street. You smiled and looked over to Keigo. “She’s been good today, I’ll go get the fro yo, what do you want?” you asked him, holding your daughter in your arms as she wiggled trying to get to the frozen yogurt stand. Keigo smiled and kissed your forehead, “I’m fine, I just have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back okay?” he said. You nodded as he walked off and you headed towards the fro yo stand with your daughter.

Keigo walked out, his wings relaxed as he looked around. He saw the frozen yogurt cart, but you weren’t there. No biggie he’d thought you’d ordered by now. He looked around the plaza, trying to see you or his kid. He opened his phone and called you.

No answer.

He texted you, not panicking yet. This was a public place, surely if something happened someone would see,

Right?

He checked his phone again, still no answer. He called you again, and again, and again.

No answer.

Now he began to panic. He went up to the frozen yogurt stall but the worker said he hadn’t served anyone that matched your description. Nor anyone with a kid. Keigo hoisted himself in the air, flying above the people looking for you. He called out your name to no answer. He desperately flew around the plaza searching for you.

It was clear however, that you were gone.

~~~

His eyes were clouded with tears as he screamed out. Crying in a mix of fury and sadness. It had been two days now and there were no traces of you or his daughter, like the two of you never existed. He clutched your family photo in his hands tightly as he leaned over on his knees, crying out. His tears dripped to the floor as his body shook. He dropped his forehead to the ground, the tears never stopping. He sobbed loudly unlike he’d ever cried before. His body hurt, his chest felt as if it was going to cave in and collapse on itself. His heart stung.

He failed you.

He lost you.

His mind raced with all the horrible things that could be happening. He remembered how he found you last time, but now they had his daughter. He wanted to throw up thinking about all of the horrible things they would do to his daughter, to you, his only family.

He sat on the ground, upright now, his hands trembling as he stared at the photo. You were there in his arms as he flew above the ground. Your baby in your arms. You both smiled brightly and your daughter was laughing.

Her laugh. Keigo’s pain was sent back in waves as the realization hit that he might never hear her laughs again. He’d never hear her excited giggles or her tiny laughter when they played hide and seek. He’d never again tickle her or fly up into the air with her.

He wanted to go out, to search again. Just one more time to go and see if he could find any clues. He hadn’t slept peacefully in so long his mind filled with nightmares about what you may be enduring.

What if you were dead?

He got up, outstretching his wings and took off towards the city again, looking around each corner, into every alleyway, moving everything around that might be a hidden door. He searched the city sector by sector, up down and all around. He watched the people, watched their movements. Listened for any words that may be clues. He felt his hope begin to drain.

That was until he heard a faint and distant scream.

~~~

“No! No!” you heard your daughter shout. Her screams were so loud. Your body was bruised and battered. Neither of you had eaten or drank in the past two days. You stayed as alert as you could, shielding your daughter from the hurt that was happening to you. You tried to keep her happy, but it was hard when you were so beaten, your body in constant pain and ache.

You always kept on a brave smile for her.

~~~

“Stop it! My daddy is gonna get you!” your daughter screamed from the cage they’d put her in.

“Close your eyes!” you shouted back at her sternly as the first guy pulled out a large whip. “Welcome to our encore sweet heart, enjoy the show!” he shouted, the whip coming down hard on your chained up body.

~~~

You looked to the doorway, watching as the first guys chased after your daughter. “Run baby run!” you shouted, praying she’d make it to the door on time. You watched as your daughter made it out of your sight but you could still hear her.

Your hands were chained to the walls, your arms out. You heard her banging on the steel entrance before another loud scream erupted from the hallway. You scream out your daughter’s name, the guy must’ve caught up to her.

Tears flowed down your eyes as you heard a loud thud, like a skull hitting the hard cement wall.

Your daughter was silent.

You cried, calling her her name, begging for an answer. There was no response.

You broke down, sobbing, your precious daughter,

until a little red feather landed at your feet.

You looked up with tearful eyes to see an angry Keigo in the doorway, your daughter safely in his arms. He stalked into the room, his anger practically radiating off of him, creating a dark aura in the room. The guy who was watching you nearly stumbled before blowing a whistle. Dozens of men ran out of the back room, armed with clubs and knives.

You relaxed, your daughter was safe.

A storm of red filled the room, each feather flying with precise accuracy. Keigo pulled his daughter to his chest, covering her ears and singing close to them, drawing out the sound of the screaming and pained men. Drowning out the voices begging for mercy.

He didn’t want her to know those sounds right now.

Once his feathers finally settled the room was nothing but a lost battlefield. Bodies laid limp across the floor. A mix of blood, shredded clothing and tears scattered around. A feather moved to your chains and undoing them before a group of them hoisted you up carrying you to Hawks.

Some feathers moved to lift your daughter, holding her to face the ceiling so she wouldn’t see the carnage her father had made. He held you in his arms bridal style before using his feathers to set your daughter in your arms. Her face was buried in Keigo’s chest as he instructed.

Keigo walked out holding the two of you, tears running down his cheeks.

~~~

Keigo flew the two of you to a summer home away from the city and far from your old home. He put his daughter to bed, holding her extremely close for a long time, even after she’d fallen asleep, before joining you in the living room to help you heal and take care of your wounds. You stood in the middle of the living room, wrapping gauze around your slit and cut torso, the marks not stinging as much now.

Keigo walked in and saw you. He pulled you into his arms. His head fell to your shoulder and he cried.

“I’m so sorry songbird. I shouldn’t have ever let this happen. I’m supposed to protect you!” he cried out, his hands clutching your cropped shirt. You held him back, tears daring to drop from your eyes as you watched him break down into a pit of guilt.

He sank to his knees in front of you, his head buried in your tummy as he cried, his arms wrapped around your waist.

“I don’t deserve you if I can’t keep you safe, can’t keep the two of you safe.”

You squatted down, your head resting on his as he held you, you ran your fingers through his hair. His body shook as he cried, holding onto you tighter than he’d held before.

You planted a kiss on his forehead prompting him to look up at you, his eyes red and puffy, soaked in tears.

“Thank you Keigo.”

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talkfastromance4 · 4 years

Text

Breathing Our Last Breath-- Vampire!Luke Part 2

A/N: thank you thank you thank you! For all your love and support on my vampire series!🥰 it means everything to me. The title and overall theme correlates PERFECTLY with BMTH’s song ‘One Day the only butterflies left will be in your chest as you march towards your death.’ When I first heard the song I couldn’t believe how well it fit in with the way I wanted this story to go. And once again...I apologize but the angst will be worth it trust me. Love you please don’t hate me @irwinkitten

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: blood drinking, slight manic episode of the vampiric kind

To catch up:

Giving You My Soul (Part 1)

A bite (blurb)

Fangs (blurb)

Masterlist

• • • •

Him

Luke sought out the help of Michael the next morning after he and Y/N connected last night. It was after he showed her his fangs that while she was sighing his name he almost told her. He almost told her he loved her, but he couldn’t make himself do so. Cheeks flushed, hair splayed across his pillow with his bite marks staring up at him on her left breast, the words were caught between his teeth.

Saying those three words would complicate things more. Change her or keep her human? He stayed up all night wrestling with his thoughts while she slept soundly next to him. When she’d make a noise of contempt, he’d reach over and stroke her face until she relaxed, falling back into a pleasant dream.

He wrote her a note telling her of his whereabouts, gave a quick kiss to her forehead then ran to Michael’s place. He gave a swift knock to the door before bustling in only to find Michael and Kitty cuddled together against the counter.

Kitty’s legs were wrapped around Michael’s waist, their hands in his hair while Michael nuzzles against their neck. Kitty chuckles then opens their eyes when the front door snaps shut. They tap on Michael’s shoulder then says Luke’s name.

“Don’t you knock?” Michael asks turning around. His tone is accusatory, but his face is teasing, his eyes seem a brighter green than normal.

“I did, then just walked right in. Sorry to interrupt,” Luke grins. “Good morning, Kitty.”

“Morning, Luke,” Kitty laughs letting their legs fall against the cupboards. “Is Y/N with you? I can make us some breakfast.”

“No, she’s back at my place still asleep. I came to discuss something with you, Mike.”

Michael notices the change in Luke’s voice, he swallows thickly then turns to Kitty.

“How about you go take a shower and I’ll have breakfast ready for you, hm?”

“All right,” Kitty sighs slipping onto the floor. They peck Michael’s lips. “I want French toast. See you later, Luke. Tell Y/N I say hello.”

“I will,” Luke smiles at them. When he hears the bathroom door close he joins Michael at the counter who’s grabbing the breakfast essentials.

“What’s going on?”

“Are you going to change Kitty?” Luke blurts out. He tried coming up with an easy way to bring up the topic but couldn’t come up with something.

“I haven’t really thought about it or discussed it with them, why? Are you thinking of changing Y/N?”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs quietly and leans against the counter.

“What brought this on?” Michael grabs the loaf of bread then moves to the fridge for eggs and milk.

“I feasted on her a couple weeks ago and now…I can’t exist without her, Mike.”

Michael sighs. “And since then you don’t want to change her but also don’t want her to die as a human…Have you talked with her?”

“No. It’s not really a conversation I want to have.”

“No one wants to have that kind of conversation,” Michael chortles cracking two eggs in a bowl. He adds a splash of milk then stirs the contents until it turns a pale yellow. He flicks on the stovetop then continues to stir. “She cares about you, too. Don’t make a choice that’s hers to make in the first place.”

“I feel selfish, asking her to make a choice between human or Vampirism and for what? Me?”

“Luke, she loves you. I know you’ve never really been in a solid relationship, but communication is key. Tell her what you’re thinking. Is this why you’ve been acting strange the last few weeks?”

“I’ve been acting strange? How?” Luke crosses his arms and becomes intent on watching Michael dip the piece of bread in the yolk and milk creation. Y/N likes her French toast with strawberries, cream, and syrup.

“You didn’t hear this from me,” Michael warns lowly, “but Y/N was telling Kitty you two haven’t really been…intimate in a while. Since you feasted now I know why. We haven’t known each other for very long but I can tell you’re pulling away, pushing the thing that scares you out of sight. But while you do that, you’re pushing her away as well.”

Luke is stunned into silence. Has he really not touched Y/N since the night he bit her? He goes through his memory quickly of the last several weeks then sees what Michael is talking about. No wonder Y/N was shocked at his sudden need of affection last night. The whole encounter felt different, something has shifted between them and he’s the cause of it.

“How can I do that without realizing it?”

“You’ve been alone for thousands of years,” Michael shrugs plopping the bread in the pan. It sizzles from the heat. “Kind of funny how I’m giving you words of wisdom, eh?”

Luke rolls his eyes but silently agrees. Michael has given him much to think about and all too quickly that becomes very dangerous. He weighs all three of his options; change her so they can be together forever, keep her human, and the third is discussing the first two options with her. The last one scares the hell out of him. He never wants to put her in danger or a place of discord.

For all of his life—human and immortal—he’s never had to worry about someone else. Hell, what he thought was courting her with the gifts he left was actually a little offensive. Then to ask her to give up her life to spend it with him? Does she love him, too?

His thoughts take over every part of him when he returns home to find her in one of his silk shirts—the teal one that contrasts nicely with her skin—making her own breakfast. His mind is elsewhere but he plays the actions well of kissing her temple and having small chat.

Luke hides his thoughts and emotions extremely well around Y/N for the next week. He acts normal. Kisses her, tangles his fingers in her hair and watches over her at the Bar in case Brone tried to approach. On the outside, he played his part well but on the inside he was in turmoil.

He’s been a wanderer, never staying in one place long, never getting attached to someone—human and Vampire alike. This is the longest he’s stayed in one place since Italy and he’s made a friend in Michael and found a deep love with Y/N.

He’s read of love, he even played Romeo at one point in his life. Songs are rooted from love, paintings, movies, poems. He’s observed it in many forms but has never experienced it. This is all new territory for him, waters he’s never swam in before.

Now, he’s faced with the choice to love her for the rest of her days or make her like him. Sure, he lives an extraordinary life, rubbing elbows with royals and celebrities, experiencing history firsthand. He’s seen the world change many times over while he remains the same. Frozen.

Another week goes by filled with questions and more questions. While Y/N sleeps in his bed, her hand is tucked under chin and his shirt hangs off her body, he walks. He walks through the house, examines his belongings, tickles the ivories on his piano as he passes by then he walks his grounds.

He can hear Y/N wherever he goes, the steady lull of her heart and if she wakes he’ll be by her side in a moment. She’s in no danger.

As he walks, he thinks. He imagines the life they would have had back in his time. They’d have a large estate with beautiful furniture and paintings while her closet would be filled with flowing gowns. There’d be plenty of children running the grounds. A happy life, a promised life.

His head snaps to the house when Y/N rolls out of bed and stumbles tiredly into the bathroom across the way. He races back inside taking his place back in bed just as she emerges from the bathroom.

“Where were you?” she asks thickly and falls next to him.

“I got you some water,” he says holding up a glass. He got it on his way.

She rubs her eyes then takes a few gulps before curling up next to him. She fits perfectly against him, her body molding to his shape like the perfect puzzle. Luke stays awake, asking himself a million questions but never finding one answer.

Luke starts to spiral as more days go by. He decides to fast on his feedings as if doing so would clear his head. His assumption would soon be wrong.

He distances himself even more from Y/N by dropping her off at her place instead of his after her shifts at the Bar. He uses the excuse that he’s remodeling and doesn’t want to risk her getting hurt or inhaling too much paint.

That’s the first lie.

While he continues to deny his thirst, he starts to go mad, spiraling down a dark place he’s never been before. He’s going to a place which started the mask mandate in the first place. Vampires wanted to exist in society but when they denied their drinking they became lustful and more dangerous for a bite. The savage ones used the form of fasting as their own kind of drug, it made them see things, feel things they haven’t before.

While he looks at his memorabilia he’s transported back in time with whatever object he’s looking at. His eyes are darkened which darkens the world around him as he’s reacquainted with his old friends. He has gallant parties with them in his trinket room, his manic laughter echoing throughout the house. To a bystander or peeping Tom, they would see he’s completely alone while ghosts of his past keep him false company.

He ignores Michael and Kitty’s calls then slips further and further from Y/N. He makes more excuses. The second lie is when he tells her he needs a break. Something has come up in Italy. An old acquaintance needs help. Y/N asks what exactly the break means, and Luke laughs at the simple question that has an even simpler answer.

“A break of us. I need space, Y/N, my feelings have changed.”

That was the second lie.

The third lie is that he’s close to his answer, but he needs a little more time. A little more time of not consuming blood and everything will fall into place. He’s not sure how many days have gone by when he reaches this realization. The lack of sleep and blood alters time. (It’s really been a whole month).

Luke wakes from a dream, was it really a dream? Y/N was there, and they were laying in the white sands of Cala Luna beach in Italy. He’s not sure what woke him up, but she was on his mind. Not that she hasn’t been for the last however many days. When was the last time he saw her?

He thinks of calling her but then quickly changes his mind. He ended it so he wouldn’t have to force her to make a decision between her life and him. He’s even more of a danger to her now because he’s been without blood for so long and the way she smells to him? His actions could be catastrophic but that dream…he wants to take her to Cala Luna, kiss her in the sand.

He’s made up his choice.

He searches for his phone, checks the date and time and it’s her day off from the bar so he could go and get a blood bag, replenish himself and go see her. He’s ready to open up to her, wrap her in his arms again and kiss her chest with butterfly kisses.

“The Bar,” he mutters then laughs joyously at his brilliant idea.

He decides to run there and in his crazed mind he somehow remembers to put on his mask, although it’s haphazardly placed. Plus, he’s faster than his car anyway so the faster he gets to the bar the faster he can go to Y/N.

The scents of A positive and O negative tickles his nose and burns his throat. He’s so damn thirsty. His mouth waters as he rushes to the bar and orders two bags. He finishes them in seconds, not even using the glass supplied. He feels the blood drip down his chin and Trixie eyes him cautiously as he asks for two more bags.

Halfway through his fourth, a warm body presses into his back. With the lack of blood for so many days, or weeks, drinking it now and in such a rush has him buzzed. His eyesight isn’t completely back yet, it’s as if he has dark spots clouding his vision. How he’s feeling is the equivalence of drinking alcohol and getting drunk.

Luke turns around quickly; his normally pristine vision distorts the figure in front of him. A warm hand touches his cheek, their blood is sweet with a hint of flowers. In his distorted state, his body is on a fine line of going back to normal and lingering on his blood deprived state, he knows it’s not Y/N.

“Hey, it’s all right. I know who you’re looking for,” Celeste says, but his mind alters it into a singing tone.

“Y/N?” he mumbles. Was she really here?

Celeste’s blood entices him. The blood bags are fine and all but drinking directly from a warm body is better. Being out of human contact for so long, her blood allures him tenfold.

“Yeah, she’s upstairs fixing one of the beds,” Simone sings next to him now.

“She is?” he shifts in his chair then nearly stumbles out of it at the thought of seeing Y/N. Then he’s filled with embarrassment. He can’t let her see him like this.

“We’ll clean you up,” Celeste hoists him against her body. His mind reels at the scent of her blood.

“Yeah, come on, sweetie.”

Their voices sing to him as they lead him towards the stairs. The promise of seeing Y/N allows Celeste and Simone’s help. He doesn’t quite remember the stairs being this long, his body feels heavy and he can feel the blood slosh around. Will she be disgusted seeing it on his lips?

A door opens then he’s rushed inside, his legs knocking into each other as he’s pushed against the back of a couch. He starts to giggle. Was Y/N down the hall and Celeste and Simone shove him in the nearest room to save himself from having her see him this way?

“What’s so funny?” Celeste asks brushing away a curl.

“Hiding while I’m seeking,” he giggles. The girls join in his laughter then is jacket is pulled off.

“You know what will help when you see her?”

“We heard all that happened between you two,” Celeste rubs his cheek.

“Yes, we’ve grown quite close the three of us,” Simone sighs.

“What will help? I’ll do anything,” his words slur together. He keeps blinking his eyes trying to get rid of the dark splotches.

“Feed on us, Luke,” Celeste whispers in his ear. “We can tell you’ve been fasting. Your pretty blue eyes are so dark.”

“Yeah, and you don’t want Y/N to see you like this, right?”

“No! No, no, no, no,” he shakes his head, eyes closing. “She can’t see me. I can’t hurt her.”

“Shh, shh,” Celeste hushes while Simone touches his hand. “We’ll help you…”

“Yeah, we’ve got you sweetie…”

Simone reaches for the button of his shirt while Celeste offers him her neck. In his delirium he’s back at the beach in his dream with Y/N and she’s the one offering her neck. Her blood is so sweet, and he loves her so much, he gives in to “Y/N”’s actions.

“Go on, take a bite.”

HER

Y/N received a note from Michael and Kitty to meet them upstairs at the Bar. She’s very thankful for them because after the whirlwind of confusion with Luke they really helped her out. They kept her occupied and her mind off things while also providing comfort that Luke will come around.

When she walks inside she looks to the Bar in search of Trixie, she gives her a wave, but Trixie is busy with the slew of customers. Y/N climbs the stairs then sees the room the note indicated. Y/N opens the door and is horrified by what she sees. Her stomach plummets, her mouth opens in a silent scream and her heart shatters in a million pieces.

Luke’s shirt is wide open, his mouth latched onto Celeste’s neck while Simone is on her knees in front of him.

“Y/N, Y/N…” he mumbles.

Tears sting her eyes. She’s gasping for breath while trying to speak his name. She hasn’t seen him in weeks, all this time she was hopeful he’d come back. That he would tell her what he was going through, and they could work it out together whatever it was ailing him. How could she be so naïve?

“Oh, look. We have a guest,” Celeste moans. She smiles deviously at Y/N who wipes furiously at her eyes trying to dry her tears.

“Y/N! What—” Michael’s voice appears and that pulls Luke from his stupor.

Luke shoves Celeste away, blood dripping down his chin. He gasps when he spots Y/N, falling apart in front of him. For a fraction of the smallest second, their eyes meet. He tries to say her name while tossing Simone off of him, attempting to fix his shirt and pants. Then she’s gone, running from the room and away from Luke.

“What the hell are you doing, Luke?” she hears Michael shout.

“Y/N?!”

Was that Kitty she passed? Y/N doesn’t know and keeps running, nearly stumbling down the stairs. As she runs Luke tries to get away from the two sirens who used his weakness against him. Y/N’s face sobered him, cleared his vision.

“Get the fuck out,” Michael hisses at the women. They scamper away with Luke trying to follow but Michael blocks his path. “Talk.”

Back downstairs, Y/N’s legs are shaking, her whole body is in tremors. Her heart is breaking and so is the rest of her. Trixie spots her just as Kitty catches up.

“What--?” Trixie’s eyes are wide at the sight of Y/N.

“Luke was upstairs with Celeste and Simone,” Kitty spits in anger. “Y/N, come here.”

Kitty pulls her against their chest, Y/N collapses all too easily with tears falling relentlessly from her eyes.

“Here, have her sit down. Try to catch your breath, babe,” Trixie consoles then runs for a water.

Kitty shuffles over to a chair but Y/N is resisting. She can’t be here. Not with Luke just upstairs and Celeste and Simone.

“No. T-take me h-home…I don’t wa-want to s-see him,” Y/N chokes out. Kitty glances towards the stairs but doesn’t see Luke or Michael. They nod to Y/N.

“Okay, I’ll take you home.”

“What happened?” Trixie asks on her return with a bottle of water.

As if on cue, Luke has flashed in front of them quicker than the speed of light. Kitty places their arms around Y/N protectively, guarding her from Luke and glares at him. Michael appears as well, his hand moving to Luke’s chest that is spotted in blood and still unbuttoned.

“Ask Luke,” Kitty sneers then leads Y/N out the door.

Kitty tries to console Y/N the best they can at her apartment but she’s sobbing so hard it’s hard to breathe. She gasps for breath so much that she dry heaves. Kitty holds Y/N’s face in their hands and recites a breathing technique to her. Her breathing finally picks up but her tears continue.

After a couple of hours, Y/N finally falls asleep, but it isn’t for very long. She wakes up, remembers what happened and her heart breaks all over again. She’s stuck between rose colored dreams of Luke and the dark nightmare that is her reality. She’s not quite sure which is worse to endure.

Days go by and she hasn’t left her bed. She’s cried herself dry and is left with her skin tight and dry. Her eyes are puffy. She’s so sleepy but she fights it off not wanting to dream of Luke. While she’s awake she wonders what she’s doing then hates herself for wanting to be with him after what she saw.

Kitty forces her to drink some water but refuses to eat. She simply has no appetite. Like her heart it’s disappeared.

On the seventh day, Michael arrives with a bag of goodies for her. While he was with Luke, Kitty and Michael were in constant communication trying to figure out exactly what had happened. When Michael discovered Luke had fasted he became so angry he shoved Luke so hard he flew out the window. Luke didn’t put up a fight, he knows he deserves way worse.

Luke begged and begged for Michael to bring him to Y/N but Michael refused, he’s done enough damage. When Luke overheard Michael discussing Y/N with Kitty and how they couldn’t get her to eat Luke jumped to her aid. He told Michael that taking a shower helps center herself and she needs a lot of blankets. Her comfort food is a warm cooked meal of chicken and mashed potatoes with brownies for dessert.

Michael stared at him in shock but heeded his advice then made his way to Y/N’s. He sits next to her on her bed, removes his mask then gives her an apologetic smile.

“Hi.”

She doesn’t say anything and continues to look out the window. He reveals the goodies in his bag, says he’ll cook her favorite food and that Kitty will help her take a hot shower.

“I want a bath,” she mutters.

“I’ll make sure it’s nice and warm,” Kitty promises then helps her from her bed.

The sun rises, the sun sets. The moon rises, the moon sets.

Her days roll endlessly together that she loses track of time. Her appetite comes back but it’s slim pickings. Her face doesn’t feel so stiff from her tears, but she still isn’t sleeping that well. Usually when she’d have a nightmare, Luke would hold her and murmur in her ear sweet things. Sometimes it would be in Italian and his words would turn into a song lulling her back to sleep.

She hasn’t returned to work, refuses to because she doesn’t want to come in contact with Luke. If she saw Celeste and Simone she knew she would claw their eyes out. Trixie is more than understanding and has banned Celeste and Simone from ever returning. Trixie made sure Y/N knew her job would be there for her when she returns and would still get paid.

She overheard Michael and Kitty saying that Luke hasn’t left the bar since that night. She wonders if he still has the blood on his face or did he clean it off? Surely Trixie wouldn’t let him sit there looking like that. She hates how she’s worried for him.

The sun rises, the sun sets. The moon rises, the moon sets.

Y/N wakes to hear Michael and Kitty talking loudly and in exasperated voices. She steps into the living room where they’re seated, Michael has his phone in his hand.

“What’s going on?” Y/N asks, their heads snap in her direction.

“It’s Luke. He’s been hurt.”

THEM

He hates himself. He let his fear take control which left him powerless. He’s sitting at the bar like he has been for the past five weeks, never leaving this spot in case Y/N walks in. He overheard Trixie on the phone with Michael that she takes as long as she needs to return.

He has half a mind to try her at her apartment but a nasty text from Kitty made him stay away. Michael would visit him frequently, drinks a blood bag with him. Michael hated seeing Luke this way, his skin is an unhealthy pallor, his eyes darkened with purple and black circles underneath.

His heart hasn’t beat in centuries, yet he takes on the appearance of what a broken heart looks like. When Luke asks about Y/N his voice is papery thin. He sounds as old as he is, thousands of years old. Fading, decrepit, frail.

Brone stalks up behind him, pushing Luke against the counter. Luke takes it but turns around slowly.

“You look like hell,” Brone laughs. “You’re really this torn up over that flower? Was she really that good in bed?”

“What do you want, Brone?” Luke croaks.

“Let’s have a little chat outside…”

Brone’s teeth sever into Luke’s flesh, his back, his shoulder, his arms. The venom doesn’t harm him, but it fills him with enough pain that he feels himself losing feeling in his body. In between bites, Brone screams at Luke to fight back. He’s waited all this time to get revenge on him for stealing away the love of Brone.

“What are you talking about?” Luke coughs out.

“Remember Lenore?”

Luke vaguely remembers the strawberry-blond woman. It was back in the early 1940’s, she was a candy striper. Luke befriended her one morning on his routine walk when her hat flew off her head. He caught it and they bonded over a new song from Glen Miller and his band.

The closer they got the more she confided in him and that’s when Brone was brought up. Luke has crossed paths with him too many times to know what Lenore was about to tell him.

“She never shared the same feelings for you,” Luke groans. He slumps to the ground against the wall, his body is starting to lock up from the venom.

“Yeah well, now I’m going to take yours from you.”

“No,” Luke hisses through his teeth. He tries to move but to no avail, the venom is quick, and he’s frozen as stone against the wall.

Brone crouches in front of him, smirking. “Oh, yes. I’ll get to see what’s so special about her to you, then I’ll feast on her. Might change her, might drink her dry. I haven’t decided yet. Catch you around, Luke.”

Luke fills with white hot anger, but he’s immobilized. He feels his eyes become heavy, the venom overtakes him, and his world goes dark.

“LUKE!”

Her voice. He hears her voice and tries to reach her but he’s floating somewhere. Somewhere that’s dark and still. Luke tries to resurface, reaching for the sound of her heart. She’s sobbing his name so close in his ear. Is she touching him? He can’t feel it. He wants to tell her to run, to get to safety.

“LU—”

He hears a commotion. Brone’s voice and Y/N’s then a scream and a thump. Michael’s voice. Trixie’s voice. Y/N’s heart jumps erratically, her breath gasping. Luke tries to scream her name. He tries to claw his way from the darkness.

The voices blend together, he’s trying to follow along with the words, but he can’t grasp on anything quite yet. Is Y/N all right? What’s happened? Where’s Brone?

Michael’s voice warps in and out of his mind while he’s screaming on the inside.

It starts in his fingertips and toes. He’s gaining sensation back in his body and when he can twitch his fingers he feels Y/N’s hand next to his. Her heart is still beating but it’s staggered. Where were they? Luke smells the area and they’re in his home on his bed. His bed that still smells of her sweet floral scent.

Michael and Kitty’s voices carry from downstairs, but Luke doesn’t decipher what they’re saying. His hearing is still deep underwater in the lake of the venom. His fingers twitch some more then he brushes her skin. That excites him. He keeps twitching his fingers until he hooks them with hers, he grasps her tightly, so she’ll know he’s there.

Did Brone bite her? Is she changing? Did he just drink a lot of her blood that it’s taking her so long to recover? He wants answers but if Michael brought them to his home then she has to be all right. Right?

More time passes and his ability to move travels up his legs and arms. His eyes and mouth are still clamped shut, that’s the last place the venom reached him, so it’ll also be the last place he recovers. He flexes his finger and toes, bones cracking from being still for so long. At least he can get a firmer hold on Y/N’s hand, now he rubs his thumb over her skin.

Slowly but surely, he feels the weight on his chest disappear. His neck feels lighter and he can turn it from side to side. Not long now and he can open his eyes, he can look at Y/N and assess what’s happened. He can apologize. He can tell her he loves her. He can tell her that fasting was a terrible idea and that he was scared. He can tell her he’ll do anything to gain her forgiveness back.

He counts the time with his clock from his trinket room. It’s been two hours and his jaw goes slack. He opens his mouth and can taste Y/N’s scent in the air.

“Come on, come on,” he mutters wanting his eyes to open now. Open, open, open, open!

Two minutes and his eyes flash open, he has gained full mobility back and he crouches next to Y/N. Her eyes are closed, there’s bite marks on her arms but he doesn’t smell the venom. So why hasn’t she woken up?

“Michael!”

Michael appears.

“Finally. I was about to lose my mind. How are you--?”

“What happened?” Luke interrupts pressing his hand to Y/N’s forehead. She’s not her normal temperature.

“I’m not too sure. When I came, she was on the ground next to you bleeding. I tried to get Brone and kill him, but Trixie got him with her cross bow in his shoulder and he ran off. I would’ve gone after him, but you were frozen and Y/N…I don’t know what’s wrong. I think he fed off her, but I don’t know why she isn’t waking up,” Michael explains in a rush.

“Y/N, lovie…” Luke murmurs caressing her cheek. He kisses her hand that’s still in his, her skin cold. Her heart starts to flutter.

“…uke…” she barely utters.

“I’m right here, love, what can I do to help?” he begs cradling her face.

“Butterflies…” she exhales, and he’s confused. What about butterflies?

“Hm? Should I get you some chocolate?”

Her eyebrows pull together, a weak movement, but he notices it.

“Do you feel butterflies?” he asks gently, her thumb jerks against his hand. That must be yes. “Where are they? They’re not hurting you, are they?”

“No…take me…away…”

“They’re taking you away? Where are they taking you?”

“F…from you…”

“You have to bite her,” Michael says. Luke had forgotten he was in the room.

“What?”

“If butterflies are taking her away then I think that means she’s…she’s dying. You have to change her Luke. Now.”

Luke looks at her frantically. Her heart has staggered more but she appears fine so how--?

“Luke!”

He hovers over her, rests his forehead against hers.

“I’m so sorry for what I’ve done. I’m sorry for being distant and not talking to you. I pushed you away to try and protect you and now look at you. I’m so sorry for hurting you and for Celeste and Simone…they used my befuddled mind and lack of feasting against me. You’re the only one I want, the only one I desire, the only one I love. I can change you, make you like me but only if it’s your wish, Y/N. I’m so, so sorry lovie,” he confesses in one breath.

She squeezes his hand the best she can.

“Change…please…I can’t…leave…you…” her voice barely registers a normal octave.

“Are you sure?” he whispers nudging his nose against hers.

“I love you.”

It was her most coherent sentence. Luke kisses her forehead then moves to her chest. He pulls her shirt away so he can see his bite marks from months ago when he first bit her. He kisses the spot, lips soft as the butterflies, extracts his fangs and sinks his teeth into her flesh. She lets out a shaky breath as his venom spreads through her.

When he’s expelled enough, he licks his tongue over the puncture then drags his lips towards hers. His Sleeping Beauty will sleep now while her body changes, he gave her the kiss of death that will bring her to a new life.

“Don’t go…hold me….”

Tears leak from her eyes as the venom spreads, Luke kisses them away.

“I won’t leave you. You’re going to hurt, but I’ll keep you wrapped in my arms.”

He adjusts himself so he can hold her against him, her heart leaping and jumping at different speeds. Michael mumbles something about being downstairs to tell Kitty. Luke kisses her hair, breathes her in before the pain will take over.

Thankfully, the process isn’t long. It takes about twelve hours for the body to fully change into a Vampire. He stays with her while her breathing quickens then turns shallow. He keeps holding her when she thrashes against him, begging him to take the pain away. He holds her while she screams, telling her how much he loves her.

Her screams continue after the second hour. Her body goes slack, but her voice rings out from the searing pain. Her heart rate keeps increasing.

The sun sets, the moon rises.

When the clock chimes midnight, her screams go silent and her heart comes to a full stop. Luke’s gaze hasn’t left her face and he watches, and he waits. He touches her cheek with his fingers, she flinches then relaxes when she smells him.

“I’m right here,” he murmurs. She turns towards his voice; his arms relax around her, but he doesn’t pull away.

Then, like a butterfly appearing from their cocoon, she opens her eyes to a new life.

• • • •

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imagineaworlds · 3 years

Text

I Love You (Part Sixty) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing. Panic attack. Character death. Alcoholism. Drugging(s). Physical trauma. Explosion(s). I think that’s it?

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Nonbinary!Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 9574

Timeline: Season 8 Episodes 24. Right after part fifty-nine.

Criminal Minds Discord Server

It wasn’t like any other panic attack I ever had. For some reason, the really bad ones only came about when I was really worried about Hotch, like after the bombing in New York when I thought he was literally dying in my arms. This time around, though, I think I was just… paralyzed. I was staring at the wall, the sheets pulled up to my chin, a ringing in my ears, flashing memories of that night back in high school. Those pictures. These pictures. What made The Replicator any different than Steven Teller? A chill ran down my spine. I hadn’t connected his name to what had actually happened to me until my parents brought him up at Hotch’s birthday dinner. I would’ve gone my whole life trying to forget his name if they hadn’t said it, if Hotch hadn’t asked about him, and if Garcia hadn’t called to tell us that someone else had pictures of me now.

Who had seen them besides Garcia? Morgan? Spencer? Morgan would’ve understood because he knew about the true nature of the original photos—hell, he was the one who stumbled upon them in Rebecca Bryant’s apartment, so he had even seen them; but I didn’t want it to be Reid. The two of us were so close now since Maeve’s death. If he saw something like that, he would get all awkward around me and our friendship would slowly fall apart, and instead of letting me into his apartment every Sunday now, he would just let Scarlet in again like he originally did.

I didn’t understand who this guy was. How had Garcia been investigating it enough for Hotch to know exactly what she was talking about, yet I was completely out of the loop? Was I the only one who didn’t know? Why didn’t Hotch tell me about this sooner—if I would’ve known that there was someone out there watching us, I would have never gone on this “vacation”, and I would have made sure that we weren’t being followed, I would’ve closed the fucking drapes. The drapes.

Hotch pushed himself out of bed and ran to the window. “We need to make sure everyone’s safe,” he muttered under his breath.

“Hotch, who is The Replicator…” I croaked.

“He might have gone after the others.”

“Hotch, answer me!”

“Later.”

“He has pictures of us, Aaron…” I croaked as he closed the drapes.

We had left them open because we were so high up, and the lights were off, and the surrounding buildings shouldn’t’ve had a good view into our room. Closing the drapes just didn’t occur to us earlier. But now that we knew he had been watching, we weren’t taking a chance. Not that it mattered. He had already seen everything. From Hotch slowly undressing me, to tying me up, spanking me, torturing me… fucking me. That asshole got a free show, and then he had the audacity to send those images to our friends. Poor Penelope. She was probably mortified. Between getting hacked and having to see literal porn of her co-worker and her boss, she was likely having a meltdown. Yet, all I could think about was how this all reminded me of high school—of the images that boy took of me then used as blackmail against me. It was eerily similar. I absolutely fucking hated it.

“Call everyone, Y/N. Call them now.”

We both raced for our phones. Hotch called Rossi while I started with Reid. I was biting at my fingers nervously as the phone rang, because every second that passed without hearing his voice just somehow convinced me that something was wrong. And then he picked up. I let out a sigh of relief and hid my face in my free hand.

“Y/N?” He had no clue what was going on. “Y/N, what is it?”

I hated that he was getting as good at recognizing my tells as Morgan was. “Where are you?”

“I’m with Morgan. We’re driving back from getting some food. Did you know that you can get sauerkraut on hotdogs? It’s such an odd concoction, considering the hotdog was invented—”

“Spencer, something happened.”

He stopped. “What?”

“You and Morgan need to get back to the Field Office immediately. Don’t stop anywhere, don’t talk to anyone, keep your heads down. Got it?”

“Y/N, what is it? Why—”

“I don’t know… Hotch isn’t telling me right now, but he says he’ll explain everything once we’re all together.”

“Okay. We’ll see you there.” I looked at Hotch as I hung up and he came back into the bedroom, dressed in a button down and slacks again so that it could pass as business formal, considering we hadn’t brought actual work clothes. “Where’s Rossi?”

“He’s with JJ. They can’t get ahold of Strauss, so JJ’s going to head to the Field Office to meet up with Spencer and Morgan while Rossi goes to check on Strauss at her hotel. We need to get dressed and go.”

“Stop,” I demanded harshly. Hotch froze in place. “You need to tell me the truth now. Who is The Replicator?” He was still frozen. “Hotch,” I crawled onto my knees, “he went after our babies, and he took pornographic pictures of us. I have every right to know before the team does.”

Hotch sighed and sat down on the corner of the bed as he explained everything to me. A couple of months ago, something peculiar started happening. Someone was replicating the cases that we were solving—everything from the human marionettes to an Unsub who had exsanguinated his victims. Strauss didn’t want the team to get involved yet, though, so it was a need-to-know case only. I wasn’t on the list. Every time it happened. Strauss found out and told Hotch. The two of them had been keeping an eye on it, and he was convinced that she was going to turn the case over to us soon, but now he was coming after us personally, which was so… unexpected to him.

Rossi called back while Hotch was telling me everything. Hotch rubbed a thumb over the arch of my foot as he answered. “You’re sure?” he asked worriedly. “Alright. Okay. We’re on our way.” He hung up. “Rossi’s convinced that something happened to Strauss… He thinks that The Replicator might have taken her.”

“Fucking hell, Aaron!” I jumped out of bed and ran to change into different clothes. The only thing I had that was “appropriate” was a v-neck and jeans. So much for our vacation. “We should’ve known about this earlier!” I exclaimed, jumping into my pants. “It’s just another lie—”

“Jesus, Y/N! Stop with the hounding about the lies! Get off my back! This was an order, not a lie!”

Actually, he was right about that one. “Fine…” I grabbed my credentials, my weapon, and my bag before joining Hotch at the door. “You’re right.” I kissed him quickly. “I’m sorry.” He closed the door behind us, and we ran off.

In the car, Hotch and I held hands, both of us shaking anxiously. His thumb was doing circles around one of my knuckles while he kept his other hand busy on the steering wheel, tapping to a random beat in his head that he was using as a distraction. He clearly didn’t know what to do with himself. He hadn’t expected that The Replicator would go for us personally—though, if he had come to me with this case before this, I would have told him that this was going to happen, and we could have prevented it.

If I would have known that this guy existed in the first place, Hotch would’ve had to drag me out of the house and to work just to leave Jack and Scarlet. I wouldn’t have sent them to school, I wouldn’t have left them to go on vacation, and I wouldn’t have let them go to the fucking park while we were gone just to give the creep an opportunity to take pictures of them. He could fuck with us all he wanted. Those pictures hurt, and the situation was still spinning in my mind to the point I wanted to throw up; but at least we were adults who could handle it. Jack and Scarlet were still just my little babies. It didn’t matter how big they were getting, they were always going to be my babies, and no one ever fucked with them.

Hotch kissed my knuckles as we parked at the hotel. He paused for a moment, turning to look at me, cradling my cheek in his other palm. “I’m sorry. If Strauss didn’t order me to keep this confidential, you would have been the first person I told. You have to believe that.”

“I do.”

“Are you okay now… knowing what we know about tonight…”

I shook my head. “No, but it’s not the point.” I escaped his touch so that I could open my car door and jump out. Hotch followed shortly, deciding to drop the conversation.

The second we stepped into the hotel room where Strauss was supposed to be staying, we saw Rossi pacing around, completely stressed out, running his hands through his hair while muttering thoughts under his breath. I glanced around. The window was open, the bed was a wreck, there was broken glass on the ground, drawers were left open, the bathroom looked like a tornado had torn through it, but what was most obvious were the mini alcohol bottles from the mini fridge that were scattered everywhere. I thought she quit drinking. There was a situation a little bit ago shortly after The Face Cards when I was still bedridden where Hotch and Rossi found out that she was an alcoholic and decided to get her some help.

“Her one year chip is here,” Rossi said, holding it up for us to see. “She never lets go of it, Hotch. Ever. The Replicator must have her.” So, everyone seemed to know about this guy besides me, I supposed? What the fuck? “I’m going to check the roof.” Rossi was already moving for the fire escape.

“Be safe. We’ll head down to the lobby to look at the security footage,” Hotch said. I wanted to go with Rossi to give him back up, but I realized that Hotch didn’t want me to stray far from him after what happened. So, I followed him out of the room, and we started hurrying towards the inside stairwell just to see if she had wandered down there somehow. Hotch’s phone started ringing.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Straus…” He cocked a brow while answering. “Erin?” He stopped in his tracks when he heard the other end, making me stumble to a halt. “Where is she, you bastard.” He started running as fast as he could through the hallways, leaving me behind.

“Aaron! No!” I yelled, trying to run after him.

“Stay here! I love you!”

Those words echoed in my head as déjà vu overtook my senses. Hotch had said the exact same thing to me after we found Sam dying on his carpet, and Hotch went to the hospital with him. The panic that hadn’t settled in earlier was certainly settling in now. I could remember how Hotch said those exact same words to me as he closed the ambulance doors, and a few moments later, I collapsed on the sidewalk, unable to hear anything, unable to move, unable to breathe until I heard his voice again. He went on his own this time, though—No.

I started dashing to follow him, even though he had enough of a head start to already be out of the building. The Replicator had talked to Hotch. He had called from Strauss’s phone, which was the perfect way to lure Hotch out of the hotel, and it worked, which meant that if he had a plan, he was going to go after Hotch next. I started skipping steps in the stairwell. Not him. Not now. Aaron Hotchner was all kinds of stupid, but I wasn’t going to let this stupid decision get him killed while I froze up in a fucking hallway. I couldn’t live with that regret if that were the case.

When I pushed through the front doors of the hotel, I started looking up and down the street in search of Hotch. He had to be around somewhere. He got a head start, sure, but not enough to disappear into the night unless someone took him. He had to be close. I refused to believe that he was anywhere other than on that block, safe, alive, and waiting for me to find him. So, I just kept looking. I spun around in circles, jumping to look over the crowd, pushing between couples just to see if Hotch was hiding somewhere. I felt like I was going insane.

And then I saw him on a bench. I recognized his hair, how dark it was, how he liked to keep it short in the back but long in his face so that I could play with it when I was bored or during sex. I recognized him because of his body type. The shirt he had put on back at the penthouse was a simple button up, but it was fit to his body so well that when he was sitting down like that, I could see his biceps stretching the sleeves, and the actual torso part of the shirt had molded against his loose abs. I would recognize my husband anywhere. Even while his face was away from me, and he had someone in his arms, I could still tell that it was him. He looked okay… at least from where I was standing. I couldn’t tell for sure, though, so I dared to run across the street and hurry over to the bench. I could tell for sure now. He was alright, but he was holding Strauss in his arms, despite the fact that she wasn’t breathing anymore.

“Aaron…” I carefully peeled his grip off of her. “Aaron, it’s okay…”

As I kneeled down in front of Hotch, I recognized the lost fright in his eyes from the bombing four years ago, and from the murder of Haley a little under that, then my kidnapping two years ago. Whenever he was panicked, whenever there was too much going on at once, his eyes got lost in the world, like he couldn’t see anything at all, yet could somehow still see everything. It was hard to explain, but the way his jaw slacked, and the way his breath was shallow, and his body was unnaturally still… It all pointed to that instinct that overtook him every time something bad like this happened.

I put my hands on his face to bring his eyes level with mine. We had been through this before, we learned how to handle it, now all he had to do was focus on me and we would be fine. He told me that feeling my touch, hearing my voice, seeing my face, it always brought him down to Earth when this happened. So, I held him close, I kissed his forehead, and I whispered to him that everything would be alright.

“He talked about Foyet,” he finally told me.

I stopped comforting him for a moment to reflect on what he just said. “What?”

“He…” He lowered his head. “He talked about how Foyet killed Haley… That I was stuck on the phone, incapable of doing anything that could help.”

“How could he know that?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head against my touch.

“Look at me, baby.” I lifted his head gently. “We’ll figure this out. I promise. Just breathe.”

“He said he’s going to race us home—”

“Shhh…”

“The kids—”

“They’re at the office. They’re safe. Please. Catch your breath with me.” I inhaled slowly, letting him know that I wanted him to mimic me. I nodded an encouragement when he started doing so, and then when we couldn’t breathe in anymore, we held it, then slowly exhaled. He was relaxing in my touch already. We did it again. “You’re doing good, baby. Keep going.”

Footsteps hit the pavement behind us. I turned somewhat, just long enough to see that it was Rossi. He froze when he saw Strauss beside Hotch. As he collapsed and pulled Erin in for a hug, I helped Hotch to his feet, pulling him away so he could collect his thoughts again.

“Don’t stop breathing, baby,” I begged, pressing my forehead against his.

“Foyet—”

“Foyet’s gone. You’re here. I’m here. The kids are safe at the office. Just breathe.”

When the EMTs arrived, they put a sheet over Strauss’s body, lifted her onto a stretcher, then rolled her into the ambulance. Rossi was quiet while he followed them. With Hotch still somewhat out of it—not as bas bad as before, but still— I was the one who nodded in his direction, letting him know that it was okay to go with her. We would see him later.

At the Field Office, Hotch was finally relaxed and level-headed enough to explain to the team what was going on and what we were going to do now. We were going to get on the jet, head back to the office, and take down whoever the hell this Replicator guy was. Everyone seemed on board, but there were a lot of questions about when Rossi would be rejoining us. Honestly, we weren’t sure. He was flying with Strauss to Bethesda to talk with her children and stick around for the autopsy, which we would have by the time we would land in Virginia and get settled back at the office. He would probably return after that… if at all. What we needed to focus on was just getting the profile done and making sure that Strauss’s death wouldn’t be in vain.

When we got back to Quantico, I ran straight into Hotch’s office, finding Jack dead asleep on the couch, buried under a blanket that Hotch always had stowed away in case we had to sleep at the office, too. As for Scarlet, though, she was still awake. Jessica was sitting in Hotch’s chair at his desk, and Scarlet was sitting across from her, playing with some toys. She spotted me almost immediately, though.

“Mom!” She slid off the chair and ran to me.

“Hey, lil’ bug!” I exclaimed, lifting her into my arms. I kissed her a thousand times. “I love you so much!” I kept kissing her. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“She’s been fussy without you guys,” Jessica said.

“I’m sorry,” I said to her. I brushed Scarlet’s hair out of her face. “Do you want me to tell you a bedtime story before Dad and I have to go save the world again?”

“Yeah.” She nodded and pressed her cheek against my chest while still hugging my neck.

I sat down in one of the chairs across from Hotch’s seat and relaxed. While telling her the story, I thought about how relieved I was to have her in my arms again. The Replicator had a thousand chances to take her or Jack from me, especially while Hotch and I were gone. Hell, he got close enough to take pictures. If he really wanted to hurt us, he could have stolen my lil’ bug away. If that happened, I wasn’t sure if I’d survive.

By the time the story was over, she had magically fallen asleep in my arms. I smiled and kissed her hair. As I got up to lay her down on the couch with Jack, he rolled over and started snoring, making me and Jessica chuckle quietly, but I had to shush her.

When Scarlet was done, I looked at Jess. “I’m so sorry that this keeps happening to us.”

She shook her head. “As long as everyone’s safe, it’s okay.” She stepped forward and hugged me tightly. “Are you guys okay?”

“Not right now, but we will be.”

“You’ll get an actual vacation weekend soon.”

I laughed. “$20 says it doesn’t happen.”

She pulled away from me to shake my hand. “Deal.”

There was a knock on the door from Hotch, coming to tell us that Strauss’ autopsy had been completed. His gaze flicked to the kids, and he hesitated for a moment. They were asleep, but I could tell that he wanted to wake them up and just feel the way they would give him a Superman hug at the same time until he couldn’t breathe. But he restrained himself. He carefully stepped into the room and crouched down in front of the couch, kissing Scarlet’s forehead, then Jack’s. He stayed with them for a second longer, just admiring how perfect and innocent they were. My heart broke in my chest a bit, a smile creeping onto my face, and I reached forward to brush Hotch’s hair out of his face.

“We should go, baby,” I whispered to him. He nodded and pushed himself to his feet. “They’ll be alright. I promise.” He kissed me gently while keeping my head tilted up with his thumb. When he pulled back, we pressed our foreheads together. “Your messes are my messes.”

“Your messes are my messes.” He kissed me again quickly before taking my hand and leading me out of his office, waving goodbye to Jessica. She waved back to us while sitting back down to play a game on her phone. When we walked into the boardroom, we saw that Garcia was finishing up with hanging all the evidence we had of The Replicator. “Garcia, is this everything?” Hotch let go of my hand to cross his arms over his chest.

She nodded. “JJ’s grabbing the printed copy photos from Strauss’s autopsy, but this is everything else… except for you and Y/N… You know…”

“Thanks.”

“So, while you guys were on the jet, I started digging into why he would have possibly attacked Strauss and on this day, considering he would’ve had a thousand other chances to do it if he really does work for the FBI, but I couldn’t find anything in her life that was historically relevant.”

“We need to focus on the location, then. He waited until she was in New York, rather than attacking her here or at her home.”

“Look at how many photos he had of her, guys,” Morgan pointed out, referencing the dozens of pictures of our team up on the wall. I knew that he had taken pictures of me and Hotch in bed, but I didn’t think that he had really been stalking the entire team all this time. “She’s hardly ever in the field, yet there’s more pictures of her than anyone else. It’s like he’s obsessed with her.”

“Maybe Strauss was always the real target. We were just in the way, and also a distraction.”

“I’ve got the rest of the photos,” JJ said, holding the stack up for us before heading to the board to pin them up. “We were right, he replicated the New York attacks, which accelerated his timeline. He spiked Strauss’s alcohol with meth and heroin.”

“Not ecstasy?” I asked.

“Nope.” She hung up a picture of a symbol that had been carved into Strauss’s wrist antemortem.

“Wait—” I stepped forward, halting her actions. “What is that?”

“An infinity sign?” Garcia guessed.

“An eight? Wasn’t she his eighth victim?” Morgan added.

“But why would he do that? His whole M.O. is copying our other cases as closely as possible to prove that he’s been stalking us. He wouldn’t deviate just to make things interesting now,” I said.

“He would if Strauss was his intended target.”

“It’s too random. Everything this guy has done thus far has been strategic and with the point of getting under our skin. This doesn’t affect us personally in any way, unlike the photos and him mentioning Foyet on the phone,” Hotch said.

“Wait. He knew about Foyet?” JJ questioned. “How? That was a confidential case. No one outside of our unit and SWAT knew the intricate details of what happened to Haley.”

“But the file has enough general information. He had to have accessed it somehow,” I said.

“Maybe when he hacked Garcia?”

“It’s a paper file. Cody made sure it didn’t make its way into any system to ensure that no one could get their hands on it outside of the FBI, which means… Technically, anyone working for at Quantico could know.” What was he saying? “The only people who knew where Y/N and I were this weekend before the hack was the BAU and Cody’s office. The only problem here is that Strauss wasn’t sure that she recognized him. If he works for the FBI—”

“He might not have been showing his face to her—and even if he was, she was probably too out of it to actually recognize him,” Reid said. “Besides that, there are hundreds of new and old faces every day at Quantico. Strauss was a busy woman. She might not’ve remembered him.”

I shook my head. “Let’s say that he does work in the FBI, that explains how he knows about all of our cases with so much detail. He replicates everything, we can’t forget that. So, what the hell is the symbol on her wrist replicating?”

“The Cutter,” Hotch realized. We all looked at him, giving him our full attention. “The last case we worked before this weekend.”

We had been in Detroit for nine days, tracking down an Unsub who liked leaving Joker-like smiles on his victims’ faces by cutting them up. Sometimes he got fancy with it, taking their tongues, cutting a toe or a finger off, but he always cut the mouths. There was nothing about carving symbols into the victims. No eights, infinities, whatever. So, why did Hotch think that this had anything to do with that?

“I need to see her computer.” Hotch turned to snap at someone outside the room. “Anderson, I need you to run to Strauss’s office and bring me her computer, please. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” Anderson did as he was told, literally racing to the office just past the bullpen, though the door, down the hallway, and to the right. We waited patiently for him to come back. “Here you go,” he said, panting, handing the laptop over.

“Thanks, Anderson.”

“No problem, sir.” He took his leave from the room again.

Hotch passed the computer over to Garcia, who was sitting down and wiggling her fingers to warm up before she would start typing up a storm in order to hack in. Hotch watch from over her shoulder. “I need you to access who was on the distribution list for my case report for The Cutter.”

“You don’t know who reads your reports?” she questioned, already typing.

“I know that she sends them to the head of the Criminal Division and the Director, but I don’t know who else has access to it.”

“It’s right here.”

Hotch leaned in further to read because the words were too small for him. I was going to have to drag him to the eye doctor soon. Just because I always joked that he was getting old didn’t mean that I didn’t actually worry about him; and something that I had been noticing recently was that he was struggling to read things as well as he used to. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he needed reading glasses now. Not that he would ever wear them. Aaron Hotchner would rather die than ever admit that he wasn’t physically fit to be in the field or to work on reports when we were at home.

“She amended my report,” he said. We all grew curious. “She wrote that he carved infinity symbols into his victims’ wrists.” He stood up tall to address us, “She trapped him to make sure that we would know that he was an insider. Garcia, who else read this?”

“Two other people so far. The Director and— Uh oh.”

“Uh oh? Again?” I scratched my fingers through my hair, really annoyed with how she wasn’t just spitting it out. The other day, she pulled the same shit. Uh oh. I loved her to death, but sometimes she needed to just say it rather than dragging it out.

“You remember the Senator that investigated the BAU after Doyle?

Okay. That was an uh oh. Fuck.

“I’ll talk to him. You all need to stay here, stay together, don’t talk about this outside of this room. No one else can know about this.” Hotch hurried out of the room and B-lined straight for his office to grab one of his suits from his go-bag in his office. I followed him. “Hey, Jess, I need to change real quick,” he said as we walked in. “Can you give us a sec?”

“Of course.” She immediately stood and went to stand outside the office.

I closed the blinds while he quietly picked up his bag, carefully pulled at the zipper, cringing at how loud it was, and pulled his clothes out, all without waking up the kids. It was funny that he thought that they would jolt awake. The two of them were freaking corpses when it came to sleeping. Back when Scarlet was a baby, she was the worst about staying asleep, but now she could sleep all day and all night without a single issue. As for Jack, he struggled to fall asleep sometimes because of his nightmares, but once he was asleep, he was out until morning. They got it from their dad.

“You’ll stay here with them until I get back?” he asked me, peeling off his shirt. I nodded. “Henry’s just down the hall in JJ’s old office with Will. If Jack wakes up soon, he can probably go hang out in there while Jess keeps an eye on Scarlet in here.” He kicked off his pants, then picked up his button up and slid his arms into the sleeves. I helped put it together nicely while he focused on sliding his suit pants on. “I’ll ask Anderson to get everyone donuts from Leonard’s for breakfast. The kids’ll be happy about that.”

“Aaron,” I whispered, fitting his tie around his neck for him, “are you okay after last night?”

“I will be after all of this and once the two of us can sit down and talk about it.”

I flattened his collar around the tie, then stepped back so that he could put his suit jacket on. At least he wanted to talk about it. He wasn’t going to keep it bottled up this time and have me wondering if he was really alright or if he was just lying to me again. I was really fucking sick and tired of him lying to me. I mean, he had been really good about it since the Piano Man case over a year and a half ago.

He kissed me as he holstered his weapon and clipped his badge onto his jacket. “I love you. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I love you.” I cupped my hands on his cheeks before kissing him. “I’ll be here, waiting for you.” We pressed our foreheads together, both of us letting out a relaxed exhale. “Come back to me.”

“I’m just going—”

“Promise me.”

Hotch snaked his arms around my waist, pulling me as close to his chest as humanly possible, our foreheads still pressed together as he towered over me. His fingers sprawled on my back. “I promise.” He rubbed his hands smoothly up and down my back for a bit. “And I promise that we’re going to talk about Strauss, about the pictures, about having another weekend where we can do things the right way.” His hands turned to fists around the fabric of my shirt. “I promise that I’m not going to let this guy take away anything else from us.”

We kissed again, our lips barely meeting because if it was anything more than that, we would have passionately, desperately kissed one another until we were breathless and forgot about the world around us, which wasn’t ideal. We needed to stay focused. Hotch needed to find the Senator, talk to him about still keeping an eye on our unit, even after they cleared us after Doyle, and then we needed to find out who the hell The Replicator was. We could forget about life later.

“I love you, Y/N Hotchner, more than life itself.”

I melted in his arms a bit, grabbing onto his suit jacket to maintain my balance. “When you say shit like that, I don’t know what to do with myself.” We both chuckled quietly. Jack suddenly stared snoring on the couch, making us both laugh again. “He’s so like you, it’s stupid.” Hotch’s smile faded, but he tried to mask it by kissing my cheek, then hiding his face in the crook of my neck. “Go save the world, Agent Hotchner.” I begged, prying him off of me before we could stay glued like that for the rest of our lives. I combed my fingers through his hair to make sure he looked nice for the Senator. “We’ll be here.”

Hotch’s hands left my back, making me ache silently for his touch again, which he somehow recognized, because he immediately held my hand in his as he started walking around me and stepped towards the door. I didn’t move. Our arms continued to stretch towards each other, fingers intertwining in an attempt to stay with each other for a little longer, but once he was out of reach, there was nothing we could do. He opened the door, turned to look at the kids once more, then left. I sighed and slumped into a chair.

Jessica carefully peeked in, wondering if it was safe to return. When she saw me sitting there, flustered and silent, she stepped in and closed the door behind her. I half expected that she would return to Hotch’s seat. It was, after all, the most comfortable seat in the room, and I knew it, considering it was my desk for a little while. But Jessica sat down next to me and took my hand in hers without saying anything. Nothing needed to be said. We just stayed there, watching the kids as they slept, waiting for Hotch to come back with answers.

----

Around the time Hotch returned, Rossi was walking in, too. We all spotted him, but no one said anything to him or approached him. We all just decided to meet in the boardroom while waiting for Hotch to get his things organized and make an attempt to talk to Rossi, which he was immediately denied. He looked to the boardroom, begging one of us to try again, but we all stared at each other, asking ourselves who dared to do it.

“I’m gonna go check on Rossi.” Morgan said to the group. We all nodded understandingly.

When he left, Hotch traded places with him, coming into the roundtable room with a stack of papers. “This is everyone who has read my reports over the past two years.” He dropped the heavy stack on the table. “There’s thirty-six people.” My jaw fell. We were going to have to profile thirty-six different people on a time crunch, which was near to impossible, even with all six of us, plus Garcia, working on it. That was still about six people per team member. How the fuck were we supposed to profile all that?

“Woah! Rossi! What’re you doing, man?! Put the gun down!” Morgan shouted.

My brows furrowed for a second as I stepped closer to the windows of the room to look across the bullpen and into Rossi’s office. There was Morgan, standing in the doorway, and in front of him, Rossi was pointing a gun at him. I dropped my papers and ran. When I was close enough, I slowed down to be casual. I didn’t want to spook him.

“Dave,” I croaked, stepping into his office. My hands were sprawled out in front of me, ready to swing for the gun if he moved for the trigger. “What’s this about?”

“Morgan’s fingerprints were on the glass that killed Strauss,” he answered.

“What?” Morgan questioned, scoffing.

I took another careful step forward in front of Morgan. There was no way he was going to shoot me. “Dave, someone on the inside is The Replicator, they’re probably the one who told you that—”

“It was in her report that was on my desk!” he yelled. The gun was shaking in his hands as his nose started to bleed the same way Strauss’s had been. He had been drugged, too.

I looked over at the page on the ground that was supposedly the official report he had just been reading. “You’ve been drugged, Rossi.” I was still walking towards him, despite Morgan’s quiet protests behind me. “He wants us to turn on each other. If you pull that trigger right now, you shoot me, you lose Hotch, you lose Reid, you lose Morgan, and you lose JJ. Is that what you want? Do you want him to win after everything? After Strauss?” I was close enough to reach for the gun. “Don’t shoot me. Just let me… Let me help you…” I started slowly going for it. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get you help, and you’re going to be just fine.” I had a grip on the gun, and I managed to finally pry it away from him.

Morgan let out a heavy sigh of relief behind me. “I’ll call the paramedics.”

Hotch finally came rushing in, now that the coast was clear and the tension had been diffused. If he had come in any sooner, Rossi might have been spooked and shot me, even if he didn’t want to, but just because of how the drugs fucked with him. He immediately came over to check on Rossi. We helped him onto the couch in his office, and Hotch didn’t hesitate to ask if Rossi had taken anything, drank anything, bumped into anyone. All he told us was that he had picked up Strauss’s report, and that was when he started feeling like shit.

“That was stupid of you,” Hotch whispered to me while slapping Rossi’s cheeks to keep him awake. “The kids are in the next room, how could you—”

“The kids!” I pushed myself up to my feet using Hotch’s shoulder and ran straight to his office. If Rossi had been poisoned through the paper, that meant that the Unsub must have dropped it off, or else security would have caught it. The Unsub was in his office. He walked right past our family. He could have done something to them. “Scarlet—” I turned into the room to see her and Jack watching a movie together on a tablet. I stopped in my tracks for a second as they looked up at me with raised brows. “Did anyone come in here?” I asked Jessica. She shook her head, eyeing me suspiciously.

He didn’t go for them. He said something to Hotch on the phone last night about how he was going to race us home, and Hotch was worried about the kids, which was why we brought them to the office, thinking that they would be safe, but the Unsub had them right there, and he went right past them, and he didn’t—

“Mom?” Jack questioned me. “Are you okay?’

I nodded and faked a smile. “Of course, little man. I was just checking on you guys…” I cleared my throat. “Did you, um… Did you get a donut yet?”

“He had two,” Jessica answered.

“And what about you, Scarlet?”

“I had two, too!” She laughed at herself. “Tutu.”

I smiled casually at them before turning and hurrying right back out of the office, letting out a shaky breath. The office was supposed to be safe. What if Scarlet or Jack had run into the Unsub? What if they had touched the paper Rossi touched just because they wanted to see what the superheroes were up to? I let out another breath, this time trying to calm my nerves as I saw the medics run into Rossi’s and start caring for him.

“We found something,” Reid said quietly, sneaking up on me, even though he hadn’t meant to.

I looked at him suddenly. “What?” I really hadn’t heard him. I had been so lost in thought that I knew he said something important, but I really couldn’t register what it was. “I’m sorry.”

“We found something.”

“Something good?”

“We found the Unsub.”

“Is he still here?” I asked eagerly, already walking with him along the balcony towards the boardroom again. He shook his head. “What do we know?” I asked everyone else when we entered.

“Is Rossi okay?” Garcia asked before she felt like answering me. I nodded to her while taking a seat, now waiting for her to tell me something. She caught the hint. “So, instead of profiling all thirty-six people who had read Hotch’s reports, we instead chose to connect anyone to New York since we noted that might be important to him if he chose to kill Strauss there.” Okay, so… “There were two agents at Quantico. One died last March, but the other… John Curtis… He worked under Strauss during the Amerithrax case in 2001 since he specialized with biochemistry. It seems like he was really hoping to move through the ranks at Quantico, according to letters he wrote to the Director after he was unfortunately demoted to go work in Kansas City.”

“How’d he make his way here, then?”

“After fifteen letters to the Director’s office, he was finally promoted to work in his office.”

That explained how his clearance was high enough for him to get into the building and into the BAU specifically without being detected. If we were to take the cars downstairs, he probably would’ve been prepared that something would go awry with them to prevent us from chasing him down this time around, so it was agreed that we were going to take the helicopters up on the roof. They were faster, more convenient, and unexpected. Curtis probably had no idea that the BAU even had access to the helicopters. They were our best bet. So, we all geared up and started running upstairs, assigning seats in the two vehicles. Hotch, JJ, and I were going to be in the first one, meanwhile Morgan and Reid would be in the other.

As we were flying through the air, speeding towards Curtis’s farmhouse out in rural Virginia, Garcia was in contact with Hotch, Morgan, and SWAT, discussing the layout of the farm so that we could perform a tactical breech with minimal losses. JJ and I were sitting together in the back, though, just staring out our respective windows. I was counting the minutes until we would land. Even after all this time, I still fucking hated flying, but at least when we were on the jet, that was familiar, so I could feel safe there, but now we were in a helicopter, which was unchartered territory for me, and I was terrified. The height wasn’t the problem… It was the fact that we could crash at any minute, and that would be it. Our fate was practically out of our hands.

It was like karma could hear me, because the next thing I knew, alarms were going off in front of the pilot, and we were dropping in the air. I cursed under my breath and held on for dear life. Through the headsets we were wearing, I could hear the pilot saying something about how auto-pilot was failing, and that something was preventing him from turning it back on. I squeezed my eyes shut as we kept falling. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I hated flying, and this was exactly why.

“Brace for impact!”

And then we hit the ground.

I weakly opened my eyes, blinking harshly to try and wash away the fog while also trying to adjust to the darkness. We didn’t die.

“Are you guys alright?!” Morgan asked as he pried Hotch’s door open.

Hotch fell sideways out of his seat in the helicopter, crashing to his knees before Morgan could catch him. I groaned, holding my head, trying to make the spinning stop. My fucking back hurt like a bitch, too—not as bad as when I first injured it at the bank during The Face Cards’ bombing, but certainly getting there. I whimpered when it hurt to move.

“Y/N…” Hotch groaned, carefully crawling his way over with Morgan’s help. “Y/N…” He reached around and unbuckled me from my seat. I coughed; my lungs too weak to maintain a normal breathing pattern. “Baby…”

I weakly wrapped my arms around his neck and attempted to pull him close. “Are you okay?” I opened my eyes as the world stopped spinning. Hotch nodded. “Where’s JJ?”

“I don’t know.” We stumbled onto the grass together. “Are you alright?”

I rested my forehead against his shoulder. “My back…” I croaked.

“It’s hurting again?”

I nodded. “I’ll be fine, though.”

“You said that last time—”

“But I mean it now. Why didn’t he kill us?”

“What?”

I cleared my throat and stood up straight, trying to shake off the ache in my back. “Why didn’t he kill us? I felt it at the end, something controlled the helicopter enough to have us land somewhat carefully, but then he took JJ… Why?”

“To give himself a bargaining chip?”

“Maybe…”

“Hey—” Reid called, running over to us. Just as I looked at him, he crashed into my arms, pulling me in for a hug. I ignored how it hurt my back. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. He took JJ.”

“What?” He pulled away so that he could go check the helicopter for himself. Just as he was inspecting it, a few black SUVs pulled up to take us the rest of the way. Maybe we should have just started with that.

Hotch helped me to the car, Morgan and Reid following close behind. Usually, Hotch would have sat in the front, leaving me in the back, but this time around, he sat with me, squeezing my hand as tightly as he could. I think that we had been through too much over the past few days. It was finally taking its toll. What we thought was going to be a normal getaway turned into working two cases—one where Hotch had to deal with his brother, then he had to deal with a thousand personal things. Pornographic photos, Strauss, Foyet being mentioned, the kids, meeting with the Senator—There were a thousand more things I could have possibly listed, but nearly dying in a helicopter crash… yeah, that was the cherry on top. He had been in the front seat with the pilot. I was in the back with JJ. When we were going down, I wanted nothing more than to hold him again, to look into his eyes, but I couldn’t because I was just behind him. Then, The Replicator could have taken me, but he didn’t. Hotch had risked too many things by not sitting in the back with me, but he wasn’t going to risk that now, the same way I wasn’t going to let him risk it either.

When we arrived at the house, SWAT was there, waiting on us, and for the call that Hotch wanted to make. Without hesitating, he said that we should breach the farmhouse up ahead. So, SWAT led the way, the team following close behind. We started by surrounding the entire thing. When everyone was in place, Hotch gave his mark on the comms, and then we all stormed in with our weapons raised. My back hurt like a bitch as I navigated my way through every room with Morgan, but I put on a brave face and tried to focus on just not getting shot or something. That was probably worse than hurting my back.

When we found nothing on the main or upper floor, Morgan and I moved towards the basement door. He grabbed the handle and I nodded, gesturing for him to go. We hurried down the steps. The basement was a red room for photography so that he could print out whatever pictures he took of us. Morgan and I spotted all of the photos of me and Hotch in bed because they were hanging up on a line to dry. Morgan quickly looked away out of respect.

“Anything?” Hotch asked in a whisper, scaring the shit out of me and Morgan since we weren’t expecting him to be there. When we caught our breaths, we shook our heads. “There’s another room over there.” He pointed with his flashlight.

Hotch led the way, Reid and I shoulder to shoulder, Morgan following behind us. The door was open, so Hotch lunged into the room, hoping to get a jump on Curtis if he happened to be around the corner, but he wasn’t. When we were all inside, we saw JJ sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, chained to it, her mouth gagged with a cloth napkin, of all things. Reid quickly holstered his weapon and hurried to help her.

“Morgan, we should go find him,” Hotch said. “Y/N and Reid can handle this.”

I knelt down on the ground beside Reid to help him get JJ free as the boys ran back out of the room. I peeled the napkin out of JJ’s mouth. “You okay?”

“He said that there’s eight locks because there used to be eight of us before he killed Strauss,” she said urgently.

“That’s all he said?”

She nodded.

Reid picked up a carabiner of keys laying on the ground next to the pile of locks. He sifted through them, only counting six, but each of them had a letter taped on. I inspected the locks themselves, spotting that they had numbers on them. Somehow, the letter and the numbers correlated.

“What are the letters?” I asked.

“G,” he began. That was the seventh letter in the alphabet. “A.” That was the first. “N.” That was fourteenth. “Z— Zugzwang.”

I froze and looked at him. Zugzwang? As in what Diane said to him over the phone when she first took Maeve? How would Curtis know that—Why would he use that? I mean, Zugzwang itself meant the point in the game when the player(s) had to decide if they wanted to forfeit or play until the bitter end, so in the context of the keys and the locks, what did that mean for JJ?

“It’s too easy,” I muttered under my breath, but he was already going for it.

Hotch and Morgan were already running back in, which meant that they probably hadn’t found Curtis. Great. So, now we were playing a risky game that had an uncertain end, and our Unsub likely got away. Well, fuck.

“The whole place is lined with C-4,” Morgan warned us. They were watching as Reid kept unlocking JJ’s chains. “We have about three minutes.”

“We’ll be gone by then,” Reid insisted. Unless this really was too easy, I suspected it was.

Then, it dawned on me. Reid the other week, when Scarlet and I were at his house, was trying to teach her some of the “basics” of chess, which in his mind was everything from how to move the pieces to how to win in less than three moves. He forgot sometimes that she was only two. She was smart, but she wasn’t as smart as he was, though he sometimes wished that were the case. But there was something he said about Zugzwang. The best thing to do in that situation was to do nothing at all. To not forfeit, to not play, but to just… wait.

“Don’t move—” I tried warning JJ, but the second the chains were off her hands, she stood up.

Suddenly, we could all see the pressure plate that she had been sitting on the whole time. Everyone’s eyes widened as we froze, waiting to see if something would happen, like the bomb potentially going off randomly. Nothing happened for a second. We all relaxed, but it came too early, because the door suddenly closed behind us.

Our three minutes were running out.

With our exit blocked, we called Garcia quickly, hoping that she would be able to do something about the bomb’s detonation, or perhaps getting the door open, if she could. I didn’t have high hopes. I was just staring at Hotch as he desperately tried to get the door open. After Haley, we promised the kids—well, technically just Jack—that nothing bad would ever happen to both Mom and Dad while we were off saving the world. Ever. I genuinely thought that if something happened, it would have been one of us going home, having to explain to the kids why Mom or Dad wasn’t coming back, holding the kids as they cried. Hotch and I were prepared for that. But I never in a million years thought that our kids would have to grow up as orphans. Yet, while watching Hotch desperately pry and scrape at the door, I couldn’t help but think that Jack was going to have to live with knowing that three of his parents dies because of the BAU, and that Scarlet was going to have to grow up without Mom, Dad, Curls, and Uncle Morgan.

Emily was going to have to come back. Because she was Scarlet’s godmother, she would have to leave London to handle the will, the house, everything with Jessica. From there, the two of them would have to decide who was going to take the kids and where they were going to be raised. Would Emily take them to England? She had a steady job there with enough income for a thousand kids, but did she have a place for them in her life? Not really. Would she still fight like hell to raise them, anyhow? Of course. As for Jessica, she had a job, but not one with enough income to support two kids on her own. Her place was big enough for them, and it was already in our neighborhood, so she could make sure the kids still went to their schools where they had friends.

Not that my opinion mattered in any of this. The door was barely budging, and Garcia had managed to severe the tie between the phone Curtis had and the bombs he planted; but if we didn’t get the door all the way open soon, none of it was going to matter. My kids were going to grow up forgetting their parents’ faces.

“What the hell are you guys doing in there?!” Rossi exclaimed on the other side of the door. He must have pressed something outside, because it suddenly opened, giving us freedom. “Ever heard of traps before?”

“We have to go,” Hotch ordered, ignoring Rossi’s wit. He must’ve still been high from whatever the hospital gave him.

When we ran outside, ducking behind the SUVs for cover, I looked around for a headcount, realizing that we were one short. Hotch, Morgan, Reid, JJ, they were all there… “Rossi!” I shouted.

He was right behind us, I thought, while we were running out of the house. Where the fuck did he go? It wasn’t like he could get lost, considering all of the sirens and lights that were coming from the road we were on. We were like a beacon screaming: “HEY, WE’RE OVER HERE, IDIOT?!” So, where the fuck was he?

“We have to go back in.” I stepped around the car and took a step that was meant to lead into a sprint, but Hotch caught me, holding me back the same way Morgan had when JJ found out that Will was going into The Face Cards’ bank. “Aaron, stop!” I hit at his hands to make him let go, but he didn’t budge. I didn’t understand. Rossi was his best friend the same way Morgan was mine; why wasn’t he doing anything? “We have to get him!”

“Look, he’s right there,” Hotch said calmly, risking letting go of me with one arm so that he could point at the house. Rossi was crawling out of the storm cellar that connected to the basement we were in. He stumbled for a moment, trying to get to his feet, and then he started running like hell towards us. “He’s fine.”

As if the timing couldn’t’ve been any more perfect, the place blew just when Rossi was far enough that it wouldn’t hurt him. We all ducked while flinching. Glass shattered, wooden beams flew in different directions, and part of the house collapsed in on itself. I did my headcount again. Hotch had me in his arms, Morgan was at my side, Reid was checking on JJ, and Rossi was now casually walking over to us. We had everyone. We were okay. So, I relaxed in Hotch’s arms, letting my head fall back against his chest. What a shitty fucking fucking weekend.

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine

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spooklore · 4 years

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Souls and Spirits - Reader x Spencer Reid

A/N: Welcome to my first publicly posted fanfiction in almost 6 years! I wrote this @imagining-in-the-margins ‘s Discord fic swap and it was so much fun to write. Thank you to everyone who helped :)

SUMMARY: The (season 7) BAU Team is out at a bar after a case rough case and the female bartender catches Spencer's eye and a little more.

CATEGORY: Fluff and soft smut

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

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Spencer POV:

It was a long day, long case, long flight, and now I’m sitting through a long dinner.

I was reciting the words of one of our witnesses over, and over in my mind while the team chatted away. My thoughts were screaming the words of a young woman from our case who had just found out that her boyfriend had killed half a dozen women. While I stood on the other side of the interrogation room’s double sided glass the woman mumbled, “What do you say to someone you thought was your soulmate?” and for some reason it stuck with me more than the previous cases.

I partially snapped back to the table conversation so I could hear Garcia giggle and the rare, but welcome, Hotch laugh overlapping. I looked up to Morgan starting right at me, furrowing his eyebrows. I knew this damned look. He was about to call me out in front of the team. Usually I was good at picking up on the conversation and spitting out my own side of the conversation but I wasn’t quick enough.

“C’mon pretty boy, really? What planet are you on that you’re not even talking about Halloween. I’m the one who should be zoning out over here.” He jokingly scoffed at me, then took a drink from the scotch glass he was holding.

“Sorry, I got caught up in the case.” I laughed and shrugged it off. [elaborate]

Prentiss bumped her elbow into my shoulder since she was the one sitting closest to me. “Let me catch you up. The team. JJ and Hotch are bringing their boys, Sergio isn't invited-”

“Even though I bought him the sweetest pumpkin hat for his tiny little head!” Penelope exclaimed before Emily could finish her sentence. Everyone, including me, just stared at her until we all broke out in a contagious laughter.

“I think he would look quite snazzy, Emily.” I chimed in, flashing Emily a soft smirk. Emily sighed, “I promise I will send a picture to everyone then. I would say the party could be at my place but I’m sure the candy is much better in Rossi’s neighborhood!”

“I’m only giving out candy after everyone has had at least two drinks. It makes everything a little more interesting on the adult side while we admire the fine costumes that come across my porch.” Rossi inserted the plans.

I ran my fingers along the hem of the napkin sitting on my lap. “That sounds like a wonderful time…” I looked up and met eyes with JJ. “As long as Henry’s costume isn't too spooky.”

JJ’s face lit up and she reached her hand out to meet my left hand, which was resting next to my drink, and gave it a squeeze. “Prepare yourself, Spence. It’s going to be the scariest costume yet!”

I gave her a big smile in return before grabbing my drink and giving it a sip. Morgan started talking about some hockey team with Hotch and Garcia while I asked JJ about Will's new job.

We got all of our checks and started quieting down before Rossi announced to us, “I hope you all are able to take care of your checks. But maybe I can take care of your drinks as we migrate to the nearest bar?”

The team let out personal cheers and thank you’s. Once the waitress had brought back our cards and change we all stood and started making our way out of the restaurant.

“Maybe while Aaron and I make our way back home we will find a nice hole in the wall with quiet music and serves a good malt, oh wait. They’ve been run out by those techno and indie bars you all like.” Rossi rolled his eyes before exchanging kisses on the cheeks. Hotch and I exchanged a smile and the two men made their way back to their cars.

Garcia linked arms with Morgan and JJ and put her arm around Emily, leaving me to trail behind the group. They continued their chatter as I followed them down the street. The ladies continued dancing to whichever bar caught their eyes while Derek shot glances back at me to make sure I wasn’t too far behind.

Soon enough Penelope hollered at the group to corral us through the doors of a bustling, neon-lit club. Derek followed me in and placed his hand on my back before whispering in my ear, “You better find someone or else I will.” As if it were a threat.

I sat on a stool and ordered a club soda and lime from the bartender, everyone else chiming in with their orders after mine.

Garcia was settling in next to me while Prentiss, JJ, and Morgan stood with their drinks next to her. I slid in a few comments here and there to let the team know that I wasn’t still entirely thinking about what the victim had said to me earlier that day.

Before I could finish my thought; Garcia grabbed my wrist and used my hand to point in the direction of what could only be described, in her words, as ‘chocolate thunder striking down the dance floor’.

We shared a laugh at the sight of Morgan grinding against three women who were enjoying every moment. JJ and Emily audibly cringed.

“Spence, why don’t you follow him out there?” JJ joked as she nudged my shoulder. Emily giggled as she pushed on the other side of me as she loudly whispered in my ear, “Oh, come on! I need to live vicariously through the youthfulness of being single.”

“You’re not in a relationship, Emily.” I tried to banter but I had to speak over her defensive response, “Actually, Sergio is a cat. Nice try. Why don’t you give the floor a spin.”

“I think the floor is spinning already…” Penelope stuttered while gripping onto her barstool. Emily grabbed Garcia’s shoulders and shouted “Or you’ve been taking the shots that were meant for everybody!” Emily helped Penelope off the chair and started to guide her towards the bathroom.

JJ patted my back as she claimed Garcia’s seat and watched the two ladies stumble away. I sipped my drink, wishing for the bitterness of alcohol but in return feeling the tarte lime hit the back of my throat. I felt so alone in this club that trickled with my friends and coworkers.

There was a female bartender who was working at the other end of the bar who caught my eye. She was shaking a cocktail over her shoulder while laughing. I looked back down at my drink.

The silence I shared with JJ didn’t last long. Morgan was swaying back towards us, shaking the ladies off and leaving them in his wake. “Pretty boy or JJ. One of you better take my hand or I pick who’s dancing with me.” My eyes darted directly over to JJ, whose eyes never locked contact with the man who offered.

“I believe this little lady is long overdue from a night out,” Morgan whisked JJ off her barstool and she giggled and waved to me. I waved back to hear Morgan tell JJ, “Will doesn’t take you out enough does he?”

I stirred my drink as indeed, now I was truly alone. Emily was probably holding back Penelope’s hair and jewelry while JJ and Derek were losing themselves in the sea of bodies. It didn’t distract me from feeling the exhaustion wave over me. I stabbed at the ice and lime at the bottom of my glass with a small black straw.

I zoned in on the noise of the ice clinking against the glass over the irritating, base-heavy club music. The stirring grounded me from the stimulation all around me.

That's when I notice a hand with manicured nails tapping the bar top in front of me.

“Hey, you probably didn't hear me! Want another drink?” I looked up to see the female bartender from before standing right in front of me. She smiled big and shyly I returned it. “I-I’m sorry, yeah. Uh. Yes please. Virgin lime and tonic.” I managed to stutter.

“Are you pregnant? If so congrats! You’re glowing. Coming right up, dear.” The young woman danced around the other bartender to get rid of my old glass and grab a clean one.

I was confused why she thought I was a woman conceiving even though I was a man. I understand that ordering non-alcoholic drinks while at a club with friends seems off putting. Instead of worrying about the topic any longer I shook my head and looked back up at her.

She wiped the glass with the apron around her waist, before chatting up her coworker while building my drink. She had an infectious smile, I had to keep myself from being caught staring.

The bartender leaned over and placed my drink in front of me. “Here’s your drink! My name is Y/N so if you need anything-” Someone put their hand on my back which caused me to jump and spill my drink in front of me and onto the bartender.

JJ laughed and grabbed her drink from earlier and giggled while saying “Nice one, Spence.”

Reader POV:

The club soda and lime wedge had spilled onto my shirt, ice falling into my apron pockets.

“I’m so sorry!” The curly-haired man explained and grabbed the stack of napkins next to me to mop up the eight ounces of liquid.

“It’s okay, I’m always prepared for instances like these.” I joked while taking off my apron and dumping the ice out of the pockets. My mind flooded with emotions. I was frustrated. Why did I have to lean against the bar to get closer to this man I didn’t know. I was annoyed. Now my clothes are wet and I have to go change.

What clouded my mind the most was the image of the blonde woman who touched him so affectionately.

By the time I had set my apron on the table behind the bar I had looked back up at the man who locked eye contact with me. He had soft, hazel eyes that looked at me apologetically.

“I’m going to try to find Morgan again.” The blonde woman patted his shoulder and walked off to the floor.

I looked back down at the wad of sopping wet napkins and started throwing them away.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into me. Is there any way I can help you?” He searched my eyes for an answer but something let me know he already knew what I wanted.

“I’m not… sure.” I touched my wet work jeans trying to figure out my plan. I had soaking wet pants, without my apron it looks like I had embarrassingly wet myself.

I caught the man in the corner of my eye glancing, scanning me up and down.

“Well, I could help you get out of those pants?” He stuttered while suggesting, a sly smirk growing on his face.

I tried to hide my blushed cheeks from him but I was intrigued. Anyways it was nearly the end of my shift and I couldn’t care less about this job. Part of me chimed in, the good and moral part of me. Why would you risk this fun and great paying job for a man you just met.

But I’ve never felt a stronger feeling of complete sureness about a person like this before.

I am sure he is my person.

I wiped up my hands and placed them on the bar table in front of me.

“Would you really? That would be great actually.” I looked up and smiled at him. All I saw was this shaggy-haired man with a goofy smile on his face staring straight back at me.

He started to stammer before saying, “Wait… really? I mean I would it’s just… aren't you working?”

I laughed and looked over my shoulder at my coworker and shouted at him. “Hey Mike! Is Peter here yet?” I saw him give me a strong nod. “Guess my cover-” By the time I looked back over at the man who was sitting across from me, the words fell out of my mouth.

He wasn’t there. In his place was left a napkin with writing on it. I grabbed the napkin that was slightly damp and scrawled in pen it read,

Check your apron pocket.

I fumbled for my apron that was hanging to dry over the bar rail. I dug my hands into what I thought were empty pockets and found a business card. It read:

SSA Dr. Spencer Reid - FBI BAU Profiler.

Oh my god, he’s a Fed. I’m guessing a really smart one too. Plus some sort of magician.

I flipped the business card over and there was more writing on it in the same pen.

Meet me out front when you’re done.

My mind was scrambling for how much I wanted to see him. Part of me tried to reason, why would I drop everything for someone's name I had to learn through their business card? The arguably better side of me screamed for him.

I ran to clock out and grab my bag. Mike stopped me as I saw Peter taking over my section of the bar in the corner of my eye.

“Hey, everything alright? If you’re in a hurry you can just grab your tips tomorrow. Text me if you need anything. Have fun out there, kid.” He patted my back and nudged me. “Go get him.”

“Thank you Mike! See ya!” I smiled and waved goodbye to them and started to push through the people. Usually I’d slip through the back door but pushing through people seemed safer than walking through a dark alley alone.

But with an FBI agent, I think I might be safe. I had a really great feeling about it anyways.

I pushed the door and felt the brisk fall wind hit my face as I walked outside. I didn’t care for how cold I was, I was looking for him.

I scanned the streets and saw him standing underneath a street lamp and he looked back at me with the biggest smile. I have to admit that it was quite contagious.

I walked up to him and shined under the street lamp with him. Before I could even say hello he started apologizing.

“I’m really sorry again. I see that you got my note, which is good. I was worried about the pen bleeding from the melting ice.” He chuckled.

“It’s okay! Please, it happens more often than I’d like to admit. I can say I’ve never had such a polite and attractive person spill a drink on me.” I looked down at my shoes in slight embarrassment for being so bold, but hey. When am I not.

“If it took me spilling a drink on you to meet then I’m sure it was worth it.” He caught my attention again, making me laugh.

“I would let you do it again, I mean. Only if I wasn’t wearing my favorite jeans.” I gestured to the slightly wet stain on my black jeans.

He shared my humor and laughed along with me. “I hope I can make it up to you. I’m sure you read the card, but my name is Spencer.”

“I did catch onto that! And my name is-” He cut in and said “Y/N.”

“You have quite the memory! Let me guess, it’s the reason you’re a doctor?” I giggled.

“Yes, but not really a doctor. I have three doctorates though.” He spoke with his hands, justifying his genius-ness.

I nodded and tried not to think about my bachelor’s degree that sat on a shelf collecting dust. “May I ask, were those other FBI agents with you earlier?’

“Yes. It was my team, they’re great. I told them I was leaving anyway.” He shuffled his feet.

Part of me sighed in relief knowing that the blonde woman was just a coworker. I watched him glance over at the door, I’m sure watching out to see if his team would come looking for him. “How about we get out of here?” I grabbed my keys out of my purse.

“I don’t really drive, but we can go back to my apartment if you would like?” He looked back at me with a soft smile.

I told him I would love to drive and we walked back to my car which was just around the block. We were laughing and chatting the entire time, he climbed into the passenger seat of my car and I started the car.

“You can put your address in the GPS.” I looked up at his puzzled face as he stared at the GPS navigation touch screen. “Or I can do it for you if you’re scared of it.”

We shared a laugh before I admitted, “Don’t worry. It kinda scares me too.”

The entirety of the twenty minute ride back to his place felt so… natural. Like we’ve done this a million times before.

He walked me upstairs to his apartment and unlocked the door, letting me in first. I took in the sight of his small library that had taken over his apartment. Before going any further I took my shoes off and placed them right by the door.

“Make yourself at home.” He smiled and walked over to a record player and picked out a vinyl with a worn cover, placed it on the turntable, and set the needle on the record.

I was looking at all of the beautiful books and art as the dulcet sounds of soft jazz filled the deep emerald green walls of his cozy home.

Spencer whisked me around and caught me in his arms. I looked back up into his eyes and adored how his eyes complimented the entirety of his aesthetic.

He moved one of his hands to my lower back as I kept my hands pressed against his chest. “You look beautiful.” He said softly.

“Who knew I’d land a date with a handsome man in my work clothes?” I pawed at the cuff of my t-shirt.

He looked down at his attire, “Well these are my work clothes too.” He gestured with his eyes towards his grey suit.

We laughed as we swayed slightly to the music. I playfully tugged on his tie and stared back into his soft eyes. “Remember how you promised you’d help me out of these?”

“Trust me, Y/N, I would never forget.” He grabbed the back of my head and leaned in.

Spencer’s lips locked onto mine and devolved into a small kiss. My heart was beating fast and before I could clear my head from the euphoria, he guided me towards his room.

His room was cozy and he directed me to lay out on his bed. I got onto his bed and laid out for him. Spencer couldn’t wait to get his hands on me and the feelings were mutual.

I undid my belt and he took over with his much larger hands, undoing the button and unzipping the zipper.

He leaned in and kissed me again as he started to shuffle my pants off. I arched my back to help with the process. He carefully set them on the ground and untied his tie and opened a button on his shirt.

I whined softly as he dragged his hands down my thighs, grabbing the back of his neck and bringing him for another kiss.

His kisses were insanely addictive, I was getting drunk off of his love.

He started to take off his vest and shirt as I took off my own. Spencer’s eyes never left mine or my body. As he pulled off his pants he took a moment to soak in what was laying on his bed.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” He spoke in an almost gravely tone. I smiled as my entire body tingled while he climbed on top of me.

His lips dived towards mine and crashed together in a moment of complete unison. I ran my hands through the curls on the back of his head, feeling his hands creep up towards my chest.

Our tongues swirled in dopamine through our heavy breathing. Time felt like it was going by so fast as we discovered each other's bodies. He was thin and slightly sculpted but strong.

He grabbed my hips and brought me down further on the bed to be level with his face. Spencer stopped for a second and looked deep into my eyes. “Is this going too fast?”

I moved my hands from his back to grip the arms that were standing on either side of me. “Only if you think it's going too fast. We don't have to do this tonight.” I looked back into his eyes trying to understand what was going on in his brilliant mind.

“I hope it doesn't bother you, Y/N. You’re still more than welcome to stay.” He softly offered as he laid on the bed next to me.

I rolled over and stared right back into his soft hazel eyes. “Spencer, I hope I’m not speaking too quickly, but we have the rest of our lives to enjoy more moments like these.”

He cupped my face with his hands and kissed me on the forehead. I closed my eyes and heard him whisper,

What do I say to someone who is my soulmate?

------------

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #reader x character #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #soulmate #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid self insert #female reader #reader fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n

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goldensunflowers98 · 3 years

Text

Coffee House Dreams

Luke Hemmings Imagine

Please let me know what you think❤️

Aurora sighed as she blew a golden blonde curl from her line of vision once again, her fingers lightly pressing against the piano keys while trying to find the right sound. The small coffee shoppe nestled in one of the side streets of London, where her sister worked tirelessly, bustled with life, the strong scent of espresso overwhelming her senses with every inhale.

She was here almost everyday since she couldn't afford a piano this nice at home, knew most of the customers by name, and she always enjoyed a classic, sweet, vanilla cappuccino after a long day at Uni.

Aurora was a simple girl who loved the sight of rain droplets on rose petals, the sound of the ocean waves crashing against the shore at night, and the scent of espresso as she played the piano. She loved the color red, especially her crimson colored scrunchie that currently tied her mess of golden curls up, and she found unkind people to be the scum of the earth.

She also found the mysterious blonde haired, blue eyed boy that hid his face being a pair of sunglasses and a steaming caramel latte to be the most beautiful creature she'd ever seen. He had started coming in just in the past week, but Aurora found his Australian accent positively enchanting and the dimples that appeared when he smiled made her slam her fingers down on the keys of the piano the first time she saw them, causing a loud crash of discord to sound through the small shoppe and for her to duck her blushing face when he whipped around confused.

He sat perched at the window seat across the way and Aurora noticed how he had a blueberry muffin as well today, his fingers picking at the treat as he watched the raindrops rolls down the clear glass beside him.

He looked sad today, Aurora noticed, the corner of his lips turned downwards and he anxiously fidgeted every few minutes, scratching his temple with his sweater paw.

Now, noticing she was staring like a crazy person, Aurora clears her throat, turning her attention back to the keys and the song she was trying to figure out.

Well the sky is finally open, the rain and wind stopped blowin'

But you're stuck out in the same old storm again

The notes just don't sound as perfect as she wanted and she tries again in another key.

You hold tight to your umbrella, well, darlin' I'm just tryin' to tell ya

That there's always been a rainbow hangin' over your head

She groans to herself, placing her head down on the polished wood, frustrated that she couldn't even get the cords right to her own song.

"That's a beautiful song. Have you tried it starting out in 'G' though?"

She gasps in shock, jumping backwards, her sheet music flying everywhere, and she nearly falls off the piano stool as she hears the accented voice of the mysterious boy who loved caramel lattes right beside her.

He looks mortified at her reaction, his bright blue eyes that were no longer covered by sunglasses were wide and his long arms were out like he was about to catch her before she hit the ground.

"Whoa! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you," he says but it's all muffled as Aurora stares up at him in shock and wonder.

This mysterious boy wasn't so mysterious after all. He was Luke freaking Hemmings from her old favorite band, 5 Seconds of Summer. She had been staring at Luke Hemmings like a certified freak for over a week now and didn't notice. She really needed to get more sleep.

"It's fine. Everything is fine. Just startled me is all. First, you're way over there and now, you're all the way over here. You must have some long legs on you," she mumbles frantically like a crazy person, picking up her sheet music and as she finishes her sentence, her eyes trail from his torso, down his long legs, and to his feet that were awkwardly doing this thing where they turned into one another. "I rest my case."

He laughs lightly at that and her eyebrows raise when he rests his latte cup on top of the piano as if he was staying awhile.

"Sorry, I tend to creep up on people without them noticing. I'm Luke, by the way," he reaches out his hand for her to shake and Aurora smiles at the sight of his red gel fingernails, her favorite color.

"Aurora... I love the red," she says, earning a brilliant beam from him with a hint of a blush. He mumbles a 'thank you' quietly, tucking a wild blonde curl behind his ear sheepishly.

"You come in here a lot. Do you live close by or something?" He asks, taking a sip of his hot drink as she assorts her music once more.

"Are you stalking me, Luke?" She smirks as he nearly chokes on his drink and starts to fumble over his words.

"N-No! No, I just hear you play every time I come in. It's quite nice and it's a small... it's a small shoppe. Oh, god... Please don't think I'm a psycho stalker," he winces behind his cup, knowing his previous words made him sound like a creep.

"I'm just kidding," she giggles with a mischievous grin, finding his nervousness to be quite funny. "It's a small and quiet coffee house. Not many new people come in, so you're a sight for sore eyes, for sure."

She furrows her brows as he doesn't really reply to her statement, looking back at the door as it chimes, lips bitten harshly by his front teeth. He looks disappointed as Andrew, the local dog walker who liked a double fudge hot cocoa after a long morning of trudging along behind a sweet saint bernard, two huskies that were brothers, Mrs. Henderson's prize winning poodle, and a teacup yorkie that had a bite of a lion, walked in.

"Waiting for someone?" She asked quietly, trying to be gentle as his face is crestfallen after checking the time.

"Uh.." he runs his hand through his curls, tugging at the roots anxiously for a moment before turning back to her. "My girlfriend. She... We've been fighting a lot recently, but she was supposed to meet me an hour ago to talk some stuff out."

Sierra Deaton, Luke's girlfriend, was a sweet girl from what Aurora observed from the tweets and Instagram posts, but every relationship had its downfalls.

"Maybe she's stuck in traffic. You know how London is," she once again tries to be gentle with his feelings and her heart aches just a bit when she sees his deep frown.

"Yeah... Maybe it's just London." He hides his upset eyes by a fake smile and Aurora finds it upsetting at just how good he seemed at that specific action; hiding his true feelings.

"Fuck," he suddenly curses, looking frantic for a second as he starts collecting all of his belongings.

"What's wrong?" Aurora asks, his nervousness making her anxiety spike.

"I'm late for rehearsal. Shit! I completely forgot," he shoves his phone in his pocket and shoots back the rest of his latte quickly. "It was so nice finally meeting you! Um, I'll probably see you tomorrow! Try starting the song out in G!" As quick as he stumbles out his words, he is out of the shoppe and Aurora watches in hazy confusion as he speed walks past the window, tugging at his hair nervously again.

"That boy is going to go bald one day if he keeps that up," she mumbles, turning back to her piano and feeling a bit confused and star struck by her encounter.

"What boy?" She hears her sister ask as she walks around the corner, taking Luke's empty mug from off the piano and placing it in the dirty dish tray she had rested on her hip.

"Just a boy, Cece," she smiles up at her older sister who looked disheveled after a long shift. "Damn, you look rough."

Celestia rolls her eyes playfully at her little sister, reaching up to maintain her jet black hair that was nothing like her sister's. You would have never have known that they were related if you had set your eyes on the curly blonde haired, green eyed, shy girl and the older, upbeat girl with obsidian hair and bright, blue eyes. "Want another cappuccino?" She asks, earning a grin and a nod from Aurora as she walks away.

Looking down at the ivory keys, Aurora hums to herself as she hovers her fingers over the 'G' key. Beginning to play the song, she can't help but grin and scribble down notes inside her tattered song journal. Maybe Luke knew what he was talking about after all.

________

The sun is dimly shining the next morning and Aurora inhales the smell of wet asphalt after the night full of rain, a small smile on her face. Turning the corner towards the coffee shoppe, she nearly stops in her tracks as she sees a familiar, teary-eyed boy through the window, sitting in his normal seat. He was alone, no coffee or muffin in sight and she watches as he buries his distraught face in his hands.

Trudging along slowly while taking looks back at the upset Luke through the window, Aurora frowns as she enters the shoppe and walks over to the counter. "Hey, Cece. I need a vanilla cappuccino, a caramel latte, and two blueberry muffins, please. Put extra caramel drizzle and whipped cream on the latte too."

She ignores her sister's confused smirk as she places the money on the counter, continuing to look over at Luke, who's shoulders were now lightly shaking with sobs. Her order is quick to arrive and she collects the cups and muffins carefully, making a beeline towards Luke's table.

"Hey, sunshine," she whispers solemnly, a gentle, comforting smile on her lips as he looks up with red rimmed eyes, a flushed nose and cheeks, and sniffles quietly.

"Hey," he croaks, wiping his eyes and looking embarrassed that she caught him in his weakest moments.

She slowly slides the muffin and caramel latte in front of him and when he looks up at her confused that she got his order right, she shrugs lightly. "Lucky guess," she says before taking the seat in front of him.

"I know we just met and aren't the best of friends, but I felt like you needed someone to talk to or else you wouldn't be sitting here in the middle of a public coffee house and crying, so... Here I am," she says, stuffing a large bite of blueberry muffin in her mouth and ignoring the crumbs that fall onto the table.

He doesn't say anything for a few moments, a dazed look in his eyes as he gazes out the window and stirs his spoon around and around the rim of his cup.

Aurora is patient, half of her cappuccino finished before he finally parts his lips to speak.

"She left me. She said she didn't want to deal with the distance when we go on tour again and that she didn't trust me to not h-hook up with other girls while I'm gone. I've never done anything but give her l-love and reasons t-to...to trust me! I would n-never cheat."

His words, heaving chest, and his trembling lip are enough to make Aurora wince in sympathy, nearly burning her tongue as he says it in the middle of her taking a larger gulp.

"I'm so sorry, Luke... I know she meant a lot to you or you wouldn't be having this reaction." He nods solemnly as her words before she continues. "If it's any consolation, she didn't deserve you after you kept trying to meet up and talk and she never showed. You tried. She didn't. Some people aren't worth your tears. I know that's not going to stop you from being upset, but it's a thought to think about."

His eyebrows furrow a bit at her words before he gives a small nod. "I guess you're right," he says, showing progress in his mood as he finally picks up his latte and takes a small sip.

It's quiet for a few more minutes and the second that Aurora sees his bottom lip start to tremble again, she panics and leans forward. "Hey," she reaches out and lightly touches his hand. "Want to get out of here? I've got this place I'd like to show you if you let me. It's a bit of a drive, but you won't regret it."

Looking down at his watch, he seems to weigh the pros and cons for a moment before giving in. "Why not?" He says, standing and throwing his jacket on as Aurora looks up, slightly dumbfounded that he accepted.

"Okay," she stands up and gets out an excited giggle, placing their cups in the bin. "Lets go"

With a wave to her sister, who was giving her a proud smirk, Luke puts on his sunglasses and they leave the coffee house, making their way to her car that was parked around the corner.

"Holy shit, this is amazing!" Luke laughs unbelievably at her cherry red 1976 Cadillac Eldorado Convertible with cream colored interior.

"Thanks! It was my granddad's!" Climbing in, she cranks the car and with an excited grin and looking both ways, she pulls out into the traffic.

The wind blows through their hair as the cruise down the roads and Aurora gently smiles when she looks over and sees Luke grinning as he looks at the scenery and people around.

"Here," She hands him her phone as she enjoys the cool breeze, placing her sunnies over her eyes. "You choose the music."

"Brave choice," he hums, taking the phone and beginning to scroll through the songs until he gets to a certain category.

"I knew it!" He shouts with a crazed laugh, Aurora giving him an odd look as she worries for his health.

"You okay there, bub?" She asks with a slight chuckle before he shoves her phone in her face with a wide grin.

"Every one of our albums, including our old EP's, and features. I knew you were a fan!" He laughs as her face drops, a blush taking over her cheeks.

"I never said I wasn't," she sticks her tongue out at him before smirking at his dumbfounded face. "Play a song, doofus." She shoves him playfully as he continues to grin, his thumb scrolling through the songs.

English Love Affair starts playing through the speakers and Aurora rolls her eyes behind her sunglasses. "I see what you did there," she laughs as he smirks over at her cheekily, his sadness hidden well, but Aurora knew it was still under the surface.

________

Oh tie up your boat, take off your coat, and take a look around

Everything is alright now

The door to the coffee shoppe chimes cheerfully the following day, making Aurora look up in curiosity. A smile tugs at her lips as she sees the familiar, lanky, blonde boy walk in but her eyes slightly widen as three other beautiful boys follow behind him.

"Holy mother of God," she mumbles to herself wide eyed as she sees Luke turn towards the piano and give her a smile and wave, making a beeline towards her with the boys in tow.

Gulping, Aurora tries to hide her shaking hands by sitting on them, nervously grinning as they come closer.

"Hey, Ro! These are my friends, Michael, Ashton, and Calum. I told them about your song and they really wanted to hear it." Aurora almost fell over as a pleasant nickname passed through his lips but what really made her vision blurry was the end of his sentence.

"O-Oh, that's so... that's so sweet, Luke. It isn't finished yet though," she frowns, biting her lip as he seems to deflate.

"Oh, well maybe next time then," he says sadly and the look on his face is enough for her to grab his hand as he starts to turn.

"Wait! I-I can show the parts I do have," she says, making his smile appear once again.

The boys all crowd around her, making her feel extremely nervous but with Luke's encouraging smile, she places her still shaking hands over the keys.

When it rain it pours but you didn't even notice

It ain't rainin' anymore, it's hard to breathe when all we know is

The struggle of staying above, the rising water line

She continues the song, trying to his cracking, nervous voice, until she no longer has any lyrics, trailing off with a quiet hum and shaky exhale. "That's all I've got so far," she looks up to see the four boys grinning at her widely.

"She's perfect, Luke," Calum says over to Luke proudly and Ashton nearly jumps up and down.

"Such a smart breadstick, you!" Ashton pats him hard on the back as Michael continues to smile but stay the calm one.

"I don't understand," Aurora nervously picks at her bottom lip as they continue to talk excitedly amongst themselves. That's when she realizes her music journal that was testing on the piano is in Ashton's hand and they are all flickering through the pages with excited grins.

"Um, excuse me," her eyebrows are now furrowed as they read her personal songs and words from her heart and Luke looks up as they hear the edge in her tone.

"Sorry, Ro," He yanks the journal out of their hands and places it back on the piano with an apologetic wince. "I think we owe an explanation." When she nods annoyed, he gulps and continues. "We are in a band called 5 Seconds of Summer."

"I know this... Plus, there's only four of you," she deadpans as Ashton snickers in the back.

"Anyway! We are in a band and we are looking for an opening act and someone to sign, but we didn't want anyone to mainstream or famous. We think you'd be perfect to open for us."

Aurora stares up at them in shock, her mouth becoming dry.

“So... what do you say?” Luke asks, his cheeks turning slightly red.

What should she say?

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theskyeandsea · 3 years

Text

When You Get What You Want... || Cutler & Skylar

Timing: Late January 19th, shortly after this chatzy

Location: Clarke’s Convenience Store

Tagging: @clarkesconvenience & @theskyeandsea

Description: Skylar’s rampage around town continues; Cutler offers a helping hand.

Warnings: Drug use, addiction, body horror, memory loss, medical blood

Disoriented and covered in flour and blood, Skylar stumbled down the road away from the shop, a giddy smile still on her face as her feet began to skip across the pavement. She bounded down the road before turning abruptly, eyes caught by the displays in the window. Staggering forward, she pressed her fingers against the glass and the same sticking sensation filled her. The atoms and molecules and all the tiny parts of what made her a person shifted until she was crashing into the center of the convenience store. With a dazed grin on her face, Skylar began to push displays over. Blood trickled down the side of her face from her ear, a clean jagged section of her earlobe ripped free and stuck in the glass of the convenience store. She barely noticed as the liquid splattered across the clean floors while she shoved at the shelves. Cutler had been mentally preparing himself for a break-in since he had come home. It was bound to happen eventually, as it had for his parents several times over the course of his childhood. When it did, he would handle it the same way his parents had: with calm, slow movements and total compliance.

It didn’t go that way.

For one thing, he had expected it to happen while the shop was open and the money would still be in the register. Instead, the crashing sound of displays being toppled downstairs had awoken him in the early hours of the morning. The cool and collected man of his practiced break-in fantasies was quickly replaced with a groggy version of himself in a wrinkled t-shirt and boxers, squinting in the dim light.

Slowly, he took in the scene before him in pieces. Spidery crimson tracks spilling down pale skin and dripping onto waxed tile, collapsed shelving units spilling all manner of dried goods onto the floor, and a familiar, crazed look behind wide, dark pupils. He had dealt with this many times in the ER. Well, maybe not this, exactly, but he knew intoxication when he saw it. His hand hovered over the light switch to his right and he called out before clicking the buzzing fluorescents on above them, “You need some help.” A statement, not a question; carried with the arrogant weight of medical school behind it. “I can patch that up for you.”

Stepping on bags of spices, Skylar took particular joy in watching as the dried herbs crumbled under her shoes. She ran her hand along the shelves, knocking more and more of the goods onto the ground, blood dripping across the crinkly bags. And then, she realized she wasn’t alone. Someone had entered from the back of the shop. Skylar spun around to look at him, tilting her head at him quizzically. “Help? I don’t need help, I have all the help I need.” She said with a giddy smile on her face, her teeth bright and gleaming in the lowlight. “Don’t want patches, nope, I don’t need another patchwork skin, nuh uh.” She said to herself, rubbing the sores on her arms as she spoke. She could feel something leaking from the raw abscesses that dotted her legs, but the pain was like a distant memory, far far away from her right now.

Bright white light washed over the store, revealing the full extent of the damage. Product littered the floor under the shifting soles of his unsteady guest. Cutler dropped his hand from the light switch and walked forward, sidestepping the lentil spillage by his feet. “Uh huh.” The wheels in his mind ground against each other, desperately trying to wake up in time to process the finer details of the situation that wouldn’t come together. Sharpened teeth inside a lazy grin and his front door still locked and unbroken; pieces of a puzzle that refused to click. “Can I take a look?” The wounds on her body were various levels of depth and severity, ranging from dark and old to bright and fresh. The whip-sharp crack of a brown paper bag crinkling under his foot caused him to freeze in place. He stared, cautious and gentle, afraid she would startle like a wild animal. His hand extended slowly, pale pink underside raised to her in timid surrender. “I’m not gonna hurt you. You know it makes it worse when you scratch them.” His voice continued in a muted string of comforting sound, filling the space between them. “Nothing intensive. Just get something on that ear, stop the bleeding. Do a once over for breaks and fractures, maybe disinfect those sores. If it’s food you want, I can get you some of that, too.”

Skylar watched as the man continued to walk towards her, slow, so slow. She didn’t want to slow down, she didn’t want to pause to stop and think and let all the thoughts she’d left behind catch back up to her. She just wanted to ride this wild, cresting high as far as it would take her and this man? No, no, no, he seemed like he’d put a stop to it. When he asked to look at her, Skylar squinted at him. “Why?” She asked. He took another step and then froze for some reason that she wasn’t quite sure of. There was a muffled sound, but she couldn’t tell what it was. Running her finger tips around her ears, Skylar remembered why. “Oh, that makes sense.” She said, tapping the place where her hearing aids normally rested. Focusing back on the man, she laughed. “You can’t hurt me, even if you wanted to. Even if I wanted you to,” Skylar paused, staring down at the blood that covered her. Looking up at him abruptly, she asked, “Do you think I need help?” Cutler watched her fingers lower from her ears, slick with blood. There was no alarm in her face as they came away, only a laugh that felt discordant and wrong. Even if I wanted you to. When her eyes met his, he felt his heart clatter against his ribcage with deafening irregularity. Something distinctly inhuman looked back at him. Or maybe it was the lack of something. “I do.” He replied, hoping his honesty would cut through the frenetic, animalistic energy to the person behind it. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know. Accepting help.”

Another step toward her. She was almost within his reach now. He blinked slowly, a prayer running across the back of his eyelids: Please don’t fight me. “At the very least, let me get some gauze on that. You’re bleeding all over my floor.” His hand reached up and touched his own ear instinctively, brushing against his full intact earlobe. He ran his tongue across the flat backs of his own teeth, feeling the square edges. Hers were definitely unnatural. Modified, maybe. “I haven’t even asked your name. How rude of me.” A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, echoing the grin he might have worn in lighter circumstances. “I’m Cutler. And you are?”

He thought she needed help. But so had everyone else and that wasn’t what she’d wanted. Erin and Morgan and Leah and even Shiloh and Rio. They all said they wanted to help, but how could she know that? Skylar mulled over his words, tapping her fingers against her chin, ignoring the way the pads of her fingers stuck to her skin. All of them knew her, they all knew her and they knew what she was and who she was and even if they didn’t know why she was-- Skylar didn’t know why she was even though she could remember every pretty little pill she’d swallowed-- they knew what she should be. And this man didn’t. So maybe that made his help real. “Okay.” She said blithely, not realizing how much tension hung between the two of them. “Oh, but there is. Because people will help you and help you and help you and then one day, they leave. Because they’re too tired of putting up with all your shit and think it’s better to quit while they’re ahead.” She said earnestly.

At the mention of his floors, Skylar glanced down to the mess of crushed herbs and ruined inventory that were spattered with a thick trail of blood. “Oh. Whoops. I have a lot,” She said with a nod, before gesturing around at the mess. “Of blood. Lots of blood. This is… probably okay.” She said with a shrug. Squinting at him, Skylar repeated his name. “Cut-ler.” She let out a slight giggle, wondering where her knife had gone. Cutler. She could make that literal. “I’m Skylar.” She said, before looking expectantly at him. “So, are you going to help me not bleed all over your floors?”

Cutler listened intently. Someone had hurt this girl, and he didn't intend to be the next in the long line of grievances she had suffered. "If people desert you, that's their shame. Not yours." The contempt in his voice bled through and he swallowed it back down into his stomach. "I'm not going anywhere."

He followed her gaze down to the floor, and back up to her nonchalant shrug. "That's me. You ever go by Sky? I've gone by Cut to my friends." His mouth moved on it's own, giving his mind a chance to catch up with the unreality of the situation.

"It is a lot of blood, huh. Whooole lotta blood. Still limited supply, though." A deep sigh shot downward as his hands drifted to the resting spot on his hips where his apron drawstrings usually hung. He focused his gaze back on Skylar, unwilling to think about the cleanup he was going to have to do later. Alone, of course. No insurance company is gonna cover an illegal surgery. "Let's get something on that. I've got supplies back here. Gauze and tape and uh, all sorts of stuff. You need a hand?"

Shrugging, Skylar’s mind wandered to all the people she’d loved, who’d left this place, who’d left her behind because they had to go. Nic and Winston and Remmy, they’d left. They hadn’t abandoned her, not the way Ricky and her parents had, but they’d left this town and they’d left her too. “Sometimes people leave and that’s just what happens. And then you’re left trying to figure out who you were without them.” Skylar said with a nod.

“S-K-Y-E, yup. Just friends, though.” She said as she followed behind him, her footprints leaving thick smears against the linoleum flooring of the shop. At his question, she shook her head vigorously. “I don’t want a hand, nope, nope. Got two right here, don’t need more.” She said. “One of my friends kept losing their hands, but now they’re gone.” Skylar said, mostly to herself. “Gone, gone, gone.”

Cutler led the way to the back of the store, propping the EMPLOYEES ONLY door open with a coffee can of ice salt. “Alright, no hands. No problem.” Beyond the crack of the door, a grey cement room stared back at them, devoid of all the usual upholstery; no shelving, or paint, or tiling. The floor sloped ever so slightly downward, puckering at a large metal drain. Under the naked bulbs above him, he knelt to root through a box, pulling out various medical supplies and glancing over every so often to assess the damage.

“Skylar.” He called back, tendons in his neck jumping with the strain. “What hurts? Can you tell me if anything hurts inside?” As he ambled back toward her, his gaze shifted from sympathetic to critical, mind kicking into higher gear. Silicon gloves rolled down his wrists and his hand paused inches from her lesioned arm, waiting for permission. “Is there any point in me telling you to get rest after this?”

Skylar hadn’t been in the back rooms of many stores before, but she had a feeling that they didn’t look much like this. Staring around as he began to pull things out of a box, Skylar’s attention dropped back to the floor as she watched droplet after droplet of greyish red splash against the tile. They began to form a small trickle, flowing down, down, down the drain. At Cutler’s words, Skylar looked up and looked at him. “Nothing hurts. Nope, nope, can’t feel anything.” She said and, to prove it, she reached up with her fingers and grasped the chunk of her ear and pulled on it. Blood ran down her fingers, but she didn’t flinch because there wasn’t any pain to feel. It was all just light and bright and nothing at the same time. Holding out her arms, she shrugged. “I can rest. Sometimes I lie down in the woods for hours and hours.” She replied.

Cutler's lips parted in protest, too late to stop her from tugging on her ear. They came back together in a constricted wince. Crimson slick coated her hand and he redirected his attention from her unusual lesions to the fresh tear beside her face. "Okay. Alright. Let's clean this up." His voice was robotically measured, practiced bedside matter. Whether he was trying to steady her or himself, he wasn't entirely sure. "No pain is good. This still might sting, though. Let me know if you want me to stop."

The act of cleaning a wound is intimate by necessity. In close quarters, he could see the rise and fall of her chest below him and the heat of her skin under the sanitizing pad. He afforded her a gentle smile. It didn't say everything he wanted to say; that he too, had lain for hours in the forest while intoxicated. That he has, on more than one occasion, injured himself while drunk and mercifully felt no pain. Instead, he opted for a subtler approach. "Mhm. That sounds nice. Peaceful. Stay still for me if you can, Skylar." The skin of her neck started to become visible as he fastened a series of bandages to the area and wiped away the gore with soft, consistent movements. "Do you know what you took?"

Skylar was barely aware of the gauze pressed against her face. She could smell the sharp of the alcohol as it was used to clean her wounds, but the moment it touched her flesh, it felt like nothing at all. There was no pain, there was no pressure, there wasn’t even hot or cold. Her entire existence was just the manic thrum of excitement and giddy happiness that she had no control over. “Nope, it doesn’t hurt. You can keep doing your stuff.” She said and let Cutler wash away the blood. Sitting still was hard, but she managed it, even as her fingers felt like they wanted to sink into the nearest wall. She couldn’t do that, no, he wanted her to stay still. And he was helping her.

“Oh, it’s really nice. Really, really nice. Sometimes I’d just stay out there for days and days, because it was better than having to feel. But this, this is even better than that. Because I’m just so happy. So, so happy. I’ve never felt this happy before.” Skylar said breathily. At his question, Skylar grinned, remembering the way the pills had looked in the palm of her hand, the way the smoke had burned in her lungs, the soft burn of the Bliss as it ran through her veins. “Some pills, something in a cigarette, a mushroom or three and lots and lots of Bliss.” She said, her expression dreamy as she thought about the box of “supplies” she had stashed away back in her room.

Cutler concentrated on not letting his concern bleed through his expressions as he listened, resisting the downturn of his mouth and darkening of his brow. His hands moved from wound to wound, adept at giving them exactly the amount of attention they needed before moving on. When he had addressed everything in his view, he extended the white bundle of gauze toward her. “If there’s anywhere else. Underneath your-I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Of course he understood that sores don’t end at the boundaries of his patient’s clothing. It was more than likely that she had significant injuries that weren’t immediately visible. But she hadn’t come to him as a client, and he wasn’t about to start peeling clothing off a vulnerable woman, even to help her. “I need to make a quick call, anyhow. Do you mind?” His thumb was already swiping through a digital rolodex of old work contacts, distant friends, and exes. “I’ll be right over here, and you can call me if you need help. How does that sound?”

Skylar didn’t notice the way that Cutler’s expression shifted, she was more focused on the way her fingers were wrapped in gauze. Already, she could see the tips of white beginning to darken as blood soaked through the cloth. What started out as pinpricks of color blossomed into thick circles and Skylar pressed her fingers against the side of the wall, watching as the blood spread through the gauze. As he handed her another roll of gauze, Skylar looked at it blankly for a moment before realizing what he was saying. That’s right, she had the gash-- a gaping slash, a gash-- on her side. Mm, she should take care of it.

With clumsy hands, Skylar slid her hands under her shirt and pressed the pad of gauze against her bleeding side. It was hard wrapping the bandages around, but she managed it after a bit of effort. At Cutler’s words, Skylar tilted her head. “What are you doing?” She asked, standing back up, the world shifting around her as she did. Her head felt light, lighter than air, as her vision went black round the edges, but she didn’t care. Taking a step forward, Skylar shook her head. “Who are you calling?” Doctors? Hunters? People who’d poke her, prod her, hurt her, kill her? No, no, no.

Cutler’s eyes only flicked down to his hand for a moment, enough to dial but not enough time for his impromptu patient to injure herself further. He hoped. Next to his ear, the phone rang out. Once, twice. In his periphery, Skylar wrapped the gauze around her body. She looked strangely fragile in the unshaded bulbs; white fluorescents piercing sickly pale skin to sharp bone underneath. “I’m just making a call.” His chin tilted upward, speaking away from the still-ringing cell. Before he could come up with a lie that she would accept-not that he thought he had one ready-the soft click over the phone alerted him to the presence of someone on the other end.

He shifted away slightly, hoping the broad slopes of his shoulders would shield the storage room from the soft words he was speaking into the phone. “Hi, it’s Cut. Sorry about the hour. Yeah, yeah, long time. Listen, I need a favour. Do you still work at the Crisis Response Unit? I’ve got a young woman here who’s in distress. No cops, she just needs-” He was interrupted by scuffling behind him, turning just in time to see Skylar getting to her feet. She swayed so slowly that the room seemed to tilt with her. “Skylar-” His protest died in his throat as she lurched forward with surprising intensity, causing him to take a mirroring step backward. She was substantially smaller than him, but something in her eyes caused his heart to leap to his throat. It took another step forward for him to recognize it. Hatred. “It’s just an old friend. She might be able to help you. Better than I can.”

As the man turned his back on her, Skylar’s ears strained to pick up his hushed tones. She couldn’t pick up specifics, but her mind was already buzzing with possibilities of who was on the other line. Her eyes flicked around wildly, looking at the strange utensils that were laid out neatly on the table he’d taken her to. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered that this was… a store. A shop in the center of town. With packets of chips and gum but also scissors and scalpels and gauze and gloves. Lips curling into a feral grimace, Skylar reached out and grabbed one of the shiny silvery tools from the table and pointed it at Cutler.

“Put down the phone.” Skylar said clearly, glaring at him while blood pounded in her ears. She could stab at him, plunge the tip of the scalpel into his chest over and over and over. She could lunge at him and bury her teeth into the soft flesh of his throat. She could rip him to pieces, she could hurt him, hurt him the way that Hunters wanted to hurt her. A trap, was this all a trap? “I don’t want your friend’s help-- I don’t, I don’t even want your help.” She sneered, tempted to rip the cotton gauze from her hands just to prove it to him. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I could. I could want to hurt you.” She said with another laugh, shaking her head. “So just, just put down the phone.”

The voice on the other end of the line began to rise into a higher register, tinny treble crackling through the rectangular mic at the bottom of the screen. “I’m completely fine. No one’s gonna hurt anyone here. Let me call you back.” Cutler spoke the words loudly and clearly, hoping the slight shaking his hand didn’t translate to his voice. Light flashed off the thin reflective blade of the scalpel. It was a tiny little thing, almost dwarfed in her white knuckle grip, but it could do serious damage. He knew that better than anyone.

“I’m putting it down.” The phone clattered to the cement floor, sending a nervous jolt through his body. Nice, Cutler. “I don’t think-” His tongue felt heavy against his sticky-dry lips, struggling to form the words he wanted to say. “I don’t think you’re a bad person. And I don’t think you really want to hurt me. If you did, you would have done it by now, right? You’ve had plenty of chances.”

Skylar watched as the man spoke, her eyes trained on him. The lights were bright and sharp around the two of them and it made the scalpel in her fingers glimmer like quicksilver. Liquid in her fingers, she could let it flash out, once, twice, a hundred times, she thought. She could let it slither from her grasp and embed itself into the man’s body, she could watch the blood flow, so slow, down down down the drain. It would be so easy, so quick. A sliver of silver, a knife, a life. The dull thudding of the phone against the floor brought her back to her senses and Skylar nodded. “Yup, it’s down.” She said before kicking out a foot, sending the phone skittering away.

“I could, I could. Everyone could. Everyone wants to hurt people, everything’s only ever wanted to hurt me. Why shouldn’t I hurt someone else? Why shouldn’t I be just like them?” Skylar asked, though the scalpel was already lowering in her hand. She didn’t want to. She didn’t really want to do that. Her arms felt weary, heavier than they’d felt in… well, she couldn’t remember. But the weight of the sharp blade in her fingers felt as though it was dragging her to the floor, pulling her down. “I never wanted to be like this.” She said gesturing to herself with the scalpel, hands waving wildly. “I thought I was normal. I thought everyone was normal. But it’s not and I’m not and I’m just some… thing. Some kind of monster.” Skylar said before letting out a watery laugh. Swiping at her face with her free hand, Skylar wondered when she’d started crying-- why was she even crying? There was nothing to be sad about, nothing to feel. “I-- I…” She stammered, shaking her head as she backed away towards the door she’d come from. Tossing the scalpel away, she looked at the man, mind caught between the urge to charge at him and to run far, far away from him. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.” She said, shaking as she turned around and ran.

Cutler watched a thousand emotions pass over Skylar’s face in an instant. One well-placed slash with the scalpel in her hand and it could be over for him. The karmic balancing of the scales; a fitting end for him, maybe. But she wasn’t going to. He could see it even before her arm started to lower. She was at breaking point, tears overflowing their hitch-breath confines and words spilling out of her, stream-of-consciousness. “I know.” He said softly. And he did. He knew that she wouldn’t let him help. That she was leaving, and there was nothing he could do to stop her. “I know.”

For a moment, it appeared as if she had changed her mind and decided to tackle him anyway and he tensed, ready to parry or dodge whatever she threw at him, including herself. At the last second, she pivoted, running by him in close quarters. A quicker man might have blocked the door. A stronger man might have reached a hand out to stop her as she passed. Cutler was neither of these things. Instead, he just watched her go.

#p: wygwyw #tw drug use #tw addiction #tw: medical blood #tw memory loss #tw body horror #//as always if youd like a tw free recap just let me know!#//this was such a cool chatzy to write #p: cutler clarke

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wordsablaze · 4 years

Text

3/13 - daily visions

A Dozen Denials Soulmate-identifiers exist to make things easier unless you’re Jaskier, who’s equally as deep in love as he is in denial. But there’s only so many excuses you can make to avoid the truth… (aka jaskier’s soulmate is definitely a witcher, just not the one he first assumes)

A/N: just to clarify, the trope is that you wake up knowing one event of your soulmate's day - idk the official name and borrowed 'visions' from the awesome jaskel discord <3

previous chapter

Life on the path is unpredictable.

Jaskier knows this, but he also knows it isn’t strictly true.

He, like everyone else, wakes up each morning with Destiny having told him something his soulmate is going to do, something Geralt is going to do.

And every morning, he tries to figure out how it applies to their plans and what he’s meant to do about it. He’d say what they’re meant to do about it but Geralt is never particularly interested in any kind of prophecy.

He rarely tells Jaskier what he sees but he must see glimpses of Jaskier's life because he's usually there when things go wrong in taverns or when he gets close to being mauled by a contract. And even if he sometimes has no clue what Jaskier has been upto during the day, it can't be held against him because he usually doesn't listen to Destiny and Jaskier needs to learn to take care of himself anyway.

Which is fine.

His own so-called destined prophecies are a little vague anyway, and seemingly open to interpretation: he’d once woken up with a blinding fear that Geralt was going to fall off a cliff and spent the whole day panicking until Geralt made a mess of his conversation with a Lord Cliff just before midnight.

So when he wakes up with the knowledge that someone is going to plant a curse on his soulmate, he’s not sure whether he should be worried.

“Hey, Geralt?” he asks, rubbing his eyes.

Geralt looks over from where he’s attaching his bag to Roach. “Hmm?”

Jaskier yawns. “You’re not planning on meeting any mages today, are you?”

He’s pulled himself upright before Geralt replies with a frown. “We only met Yennefer last week, didn’t know you were eager to meet her again.”

“Very funny,” Jaskier grumbles, and takes that as a ‘no’.

But Jaskier cares deeply for who and what he loves and he doesn’t stop thinking about a potential curse for their whole journey, so much so that even Roach nudges him at one point as if to ask why he isn’t singing.

“I am merely saving my voice for an audience more willing to sing along, dear girl!”

Geralt glares at him.

“I’m just saying, Geralt, you could perhaps give me some kind of feedback that involves words every once in a while.”

He grins as Geralt rolls his eyes. “Because you were using so many words in that last town?”

Jaskier’s face flushes and he scoffs indignantly. “I could hardly deny the girl one dance, what sort of bard would that make me?”

“One that doesn’t disappear all night,” Geralt grumbles.

Jaskier frowns. “But I didn’t… wait, is that what I’m going to do today?”

But Geralt doesn’t reply, not even when they get to a town. The two of them part ways, Geralt finding the Lady who’d asked for their service and Jaskier arranging to play at the inn for the afternoon.

By the time Geralt returns, Jaskier is just a little more than tired, wanting nothing more than to sink into a bed for the night. But the innkeeper’s nose wrinkles and he curses at the sight of Geralt so Jaskier just sighs before walking over.

“You didn’t say you were travelling with the-”

“I’d advise you not to finish that sentence,” Jaskier interjects, raising an eyebrow even as he realises this kind of cursing is most likely what Destiny was trying to tell him about.

Geralt scoffs. “Jaskier, I thought you were singing.”

The innkeeper raises an eyebrow. “You’d need to do a lot more singing if you want me to accept this.”

Jaskier wants to complain that he’s far too tired to keep performing but Geralt’s words from earlier spring into his mind and, well, if he had predicted Jaskier needing to sing all night, he’s hardly going to challenge that.

So he just grins and picks up the nearest drink, taking a large gulp. “It’s a good job I was only just getting started then, isn’t it?”

The innkeeper grumbles under his breath but Jaskier focuses on Geralt instead, watching as he sighs. “Really, Jaskier? We couldn’t just rest for one night?”

Jaskier winces because he wants nothing more than to do just that. “I’m sorry, my dear witcher. I’ll try and join you later, don’t want to deny Destiny now, do we?”

“What does Destiny have to do with this?” Geralt asks, but lets Jaskier usher him upstairs anyway.

Once he’s gone, Jaskier sighs. He’s played for longer in competitions and all he was trying to do was win in those so now when the respect of his soulmate is on the line, there’s no reason he can’t play. So he does. Almost all night. It’s tiring and his throat is most definitely not happy with the sheer amount of singing he does but he survives and it feels great to see the resigned look on the innkeeper’s face as he takes his share of the night’s coin.

“I can’t feel my feet, Geralt,” Jaskier moans as he stumbles back into their room just before dawn.

Geralt hums. “You can stay here for today then, it’s just a drowner.”

Jaskier might ordinarily have complained but he hasn’t been told his soulmate is going to die or anything so he just nods, throwing himself onto the bed.

“Don’t, uh… get chased by a goat?” Jaskier mumbles, because apparently that’s on the agenda of his soulmate for the day, even though he doesn’t remember seeing any houses with goats on their way into the town. Then again, it's not like he was paying much attention.

Geralt frowns at him. “Are you drunk?”

Scoffing, Jaskier shakes his head. “I’m going to have such a good sleep that my children will feel well-rested.”

He doesn’t exactly hear what Geralt says but he assumes it’s a warning not to get into trouble so he just smiles and lets his eyes close. It’s not that he’s ungrateful or anything, but Geralt really could have warned him a little better; just a little more preparation couldn't have hurt.

But then he frowns at himself because he’s not ungrateful, he’s really not. He’s lucky to have known what he was meant to do and he’s lucky to know that he can now rest and look forward to Geralt arriving with his payment so they can leave.

Yes, he's definitely lucky.

And he’s also tired but luckily for him, he’d earned enough last night to sleep through the whole day and really, he has to consider that as proof of Destiny knowing what she’s doing as well as another reason to stop overthinking so, knowing that it was practically meant to be, he lets himself fall asleep.

(little did he know he'd never actually seen proof of his destiny.)

to make up for this chaos, just imagine eskel somewhere out there getting chased by lil bleater ;p

thanks for reading! masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier | next chapter

#hurt jaskier #the witcher #jaskel #geraskier #it's complicated #soulmate au #soulmates gone wrong #jaskier the bard #geralt of rivia #oblivious jaskier #sorry not sorry #fanfic #fanfiction #netflix the witcher #my writing #add

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writingblock101 · 4 years

Text

Roof Tops (Duke Thomas x Reader)

Request for Anon: “If we get caught, you can’t speak English, and I’m deaf!” with Duke

Based off actually rooftops I’ve gone on. Trespass carefully kiddos.

Word count: 1,600

Tags: @idkmanicantenglish @mayahoelland2013 @incrediblysadstudent (hello discord friend, welcome to my account)

“Come on, babe,” Duke begs. “It’ll be fun!”

“I don’t know, Duke…” You trail off. “What if we get caught?”

“If we get caught, you can’t speak English and I’m deaf,” Duke insists, very sold on his foolproof plan.

You can’t help but chuckle at his plan.

“What if we get caught by someone more dangerous than the cops?” You propose.

“Good thing you’ll have Signal there to protect you,” He grins, puffing his chest. “I’ve done this a lot before, I know all the good spots.”

You frown again, skimming through all the possibilities. Roofing sounds really cool and you would love to see Gotham at night from some rooftops, but you’re afraid of getting caught. It would constitute as trespassing and your parents would kill you if you got arrested.

“Please,” He begs, looking eager. “I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

You sigh, barely able to say no to his excitement.

“Okay, fine. Let’s go roofing.”

“Yes!” Duke cheers, giving you a quick kiss. “Trust me, you’re going to love it. We’ll leave at 11. Wear something dark.”

“11?” You question, looking down at your phone. “It’s not even 6 o’clock yet!”

“We’ve gotta wait until everything closes,” Duke points out. “Also, I may or may not be luring you into a dinner at the Manor,” He ends with a hopeful grin.

You sigh, rolling your eyes. While you like your boyfriend’s dysfunctional family, sometimes dinners get a little out of hand.

“Come on, I need someone to back me up in mediating arguments between Damian and Tim,” Duke pouts. “I don’t have Dick or Cass there to help and Jason just adds fuel to the fire.”

“Alright, fine,” You chuckle. “Is Bruce going to care about us trespassing?”

Duke snorts.

“That would be very hypocritical of him, but no. He’ll have much more pressing matters to deal with than my hobbies than don’t include actively picking fights with criminals.”

You chuckle and kiss Duke’s cheek.

“Look at you, the new golden child.”

“No!” He protests. “Do not curse me with that! I do not need this family’s daddy issues!”

You toss your head back, laughing.

“Oh, come on, they’re not that bad.”

“Jason came back from the dead and started killing criminals to spite Bruce. Are you serious?”

“Well, at least that means you’re probably not going to do anything worse.”

“Worse?” Duke laughs sputteringly. “What do you think I’m going to do?!”

You grin, leaning back against his chest.

“Dunno, babe. You’re the genius. I’m sure you’ll figure out something to wow me.”

“Or just go on to become the lamest super villain ever,” Duke rolls his eyes. “How did I end up here? My tragic backstory? No, I was challenged into one uping my brother’s rebellion.”

“Well, you’re not going to sell shit with that attitude!” You protest.

Duke laughs wrapping his arms around you.

“You’re right, how could I be so pessimistic?” He remarks dryly then stands up, pulling you to your feet. “Come on, let’s go see what Alfred is making.”

. . .

“This feels so sketchy,” You admit, sitting in Duke’s car now dressed in all black.

He chuckles, pulling around the back of an empty shopping center.

“This is honestly kind of how I feel when I go on patrol,” He admits. “Just chilling on a rooftop, waiting for trouble to happen.”

Duke parks next to a dumpster then you both climb out of the car, you eyeing the tall building.

“Are you sure we won’t be seen?” You ask hesitantly.

“There aren’t any security cameras back here,” Duke reassures you. “Also, the shopping center has been closed for two hours now, they leave the main ladder to the roof unlocked, and the restaurant across the street is closed for renovations,” He walks over to where the ladder is guarded by a cage, easily unlatches it, and swings it open. “You coming?”

You grin, and start climbing up the ladder, Duke following close behind. Once reaching the top, you swing your leg over the ledge, looking out across the various air conditioning units.

“Come on,” Duke takes your hand. “We’ve got a little more climbing to do.”

He leads you over to where another building starts and gives you a boost up. He easily pulls himself over the ledge then takes you to a steeply slanted concrete wall.

“This is where the sign is,” Duke explains. “I’ve found if you run up the wall and grab the ledge, you can pull yourself up.”

He demonstrates, making it look way too easy.

“You got this!” He cheers from his spot on top of the sign.

You take a breath, wiping your hands on your pants then scramble up the wall, managing to catch the ledge. Using your feet to push you up, you pull yourself up on top of the sigh and sit next to Duke, your feet dangling off the edge of the building.

There’s something peaceful about looking into the empty parking lot at night. It’s lightly misting out, giving everything a slight haze. You admire the city lights and enjoy the peace of the nighttime. Duke pulls an arm over your shoulder as you both sit quietly.

“You know,” You say after a while. “From up here, you’d never think this city was crazy enough to need a small army of vigilantes to keep it functioning.”

Duke laughs then stands up, holding his hand out to you.

“I’ve got one more spot I want to take you.”

He guides you back down to the car and drives to another area you haven’t been before.

“Electric Cowboy?” You read off an old sign.

“It was a club,” Duke explains. “It closed a while ago and now it’s abandoned. I want to try to get on the roof.”

“Is it open?” You ask, noticing the padlocked front doors.

“It is around back,” Duke slowly drives behind the old building, pointing to multiple open doors.

“Then doesn’t that mean someone has been in there?” You raise an eyebrow. “Someone might be living in there.”

“I’ve walked around inside a little bit. No one is living there, but it looks like some people got drunk and threw around some bar stools and stuff,” Duke explains, unclipping his seat belt. “Don’t worry,” He tells you. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Even though it sounds a little sketchy, you can’t help but be excited as the prospect of what could be inside the abandoned building.

“Alright,” You agree, hopping out of the car.

You and Duke turn on the flashlights on your phones and slowly approach an iron staircase. You glance in a nearby trashcan, noticing fast-food wrappers, but they seem to have been there for a few days, hopefully, a promising sign that nobody has taken shelter in the abandoned club. The staircase seems mostly steady, just a bit rusted.

Duke pushes the door open more with his foot and shines his flashlight inside.

“Why do I feel like the first person that dies in a horror movie?” You ask.

Duke shoots a grin over his shoulder.

“We’re going to be fine. Besides, I have more than enough experience to survive a horror movie.”

He walks inside, you following slowly behind him, shining your flashlight into every possible nook and cranny. Inside, the carpeted floors are covered in a thick layer of dust. All the tables, chairs, and bar stools are gone, perhaps already sold. The club clearly followed the western theme with a large mirror on one side, salon-style doors, and curved frames on the walls.

It’s strange to see a club completely empty, but you will admit, it’s pretty cool.

“I think I see an office over there,” Duke nudges your shoulder.

You follow Duke to the side room. Duke is right-- it looks like it may have once been an office with an old desk settled in the middle of the room. There’s a bar stool deeply embedded in the sheet rock.

“I’m guessing this is what you meant by people throwing stuff around?” You ask, pointing at the bar stool.

“Yeah,” Duke nods. “There’s another door over here, but it’s closed.”

You two slowly approach the door and frown at the lack of a doorknob. Duke shines his light through the hole where the doorknob is and peers into the room.

“It looks empty,” He shrugs then carefully pushes the door open, insuring you’re positioned behind him in case someone is waiting on the other side.

The door opens to a long, dark hallway, but on the right, is another open door leading to a small porch. You step onto the porch with Duke then look on the side of the building to spot a ladder than goes up to the roof.

“Jackpot,” He grins at you then gestures for you to start climbing.

Once you reach the top, Duke is quick to join you. He grins, taking your hand, and you two walk to where the sign is on the building, sitting on the ledge and dangling your feet off the side. Across the street, there is a bar where you can see groups of stumbling patrons being piled into cars with much more sober friends.

The club is closer to the city than the shopping center is so you can see more of the Gotham skyline. Bright boxes of light pouring out from business buildings and apartment buildings shine brightly against the dark sky. Ribbons of colors from building decorations and billboards decorate the black skyline and a steady flow of cars zip by in the distance on high ways and interstates.

“Okay,” You admit, resting your head on Duke’s shoulder. “This is pretty cool.”

Duke kisses the top of your head then pulls an arm around your shoulder.

“Told you that you would like it.”

Yes, Electric Cowboy was a real place. No, I never went in it when it was open, only when it was abandon.

I want to replace my profile picture and background on this account. Anyone have any suggestions?

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winchester-with-wings · 4 years

Text

I Saw You First

“An Angel & Her Assassin” sequel

Patron Benefit Fanfic for @softdudebro!

Pairing: College AU - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Author's Notes: People have asked for sequels to this fic and I gave it a shot. I thought I'd dedicate this to Tomorrow since they like Bucky :) hopefully this is a good continuation and elicits some college feels cuz it definitely did for me! Hope ya'll like it!

Summary/Request: The story of the first time you and Bucky saw each other but didn't actually meet. Then a flash forward to the present. smut.

**inspired by that one video of Seb working out** gif post

Word Count: 1700ish

Wanna get previews, early access and make exclusive requests? Become a Patron! You can follow my Patreon for free too as some stuff becomes public after a while. I’ll be adding a discord server benefit soon too!

Can’t become a patron? please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi (Tips are appreciated!)

Mobile Masterlist / Patreon & Commissions Masterlist

---------------------------------------------------

Bucky noticed you before he ever encountered you in the laundry room or the elevator of your dorm building. It figures that it would be at the gym, likely one of the regular places he frequented. Of course, you never knew this until after that fateful night at the Halloween party when you finally, truly connected.

When you asked him to tell you the story, he was playfully vague. But you know. You were there. You’d checked him out too.

Here’s how it really happened.

-----

The summer after your freshman year, you created another reading list to focus on. One of your methods to read these had been to take a book with you to the gym. You figured getting a little exercise at the same time would only help you develop better habits.

It worked, at first. The beginning of the new semester, you went to the gym for maybe two weeks? You enjoyed the ellipticals and recumbent bikes--the things that kept your legs busy but your hands and eyes free to read. It also distracted you from feeling self-conscious about the fact that you didn’t look like the other girls that came to the gym to socialize and work on their already-perfect bodies.

With the addition of classes, going to the gym became a harder habit to keep. You could just stay in your dorm room and read all you want, right? But by now, Rachel, your roommate needed a work-out buddy. Someone to motivate her to continue to go to the gym, as well. She claimed she wanted to get in shape for all the boys she’d scoped out at the floor meeting for the dorm during the first week of the semester.

“Let’s try the classes!” she suggested, pointing at the schedule on the wall. Step Aerobics, Yoga, Zumba, etc. They sounded alright, and maybe a change to your routine would be good.

So you started with the step aerobics class. You didn’t last long. You were breathing hard, face flushed and dripping with sweat. The blood was pounding in your ears, harder than the beats of music and every step on the hardwood floor and plastic steps.

You took a break, heading to the back of the class to get your water bottle. The back of the room was floor to ceiling windows and doors that faced the main area of the gym where all other equipment was. It took you only a second to realize why you disliked this set up. Everyone in the class, mostly other female students were in a fishbowl, on display for all the guys passing by or just blatantly standing at the windows. One guy winked at you and you scowled at him, effectively directing his eyes elsewhere.

What was so sexy about a sweaty step aerobics class? You thought to yourself as you turned to look at Rachel, killing it on the routine.

Oh, the butts, getting toned by the steps...Ugh!

You left after that, picking a leg press machine instead.

“Hey! Why you’d you leave?” Rachel asked after the class was over.

“Did you not see all the guys window shopping?”

“Uh, yeah, I got a number or two,” Rachel giggled, swinging her ponytail over her shoulder. You laughed as you got off the machine, offering it to your friend. She sat down and lowered the weight, significantly.

“I don’t come here to pick up guys.”

“You could if you wanted to,” she said, exhaling on the release. You just rolled your eyes. You told yourself it was because you didn’t have time for a man but really, how could you possibly expect to attract the interest of some jock? The guy that winked at you doesn’t count. He was disqualified the moment he decided to drool over a step aerobics class rather than work out. Your standards weren’t that low, seriously…

You and Rachel tried out a few more machines in the circuit, trying your own hands at strength training. But you realized quickly that you’d left the quieter space of the cardio equipment, too close to the weight lifting benches. Young men of all sizes were pushing themselves to the brink, breathing hard, grunting, exhaling, chanting, and egging each other on.

“Come on, Sam, you can do it! Just two more!” You knew that voice. Everyone on your floor knew Steve Rogers, quarterback, certified hunk and sweetheart. Or at least that’s what you had heard.

“He can’t do it.”

“Shut up, Buck!” a football player shouted as he pushed himself.

Too much testosterone. Intense. Stressful. Intimidating. That’s not what you wanted out of going to the gym. Quite the opposite really.

As you two left the gym, you made a mental note to avoid that area again.

The next class you attended was Zumba and not only did you keep up with it but you enjoyed it! The music was awesome and the choreography wasn’t too difficult. You could totally see yourself doing this again. But of course, boys… not men… boys…they ruin all the fun.

If step aerobics could catch the attention of onlookers, then zumba was like blood in the water for sharks.

Then again, you did feel sexy, swaying your hips, waving your hands, rolling your body. You decided to put the spectators out of your mind, losing yourself to a Shakira song.

When you left the class, having stayed for the entire thing and deciding to return tomorrow, you felt so good, so confident, that you didn’t care about who was looking. You were just in Nike leggings and a tie-dye shirt, hair up in a messy bun, nothing special, but you felt great.

“Hey, Rach!” someone called out for your friend, inviting her back over to the weight lifting area. The guy who called out for her looked familiar, someone that was likely found hanging out with Steve Rogers.

“Hey Sam,” she greeted him. You stayed by her side, holding onto that Zumba confidence with a steely grip.

You didn’t really listen to what happened between your friend and the football player. You saw Steve a few feet away with another friend. The man was on his back, legs bent and giant dumbbell weights in each hand. Your eyes went wide as you watched him push them up and hold them there. The way his arms were bulging in that gray t-shirt, he was straining himself and you were tempted to tell him to be careful.

“Give me one more!” Steve encouraged him. His friend winced as that last push was almost too much for him.

“Ah, fuck,” he hissed, exhaling and grinding his teeth. He pushed those dumbbells into the air once more and even a second time, then put them down with a loud thud as rubber met the concrete floor.

You didn’t have the best view of his face from his position on the ground and your standing position over 6 feet away, but that sound...like a growl, and his bared white teeth against that strong jaw covered in stubble…it’s a sound that stirred something deep in your belly.

He jumped to his feet and did a few quick squats in those black basketball shorts. You averted your eyes from his perfect ass just as he turned around.

You wouldn’t mind if he’d been watching you dance.

-------

“Ah, fuck.”

It’s the same sound that he made now as you sit on top of him, his hips thrusting up. His fingers were digging into your hips and would likely leave a bruise, but you didn’t mind. You were Bucky’s and he was yours. You’d staked your claim with that hickey on his chest just the other night.

“Mmph, fuck, damn it. I love it when you move like that,” he grunted. You rolled your hips, earning another moan from his lips before you leaned forward and pressed your chest to his, kissing him. He wrapped his arms around you and pinned you to him as he sat up and rolled over. The grunts and squeaks coming from the two of you as Bucky repositioned himself on top were ridiculous.

“Quit giggling,” he half-laughed. “M’gonna pull a muscle in this bed, I swear.” Your head hit the pillow with a ‘oof’ and another giggle. “Dammit, babe, you make it hard to fuck you when you sound that cute.”

“Then don’t fuck me…” Bucky’s hips froze, his cock buried deep inside you. His sharp features softened with outright confusion and a slight insecurity. You reached up to caress the side of his face, the stubble on his cheek itching your palm. “Make love to me.” Bucky released a heavy sigh, rolled his eyes and collapsed on top of you.

“Don’t mess with me like that, Doll,” he whispered into your hair, using your new favorite pet name. His slow thrusts picked up again while he kept his face next to yours. You held onto him for dear life as the tension inside you continued to build until your arched back signaled your release. Bucky kept pumping until the lasting effects of your orgasm sent him over the edge. Rather than stopping completely, he slowed down until the only movement was a twitch of pleasure every now and then. “Oh my god,” he whispered, peppering kisses on your shoulder. “I’m taking you to dinner.”

“Why?” you laughed.

“I’m sorry, darlin, are you turning down a free meal? Is it the company? Do you just use me for my body?” Bucky climbed off of you but you reached out for him; He stumbled as he fully ejected himself from the bed.

“Nonono, that’s not what I said!” you said, as you continued to laugh. “I’m just wondering...if that’s your way of paying me for my services,” you wiggled your eyebrows, a hint at your teasing. Bucky snapped a finger and pointed at you, putting on his own mock serious face.

“Hooker, I’m taking you to dinner because I want to.” Having cleaned himself up, Bucky tugged on his basketball shorts and a t-shirt he’d left in your dorm room the other day. The boy considered your floor his own personal closet. “We’ve stayed in, ordered food and watched movies and you’ve even helped me with my papers. You deserve to go out to an actual restaurant.”

“Okay, well, we should probably shower before we go out.”

“Oh, I agree but I can’t share that shower with you. It was too dangerous the first time. Never again.”

You picked up your towel and toiletries as Bucky sat in a bean bag chair on your floor. You tapped him on the nose.

“Never say never, Buck,” you said with a wink.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tagging: @abbessolute @book-loving--anime-chick @faithtrustandpixiedust95 @fabinapercabeth4179 @thinkwritexpress-official @autoblocked @therealcap @mathle0matle @whoopxd @bookworm4ever99 @geeksareunique @bucky-plums-barnes @pottxrwolff @ravenhaviland @melaninspice11 @feelmyroarrrr @fvckingavengers @officialcaptain-marvel @sebbytrash

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #my writing #marvel #college au #college au bucky barnes #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fic

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uglymanchronicles · 3 years

Text

Ugly Man Chronicles: Reignition Book 2 Chapter 1: I Woke Up Like This

HEY GUESS WHO’S BACK

It’s time for Book 2: Friends Will Be Friends.

“Cover art” by @steveman

Pain has a way of fading from the forefront of your mind when you’ve been feeling it long enough, becoming a sort of discordant background noise; still present enough to make every other experience difficult and miserable while not being the focus itself.

What Evan was feeling wasn’t that. His missing eye, his severed fingers, his masticated ankle and now his left tit were all parts of a very noisy argument, each agony clawing at and clambering over the others to try to be the loudest voice in the room.

His stomach felt nearly concave. The signals from the few uninjured parts of him were so fuzzy and indistinct that he might as well have had two tin cans and a piece of twine for a nervous system. He could barely breathe. His throat felt like it was the size of a swizzle stick. His face burned from where his own gore had dried on his skin, combined with the grit of… sand?

He opened his eye just in time for a shovelful of more sand to hit him directly in the face. He sat up, coughing and moaning.

“Shitting dicks!”

Evan turned his head towards the unusual exclamation. Eyepatch was standing a couple of feet from him, a shovel rattling to rest at his feet.

Evan tried to take in his surroundings. It was still dark. He was outside. There were stars in the sky but a very faint hint of pink on the horizon. He couldn’t see a road. His Volkswagen was parked about thirty feet away. There was very little vegetation. He was sitting in a hole a couple of feet deep, half-covered with sand and dry dirt.

“You call this a grave?”

That was what he meant to say, but what came out of his tight, sticky-dry throat was something like “Yyyccchhhggggghhh.”

Evan planted his hands on the sides of the grave and pushed himself up. He still couldn’t move his right foot and his fingers were still gone, but at least he was alive. He managed to drag himself out of the grave and onto his left foot, then held out his hand toward Eyepatch. “Ksss.”

His would-be killer gawked at him. “What?”

“KSSS!” Evan wheezed emphatically, gesturing at his car. “KRR KSS!”

“Oh. Oh!”

Eyepatch fumbled in his pockets, then tossed Evan a familiar, clinking mass. Evan would have caught it, but the bundle slipped through the gap where his fingers were supposed to be and clattered into the dusty dirt. Evan glared at Eyepatch, who hissed awkwardly through his teeth. Grumbling, Evan bent down and retrieved the keys, then hop/stumbled towards his car and opened the trunk. Under the fold-out workbench, he found a blessedly full gallon jug of water. Popping the lid off, he tilted it back and began to guzzle it down. Only a little more than half was actually going in his mouth, but the overflow washing off some of the blood and sand felt good. After the jug was nearly empty, Evan reached back into the trunk and came up with a handful of five-inch-long protein bars, which he tore open with his teeth and took bites out of as many as he could at once. Then he sat down on the bumper and chewed.

There was a period of several minutes where nothing was said or done, except for Eyepatch idly kicking the dirt as he looked on while Evan grunted and noisily devoured a few thousand calories in an almost primal fashion.

Evan burp-retched after the eighth bar, wincing as the pain in his wounds began to play itself in reverse. Food. It’s powered by calories, of course. How… pedestrian,he thought, grumpily.

“So,” he said, finally, causing Eyepatch to jump, “are we done?” “Huh?”

“You’re not gonna try to kill me again, right?”

Eyepatch sheepishly exhaled out of the side of his lips. “Nnno. I pretty much confirmed that you’re not who I thought you were.”

“What gave it away?”

“Well, the wallet full of fake IDs—very convincing ones, by the way, remind me to ask who made them—didn’t do much to dissuade my ‘hired goon’ theory, but then I saw what you wrote on the Finder’s Folly,” Eyepatch said, slowly walking around the grave. “Plus, the stuffed giraffe sorta hinted at someone who doesn’t kill people for fun.”

Evan’s chest tightened. “What did you do with Mr. Nex?” he asked, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.

To his credit, Eyepatch at least attempted to muffle the snort. He crouched down by the grave and reached into the dirt, coming up with a dirty but intact floppy yellow bundle of cloth. Somewhat tentatively, he walked towards Evan, holding the stuffed animal out in front of him like a man reaching out to pet a dog he’s not entirely convinced is friendly.

Evan looked him over for a moment. In the light, he… well, he didn’t look much different. He was wiry and weatherbeaten, like a well-seasoned scarecrow. He carried himself with a sense of potential energy, like he was constantly about to make a sudden move, but he didn’t seem particularly tense. His hair was a medium brown that mixed with some gray around his temples, with a mustache-less goatee and thin eyebrows to match. Stubble connected his facial hair to his sideburns, but Evan couldn’t tell if that was a styling decision or a lack thereof.

“I figured it only made sense to bury him with you. Seemed like the least I could do, considerin’.”

“That’s… almost sweet. Thank you, I guess.”

Evan slowly reached up and took Mr. Nex from him, tucking the giraffe under his arm. A moment later, he reached back into the trunk for another, smaller bottle of water. Eyepatch slowly sidestepped until he was at the other end of the bumper, then sat down, keeping his eye on Evan the whole time. Eventually, he spoke.

“…this is pretty awkward.”

Evan swallowed and chuckled darkly. “I’m pretty sure this is something on a whole other spectrum of socially uncomfortable,” he said. He flexed his right foot; the tendon seemed to be back to a functional level, and he was starting to be able to discern light out of his left eye. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have my fingers, would you?”

Eyepatch stood up and patted his pockets in turn, pausing when he reached his right side. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a bloody handkerchief wrapped around something. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

“Didn’t think it was good to leave obvious evidence behind.”

“Shit, we left that room a mess.”

“Don’t worry about it, I gave the manager a couple thousand to cover it when I checked you out.”

“Decent of you.”

“Well, it was on your card.”

“Bastard,” Evan muttered, though there wasn’t much actual vitriol behind it. He unwrapped the fingers, comparing them to the stumps. After rinsing off the raw, gooey spots with water, he held the fingers against the aching wounds. Neither man spoke for nearly a minute, then Evan pulled his right hand away and flexed his left hand into a fist.

Eyepatch whistled. “Damn, simple as that? Good as new?”

“They kinda feel like they’re asleep, but I think they’ll be good soon.”

“How come you can do that?”

“It’s not really a ‘can do’ thing, it just happens. No idea. I’m still learning.”

“Is your nipple gonna grow back?”

Evan looked down at his left pec. Where there had been a pert pierced nipple was now a sunburst of scar tissue. He poked at it, cautiously. There was no titillating tingle, only the blunt yes/no sensation of pressure on his skin. “God damn it!”

“What the hell’s up with your tits, anyway? You got some kind of hormone imbalance? I’ve seen chicks with implants smaller—”

“It’s all fucking muscle, okay? I’m just built thick! My whole family is!”

“Huh. You got a sister?”

“Oh, fuck you.”

Evan bit into another protein bar. All things considered, he’d come out of the whole encounter mostly intact—he could basically see out of his left eye by now—but the loss of his nipple really bothered him for reasons he was embarrassed to think about. So rather than think about it, he decided to talk.

“So who are you, anyway?”

Eyepatch seemed to consider the question for longer than necessary, but eventually he said, “Titus. My name’s Titus.”

“I’d say it’s nice to meet you, Titus, but nice meetings don’t usually involve a shallow grave.”

“Hey, that grave was plenty deep for the circumstances, thank you very much. It’s harder to bury a guy in sand than you’d think,” Titus said, a hint of wounded pride in his voice. “Plus, after I dragged your heavy ass out here—”

“In my car.”

“…in your car, because I drive a motorcycle, two feet is all I really had the energy to manage.” Titus winced and put his hand to his left side. “Plus, I think you bruised a couple of my ribs.”

“You fuckin’ bit pieces off me, ripped out my eye, and shot me with my own gun. You got off easy.”

“I don’t patch back together like some kinda… meat machine, though. And don’t forget how you squashed my fuckin’ nuts.”

“Oh, sorry, next time I’m yanked out of the time stream I’ll think of a more gentle way to deal with it,” Evan snapped.

That seemed to shut Titus up for a moment. He stared at the sand for a little while, then asked, “So what’s your name?”

“Well, you said you saw all my IDs. One of them’s real.”

“The card I paid with said ‘Evander G. Abrams’ but that’s a fake name if I’ve ever heard one. I’m guessing… ‘Babak Ervin’.”

Evan burst out laughing. “Oh man, I hardly ever use that one! You had it right the first time.”

“Seriously? But it’s such a…”

“White name?”

“That’s not what I was gonna say, but since you brought it up, yeah, kinda, unless you count Holyfield. What the hell ethnicity are you, anyway?”

“Wow, you don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

“I just watched a man I thought I wrongfully killed climb out of a grave and piece himself back together. You’ll have to excuse me being a bit indelicate.”

“You don’t strike me as that type who’s ever delicate.”

“Hey, fuck you, pal. This whole thing ain’t been a picnic for me, either. So your name really is Evander?”

“I just go by Evan.”

“Fine then, Evan it is.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

“Okay.”

“Alright.”

“…do you hear that? Sounds like an engine.”

Titus cocked his head, then froze. “Oh shit.”

“What?”

Titus jumped off the bumper. “We gotta get outta here. Now! Close the trunk!”

Evan stood up, mainly to keep Titus from closing the trunk on him. “What’s going on?”

“Some very unpleasant people are on their way! Oh shit, you can see them, look!” Titus pointed towards the horizon. In the near-dawn almost-light, Evan thought he could see a plume of dust moving their way. “Get the keys and let’s go!”

“Okay, okay! You’re bossy for someone who just killed me,” Evan grumbled, walking around to the driver’s side.

“Well clearly it wasn’t that big of a fucking deal, so quit your bitching and drive or we’re both gonna be cactus food!”

“Jeeeesus,” Evan muttered, getting into the car. “Augh, you fucked with the seat and the mirrors? Seriously?”

“START THE FUCKING ENGINE.” Evan jammed the key in, cranked it, put the car in gear, and pressed the gas. “What way’s the quickest way to the… uh-oh.”

Skrrrrrr. Vzzzzzzz. Ssskrrrrt.

“Come on! Why aren’t we moving?!”

“Because you drove a VW Bug God-knows-how-far into the fucking Mojave! We sunk into the sand! I can’t get traction!”

“Aren’t Bugs off-roaders? I thought these things were supposed to be good rally cars!”

“The classic ones, yes, and if they’re kitted that way, yes! I don’t even drive this thing in the winter in central Ohio!”

“Well do something!” Titus sounded like he was on the edge of panic. Evan swung his door open. “Get behind the wheel. I’ll push. And if you leave me…”

“I’m not gonna, Christ! Just do it!” Titus shouted, clambering into the driver’s seat. Evan crouched down behind the Bug and leaned his back against it, digging his heels into the sand. He threw his weight against it as Titus floored the gas, but all that got him was his calves sandblasted by the spinning wheels.

“Okay okay okay, stop stop stop!” Evan yelled after two knee-straining, back-breaking minutes of pushing and listening to his engine whine. “This isn’t working! We gotta try something else!”

“Well what do you suggest?” Titus screamed from the driver’s seat, nearly hysterical. “We have a rapidly shrinking window of time within which it is okay to be here!”

“Who are these guys, anyway?” Evan asked, squinting at the five—he could make them out clearly now—figures rapidly approaching them. He could hear the roar of engines. This didn’t make him feel a particularly strong sense of urgency—Maybe he was tired. Maybe he’d already subconsciously decided they weren’t going to get out of there in time.

Or maybe a small, sadistic part of him was enjoying watching the man who’d mutilated him grow more and more frantic.

“The Billiards MC! A bunch of drug-running shithead bikers! Real vicious bastards!” Titus yelled, flinging open the car door and nearly falling out. He crouched by the car’s forward fender, drawing his pistol and glancing nervously over the hood.

“And they’re coming for us why?” Evan asked, slowly stepping around the front of the car. The roar of the motorcycle engines was growing louder.

“It’s a long story, but the Cliff Notes version is I blew up their meth lab.”

“Huh. Lot of that going around lately,” Evan said absently. “So you don’t think you can take them?”

“Jesus Christ, no! Even with my power I won’t be able to get far enough away to keep them from fillin’ me fulla holes! You gotta do something!”

Evan had already intended to, but that little spiteful corner of his soul wanted to make Titus sweat a little more. “And why is that?”

“Because I can give you what you’re looking for!” Titus yelled, anger edging out the fear in his voice. “’Take me to a friend who can teach me about magic’! That’s what you wrote on that damn lamp! That’s me! I know some shit! I can teach you!”

‘A friend’? That’s what that translated to? Evan grinned. “Well, hell, all right then! I guess we have an—”

The bullet smacked into his left shoulder and went clear through. He could see the bikers now, and it turned out one of them as actually two—and the rider was sighting down a rifle over the driver’s shoulder. Mostly for effect, Evan grabbed his already-healing shoulder and dove behind the car next to Titus. “Okay, so—these guys don’t have some kind of pool-themed power set, do they?”

“What? No! No, that’s stupid! No, they’ll all just normies with guns and knives! Their founder’s name is William Yard! Bill Yard! Billiards!”

Evan’s face went slack. “That’s… that’s actually kinda clever,” he said, grudgingly. “So are they going to try to shake you down, or are they ‘kill on sight’ mad at you?”

Titus peeked up through the driver’s side window. “Good question… I put a couple of their guys in traction and stole a couple hundred thousand bucks in addition to the whole ‘blowing up the lab’ thing…”

“A ‘couple hundred’ thousand?!”

“Yeah, and that’s not easy as it sounds, either. You know how much cash that is, especially when it’s in small bills? I had to balance three duffel bags on my bike and--”

“Sorry to interrupt, but that’s not really pertinent right now!” Evan hissed. “Should we—well, you start shooting now?”

“They’re probably gonna try to get me to give back the money, but that’s already long gone.” Titus exhaled heavily and sat back against the door. “Look, maybe if we go out there you can at least keep them from surrounding us completely. I’ll try to talk to them, but I’m guessing that’s gonna go to shit pretty quick. After that it’s up to you, okay?”

“Alright, fine. Just get clear and I’ll do my best. Put the gun away and let’s get out there.” --------------- The plan worked, insofar as there was an actual plan. When Titus and Evan stood up and walked around the car with their hands up (Evan still holding his ‘wound’), the bikers stopped in a semicircle around them instead of completely encircling them. His hands still raised, Titus stepped forward to, as he’d put it, ‘work my magic’.

“Heeeyyyy, guys! Great timing! I was just—” Blam-kssh!

Evan jerked forward, almost forgetting that he was supposed to be wounded. “…you did not just shoot my fucking window out, you son of a—"

“Hey-hey-hey whoa whoa whoa!” Titus cut in, holding a hand out in front of Evan. “There’s no need for any of that, 8-Ball, we can come to—”

“Where’s our fucking money, Finnegan?” 8-Ball said, his gravelly voice oddly quiet. He seemed to Evan to be the leader of this little band, and he looked for all the world like “Biker #1” right out of central casting. He was heavyset, bordering on fat, but was obviously packing some serious muscle under his leathers and huge bushy beard in addition to the .44 that was smoking in his hand. His namesake, set in the mouth of a fanged, fiery-eyed skull, was tattooed on the front of his bare belly, which Evan had to admit was a pretty striking commitment to a personal aesthetic.

“I’m getting to that, I’m getting to that!” Titus said, pleadingly. “My friend here, he can cover it—”

Evan whipped his head towards Titus, clenching his teeth and glaring. “—here, Evan, let me introduce you to the gang…”

Titus was doing something with his eye. He seemed to be gesturing towards each of the bikers with rapidly movements. Look at them.

Evan decided to play along and tried to size up the bikers without making it obvious that he was trying to calculate the best way to hurt each of them.

“There’s Stick…”

A skinny, pimply guy. Probably the new kid. His bike was too clean, his jacket too shiny, and he didn’t even have a gun; he was holding a Louisville Slugger that looked like it’d never even been used to hit a baseball.

“…Felt…”

A bit on the short side, but nearly as broad as Evan at the shoulder. His curly, short-cropped hair blended into his beard, his chest hair, and as far as Evan could tell, his back hair. He was gripping some kind of jerry-rigged pump-action sawn-off that looked almost as likely to hurt him as whoever it was pointed at.

“…I think that’s English under there…”

Definitely the odd man out. Full racing suit and a mirror-visored helmet. Even his—their? Evan couldn’t even tell—bike was unusual. While the rest of the Billiards rode some variation on the theme of a chopper, English’s bike was a sleek-profiled racer. They were holding some kind of machine pistol in one hand and were idly twirling a switchblade in the other.

“…you’ve already met 8-Ball, and that’s Scratch there with him…”

If 8-Ball was a cookie-cutter biker extra, then Scratch was a perfect “white trash girlfriend”. She was the one who’d shot Evan earlier, and was still holding her rifle as though she intended to swing it up and fire it at any second. She was a very unhealthy-looking skinny, with damaged, stringy hair, prematurely wrinkling skin, and less than an optimal number of teeth. She seemed to be trying to make up for that number in visible track marks and scabs, though. She was open-mouth chewing something that Evan couldn’t identify and was trying very hard not to think about.

“…and hey, who could forget Pockets?”The last member was wearing an open face helmet with goggles and a leather vest over what looked a military flight suit sewn with a truly Liefeldian number of pouches. Evan supposed they were full of spare magazines for the two Glocks he was holding, because he was making clinking noises whenever he shifted his weight.

“…now that we’re all introduced, why don’t I let you guys work out with Evan how you’re going to get your money back, with interest?”

“He ain’t even got clothes,” Stick sneered. This was true; Evan was still in his now blood-splattered heart-print boxers. “He ain’t got the money.”

“Not on him right now, obviously!” Titus snapped. Evan could see him starting to sweat and his fingers were beginning to twitch. “Look, just let us get back to town and—”

“And nothin’,” 8-Ball rumbled. “If your boyfriend really has the money, well,” he raised his gun again, “we can just dig through his car after he’s dead.” There was a chorus of slides cocking and safeties releasing. Titus made a tch sound.“Well, if that’s how it’s gonna go,” he said, spreading his hands to the side, lowering his head, and freezing. Evan watched intently, eyes wide. Was he about to reveal some other magic?Titus raised his head and grinning at 8-Ball. “Scratch said mine’s bigger.”

Scratch gasped and started to stammer, 8-Ball turned to her with a look of hurt and anger on his face, and for a second, the whole gang was looking away from Titus. In that instant, he vanished. Less than a second later, Evan heard an ‘oof’ from the direction of the grave he’d occupied just half an hour before. Evan wasn’t sure whether to be amused or angry before 8-Ball yelled, “Kill these motherfuckers!”

“Not in front of my fucking caaaarrrrrr-----”

Protect the parts that will incapacitate you if they take too much damage, Evan thought, crossing his elbows in front of his chest and ducking his head behind his forearms. A distressing number of bullets were missing him and hitting his beloved Bug, but there was plenty of lead to go around. The noise was almost worse than the actual pain of getting shot, but Evan quickly noticed, to his disquiet and disgust, that he could tell who hit him by the shape of the bullets punching into his flesh.

Most of the hits were to his abdomen and thighs; his arms turned out to be sturdy enough to keep any lead from getting to his brain or heart, but a well-aimed shot from Scratch blew off a non-trivial chunk of his skull and made both his ears and eyes ring. And sometime during the hail of gunfire, Evan’s favorite boxers were torn from his body, fluttering limply to the ground as a pile of sad, defeated-looking rags.

Then, as the cacophony started to die down, one last blast from Felt’s shotgun knocked Evan’s left leg out from under him and he fell face-first into the dirt.

“Did we get him?”

“How the fuck’s he still movin’?”

“Christ, you see the size of his pecker?”

Evan pushed himself up on his forearms. He hurt, yes, but he was also angry. Angry that his first actual lead had been such a pain in the ass. Angry that he’d lost his boxers and his nipple. Angry that he’d woken up in a fucking hole in the ground and now had to deal with the problems of the guy who’d put him in it. Angry that his dick was getting scraped up from dragging on the sand.

“Go finish ‘im off, Stick.”

Evan raised his head to see that scrawny pimply prick walking towards him, smacking that pristine bat against his bony palm. Evan just knew he was going to say something fucking stupid.

“Eenie, meenie, miney—”

Stick’s obnoxious, outdated, barely-situationally-appropriate pop-culture reference was interrupted as Evan’s right hand swung up and clenched around his balls.

Let us step back for a moment and examine Evan’s fighting capabilities. He was not, at this point in his ‘career’, a martial artist. He was, however, a multi-faceted athlete. From boxing to cross-country running to gymnastics to baseball to wrestling to swimming to soccer to ballet to pole dancing, he had, since he was very young, explored what his body was capable of and refined his control over it until he was certain he could rise to any physical challenge. He was fast, precise, and flexible, and his recent bulking had only added to what he could do with his fine-tuned control over his body.

He was also the carrier of a deep, uncomfortably intense anger. And that, coupled with basic medical training from night classes studying to be an EMT, meant he had spent a lot of frustrated, sleepless nights thinking of very particular and very precise hypothetical methods of hurting people.

And now he had a little shithead’s nuts in his hand, and punchy, angry music playing in his head.

I can feel it on the back of my tongue, all of the words, getting trapped in my lungs

Stick screamed. Evan screamed. And then Evan yanked downward, tearing away a handful of denim and bloody flesh. As Stick folded up, Evan launched himself upwards, swinging his still-clenched fist up into the shrieking kid’s stomach. Then, now on his feet, he grabbed Stick’s sorry excuse for a ponytail, yanked his head back, and delivered a straight-armed downward punch across his jaw, sending him into the dirt in a gurgling, squirming heap.

Heavy like a stone, waiting for the river to run

Evan dug the balls of his feet into the sand and launched himself towards Pockets, who just happened to be the closest biker standing. The bepouched man was struggling to retrieve a fresh magazine for one of his pistols, but his hands were shaking violently. He screamed in terror as Evan bore down on him, head down and kicking up dust like a charging cartoon bull.

With all that metal he's wearing, it’ll be hard to land an incapacitating blow from a standing position. Get him on the ground.

Evan hit Pockets's waist with his shoulder and wrapped his arms around him, lifting the screaming man easily into the air. Still running, he whipped his passenger backwards, then swung their combined weights forwards, knocking the wind noisily from Pockets and winding up on top of him.

I wanna LASH OUT I wanna LET IT OUT

Pockets was screaming for help now, but Evan was hitting his stride and let the momentum of his own personal violence carry him seamlessly into his next move. With his left hand, he grabbed Pockets's helmet and yanked his head to the side, and brought his right elbow down hard where the neck joined the shoulder. Pockets made a wheezing sound, and Evan was back on his feet before he even went slack.

‘Cuz I can feel it on the back of my tongue, on the back of my tongue

Felt was closest, now, and had recovered from the shock of Stick's barehanded castration enough to start attempting to do something about the naked madman brutalizing his fellows with his bare hands. Unfortunately, he decided his best move was to try to load another shell into his shotgun as Evan rushed at him.

His core’s really thick and his center of gravity is low. I probably won’t be able to knock him down easily and body blows won’t cut it. Alley-oop.

Oh, hard to hold this fire inside me

Felt finally slid the shell home and cocked his shotgun, but by time he looked up, Evan was no longer on the ground. He’d swung his left leg forward and up and over across his body, launching himself into the air and twisting around his own vertical axis. By the time Felt realized what was happening, Evan’s right leg had swung around and his right heel hit Felt right in the temple. The hirsute man’s eyes glazed over and he slumped sideways to the ground while Evan landed on all fours and pushed off again, scrabbling at the dirt with his fingers as he lunged along the ground at surprising (to himself, at least) speed.

English stood between Evan and 8-Ball and Scratch. With that full-body suit and that helmet, they’ll be too hard to drop quickly. I’ll save you for later.

Oh, I know, sometimes it’s frightening

Evan hit English in the thighs with his shoulders and set them tumbling over him as he scrambled towards the uncouth couple. To his credit, 8-Ball stepped protectively in front of Scratch. Evan stopped his scuttling, planted his hands in the sand, and swung his legs around. He pointed his toes and kicked 8-Ball in the thigh, but the big man merely grunted angrily and grabbed Evan by the ankle. But as he hauled Evan’s leg upwards, Evan’s other leg came up with it and hooked around the back of 8-Ball’s head. Then Evan tensed his abs, swung himself upwards, and punched 8-Ball square in the face.

Hard to hold this fire inside me

8-Ball let out a yell and released Evan’s ankle, and the Ugly Man brought his other leg around the biker’s neck. He swung himself up further and started to rain blows down on 8-Ball’s scalp as the big man staggered backwards. The sand slipped under 8-Ball’s heels and he went down under the force of Evan’s next punch, but as he fell he managed to wedge an arm up between Evan’s leg and his own face. By the time they hit the dirt, 8-Ball had thrown his considerable weight to the side and swung Evan beneath him, pinning Evan’s thigh to the ground with one beefy forearm. Then he lunged up Evan’s chest and wrapped his hands around his throat.

“You ugly donkey-dicked motherfucker, you’re gonna pay for what you did to my boys—” 8-Ball’s walnut-knuckled fingers were ridiculously strong. Evan grabbed at the callused thumbs, trying to pry the hands off his throat, but 8-Ball’s considerable weight and strength were making it difficult to get any leverage. The two men struggled and grunted and swore at each other until a shadow fell over them.

Evan jerked his head to the side, but the bullet came close enough to his cheek to spray it painfully with flying dirt. 8-Ball looked up and yelled something at Scratch, who was trying to get her rifle lined up with Evan’s forehead. Evan could only guess at what they were screaming at each other, given that all he could hear in the wake of the gunshot was a high-pitched whine, but 8-Ball’s attention was momentarily diverted.

Oh, I know it’s not really like me to

Evan tucked his knees up, braced his feet under 8-Ball’s prodigious gut, and pushed. For a moment, the dawn sky was obscured by 8-Ball’s eponymous tattoo, then there was a brief scream, an oof, and a thud.

Evan got to his knees to see 8-Ball doing the same, panicking over Scratch’s limp form. She looked about as well as you’d expect a 120-pound woman to look after she’d just had a 300-pound man tossed onto her. Her head lolled around on her shoulders as 8-Ball shook her gently, pleading for her to come around. Then Evan, in a move he would later consider to be one of his most heartless, jumped on 8-Ball’s back and slung his arm around his neck.

LASH OUT

8-Ball tried to reach over his shoulders to claw at Evan’s face; Evan, meanwhile, was trying to remember how long you could keep someone in a rear naked choke without actually killing them. After a few seconds that seemed to take several hours, 8-Ball’s blunt fingers stopped scrabbling at Evan’s face and he went slack. Evan breathed a sigh of relief and let up on the pressure.

His shoulder exploded with a hot, wet pain that snaked down his right arm like molten lead. An urgent, insistent pain. It actually hurts! Does that mean I’m already running out of gas?

English’s switchblade was sticking out of his back. It clearly hadn’t had the effect the mystery biker had in mind, because they jerked back as Evan surged to his feet, snarling. His left hand shot out and grabbed the lapel of English’s racing suit.

I can feel the cork come out of the bottle

And then he yanked hard and swung his head forward.

I can feel the cork come out of the bottle

Again. A spiderweb of cracks formed on English’s mirrored visor.

I can feel the cork come out of the bottle

Again. Now there were more cracks than solid plastic.

I CAN FEEL THE CORK COME OUT OF THE BOTTLE

The knife popped out of Evan’s shoulder as he drew his fist back.

LASH OUT

English’s visor shattered under the force of Evan’s punch, and, from the sound of it, so did their nose. They collapsed in a heap as Evan released his grip. And then it was over. Evan stood in the breaking dawn, naked, covered in blood, muscles bulging and chest heaving from exertion, surrounded by prone and groaning, and in one case, weakly screaming, figures. He’d won. “Yes! Yesyesyesyes!” he hissed to himself, pumping his arms and shaking his hips, dancing to the fading music inside his head. He froze when he glanced up and saw Titus watching him over the edge of what was formerly his grave. Evan cleared his throat, absently brushed some of the sand off himself, and walked over.

“There. It’s done. Can we go?”

Titus sat up. “That was some ugly fuckin’ poetry in motion, my friend,” he said, taking Evan’s hand and pulling himself out of the grave. “So where do we go from here? Cap ‘em all, dig a few more of these babies? Ooh, think we can get ‘em to dig their own?”

“No,” Evan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Get their guns and let’s get out of here. I think we—”

He was cut off by another long, weak scream from Stick, who was on his knees with his forehead pressed to the ground, hands clamped around his groin.

Evan sighed again. “Or I suppose I should do the good guy thing… still, get their guns and make sure none of them—Goddammit, dude, stop staring at my crotch,” he muttered, blushing.

Titus clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “Jesus, some guys have all the luck.” Evan fixed him with a withering gaze, scars wiggling around his face as he pursed his lips. “Most of the luck,” Titus corrected himself.

---------

“Stop crying, you big fucking baby,” Evan said. “I didn’t even damage your testicles; I just tore the skin on your scrotum. It’ll be fine. Maybe stay off your bike for a couple days. Now bite down on that cloth, this disinfectant spray is going to sting something fierce.”

Titus smiled contentedly at the sound of Stick’s muffled scream, then turned back to Scratch, gesturing with his gun. “Hand it over.”

Scratch, still acting slightly dazed (though Titus wasn’t sure if this was as a result of the fight or just whatever she’d chosen to inhale that morning), clutched the rifle to her chest. “No way! This belonged to my daddy!”

“No, it belonged to my daddy and you stole it from me, you tweaking skank,” Titus said, yanking the rifle away from the pouting Scratch. He gave the gun a cursory inspection, nodded to himself, and looked around.

The Billiards MC were sitting together in the dirt, holding cold packs to various injuries and looking sheepish. Evan had retrieved a spare pair of shorts, to everyone’s relief, and had seen to each of their injuries with an efficient, if not entirely sympathetic, manner. He assured them, with an air of faint menace, that nothing he did would be permanent beyond a few scars. Their weapons, on the other hand, were sitting in a pile several yards away. On the other side of Titus, who now had several guns about his person and a mean look in his eye.

“Alright, he’ll live, and, regrettably, probably be able to reproduce,” Evan said briskly, wiping some blood and other fluids off his hands as he strode away from Stick’s prone form. “Now… what are we going to do about the rest of you?”

The Billiards regarded him uneasily. Titus started whistling tunelessly, spinning a handgun backwards and forwards in his fingers. Evan stared off into the middle distance for a moment, lips pursed to the side, and then snapped his fingers and jogged back to the Bug. He returned with a worn black duffel bag and tossed it in front of 8-Ball. It went whumpf. “I think that should cover the damages Mr… Finnegan? Caused you,” he said, mildly.

“What?” Titus shouted, staring at Evan with his mouth open, “you’re paying them?!”

“Call it an exchange. Or maybe it's just a ‘I don’t want this stuff in my car’.”

8-Ball was cautiously unzipping the bag, as if he thought it might explode. Once the zipper was open enough for him to peer in, he very reluctantly leaned over the hole and peered inside. Then he swore loudly.

“Holy shit! This—” He unzipped the bag the rest of the way, hauling out plastic-wrapped bricks of powdery white substance. “—this is—holy shit,” he finished, stupefied. “Pockets, check this shit.”

Pockets crawled forward and produced a small knife from one of his namesakes, deftly slitting one of the packages open. Then, with the precision and care of a watchmaker, he produced several inexplicably unbroken test tubes, petri dishes, and a handful of tiny vials of varying colors from his pockets and began arranging them in the dirt. Titus and Evan shared a look that said: how is this the weirdest part of today?

After a few minutes of things foaming and fizzing and changing color, 8-Ball spoke up. “So what’s it cut with? It better not be fentanyl or we’re gonna have a problem. Selling it. Because that ain’t ethical,” he added hastily as Evan’s knuckles cracked like shifting gravel.

“…nothing.” Patches said, in the hushed tones of a lepidopterist finding an extinct butterfly in his backyard. “It’s… pure.”

“No fuckin’ way,” 8-Ball and Titus said at the same time.

Pockets dipped his finger in the powder and rubbed some on his gums. “Bluh… yeap. Whoa. But this can’t be coke. There’s too much here, it’s… you know what, fuck it.” And then he sprinkled some on the back of his hand and inhaled deeply.

Five minutes later, Evan and 8-Ball managed to get ahold of him and wrestle him to the ground. Pockets was vibrating slightly and cheering and laughing at nothing, though it was slightly muffled because Felt was sitting on his back.

“Well, uh, that’s good enough for me,” 8-Ball said, wiping his forehead. “And we can just have it? You sure?”

“Yeah,” Evan panted, bent double. “Get it out of here. Just don’t do anything stupid with it.”

“Where’d ya even get it?”

“Took it off a gang I beat up in Albuquerque.”

“Wait, that… that wudn’t the Five-Tens, was it?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit, we heard they basically broke up a couple days ago! All their guys are in jail or the hospital! Everyone said it had to be rival dealers, but nobody died! I heard some of ‘em were sayin’…”

8-Ball trailed off, staring at Evan with a fresh look of awe and horror. “Yer him. Yer the Ugly Man.”

Evan said nothing. He merely grinned. It was a good menacing grin; he’d spent a few hours practicing it in the mirror. The key was the slow parting of the lips, then the widening; the startlingly white and straight teeth behind the split burnt umber lips, the way his jaw didn’t quite fit together properly, the way the scars seemed to squirm around his face like a nest of worms, the way the edges of his mouth threatened to engulf his ears—it was a masterpiece. That, combined with a slight tilt of the head to drop his eyes into the shadow of his brows and a quiet, guttural chuckle, created a total effect that seemed to dip Evan’s face into the uncanny valley.

8-Ball shuddered. “Jesus. They… we thought they was just all high outta their minds! We didn’t think you was real!”

“Oh, I’m real, all right,” Evan growled, the grin snapping back to a scowl as he grabbed 8-Ball’s jacket. “Now you’re gonna take that coke, and you’re gonna do whatever you want with it, and you’re gonna leave us alone. I don’t give a shit if you sell drugs to people completely capable of making their own bad decisions. But here’s the thing—I’m gonna keep my ears open, and if I ever hear about you shlubs extorting a grieving family like the Five-Tens did I will come down upon you like the wrath of the worst god you can think of. Do-I-make-myself-clear?” 8-Ball managed to nod.

“Good. Now get the hell out of here and spread the word,” Evan said, pushing him away. “Oh, uh… and help me get my car out of the sand.” ---------------------- “Man, you are something fucking else,” Titus laughed dryly. “Trading them drugs you stole off of some other scumbags so they’d stop fucking with me. Of course, beating the shit out of them first probably helped.”

Evan made a slight exhalation of acknowledgement, keeping his eyes on the road.

“So I was thinking—I think we can work something out. You scratch my back, etcetera? I help you find out the things you want to know, you help me with some of the more… hands-on aspects of my work?”

“You mean catch more bullets for you?”

“That might come into play, yes,” Titus admitted, hesitantly, “but think about it—without me you’re just gonna be bumbling around until you trip over something weird, or worse, using dumb cursed crap to try to find out answers and maybe tearing a hole in the fabric of reality in the process.”

“Can that actually happen?”

“See, this is what I mean. You’ve got questions, I’ve got… well, we’ll see what I’ve got. More than you’ve got right now, that’s what matters. We can make this work, kid.”

Evan sighed inwardly. It was a lead. And Titus seemed like he could be at least interesting to be around; he’d just have to make sure to keep an eye on his wallet.

“Let’s get something to eat and talk it over. Healing makes me hungry.”

“There you go! That’s the spirit.”

They drove in silence for a little while longer, only minutes away from the edge of town. Evan started to relax. Maybe this could work.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to ask… what the hell’s wrong with your dick?”

Evan groaned. Or maybe not.

#my writing #chapter #urban fantasy #Ugly Man Chronicles: Reignition #Ugly Man Chronicles #action fiction #superhero

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stepgazz · 4 years

Text

Candied Fruit- Lee Donghyuck Scenario

this is my first time ever posting something like this. I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!!

3.5 k words

genre: fluff, some angst

feel free to tell me your thoughts!

----

You sat on the couch with a grim expression on your face, as you listened to a distant, mumbled conversation between your brother and Donghyuck.

He had been scolding you the entire day. Whether it was about how much space you took up on the couch, how you had eaten his favorite snacks or how you had left all the doors around the dorm open, Hyuck made sure to complain about everything.

You were acquainted with his gimmicks and mischief. As Jaemin’s little sister, you had access to the dorms whenever you pleased (or more, as Jaemin would bring you around just because he was “missing you”), so you knew the dreamies well. Haechan, however, had always been torn about your presence. He was playful, witty, even flirty sometimes, while other days were like this: when his humor turned bitter and his patience ran thin. The line between these two faces of his was fragile when it came to you, and he would snap from one to the other within seconds.

Your eyes focused back onto the TV in front of you as a pair of feet tiptoed their way closer. Jaemin’s familiar hand fell onto your shoulder, reassuringly rubbing it as you turned around to meet his face.

“He’s sick, kid. He’s had two promotions in one month, it’s not your fault.” His face shone with a warm smile as he pet your hair, melting away the stiffness in your neck. “He’s said he’d go to sleep now. I’ll probably be back by the time he gets up.”

You nodded with a thin smile, proceeding to turn to the random movie you had accidentally stumbled upon. It was pretty good actually, so you kept watching as Jaemin eventually left the dorms to go practice. The silent hallways, dreamy afternoon lighting and pleasant atmosphere of the film helped calm you down and forget about the sick boy you had been left alone with.

You scoffed at yourself. His image kept popping up in your head as he shouted at you that morning: his caramel-colored hair sticking up in places after he furiously ran his hands through it, the white of his eyes tinted red with fatigue and dizziness, his figure hunched under the thickness of his own head. His voice cracked with anger, the veins on his neck popping out and as you stared at him, the smallest bit of fear sparked in your chest, wrapped in layers of regret and worry.

Those gut-twisting feelings seeped back into your head. Hyuck was clearly tired and all you had done was push some more buttons, enough to set him off. You pushed your palms against your eyes, struggling to find a way to apologize. “It would be easy” you thought, “if he would actually take apologies seriously.”

Then it hit you.

“He shouted because of those damn snacks.”

So, you set off to the kitchen, determined to make something nice for the boy in hopes for a bit of redemption.

----

The fruit salad looked delicious and you gave yourself credit for that. Even if he wouldn’t accept your apology, he’d at least have something to eat while he was angry with you. You went over what you were going to say to him, trying to avoid giving him anything he could use against you, but as you walked out of the kitchen, you saw him.

You stood in the doorframe and watched a disheveled Donghyuck plop onto the couch with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, groaning in a sleepy voice. He hadn’t even noticed you.

Haechan laid down with his back towards the TV, exhaling heavily as he made himself comfortable. You had forgotten everything you were about to say and sat there with a bowl of fruit in your hands and an empty mind.

As much as he teased you, he wasn’t all that bad. His flirting was frequent, sometimes bold and cocky, which made him incredibly hot, while other times he would just shyly nudge your shoulder or push strands of hair off your face with his long, gentle fingers. Those times, he was an absolute sweetheart.

You went and sat by his feet, holding the bowl in your lap. As you looked at his mess of a hair showing from under the blanket and at his closed eyes with relaxed, for once not furrowed eyebrows, your heart leapt for a second. His breathing had gone shallow and regular, so you figured he had fallen asleep already.

“Poor sunshine.” The thought echoed in your head distantly, as if someone else had said it. It was the Y/N that was deeply fond of Haechan.

You were aware of your tiny crush on him, but you managed to shrink it into a faint voice over some time, because it was pretty clear he wanted none of that. Still, every time he showed those signs, every time he flirted and teased, every time he was next to you like this, being downright gorgeous effortlessly, that Y/N who loved him would grow stronger.

You grabbed a piece of apple out of the bowl and threw it into your mouth, admiring Hyuck silently as you chewed on the sweet fruit. The movie you had been watching sounded so far away; there was only your breathing, and his, reverberating inside your skull. You kept eating bits of fruit mindlessly, as if they were popcorn and Haechan was your most awaited screening of the year.

“I want a piece.”

The daze you were in evaporated instantly as Donghyuck’s strained voice came out, muffled by the blanket.

“It’s for you, actually.” You instantly answered, taken aback.

You could hear him chuckle lowly before shifting into a different position, propping himself up on one of his elbows. His face was flushed and his lips chewed, adding to the somehow cute image he had on. His eyes were still closed as he stretched his other hand out for some fruit.

You fumbled for a strawberry, picking it up and bringing it close to his hand so he could take it. Instead, Hyuck grabbed your wrist, bringing the fruit locked between your fingers closer to his mouth, then closing his lips around it. His breath was warm against your skin as his mouth captured your fingertips. He slowly pushed his teeth into the strawberry, pulling it from your grasp and then letting your hand go.

A chill rolled down your spine. It felt like you had lost sense in that hand as it tingled intensely from his touch. You exhaled shakily, inaudibly, so he wouldn’t hear the effect he had just had on you.

You couldn’t lie: it had felt amazing.

Donghyuck threw himself back down as he chewed slowly on the fruit, a sly smile stretching across his tinted cheeks.

“You taste good.” He spoke as he swallowed, throwing these words around as if they meant nothing.

The hairs on the back of your head stood up, your brain fuming while you desperately searched for a good answer. Nothing came to mind, but you could feel your ears starting to burn.

As you looked over to him, the smirk he had on confirmed what you were thinking: it’s nothing but one of his tricks, toying with your flustered self. A stinging desire to beat him at his own game bled into the soft admiration you had for him moments earlier, the rational idea of apologizing becoming a literal apple of discord.

Thankfully, you get ideas for sweet revenge faster than for witty comebacks.

The couch you were on was, luckily, a pull-out couch. You got up and unfolded the sofa, turning it into a comfortable, wide bed, enough for the two of you to fit. Haechan groaned once again as the movement swayed him from side to side.

You laid down beside him, back to back with the toffee haired boy, then kept watching the now unimportant film that had been silently rolling in the background. Turning the volume up a bit, you sighed and gasped at almost every scene, trying to get Hyuck’s attention. If your theory was correct, he’d be a big fan of teasing, but a whiner when teased.

You could feel him shift behind you. When you thought he had finally found a comfortable spot, you felt his stomach against your back and his arm snaking around your waist. His forehead rested against the back of your head as his hand touched around you for the TV remote. Donghyuck traced the line of your forearm down to your palm, where he snatched the controller from you and blindly turned down the sound completely.

Your plan had been sabotaged by your own unsteady heart and labored breathing, your mind growing fuzzy under the heat of his body.

“I was watching that” you spoke with the most neutral voice you could manage. Turning your head to face him, you met his eyes, which were intimidatingly close to yours. His face seemed to be burning even worse than before: the redness stretched up his temples and over the bridge of his nose, bringing out the earthy brown of his eyes and the tempting pink of his lips.

Without hesitating, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, then regained his composure seamlessly, leaving you befuddled. For a second, you thought you might be burning worse than him. You rolled onto your stomach and propped yourself up on your elbows, glaring at him wide-eyed.

“What was that for?!” you spat in shock. Still, a hint of excitement came through your words.

Hyuck laid with his eyes closed, smiling softly at the butterflies in his tummy.

“I have no idea.” he said, chuckling. His arm was resting on the small of your back.

“He’s playing again, you idiot.” The thought buzzed around your head, making you feel ill with emotions. His face was lit with afternoon shimmers as you stared, torn, at it. You scoffed at yourself.

Suddenly, his expression melted into a motionless, almost pained one.

“You shouldn’t have made that salad. I’m sorry for shouting at you.”

Did Lee Donghyuck just apologize to you? The Lee Donghyuck who you had never heard genuinely regret doing something?

“It’s fine.”

You could feel the muscles in his forearm tense up under his skin, enclosing you in a tighter, more sincere lock. He opened his eyes and you could’ve sworn they lingered on your lips for a second before intersecting your gaze. His fingers slid up your side and over your shoulder, reaching your cheek and holding it carefully, as if you might fly away on a gust of wind.

“I mean it, Y/N.”

You desperately tried to find any slip of sarcasm in his tone, convinced he would burst into laughter at any given second; he didn’t. His gaze held yours restlessly as his hand moved down to trace your neck before resting on the back of your head.

“This can’t be happening.” The alarm in your brain went off, shutting down every single rational thought you could fathom. It was only him you could think of and the electricity running through your veins beneath his touch.

Your body reacted before you realized: your eyes shutting half way and your lips parting, lacking any patience. In less than a second, Donghyuck had his tongue pressed flat against the base of your neck, then slowly drew it upwards towards your jawline with one long, sloppy trace.

His mouth barely left your skin, moving on to press shallow kisses to the lines of your face as you mindlessly dug your nails into his shoulder. He reached your chin and unstuck his mouth off of you for a moment, searching for your eyes with an illegible look. The air felt colder where his saliva was drying.

“I’m sorry for this too.” His words felt deeply sincere.

You could barely process your own actions. You slid your arm around his neck before touching your forehead to his, maintaining the deep eye contact. You mumbled a breathy “don’t be” before pressing a hesitant, shy kiss to his burning lips. His mouth slowly curled into a smile, making you wonder if he was about to start screaming with laughter.

“Idiot, this could be contagious.” He giggled innocently against your mouth then sighed deeply as you tugged at his hair, pulling your face away from his.

“All you know is teasing, isn’t it?” you went back to your initial position, tearing yourself away from his alluring frame. You smiled at him with a cockiness he knew all too well, because you had learnt it from him.

“It’s the only way things work around the dorms.” He plopped back down with hooded eyes, mirroring your attitude. His seriousness still weighed in through his last comment, mentioning how he sometimes would take it too far. The guilt in his tone was more obvious than he wanted it to be. His head felt thicker as he looked at you, the flashing of all those times he had been rude combining with the dizziness of over-working.

"So, I'm part of the club?" You asked ironically, but somehow with genuine curiosity. Had it really all been in your head?

"Oh, come on… you've always been!" He playfully nagged, turning to look at you with a bright expression.

You couldn't tell if the blush in his cheeks was your masterful creation or if he actually had a bit of a fever, so you gently felt his forehead and neck. His temperature was higher than normal, but it didn't seem that serious. Still, in Haechan's eyes, your gesture was much bigger than slight worry. He exhaled shakily at the contact between the two of you, enjoying every drop of skinship he was getting from you.

He had always been clingy, cuddly, touchy, you name it. It was no surprise getting a kiss on the cheek or a childishly tight hug from him, no matter who you were. But for him, touching you was always more thought out. He was mindful with his sweet words and physical attention. Your boundaries were really important for him, so he took your reactions to heart often, cherishing the flustered ones and noting the annoyed ones.

And of course, he teased you. Of course, he scolded you. Of course, he always regretted it, but never said so because he'd never give such feelings away. This affinity he had for you was his little secret and he couldn't blow his own cover. But now, as your fingers left invisible prints onto his heated skin, he finally felt like he had won. Taking in the moment, the feeling of your lips against his blitzed across his mind, making him whimper for more.

His reaction brought you great satisfaction as you hunched over him, bringing one of your knees over his body to cradle him under you. Haechan’s hands almost instinctively went to your waist, holding you as if you were a porcelain doll. His breathing became heavier with expectation while his eyes travelled all over your face hungrily, his palms pressing down on your sides. You swallowed the knot in your throat, keeping yourself together under the temptation of pining him down for once.

You ran your hands down his chest, holding him down on the couch while you kissed the moles on his face and neck. Your theory had been true indeed, soft sounds escaping his lips every now and then: he was a whiner. A big one, for that matter, as he wiggled his fingers under your shirt to dig into your sensitive skin. You intentionally avoided his mouth, enjoying the sound of his shallow breaths as you cupped his hot face.

With all the strength he could manage, Hyuck sat up, having you sit in his lap. He preferred that better, having so much more access to you and regaining some control over your actions (even though he didn’t mind you dominating him).

With one hand on your back and one holding your face, he brought you into a deep kiss, mumbling a breathy “finally” onto your lips then biting down on them. You could feel violet bruises bloom on your mouth, roughly leaving marks wherever he could before running his tongue over them. You eventually opened your mouth into a lustful make out session, Donghyuck moving his palms down to your hips and digging into them demandingly. Your chest was flushed against his and you swore your hearts were beating in sync.

Haechan ripped his mouth from yours, stopping to look into your eyes with immense adoration. His arms wrapped around your waist one more time, bringing you even closer to his body into a tight embrace, so new compared to every other hug he’d ever given you. His forehead was on your shoulder as he whispered softly:

“Geez, why did I wait so long?”

His chuckle came out airy, with a sense of relief. His question made you ponder as well, realizing you had been craving him for so long. But as you ran your hands up and down his messy hair, you slowly found the answer: he’s an idol. He’s the apple of everyone’s eye. You’re Jaemin’s little sister and not even close to famous. The difference between you two was undeniable and it made your heart drop every time it came back to you. You inhaled his intoxicating scent, filling your lungs with the aroma as if you’d never see him again. Your grip grew tighter onto him and he noticed without fail.

He looked at you, searching for your gaze once again. This eye contact he kept initiating was making your stomach do flip after flip.

“What’s wrong?” his unique voice sounded so concerned and sweet when he spoke to you, and you had to hold back from kissing him again.

“I don’t want you to change for me.”

“What—why change?” he raised his eyebrows. You could almost sense a trace of fear.

“You’re… an idol. When people find out about this, you’ll be—” you caught your breath, “you’ll be hurt.”

He held your stare, tensing up.

“You know…you don’t have to do this.” Hyuck said in a low voice.

You wrapped your hands tighter around his neck, assuring him that you wanted to, badly. You wanted to be there for him all the time, you wanted to give him love for days on end, without hesitation. Hearing these things, Haechan closed his eyes and smiled thinly, holding you in his arms with so much care and passion.

“Then go ahead, because I want you so much.” He slurred the last two words. His lips found yours again in a quick, meaningful peck.

Before you knew it, you switched places, with you now sitting down on the sofa and him on top of you, his arms on either side of you as your mouths stuck to each other.

His kisses grew sloppy and slow, drawing them down your chin and jawline while you helplessly moaned. He was infatuated with all the sounds coming out of you, making sure to tear as many as he could from your pretty lips. He also grunted softly against your heated skin every now and then as your fingers curled in his soft hair.

Soon enough, your collarbones were being marked with blue bruises, his fingers drawing the lines of your waist and ribs under your shirt. It felt surreal.

The haze you were in suddenly broke when you heard the front door unlock and a bunch of feet trampling around the hallway, screaming and announcing their arrival with inhuman sounds. Chenle and Jisung were definitely there, and you were fairly sure Jeno was the one scolding them because “Hyuckie is sick and asleep!1!1!!!”.

The two of you stared at each other in utter confusion. You both preferred the dreamies wouldn’t find out anything until you had discussed it properly, so you wordlessly nodded and brainstormed for a way to make the situation look a little better.

Haechan laid with his head on your stomach as you pulled the blanket over him, making it seem like the only thing happening was an innocent nap he had decided to take with you. His arms were wrapped around your legs as you sat and watched whatever was going on in the new movie that had started. You couldn’t help but keep your fingers between his soft caramel locks, making his face shine with a sleepy smile.

“YA Y/N!” Chenle shouted at you, as a greeting. The other two boys waved at you with puppy eyes. “We got things for Haechannie~”

You giggled and told them to leave the bags on the table, trying not to draw attention to yourself or the couch. Donghyuck impatiently shifted, facing your stomach and pressing sweet, lingering kissing onto your tummy, as you tugged at his hair in a desperate attempt to get him to stop. After all, he had to keep his trickster reputation up, even with his soon-to-be-girlfriend.

The boys eventually scattered to their rooms, leaving the two of you alone once again. He propped himself up to reach the level of your face then kissed you chastely.

“Do you really have to sleep in Jaemin’s room tonight?” he whined with his signature baby voice, tilting his head like a kitten.

You squeezed his cheeks with one hand, pecking his puckered lips.

“If you keep up with the fever, I’ll tell him I’m checking up on you.”

#haechan #nct #nct dream #nct 127 #lee donghyuck #nct ff #nct scenarios #nct fluff

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gryffindorcls · 4 years

Text

Falling Into Place

Hello, lovely readers!

This was my submission for the Miraculous International Discord's November fanfiction writing contest. (It won! YAY!)

The theme was "Fall", so I wrote about Ladybug falling off a roof during the Fall which leads to our heroes falling in love.

ENJOY!

WARNING: SEASON 3 FINALE SPOILERS

---

Marinette slumped and let out a frustrated huff. She flipped over her pencil and ran the eraser across the dark scribbles that covered the page sitting on her lap. After brushing off the paper with the back of her hand, she tried to sketch a new dress. Still unsatisfied with her work, she tore out the design, crumpled it up, and tossed it to the side.

Usually, designing was the perfect way for Marinette to take her mind off of things for a few hours, but today’s thoughts were all-consuming. She’d even gone to her favorite spot in the Trocadero Gardens in an attempt to calm her racing mind; however, much to her chagrin, nothing was working.

She threw her head back and allowed her skin to soak in the warmth that radiated from the sun’s slowly fading rays. While the failing light of day gave the gardens an ethereal glow, a crisp chill was beginning to settle over the city. The goosebumps on her arms were a subtle reminder that she was not properly dressed to spend any length of time in the cold Autumn air that was expected to arrive after sunset.

Marinette knew that she needed to leave, but her head still felt fuzzy. Thoughts of the previous day swam through her brain as she began to muster the energy to pack up her belongings and walk home. Unfortunately, she soon discovered that she was not yet ready to move from the steps of the Trocadero. When she finally gave into her desire to stay a few minutes longer, she closed her eyes and replayed yesterday’s events in her mind.

***

It had been late...too late. Ladybug was tired of dealing with Hawkmoth’s nighttime Akumas. It was three o’clock in the morning, and all she wanted to do was sleep. She was weary in both body and mind, for the strain of being the new Guardian was beginning to take its toll.

The number of Akuma attacks per week had steadily increased since Fu’s departure, and Mayura now seemed to be even more active than she was before. Were it not for Chat Noir’s encouragement and support, keeping up with her civilian life on top of being Ladybug would have been an impossible feat. Nonetheless, she was tired, and she knew that she needed a break.

To make matters worse, a steady rainfall had made that day’s Akuma battle particularly difficult. For both heroes, the world had been rendered nearly unnavigable by shallow pools of water that threatened to make them lose their balance. After an exhausting fight, Ladybug threw her Lucky Charm into the air and called for the Miraculous Cure.

She knew the time left on her transformation was limited, but the sensation of standing still was euphoric. For a brief and fleeting moment, she felt completely at peace.

“Why are you still here?” her partner called out, breaking her out of her reverie, “I just recharged, but you only have a few seconds before you change back!”

Ladybug’s heart began to race as the final warning beep on her Miraculous pierced through the night. She turned to Chat who stood wide-eyed on the other side of the rooftop.

Without taking the time to scan her surroundings, she began moving towards the edge of the roof.

“Don’t look!” she yelled in desperation.

While reaching for her yo-yo, her foot landed on a slick patch of concrete that caused her to stumble backward.

“Ladybug!” Chat screamed as she began to fall into the alleyway below.

She plummeted towards the earth with her face pointing towards the sky. As she fell, the bright pink light that accompanied her detransformation flooded the confined space.

Marinette closed her eyes and braced herself for the inevitable...but the crash never came. Instead, she felt a pair of strong steady arms wrap around her body and pull her close. The familiar smoothness of her partner’s suit slid against her bare hands as she melted into his embrace. His heart raced beneath her cheek as he cradled her against his chest.

“I got you,” Chat whispered breathlessly into her ear.

“Thank you, kitty,” she replied, her heart beating equally as fast, “You...um...you can put me down now.”

His long, golden hair brushed against her face as he shook his head. “I-I think I need a minute...could...could you give me a second?”

The reality of what had transpired over the last two minutes came crashing into Marinette’s brain. After taking a moment to process her thoughts, several burning questions thumped against the forefront of her mind.

She swallowed against a dry throat. “Chat?”

“Yes?” he said shakily.

“Did you see who I was?”

“Yes.”

“Are we close in our civilian lives?”

“Yes.”

“Is that all you can say?”

“No...I-I’m just...I saw you, and I’m afraid to look again.”

Marinette’s heart sank. “Oh? And why is that?”

He sobbed. “Because I’m not supposed to be this lucky...or unlucky...or...I-I almost lost both of you...I don’t know what I would have done if that had happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was right...that’s why...all along...you...the feeling in my chest every time I saw you. I didn’t know what that was. I know now...God, she was right!”

“Who was right? Chat look at me.” Marinette pushed herself away from her partner only to find a broken expression plastered across his face.

She'd seen pain like that on him before. Images of cold blue and stark white flashed across her mind and caused a shiver to course through her body.

Marinette needed to calm him down...fast.

She reached up and touched his cheek. “Hey, kitty, could you take me home?”

He took a stuttering breath and nodded against her palm. “Sure, Princess. Just hold on tight, okay? I’ll keep you safe.”

“I know you will.”

As soon as Marinette had secured her arms behind his neck, Chat pulled her against his chest, got onto his feet, and unsheathed his baton. In one swift movement, he launched them into the night and bounded across the rooftops. However, instead of putting her down when they had reached their destination, Chat stood silent and unmoving on her balcony.

“Hey...um...you can let go now. I can stand. I promise I’m okay,” she murmured against the collar of his suit.

His muscles tensed around her. “Mmmhmmm...sorry.”

“No...no, don’t be sorry, Chaton.”

“I-I just need you to be safe.”

“I am.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, you can put me down. I’m not hurt. You saved me.”

Hesitantly, Chat gently placed Marinette’s legs on the ground. She slowly removed her arms from the back of his neck and dropped them to her sides.

He looked away. “I guess you want me to leave now.”

“No, Chaton.” She reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his forearm. “Please come inside. It’ll give us time to talk.”

Marinette took his hand and guided him to the windowed hatch that led to her room. Once inside, Chat sat at the end of her bed and stared at his hands in his lap.

“So,” she started, “you said we were close in our civilian lives. Can I ask how close?”

He looked up. “Will I have to give back my Miraculous if I answer that question?”

“No, I’m the Guardian now, and you will get to keep your Miraculous no matter what is revealed tonight. You are my partner, and you’re irreplaceable. However, I can’t help but wonder...is that what’s really bothering you about this situation?”

“No.”

“Okay...then what’s on your mind?”

“I realized something about...umm...someone said something to me today, and it’s all I’ve been able to think about. I was kind of distracted during the battle and up on the roof, and then you almost fell...what if I had been too late? What if I hadn’t caught you? What then, Marinette? You mean so much to me. You always have.”

“But you did catch me. Right now, you’re acting like we’re close friends who see each other every day. Are we really that close?”

He slumped. “You sit behind me in class.”

Everything inside of Marinette froze. “I...what?”

“You’re my friend, and...well, today I...she...and now…I can’t. I’m sorry...I can’t.”

“Chat, are...um...,” she took a deep breath before continuing, “I know you’re not Nino...are you Adrien Agreste?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, my…okay. T-that’s a lot to process, but we can do this. Ummm...would you like to detransform before we continue this conversation? Would that make you more comfortable?”

He shook his head. “I hate to do this, but I really need to get home. I have a photoshoot that starts in three hours.”

“But, Cha...no...Adrien, we need to talk. I need to make sure you’re okay. I can’t have you go home upset.”

“What?”

“Y-you can’t get Akumatized. Please stay.”

“You’re worried about me?”

“I care about you, and I don’t want you to be sad. It could be really bad if you stayed upset.”

“You thought I was upset? Oh, Marinette...I’m sorry.” He crawled across the bed, situated himself in front of her, and took both her hands in his own. “I didn’t mean to make you think I was upset. No...I’m a little...well, more than a little...I’m overwhelmed. The shock of seeing you fall, learning your identity, and then...well...never mind. Look, I’m fine. I think I just need to sleep. Are you sure that you’re okay? Because you not being okay is the only thing that would make me upset right now.”

Marinette laughed. “Yes, kitty. I promise that I’m okay. Thanks to you, I don’t have a single scratch on me.”

For the first time that night, he smiled. “I’m relieved to hear that. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”

“Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Yes...but I’m going to be busy during the day. We can talk during patrol.”

“Okay.”

Chat pulled her into a tight hug. “Goodnight, my lady. Text me if you need anything, and please take care of yourself. I’m happy that you’re okay, and knowing that it’s you is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Marinette’s heart pounded against her ribcage. A mix of confusing emotions swirled around her mind, rendering her unable to speak.

When her brain began functioning again, she perked up just in time to see Chat climbing through the hatch above her bed.

“Goodnight!” she called out with a wave before dropping her voice to a whisper, “What happens now?”

***

Marinette sighed and tapped her pencil against the paper in her sketchbook. After Chat had left last night, she’d fallen into a restless sleep. The exhaustion she now felt today was lowering her ability to concentrate.

Just as she was about to give up and go home, she heard footsteps approach from behind. Her body tensed as she readied herself for a confrontation.

“I thought I’d find you here,” spoke a warm and loving voice, “What are you doing out in the cold, my lady?”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Adrien.”

Marinette gasped as a gentle pressure pressed down on her shoulders. She reached up and was surprised to feel both a wool coat and a warm hand. Upon turning around, her gaze met two bright green irises.

“You’re shivering,” he said with a furrowed brow, “Why are you out here without a coat?”

“I didn’t realize it would be so cold.”

“It’s November.”

“Well, it was warmer earlier.”

“The sun is going down.”

Marinette turned her head away. “Yeah...I know.”

Adrien took a seat next to her on the stairs, snaked his arm around her shoulders, and held her against his chest. “We need to get you warm. Also, I thought you were going to take care of yourself today. Where is your jacket?”

Her breath hitched. “I...I left it at home. I’ve been a little distracted today because of...umm...you know. At least I know I can always count on you to take care of me when I need help.”

Adrien gave her a small squeeze. “Always.”

“Thanks, Chaton.”

“My lady, I...I...can we talk?”

She sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Here? There are a lot of people around, and if you want to talk about what I think you want to talk about, I don’t think we should have this conversation out in the open.”

He shook his head. “No, no...umm...not here. I was hoping we could talk at your place...maybe? Only if you’re okay with it that is. Umm...my dad is kind of weird about guests, and I couldn't wait until our next patrol. Also, your room is kind of...what’s the word...warm, and we didn’t get to finish last night. I did a lot of thinking today, and I have some things that I really need to say. But then again...I don’t want to seem pushy...ugh...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t invite myself over like that...it's rude. I just…”

Marinette pressed her finger against his lips. “Hush, Chaton. Adrien is my friend, and Chat is my partner. You are always welcome in my home.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“The only reason I ask is because your face is turning redder than your suit. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

She lifted her hands and pressed them against her cheeks. “I didn’t even realize...it must be because I’m still cold. No, you’re fine. Everything is fine.”

He pulled away from Marinette. “Are you sure? Because I know I’ve definitely made you feel uncomfortable in the past. Not so much now, but when we first met you...umm...yeah.”

“Well, things are different now.”

“Different...how?”

It was true that her friendship with Adrien had improved over the past few months, but that was only because of her decision to move on from him as a romantic interest. Her stutter had faded, but today it was threatening to rear its ugly head. A sadness that she had done her best to repress began to bubble in her gut. She shook her head to clear the unpleasant feelings from her mind.

With a smile, she met Adrien’s gaze. “Come...if we want to make it back to my place before it gets completely dark, we need to leave now.”

Adrien scratched the back of his neck. “My bodyguard drove me here, so if you wanted to go in my car, that’s an option.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Really? Great! Uhh...shall we, my lady?” He stood up and extended an arm for her to take.

After closing her sketchbook and slipping her pencil into her crossbody bag, she cheerfully linked arms with him. “We shall.”

When they eventually reached the car, Adrien opened the door for her, and she slid into the backseat. Moments later, he took his place in the seat next to her. They sat in a comfortable silence all the way to her family’s bakery.

Upon their arrival, Marinette quickly whisked Adrien up to her room before her parents had the chance to embarrass her. Once they were upstairs, they made their way to her chaise and sat down at opposing ends.

Adrien wrung his hands. “I want to apologize for last night.”

Marinette cocked her head to the side. “Why? You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s my fault that you found out my identity.”

“It’s not that. I want to apologize for leaving before we had the chance to really talk about this. Honestly, I don’t care if I show up to a photoshoot looking exhausted. That’s what make-up is for. The truth is...I...it had to do with something that Kagami said to me yesterday.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Did you know that she told me that she’s in love with me?”

“I assumed that she did. That’s why I left after I helped you two escape the Bourgeois’ anniversary party. I didn’t want to get in the way of anything that may have been happening between both of you. I’m happy that the two of you got together.”

“That’s just it...I didn’t get together with her. Not officially. We went out on a few dates, but that’s about it. I could never fully commit...because I’m still hopelessly in love with someone else.”

Something suddenly clicked inside of Marinette’s brain. “If he’s Chat Noir, then that means that the girl he’s been in love with all this time is…”

“Me,” she whispered.

Adrien hung his head. “Yes.”

“You’re in love with Ladybug.”

“Oh, um...yeah. I’m not just in love with Ladybug...I’m in love with you, Marinette. Yesterday when I saw the two girls who hold my heart meld into one amazing person, I could barely function.”

“Wait...me? You...Adrien Agreste...are in love with me?”

“Yes, and I think I have been since the day I handed you my umbrella. Something Kagami said to me yesterday made me realize that you’re not just a friend to me. I’ve always felt like you were more than that. Now that I know that you’re also my lady, I finally know why.”

“What did Kagami say to you?”

“She wondered if I was ready to be her boyfriend yet, and I said no...again. Kagami then asked me if it was because I was still in love with you. I always knew you were special, but hearing Kagami say that to me...let’s just say she was right. Last night, I went to sleep trying to figure out how I was in love with two people at the same time, and then after the battle, I discovered that I was actually in love with only one person. That's why I freaked out.”

“It’s okay...I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t freaking out, as well.”

“And I’m sorry...I know you’re in love with Luka. I seriously debated telling you all of this, but I can’t lie to you...especially not about how I feel. I...”

She cut him off. “No...I’m not in love with him. I mean, I love Luka, but not romantically.”

“But I thought...you two were always so close. You always told me that you were in love with someone else. If it’s not Luka, then who is it?”

Marinette took a deep breath and gathered all of her courage. “The boy that Ladybug kept turning down Chat for...well, he’s sitting in this room.”

Adrien’s eyes lit up. “Me?”

“It’s always been you. I tried to give you up a few months ago, but I failed.”

“Really?”

She bit her lip. “That umbrella you gave to me is my most prized possession. It reminds me of the day I fell in love with a kind-hearted boy who stood in the rain and told me that he’d never really had friends before. My heart has belonged to him ever since.”

Adrien tentatively scooted closer. “Marinette, I…”

“And then...I couldn’t talk to you for the better part of a year…”

“Marinette…”

“Didn’t you ever wonder why I was always such a spaz around you? I just kept messing up everything, and OH GOD...I did so many embarrassing things…”

“Marinette…”

“There’s that time I gave you Master Fu’s prescription...oh, and the wax museum...ugh...this is horrible!”

“Marinette!”

She looked up to find Adrien sitting inches away from her. “Y-yes?”

He reached over and took her hand in his. “May I kiss you?”

“What?”

“I’d really like it if I could kiss you.”

“We’ve kissed before, Chaton.”

“That’s not fair...I don’t remember any of those kisses.”

“Are you sure you want to kiss me?”

“Only with your permission.”

Marinette couldn’t believe this was happening. It felt like a dream...a beautiful dream come true. Butterflies fluttered around her stomach as she gave him a small nod. Seconds later, Adrien’s lips crashed onto hers. He let go of her hand wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her closer while she reached up and cupped his cheeks in her hands. Fireworks exploded inside her as he deepened the kiss.

All too soon, they broke away.

Adrien chuckled. “Wow.”

Marinette nodded. “Yeah...wow.”

“Do you think we could do that again?”

“We have to go on patrol soon.”

“I think Paris will survive one night without us.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “You see...you say that now, but what happens when an Akuma shows up?”

Adrien pressed his nose against hers. “Hawkmoth’s Akumas show up regardless of whether or not we’re patrolling. At least tonight we’d have the purr-fect incentive to finish the fight quickly.”

“Yes, you’re right, and who are we to turn our noses up at something that would boost our effectiveness as heroes?”

“Does that mean I can kiss you again?”

“Yes, Adrien. You can kiss me again...whenever you want.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

“Kiss me, my prince.”

Adrien once again closed the space between them. She smiled beneath his lips. It was the perfect moment. She suddenly felt as if she could do anything and overcome any challenge as long as she was with her other half.

Marinette knew they were going to be okay. Her heart told her that their love would not end in disaster, and her mind assured her that their relationship would not lead the world to ruin. That timeline was gone. Paris was safe. They were safe. Everyone was safe. Together they could protect each other from Akumatization. This time, their love would not be their weakness; instead, their love would be their shield. It was finally their time.

They spent the rest of the evening in each other’s arms until Adrien was called to return home. Before leaving, he promised to see her again the next day. Marinette waved goodbye as he climbed through her hatch and disappeared into the living room below.

That night, Marinette went to sleep with a smile on her face and a fullness in her heart. Everything was finally falling into place.

AO3

FanFiction

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