#he's already murderous and lonely so were like halfway there

[crazyunsexycool]

My Little Love

Chapter 35

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: fluff, Lottie being a cute, Henry being sweet,

A/N: This is just a filler chapter and I'm not super in love with it. I wanted to set up Sugar and Honey's future friendship. Also because Honey and Steve are not a thing yet in this series Lottie gives Honey a nickname of her own...

Series masterlist

The new house was almost completely furnished so it was a no-brainer that you’d moved in already. The master bedroom was a dream come true with a giant walk-in closet, en-suite bathroom and a private balcony that looked out to the back yard. You loved that it was still on the compound grounds but separate. The best part was that Tony was having one made for everyone on the team so it would be like a little community with just your friends. Most of the houses were halfway finished too.

You had been surprised when Tony offered your father a position as a part time instructor for the agents in training. Eddie had been in the military and had the knowledge so he accepted, he even took your old apartment. He’d decided to rent out the family home since it was just him now. Luke and Molly of course had their own place. Josh and Sofia were still in college and living in the dorm rooms. Living at the compound made more sense to Eddie and now he was closer to all of his kids. It would be best for him since he wouldn’t be as lonely anymore. Not since Lorraine disappeared, to them at least. You knew the truth and you couldn’t stop thinking about how you’d tell your family or how you would handle the situation once she was found. 

There’s a dip at the end of the bed that pulls you out of your thoughts. You close the book you stopped reading a while ago and look up to see Bucky crawling his way up towards you. He smiles before giving you a quick kiss and then settling down over your lower half. Bucky snakes his arms around your hips, his head rests over your midsection and his eyes close as he sighs peacefully. You run your fingers through his hair, down his shoulders and back up. Bucky groans at the sensation. The engagement ring catches your eyes for the thousandth time that day and you can’t help but smile. 

“We should get married.” You say after a moment of silence. 

“What do you think the ring was for?” 

You giggle. “I mean we should start planning.” 

“Sugar, as long as it’s me and you in front of an officiant I don’t care where or when we do it. We can have a big wedding or we can elope. The final choice is up to you as long as you become my wife and no one objects because I really don’t want to murder anyone on our wedding day.” 

“You can’t murder anyone on our wedding day.” 

“I can’t make any promises. But what I can do is help plan. Just say the word and I’ll do whatever you want.” Bucky says confidently. 

“What about the rest of our lives?” 

“I’ll definitely help with that. Let’s see, we have jobs and a house.” Bucky starts saying.

“What about kids? We have two already.” 

Bucky shifts slightly so that he can look at you. “Do you want more kids?” 

“Maybe.” 

“I’d love more kids.” 

“How many is ‘more’ to you?” You tilt your head to the side. 

The conversation gets put on hold when Lottie stops in the hallway.

“Hey.” Lottie calls out from the doorway with a little pout on her lips. “Wanna cuddle too.” 

“Then come up here.” 

She jumps on the bed and you point at Bucky’s back. Lottie giggles before throwing herself on top of Bucky. He grunts when she lands on his back. Her little arms fall around his sides and she even tickles him. You can’t help but chuckle as Bucky pretends to feel ticklish for his daughter's sake. Henry steps into your bedroom a few seconds later with Alpine in his arms. He takes one look at whatever is happening on the bed and furrows his brows in confusion. 

“Bubba help.” Lottie yells with a laugh when Bucky flips her off his back and tries to grab her. 

Henry places Alpine down and  jumps on the bed and then on Bucky. 

“Aren’t you gonna help, Sugar? I’m being attacked from all sides.” Bucky says from under the two kids who have now overpowered him, supposedly. 

As you reach for Henry he turns invisible and takes Charlotte with him. All you hear is the echo of their footsteps and laughter. They even taunt Bucky from somewhere in the house that he can’t get them. Bucky props himself up on his elbows and looks at you with a dreamy look in his eyes. 

“I want more of that with as many kids as you’ll give me.” Bucky answers the question you’d asked him before Lottie walked in. “I don’t care if it’s one or four or ten.” 

“Not ten.” 

Bucky chuckles. “The point is that whatever happens, however many kids we have, I’ll be more than happy to share all of that with you.” 

You smile softly at him then lean forward and kiss him. 

“We have some kids to catch.” You say against his lips.

Bucky huffs a laugh, his eyes and nose wrinkling. He gets up and holds a hand out for you. 

“Ready or not, here we come.” You announce loudly, receiving a scream from Lottie. 

You were panting, hands on your hips and sweaty. Even though you weren’t an active member of the Avengers anymore you still kept up with your training, just in case. It was a beautiful day outside so you opted for a run. You’d just finished and were catching your breath when Bruce’s lab assistant walked up to you. She played with the pearl necklace she was wearing as she moved closer. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” You say her name and smile.

“So I hate to do this but I was wondering if I could get your help.” She states.

“Well I can try. What’s going on? Are Bruce and Tony up to something?” 

She shakes her head before placing her hands in the pockets of her lab coat. 

“There’s this piece of equipment that was brought from the tower but they couldn’t get it into the building the normal way. It doesn’t fit through the hallways. Tony was able to get a window off the building but it’s getting complicated.” She sighs in frustration. “I was wondering if you could, you know.” She brings a hand up and wiggles her fingers. 

You chuckle but nod your head. 

“Lead the way.” You turn to see that Henry and Lottie are standing beside Bucky while he’s putting the recruits through some training. The kids are cheering them on and even handing out water bottles to some. 

**** 

You stood at the far end of the lab where Tony had the glass pane removed. Outside on the lawn sat a pretty big machine wrapped up in a tarp. With your hands on your hip you consider how to best move this thing. 

“Where do you want this?” You turn back and look at Bruce’s assistant. 

“Here would be fine. If it’s not too much trouble.” She answers while pointing towards a corner of the room. 

“Ok.” 

You take a deep breath and close your eyes while concentrating on the machine below. Slowly and evenly the machine starts to levitate and then move higher until it’s at your level. Then you manipulate it to move toward the building. 

“Does it look like I can actually pull it in?” You ask as you survey the entry point. 

“You have enough space to bring it in without hitting the other windows.” 

You nod and walk backwards, pulling the machine in your direction until it’s in the room.

“Can you take the cover off before I set it down?” 

She rushes over and removes the tarp with a small smile. It’s obvious she’s excited about this because you don’t see her smiling that much. With whatever this machine is in place you finally set it down. She inspects it and nods in approval.

“Thank you. Tony was taking forever in getting his bots to fly this up.” 

“You’re welcome.” You smile at her. “Listen, I was if I were to invite you for dinner-“ 

“No.” She said way too quickly it almost made you chuckle. “Sorry I just- I’m not good with the whole friend thing.” 

“It’s ok. I was just going to invite you to dinner on Friday night at my place. Steve will be there too, if it makes you feel more comfortable. Don’t feel pressured to go but the invitation stands. Not just for Friday but any day.”

“I uh-“ 

“Mama.” Lottie calls out for you with a sing songy lilt to her voice. The double doors slide open and in walks your daughter with a smile on her face. “Oh hi mama.” She turns and greets Bruce’s assistant. 

“Hello Charlotte. I saw you training the recruits.” 

Charlotte’s smile grew brighter. “Am helping dada.” 

“Well you’re doing a good job.” 

“Tank you.”

“Well the offer stands.” You said softly. “Even if it’s just for coffee or if you need anything at all.” 

She gives you a small nod and thanks you again for your help. 

“Alright sweet Angel, say goodbye to doc.” 

“Duck?” Lottie looks confused. “Mama is no duck.” 

“I said doc like doctor, sweet Angel.” 

“Oh, duck is cute, wike a duckie. Can be my duckie?” She looks up hopefully at the other woman. 

She puts her hand on her chin like she’s thinking about it for a moment. Lottie is practically holding her breath.

“Ok you can call me Duckie. But only you.” 

“An bubba?” 

She smiles. “Sure and bubba but no one else ok?” 

“Ok, Duckie.”

“Alright sweet Angel let’s go. I need a shower.” 

“Yeah, mama you gots stinky butt.” 

“How. Dare. You?” You said, acting shocked. 

Charlotte’s eyes grew wide before she started laughing. You moved to grab her but she ran. 

“I’m gonna get you and make you all stinky.” 

Charlotte lets out what sounds like a mixture between a shriek and a laugh before running toward the sliding doors. You smile and say your goodbyes before leaving. Charlotte runs back into the lab.

“See you Fwiday. I see it, bye.” She calls out before leaving again.

The newly nicknamed Duckie stands there amused at Lottie’s behavior. 

Friday had arrived rather quickly. Bucky has kissed you goodbye about ten times already and he jogged up the porch steps one more time and gave you two more just to keep the kisses even. You laughed and pushed him toward the car you used to get to and from the compound. 

“Dada wait!” Lottie ran out of the house and stopped him as he started to reverse. 

Bucky parked and got out of the car to meet her. 

“What’s up, Doll?” 

“One mo’ hug.” She stretched her arms out in order for Bucky to hold her. 

“There’s always time for one more hug.” 

He kisses her all over her cheeks and forehead before letting her down. 

“Good wuck dada. Lobe you.” Lottie waved him off from the porch. 

Just as you were about to turn to head into the house the sound of a golf cart got your attention. 

“Duckie!” Lottie cheered as Bruce’s assistant got out and stood at the bottom of the steps.

You said her name with a smile, “I’m glad you came by.” 

She had her hands in her pockets and she looked at the floor before giving a small nod. 

“Well Charlotte said she saw it and Steve encouraged me to come over.”

“That’s good, come on in.” 

She walked up the steps and let Lottie take her hand. Lottie pulled her into the house while you reminded your daughter to be gentle. After leading her newest friend with you Lottie disappears into her playroom. 

“Want anything to drink? We have water, soda, beer, wine and juice boxes.” 

She smiled before asking for water. You placed a glass in front of her. 

“So…” you both say at the same time. 

“Go ahead.” 

“How did you and Steve become friends?” She asked. 

“I called him out on his bullshit immediately and will continue to do so happily.” 

She nods in agreement. “Good plan.” 

“How about you? How did you two meet?”

“I walked into my lab and found him alone. It was about a month after you had been taken. He was really upset about it.”

You nod and give her a tight lipped smile.  “Thank you for being there for him.” 

Henry walks in and stops when he sees there’s a guest. While he’s now used to having people around he still gets shy around unexpected guests. He smiles shyly before taking his place beside you and asking how he can help. You have him set the table and then get himself and Lottie cleaned up.

**** 

You sat at the dinner table with Henry and Duckie. Lottie was on your lap but you didn’t mind. Since you came back whenever Bucky had to go on a mission she would cling to you whenever possible. That didn’t stop her from playing little hostess though. She made sure to ask Duckie questions and even extended an invitation to a tea party later. 

“Habe some mama.” Lottie holds up her spoon, offering some dessert to you. 

“Mmm, that’s so yummy. Thank you for making dessert bubs.” 

“Henry, you made this?” Duckie asks. 

“Yeah. Mama taught me how to make a lot of things.” 

“He’s a natural in the kitchen. I just taught him the basics. He’s learned a lot on his own.” You smile proudly at your sweet boy.

“Amazing. You should be really proud of yourself. I can’t cook to save my life. So thank you both for feeding me.” 

“Well you can always come here to eat, right mama?” Henry looks at you for confirmation.

“Absolutely. Especially for Henry’s pastries they’re to die for.” 

“Yeah, is so yummy.” Lottie adds before spooning more dessert into her mouth. 

****

Once everyone was done you cleaned up the table, being joined at the kitchen sink by Duckie. She was glad to help with washing dishes.

“You’re a good mom.” She says quietly.

“Thank you.”

“I mean it.” She says and it makes you stop to look at her. “I know it must’ve been difficult at the beginning but I see that you truly love them and they love you.”

You could tell there was something behind the statement but you didn’t want to push her. 

“The beginning wasn’t easy but they just needed some patience and love and I do love them so much.” 

She gives you a small smile and you both turn to finish washing up. Just as the last dish is done you offer some wine which she accepts surprisingly. The two of you talk for a little longer, keeping the conversation light. You both share more about your jobs and how you got started. 

There are quick steps down the stairs, which you now know is Charlotte. You turn just as she stops in front of the door. A few seconds later Bucky is walking in with Steve following behind. 

“Dada.” Charlotte launches herself into Bucky’s arms. 

“Hi doll. How did you know I was going to walk in just now?” He asks in almost a joking manner.

“I see it.” She smiles proudly. “Hi Steebie.” 

Bucky gives Lottie a kiss on her forehead before handing her over to Steve. Henry surprise attacked Bucky by jumping on his back while invisible. 

“I thought you had a three day mission. What happened?”

“Halfway there we were informed that local authorities had raided the warehouses. Apparently they had been doing an undercover investigation for about a year.” Bucky shrugs before making his way to you and giving you a quick kiss.

“Good, we missed you already.” 

Bucky greeted your guest before excusing himself to change into something more comfortable. 

“We have leftovers, I’ll make you a plate. Steve, are you staying?” You tell him.

“If it’s not too much trouble.” He smiles at you before turning to his newest friend. “I’m glad you came over.”

“Yeah, it was nice.” 

You smile and give them a moment alone by heading into the kitchen. Lottie follows you and offers to help somehow. She’s just happy that Bucky and Steve are back. 

Just as the microwave is done Bucky makes his way back out. He’s dressed in a black t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He takes a seat at the table and Lottie makes herself comfortable in his lap. She rested her head against his chest while he and Steve ate. 

The four adults and Henry are talking and joking around. You’re happy to see Duckie opening up around you a bit more. Although you know it has to do with Steve being here. 

“She’s asleep.” Bucky says softly while looking down at his daughter. “I’ll be back. I’m going to put her down.”

“I should be going. Thank you for having me.” 

“Of course,” you say to Duckie as you walk her out. “Remember you’re always welcomed here, for whatever you need.” 

“Thanks. Good night.” 

“I’m going to go back home too.” Steve says before giving you a kiss on the cheek. 

“How convenient.” You murmur loud enough for Steve to hear.

He rolls his eyes but heads out anyway and offers to accompany Duckie back toward the main compound building. 

Upstairs, Bucky sets Charlotte down and then helps Henry get settled for the night. 

You’re writing something down in your notebook as Bucky walks into your room and settles down next to you . He’s watching as you continue your writing with a smile.

“What’s that smile for?” You ask without looking up.

“I’m glad that I could be home instead of out on that mission.” 

“We’re glad you’re home safe too.” You finally finish writing and set the notebook down before turning all of your attention to him. “What do you think about the end of August?” 

“For what?” 

“For the wedding. It would be before school starts and warm enough that we could have an outdoor weddingng.” 

Bucky smiles and nods. “That would be great.” 

“How about a small wedding?” 

“That could work.” 

“Alright,” you lean in and kiss him. “Let’s plan a wedding.” 

Ch. 36

Permanent taglist:

@rebekahdawkins

@cjand10 

@nalny5 

@Sturchling 

@angywritesstuff 

@seitmai

@writing-for-marvel

@goldylions 

@almosttoopizza 

@littleseasiren 

@pono-pura-vida

@talesofadragon

@midnightramyeoncravings

@bunnygirlwriter876

@pandaxnieenke

@kandis-mom

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@braveclementine

Series taglist:

@buckystevelove

 @vicmc624 

@just-someone11

@sjsmith56 

@emily-roberts 

@spencerriedisagorgman

@superduckmilkshake 

@samfreakingwinchester

@lofaewrites

@enchantedbarnes

@callsign-athena

@broadwaybabe18

@saranghaey 

@viperchick47

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

@da-pimp-river-niall

@ozwriterchick

@jenn-f

@rebel-soldat

@therealwritersblog

@alyroseking

@samlworld

@witchybabel

@capswife

@oceaniamadness

@queenie32

@buckybarnessimpp

@multifandom-girlie

@joliver1328

@noonespecial90

@mega-kittyglitter-1

@pumpkin-babydoll

@imaginexred

@olipiaa

@zuri-767-666

[chicgeekgirl89]

I Get it From You

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Andrea Reyes, Gabriel Reyes, Lexi Mitchell, OC Cousin Adriana

Rating: K

For @tarlosweeklyprompts Prompt #2: 5+1 of habits that Carlos picked up from TK and 1 that TK got from Carlos. 

A/N: I may have played a little fast and loose with it, but 🤷‍♀️.

Read on AO3

Charm

“I noticed you started wearing this recently,” Andrea says, reaching out to finger the tiny cross hanging around his neck. “It’s pretty.”

“Thanks,” Carlos says a little numbly, eyes trained on T.K.’s nearly frozen, lifeless form. 

“You’ve never been much of a jewelry person,” Andrea says, her unasked question hanging in the air between them. 

“T.K. wears a medallion around his neck,” he tells her.

“I’ve seen it,” Andrea says. “With his number from New York on it.”

Carlos nods. “He says it reminds him that he’s part of something bigger. That he’s got people to watch his back. That being on that crew probably saved his life, because even when he was…” Carlos hesitates, remembering that his mom doesn’t fully know how deep T.K.’s struggles with addiction have gone. “Even when he was struggling, he knew he had a responsibility to be there and help people. He never takes it off.”

“A good reminder of the support he has, then and now,” she says softly.

Carlos reaches up and brushes his fingers over the cross. “After the fire…everything was just so hard. I felt lost, I was kind of spiraling and one day we were out trying to replace stuff and I saw this and I felt like it kind of called to me. It reminds me where I come from. That I have roots, and a purpose.” He looks up and gives her a wan smile. “That’s probably a less religious answer than you were hoping for.”

She shakes her head, leaning forward to cup his cheek. “It’s a perfect answer.”

Pizza

“Oh my god. What the actual fuck are you doing to that pizza?”

Carlos freezes, pizza halfway to his mouth. “Eating it?” he says in confusion.

Adriana looks at him like he’s crazy. “Eating it? You’re murdering it!”

He looks down to see that he’s mindlessly folded the slice in half. “Mind your own business.”

“Um, you turning a delicious slice of Texas’ finest into that hot mess is my business.”

“How about I eat the pizza I bought and paid for and planned to eat by myself tonight however I want and you shut up?”

“Where did you even learn to do that?” she persists. “I’ve never seen you do that before.”

“It’s how T.K. eats his. It’s a New York thing. I must have picked it up from him.”

“Well can you send it back where it belongs? You look ridiculous.”

He starts to pull the pizza box away from her but she grabs on. “No! Okay! I’m sorry! You can commit pizza homicide all you want!”

He rolls his eyes and lets the box go. “It was so nice and quiet before you showed up here unannounced.”

“You’re welcome, by the way, for saving you from that sad loneliness. Where’s T.K.?”” Adriana asks around a mouthful of cheese and peppers. 

“He has a shift.”

She nods in understanding. “Down at Hunk-O-Mania. Gotta get his last dances in before you two get hitched. Nobody wants a lap dance from a guy with a ring on his finger.”

“It is unbelievable that you think that joke is still funny after like three years,” Carlos tells her with a glare.

“God he and Magic Mike both hanging up their tear away pants in the same year,” she says with fake wistfulness. “The stripping world is losing two of its greats.”

“Don’t ever show up here uninvited again.”

Schmutz

“God I love this place,” Lexi says as she bites into a donut. “I will admit I thought gourmet donuts were a stupid idea, but I have seen the light.”

Carlos breaks off a piece of his matcha donut and nods in agreement. “Have you had their mocha one? That’s T.K.’s favorite. They had that lavender one too, a couple weeks ago and it blew my mind.”

“I would usually say flowers and donuts do not go together, but after this?” she holds up the orange cream donut that’s half gone already. “I’m willing to try it.”

They end up cramming their remaining donuts down as fast as they can when a call comes in and they have to go break up some fighting parents at a high school basketball game. It’s nasty and several people have to get seen by EMT’s for bloody noses and black eyes, but no one ends up pressing charges, so they head back to the station to do paperwork before their shift ends.

“You’ve got some donut schmutz on your collar,” Carlos tells her when they get inside and the harsh florescent lighting of the station illuminates them both.

She raises an eyebrow. “Some what?”

“Schmutz,” Carlos says. “It’s like…dirt. Mess.” 

“Somebody’s been hanging out with their fiancé too much,” she tells him with a laugh as she reaches for a tissue to wipe off her uniform. “Are you headed home to cook up a brisket tonight too? Going to hail a cab to get you there?”

“Shut up,” Carlos says, feeling his face redden. 

“Are you going to stop smiling at people in the store too? And start cutting people off in traffic?”

“Oh my god stop.”

“T.K.’s east coast ways have rubbed right off on you. I would have thought the Texas blood ran deeper than that. Oh god,” she puts on a fake horrified look, “do you think Chipotle is real Tex-Mex now?”

He shoots her a glare. “Don’t you have paperwork to do?”

“I’m teasing Reyes,” she tells him. “I think it’s nice actually. Being with the right person should change you a little. And you and T.K. have changed each other in all the right ways.”

She sends him a smile and starts on the pile on her desk, leaving Carlos to contemplate the warm glow her words have put into his chest.

Team

“Carlitos, thank you for coming on such short notice,” Andrea says when Carlos steps through the front door of his parents’ house.

“No problem,” Carlos says. “Sorry to hear Frankie is sick.”

One of their ranch hands had called out unexpectedly and Carlos was a quick and easy replacement. It wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind for his day off, but family duty wasn’t something he ignored if he could help it. “Where’s Dad?”

“He’s out back,” Andrea tells him. “I texted him and told him to come up to the house. He’ll be here any minute.”

Carlos shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it on a peg by the door before turning around to give his mom a hug. Andrea’s face immediately drops and she sighs. “Oh Carlitos.”

“What?” he asks, confused by her bizarre response.

She shakes her head. “You’re wearing a Mets shirt.”

“Yeah, I think T.K. brought it back from New York the last time he went out to see Jonah,” Carlos says, glancing down at the offending blue t-shirt.

“Carlos, you know how your father feels.”

“It’s a shirt Mom. It’s what I had on when you called.”

“You couldn’t have taken a few minutes to change?”

“You made it sound kind of urgent,” Carlos says in annoyance.

The back door opens and Gabriel walks in, a smile on his face. As soon as he catches sight of Carlos he sours immediately. “What are you wearing?”

“A t-shirt that my fiancé gave me,” Carlos says.

Gabriel’s voice goes low, dark like thunder. “In this house we root for the Astros. And only the Astros.”

“It’s a shirt dad. It’s not a big deal,” Carlos says. “T.K. likes when I rep his team.”

“Don’t tell me he’s got you cheering for them too?” Gabriel says, looking outraged. “Oh my god, where did we go wrong?”

“They have some really good pitchers dad. You respect a good team, they’re a good team.”

Gabriel scoffs. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”

“I can’t either,” Carlos tells him.

“Enough Gabriel,” Andrea calls from where she’s returned to the kitchen. “He came to help. Leave him alone.”

“What you do in your own home is your business,” Gabriel says tightly, ignoring her. “But I will not allow those colors to be worn in my house.”

Carlos claps him on the shoulder. “Good thing we’re going to be outside then.”

Friends

“Hey babe!” T.K. calls as he walks through their door.

The TV immediately turns off and Carlos whirls around to look at him over the back of the couch, eyes wide and innocent. “Hey,” he says back.

T.K. pauses, eying him closely. Carlos is trying for nonchalant, but T.K. can smell guilt in the air. He sets down his bag and puts his hands on his hips. “What were you just watching Carlos?”

“A documentary,” Carlos says quickly.

“A documentary.”

“Yep.” Carlos pops the “p” in an effort to seem casual.

T.K. dives over the back of the couch and snatches the remote out of his fiancé’s hand, flicking the TV back on. “A documentary about six friends living in New York in the mid-nineties?!” he yells.

“Okay, hear me out,” Carlos says, holding up his hands placatingly.

“You watched without me!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Carlos cries. “I was watching a documentary and then it rolled into the episode when it ended and—“

“You could have turned it off!” T.K. tells him sternly.

“I was going to!” Carlos says. “But T.K., Chandler and Monica?! What the hell?!”

“You said you didn’t even like it,” T.K. points the remote at his chest. “You said it was ‘fine.’ And then you went and betrayed my trust.”

“Well…I got a little invested,” Carlos says sheepishly.

“I’m glad my good taste in television is finally rubbing off on you,” T.K. grumbles. “But next time you decide to watch a pivotal episode of one of America’s greatest sit-coms, you’d better wait for me.”

Dinner

Carlos is so tired he’s not sure he’s going to make it down the hallway. Every part of his body aches to be in bed though, so he trudges onward, one foot in front of the other until he finally fumbles his way through the door. 

He can’t remember the last time a shift was this bad. They hadn’t had a single second to slow down, one call after another, nearly all of them resulting in a physical altercation or take down, and the final call of the day had been a shootout at a bank with multiple casualties. He’s bruised and sore and completely wiped out.

His bag hits the floor and he’s tempted to drop down next to it, but the next thing he knows arms are wrapping around him and T.K. is pulling him tightly into his chest. “Hey,” he breathes into Carlos’ hair. “I was so worried.”

The 126 hadn’t been called into the bank situation, but T.K. must have found out about it from someone because he’d sent multiple concerned texts. Carlos had answered as soon as he could, but there was a big difference between being reassured in a text and being reassured in person.

“I’m okay,” Carlos mumbles into T.K.’s shoulder.

T.K. pulls back and gives him a critical look, fingers brushing over a bruise on Carlos’ forehead and then a minor gash on his arm. “I’m glad you’re home,” he says, a silent acknowledgement that Carlos isn’t actually okay, but he will be now that he’s here.

“Me too,” Carlos sighs. His eyes feel like sandpaper and he desperately wants a shower, but he’s not sure he’ll stay awake long enough.

“Are you hungry?” T.K. asks. “I made dinner.”

“I think I’ll just—“ Carlos stops his response abruptly as he looks at the kitchen. “T.K. what—?”

Every flat surface is covered in pots and pans, cooking utensils, or food. The sink is piled high with dirty dishes and something is still bubbling on the stove.

“I um, I might have been a little anxious waiting for you to get home,” T.K. says sheepishly.

“So you cooked enough for an army?” Carlos asks.

“I’m going to clean it up,” T.K. says quickly. “I know the dirty dishes stress you out, and I planned to have it all done but then the fish took longer than I thought it would and the sauce wouldn’t thicken so…”

Carlos’ brain is still trying to catch up with what he’s seeing. “You don’t usually cook when you’re stressed.”

T.K. shrugs. “I couldn’t sit still so I asked myself, ‘what would Carlos do’? And then I did it. It’s surprisingly effective.” His face softens and he runs a gentle hand over Carlos’ curls. “I can’t fix your day, but I can at least make sure you’re fed. That’s the Reyes Family Motto, right?”

Carlos’ face relaxes into tender smile. “Yeah. Something like that.”

[followingthefanfiction]

Jason Moran Dezon

Jason Moran Dezon, The Most Dangerous Boy in town

Leo: The Dangerous Nature

Catchphrase: “Hey I’m a terrible person, but I’m a decent guy!” :D

Favorite Ride: The Shooting Gallery

Intro: When he was younger, Jason Dezon would visit his aunt on the weekend. His aunt, Miss Connors, was a wicked woman as you already know. Only three, he would do his best to protect his younger cousin, Sarah Marie. This was a trend he would continue all his life. He did his best to shake off the abuse. The beatings never bothered him, he knew he was just protecting the defenseless child. However, after being called multiple choice words and being told he was a terrible boy, he began to believe it. As he grew older, he visited the Connors house less, and jail more. He was then abandoned by his family, and decided that he would stop relying on anyone to help him or his cousin. His final visit to the Connors house left an impression on everyone. Jason Dezon had had enough of the beatings, and on instinct, pulled a knife on Mr. Connors. This got Jason sent to jail for 2 years. In jail, he was constantly treated like he was nothing. Many others called him a danger and a menace. He decided, that if everyone was going to think of him like that, he would at least have fun with it. Sure, he would be a danger, but only to those he beloved deserved it. Every inmate in prison was there for a reason, so in his mind, it didn’t matter if he hurt them. His family had never cared for him, so it didn’t matter if he hurt them. It didn’t matter if he stole, threatened, or harmed anyone. This was because no one cared if any of those things happened to him. The only person he believed was worth being kind to, was his little cousin. The one who had always believed in him. Unfortunately, when he came to visit the Connors to see her, she no longer believed in him. With her thinking he was as violent as the rest of their family, he had nothing left holding him to sanity. He decided he would make the town burn for how broken he had become. This is how Jason Dezon become The Most Dangerous Boy in town.

Song Title: The Bomb

Song Theme: I could be a murderer and want to kill people, like everyone in town. But I have a tragic past, so you love me ;) …please love me and fix me

Dialogue lines: :

“woah woah woah, you can’t just ask someone why they were in jail for 2 years…”

“I guess I am the way I am because no one saw me as anything else, but I didnt want to be as bad as they thought, so I met the expectations halfway.”

“I would never harm an innocent. It’s just that no one in this town is innocent. I dont think anyone is really innocent. Soooo, yeah, I guess I’ll hurt anyone.”

”You touch my cousin, you fucking die. That’s it.”

”I’m like, the worst person, but I’m also. A lonely person.”

“FUCK YEAH DUDE!!! GET THAT SEXY CAT PLANET TO WORSHIP YOU !”

“You ever create elaborate plans to murder people, then almost go through with it? I do that every day. All day. Isn’t fire pretty. Why are you backing away :) am i scaring you >:)?”

“listen, dude,,,, you rock. But auto tune? Not in style anymore, sorry buddy.”

“Oh I remember you!! The guy who wanted to be a smoker stripper whatever at like age five! You’re so cool.”

“Who… the fuck… is that creepy ass doll. If she gets close to me, I’ll kill her. I don’t care if we are dead.”

“I’m killing you all starting with Ocean. You think I’m kidding? I’ll find a way.”

Character Thoughts:

Ocean is gonna die and I’m gonna kill her myself

Noel is awesome, he wants to fuck and die. Same buddy. Also, he took care of Marie all these years ya know? He’s gotta be worth something.

Mischa. Sarah Marie Connors, if he breaks your heart I break him. Thats like my job as your older brother figure.

Ricky, my dude, you are weird as fuck, but I respect you. You horny? Be horny. Even for cat ladies. Just treat them right.

Keep the doll fuck away from me. Creepy ass shit.

Choirsona thoughts: 

Havent met anyone yet. Get ready for me world. 

[realmackross]

PARTIES: @chasseurdeloup, @realmackross TIMING: A week after the July full moon SUMMARY: Mack and Kaden have an impromptu movie day after one of Wicked's Rest's Demogorgons stalks the cabin. WARNINGS: None! Just soft bonding time between a French hunter and a zombie (not that zombie).

Since meeting Alex in person at A Quiet Place, she had found the girl to be someone she was really starting to consider a close friend. There had been no judgment from her, and, on top of everything else, she had worn stripes to their lunch outing. Plus, anyone who could sit there while fans ogled them was a legend in her book. She had known people in the past to get up and leave. And speaking of, her new friend had been pretty clueless about who Mackenzie really was, which was a breath of fresh air.

Wanting to thank Alex in some way for making her feel so welcome, she had put in a few phone calls to her assistant, who reached out to another contact Mackenzie had. It had been a stretch and kind of risky considering Mack was supposed to be in hiding, but she had managed to pull off her plan and merely days later, a package arrived in the mail.

Now standing at a lone cabin in the woods, after doing a little research, Mackenzie knocked on the door hoping Alex would be home. Her plan was either going to go really good or really bad, and right now, it felt as if she were waiting to be murdered. Luckily for her though, she had already been dead, so any attempts to kill her would be fruitless, unless it involved fire or chopping off her head, but she didn’t know that.

—

Kaden’s brows furrowed when he heard the knock on the door. He didn’t think he was expecting anyone. And if Alex and Andy were expecting someone, this person was going to be disappointed because they weren’t home at the moment. Andy was at work and Alex had class. Meanwhile, the ranger was just holed up in the cabin in fucking pain. 

Some stupid part of him hoped it was Monty on the other side of the door, not that there was any reason to expect the cowboy to visit. It would be unexpected, for sure. He tried to shove the thought aside, best not to get his hopes up. Knowing his luck it would just be a salesperson or, worse, one of those evangelists. 

Kaden pulled himself off the couch and hobbled to the door as fast as he could, which wasn’t very fast at the moment. When he swung the door open, he was confused to see a kid standing there. “Hello?” he asked, giving her a one over. Nope, definitely didn’t know her. She had something in her hand. “If you’re selling something, we don’t want anything.”

—

Mackenzie heard grunts and groans coming towards the door, and she somewhat stepped back. It definitely didn’t sound like Alex, and she had never met Andy. It had to have been Kaden right? The French cousin who liked cheese? She was soon about to find out as she heard the door knob turn.

It was definitely Kaden. Mack had seen his profile picture online, but he looked worse for wear, and she had felt bad disturbing him, “Hey…” Before she could ask if Alex was home, she got an expected answer, “No, I’m not…selling anything. I was actually wondering if Alex was home. It was just a little thank you gift for meeting me for lunch and making me feel welcome. You must be Kaden.”

The lunch with Alex had been the first fun thing she had really experienced since coming to town. Aside from people gathering around and watching them eat hoping for an autograph or a picture, it had been a nice day. And seeing Alex dressed for the occasion had made it all the more interesting, but now, Mackenzie was getting to meet another member of the family. The infamous mime who hated ravioli, but who seemed really sweet in their online conversation.

—

Kaden was about to close the door, ready to head back to the couch and sink right back into the spot he’d left there. At the mention of Alex, he stopped the door from swinging closed, leaving it only halfway ajar. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t know she was expecting anyone.” And she knew his name, too. Putain, this was awkward. Kaden had no clue who this could be or how she knew Alex. His eyes darted side to side as he checked his peripheral vision for anything odd that might not be put away, such as a crossbow, or a rifle. Or chains from the basement. Seemed clear, thankfully.

“She’s not home right now,” he said, pulling the door back open now that it seemed safe to do so. “I can, uh, leave it for her. If you want. Or you can come back later. Either way, I can let her know that…” Right, still didn’t know her name. “You stopped by.” He didn’t know if he should invite her in or shoo her away. He hoped that she had a clue for the both of them.  

—

Mackenzie had felt bad. When she saw him about to close the door, she knew she had come at the wrong time and was close to walking away, when she noticed Kaden stop it from shutting in her face, “She wasn’t. It was a surprise. It’s just some stuff from Taylor Swift. She was super kind to me, and I wanted to repay the favor.” Mackenzie had grown up spoiling her friends and people she cared about. She had been blessed with enough of an income to live a lifestyle she wanted to without any worry, and she had wanted to share that with others.

“Right. You know I should’ve known that.” She shook her head, “Sorry, to have bothered you, and yeah, if you just want to give her the box and tell her Mackenzie stopped by.” She held out the small wrapped package. Mack wasn’t sure what was inside, but knowing it was from Taylor, probably meant it was something good.

Handing it to him, Mackenzie was just about to turn and leave, when she saw something coming her way. The creature had reminded her a lot of something she had seen not too long after going into Wynne’s coffee shop, but this one looked different, “Uh, Kaden…Is it just me or is that thing running towards us?” She was frozen with fear, despite knowing what the demogorgon looking thing could do to them if they didn’t get out of its path.

—

Kaden took the box with a small nod and was about to close the door once more when he saw a figure charging towards them. He narrowed his eyes to get a better look at what it was that was barreling in their direction. Monster or animal, it didn’t matter, it was clearly not friendly. And in this town, he was going to err on the side of the monster. “Putain de merde,” he grumbled as he threw the box to the side. “Get inside, now!” He didn’t give her much of a chance or free will and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her through the doorway. The door finally slammed shut once they were both inside the cabin. A second slam rang through the place as something bashed into the other side of the door. 

“Sorry about that,” he told her once it was clear that the door wasn’t going to crash down in front of them. Kaden still didn’t feel entirely confident that it would hold on its own, though. There weren’t a ton of great barricade options he could see on a quick glance around the cabin. Kitchen chair would be better than nothing, he supposed. “Are you okay?” he asked as he went to grab a chair to prop in front of the door, trying not to let the pain slow him down too much. It did. He couldn’t help but limp across the fucking cabin and back again. Fuck. There was no way he could go out and fight this thing like this. He sighed in between trying to catch his breath. 

Kaden took a peek out the window to get a better look at whatever was out there. “Shit,” he said to himself when he caught a glimpse of the fumbling geode-like creature. “A volmugger. Fucking hell.” He rubbed his palm down his face and headed to the couch. “Might as well take a seat,” he said to Mack, waving for her to follow him. “We might be here a while.” 

—

Before Mackenzie realized what was happening, she felt herself being pulled inside the cabin and the door slamming behind her. It was the second hard thud that made her jump. If that thing was like what she had seen with Wynne, then they were screwed, “You just saved my life.” I mean she was technically already dead, but still. She didn’t exactly want to find out what that thing could do to a walking corpse since she had already seen what it could do to glass.

Mack watched as Kaden hobbled across the floor to grab a chair, “I’m fine, but the real question is, are you?” She was going to step forward and help him, but he looked like a man on a mission, and she had definitely wanted to stay out of his way.

How in the world was she in this situation again? She had just encountered one of these things not too long ago. Was it the same one? “A vol-what?” She noticed him wave her over, and without hesitating, followed him and found a seat in a chair near the couch. “I’ve seen one of these things…in town. It shot acid at me, and I watched its spit eat through glass. What is that thing?” Mackenzie glanced back towards the door and the windows praying the thing wouldn’t be smart enough to try and get in. Maybe if they just stayed quiet enough, it would leave.

—

“Don’t mention it,” Kaden said. It wasn’t that big a deal, anyway. He’d gone much farther out of his way and stuck his neck out way farther to get someone out of danger. He sighed and tried not to wince too overtly as he sunk into the couch. “I’ll be okay. Encountered an aggressive animal the other night. It got a chunk out of me. Been worse.” Once again, he downplayed the severity of his injuries. But truthfully, right now, they hardly mattered. It wasn’t the worst of their problems. But it certainly wasn’t helping matters.

“You saw one before?” He asked, turning to face her. “Putain. They normally can’t make it out from underground. Usually pretty rare, too. Seeing multiple of them…” That sure as shit wasn’t a good sign. “Let’s hope it’s the same one. How’d you get away from it last time? What happened?” He shook his head in disbelief over the whole situation. Did it have something to do with all these crystals showing up? What the fuck was any of this? “Sorry you’re probably stuck here. Normally I’d volunteer to go out there and fight it but I’m not exactly in peak condition at the moment.” 

—

Mackenzie glanced over at Kaden when he mentioned that he’d be okay. She couldn’t help but look him over and in doing so, her face contorted to something of uncertainty, “You don’t look okay. Are you sure?” The last thing she wanted was to get stuck and not be able to help him if he needed it, “Look, I’ve only played a Paramedic on TV, and all that medical jargon left my mind the day I wrapped, so if something happens and we’re stuck in here, you’re basically screwed.” And in more ways than one if I get hungry. She quickly looked back to the window thankful that mindreading wasn’t a real thing.

Her eyes shifted back in his direction when she heard the word putain. She knew it must be serious considering she knew Alex often used the words putain de what the fuck when something bad was happening. “The same one? The one I saw had the face of some guy, and didn’t look like it walked straight off the set of Stranger Things.” The irony wasn’t lost on her that they were currently in a cabin, “I swear if Millie Bobby Brown walks out the bedroom…” Mackenzie glanced back towards the other rooms, just in case, before looking back to Kaden, “We ran…me and Wynne? We just took off running through the coffee shop and out the back and then I drove them home. I never saw it again after that.” His next words weren't exactly what she wanted to hear though, “Stuck? Like for how long?”

—

Kaden shrugged. And then promptly regretted it as the pain shot through his side. “It’s stitched up and isn’t infected. So as long as none of them pop we should be okay.” Even then, he was pretty sure he could patch himself up if that happened. His head tilted to the side and his brow furrowed at her next sentence. “You were on TV?” Given what he knew from hanging out with Alex and now Cass and how often Nora made fun of him, he was wary of taking that as the truth. It was entirely possible this was some sort of joke or prank or something. There was usually something.

“It steals faces. Doesn’t always have it out, though.” Kaden wasn’t sure if he should be this candid with the truth of the supernatural factors at play but he was in too much pain to give a fuck about secrets and hunter duties and any of that shit. Plus, it seemed better to keep her informed if they were going to make it through this alive. One spit of acid and he was going to have to be making house repairs with Andy for the next few weeks. He really wanted to avoid that. “I don’t know this Bobby person but I can assure you it’s just us in the cabin.” Kaden wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. 

“Putain de merde,” he grumbled. “It was good you ran. But doesn’t really help us now. Considering.” He glanced down at his wounds. There was no running right now. Not for him. If it came down to it, though, he knew he’d send her running while he distracted the monster. After that… Another scenario he’d rather avoid. “But I don’t know. Until it goes away. Or until Andy can come and scare it off. Unless we can come up with something better but I’m not the best at planning that sort of shit.” That did remind him to shoot Andy and Alex a quick text warning them about the situation. Hopefully neither of them would swoop in and try to be a hero.

Kaden sighed and rubbed his palms down his face. “There are a few ways to kill those things. Not easy, though. Pierce through vital organs, try to behead it, standard stuff. Neither of those are exactly easy given the whole crystal rock exterior thing. Can also use its own acid to melt it down but that’s also not exactly easy to manage. So waiting until it leaves is currently the best plan I’ve got, kid.”

—

Popped stitches. She had dealt with those once in her life when Brody had fallen and hit his head on a hike the pair had been on. Ironically enough, they popped on a very different occasion. One that had horrified her at first, but later on became a joke after they had rushed to the ER late one night to get them fixed. From that night forward, everytime she looked at his forehead, she couldn’t help but giggle quietly to herself, “Good. Cause I’m guessing you’ve got more than enough to do some damage if they came apart.” Mackenzie let her eyes move down to the side she had noticed him favoring since she had arrived. Eyes darting back up, she nodded softly, “Yeah, multiple times. But that’s a story for another time.”

Face stealing monsters? Okay, yeah. This little visit had become a lot more informative than she had anticipated. As much as she hated looking in the mirror sometimes, she didn’t want her face stolen by some stick skinny, ugly ass monster she had never heard of, “You know, I think I’m just gonna move away from anything that touches the outside world and sit on the floor.” Mackenzie slid out of the chair she had been in and sat with her legs stretched out resting on her hands. “You don’t watch much tv do you?” Of course how could he in a town like this, if this was going to be the norm.

His reply caught her off guard. In fact, it somewhat scared her. Mackenzie liked martial arts and training with weapons. She liked stunts and fighting on shows, but in real life, no. That was not her thing. Not unless it was a sanctioned competition, which Demogorgon out there was not, “I mean I have a black belt, and I’m pretty good with a sword, but I’m not going out there with that thing. Fuck that. I think your plan of just sitting here sounds perfect.” If she had been hungry enough, she could have picked him up and ran, but that might have resulted in her eating him instead, and then how would she explain to her new friend that she ate her cousin? “Do you have Netflix? Maybe I could introduce you to the world of Stranger Things.” She shot an uneasy smile in his direction. 

—

“Suit yourself,” Kaden said with a shrug as she sat on the floor. He wasn’t even going to think about it because the idea of standing back up hurt already. “And no, I don’t watch tv much. Usually too busy. This is a sort of forced vacation if you will.” Not to mention he spent a lot of time out in the middle of nowhere hunting so there wasn’t much to watch. And his family didn’t pay for cable or anything when they were home on top of that. Didn’t interest him much anyway. He didn’t need to see fake monsters on TV, he spent his days surrounded by real ones. “If I watch anything, it’s usually nature documentaries or shit like that.” Things most people found boring, he was aware, but sometimes boring was nice.

“Netflix?” he repeated as he tried to remember the names of all the things Alex had told him they had access to. From his understanding, none of it they paid for themselves so he wasn’t complaining. “I think we have that. Pretty sure Alex said we…” He paused to search for the word. Sailer wasn’t right, but it was close. “Pirate!” That was the word. “We pirate it. I think. I’m not sure.” He grimaced as he reached for the remote and handed it to Mack. “I trust you can figure it out a lot faster than I can.” 

As she took the remote, there was another bang against the cabin. This time it was the opposite wall. “Putain,” he grumbled, his brows narrowing as concern spread across his face. There wasn’t much he could do but he paused and listened for what he could anyway, just in case. Nothing big followed and he wasn’t sure if the shuffling was real or just his imagination. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate a little more. There was no way he had tuned into his senses enough before, he couldn’t even make out Mack’s heartbe–

Merde. His eyes shot open and he looked back at her. Right. Fuck. He tried to look away like nothing was off or weird. Other than the fact that the girl in the room was undead. Did Alex know about her friend? And did she know what Alex was? She sure as hell didn’t know what Kaden was if she was sitting here this calmly. Putain. “Sorry, uh, thought I heard something else. Other than the… You know, the first one. Might be walking away.” He hoped. 

—

“I mean, that’s pretty valid. It seems like you keep a pretty busy schedule. You work for animal control or a zoo? Am I getting that right? I think Andy had mentioned it when she was telling me you were a mime or something?” She couldn’t quite remember. After facing the…faceless creature twice. It felt like a lifetime ago. “There’s nothing wrong with a good nature documentary by the way. Any llama documentaries that come out, I watch. I’ve probably seen them all at this point.” Mackenzie laughed. It was interesting getting to know more about Kaden. He definitely was what she had expected, except she had known one solid thing about him. He liked cheese.

Mackenzie listened to him talk about Netflix and pirating stuff as she reached for the remote, but was startled by the banging on the side of the cabin. “Fuck! Okay.” Once she had managed to calm down, her mind went back to the fact that Alex and company were pirating things, “Whoa! Okay. Never tell an actor that, Bud. I mean, I’m kind of out of the business right now, but also…probably wouldn’t go around shouting that from the rooftops. It’s not exactly…legal.” But really could she say anything? She had eaten her fiance and a PA. Granted it wasn’t intentional, but still, she wasn’t a saint.

Noticing him look at her with an awkward stare, Mackenzie narrowed her eyes, “Oh…okay. Uh, but yeah. Um, I’ve got Stranger Things pulled up, but I think under the circumstances, we should watch something else. Maybe something funny. Have you ever seen RV with Robin Williams? That shit is hilarious. Laughter might do us some good and scare the thing off in the process.” She pulled up the movie and hit play, but also couldn’t help but wonder if Kaden knew something she didn’t. She didn’t want to let her mind go there though. They were already in enough of a bad situation as it was.

—

“Animal control,” Kaden said with a nod. “There’s no shortage of work in this town, that’s for sure.” And he was stupid enough that he was itching to get back to it. Realistically he knew he should be enjoying the break, maybe contemplating his morality or some shit but in truth he was just bored. And the last thing he wanted to do was sit around contemplating how close he was to death. “Really?” he asked, perking up when she admitted that she enjoyed nature documentaries here and there. “Most people joke about falling asleep or shit like that. Take it you like llamas, then.” He gave her a small smile. “Let me know when the next one comes out, I have a feeling you’ll know before I do.”

His brow furrowed at her response. Actor? Like a real one? That’s why she’d been on tv? “Wait, really?” It’s not that he was impressed or starstruck or anything, which he assumed was probably the case with most people she came across. No, Kaden was just confused. “If you’re an actor, what are you doing here of all places?” Seemed like a bad career move to come to Wicked’s Rest. Not that he had any idea how any of that shit worked. Maybe he was dead wrong, he sure didn’t know.

What he did know, however, was that she was undead. What kind, he couldn’t say. Probably not vampire since she had shown up in the daylight. Zombie or mare was still on the table. So was fury, too, but that seemed unlikely. Then again, this town was fucking weird. Right, he was staring now. Kaden shook it off and tried to act normal. He definitely wasn’t worried that he was a potential meal sitting there with a still healing gash in his side. Putain de merde. Just his luck. “Uh, not sure,” he said, glancing back at the screen, “probably not. Haven’t seen most things. If you say it’s good, I’ll take your word for it.” It’s not like he had much of a choice one way or the other. Hang out with an undead kid or get his face stolen by a volmugger. Seemed like an easy choice to make. So long as nothing went sideways. 

—

“It certainly sounds like it, especially considering the fact that it looks like the town sits in the middle of a nature reserve.” Though the privacy of Wicked’s Rest had been nice for the most part, it was more secluded than the actress had been used to. Mackenzie had definitely picked the right place to be for that matter. “Those people are lacking in class. And llamas are my absolute favorite. I could bore you with llama facts, but I won’t. I will be sure to let you know when the next documentary comes out though. And if you have Disney+ I’m pretty sure they have quite a few nature docs on there. Ask Alex when she gets home. I’m sure she can help you, or I mean, if we’re here long enough, I could check.” She gave him a soft smile.

“Uh, yeah, really. But I’m not gonna say anything. So do what you want.” Again, it was like pot calling the kettle black, and she quickly realized she was far from having a right to judge. Plus, she knew how outrageous streaming prices could be. She paid them too. “Some things happened in my personal life, and I just needed to escape for a while. Pulled up a map on my phone and randomly picked a place and this was it.” Mackenzie’s smile dropped slightly. The reason she had been here had been so overwhelming, lonely, and complicated, but she couldn’t tell him that. “What about you? Why Wicked’s Rest? Aren’t you from, like, France or something?”

Still getting a strange feeling from him, Mack tried to shrug it off, and put her focus on the start of the movie, “Well you’re in for a treat. It’s kind of ridiculous at times, but it’s one of my favorites, and I’d rather watch Robin Williams get stuck on a mountain in an RV than think about that thing outside waiting to make us dinner.” She turned her attention to the screen, so she didn’t have to see Kaden possibly staring at her again.

—

Kaden couldn’t help but smile as she talked about llama documentaries. Mostly because he was just glad to see Alex had found someone who seemed like a decent kid to befriend. “Trust me, it’s almost impossible to bore me with animal facts.” Plus, was nice sometimes to be the one receiving and not the one sharing. “But yeah, that’d be nice if you could show me how to find those. I’m going to need a good few of those to get through the week off from work.” He was already getting restless and it hasn’t even been that long since the full moon. 

“I am, yeah,” he said casually. “Came here to visit family.” Well, that wasn’t quite true. Visiting implied leaving at some point. “I just needed a change. Had family here, seemed like as good a place as any.” That was certainly simplifying it but he wasn’t about to get into the details of his sister killing his best friend. Seemed like a little much for day one. Maybe ever. She was too young to have to deal with all that. 

Then again, how old was she really? If she was undead, she could have stopped physically aging years ago. Maybe she wasn’t working as an actor anymore because it was getting harder to hide that she’d stopped aging. Right. He didn’t know either way. And did it really matter just then? Kaden shook it off and leaned back into his seat, eyes on the screen and ready to watch. “I’ll take ridiculous,” he told her. “So long as you can put up with my questions about it.” He knew he was constantly asking Alex to elaborate on what made some of the videos on the clock app funny so he figured he should warn Mack at the very least. 

—

“Well then I’ll be sure to brush up on random facts, so the next time I see you, assuming there’s a next time, I’ll be able to throw one at you.” She heard the thing scurrying along around the cabin again trying to find a way in, reassuring her that she wasn’t leaving anytime soon, “You know what? Since it doesn’t look like we’re going anywhere anytime soon, I’ll check out the Disney+ thing after we finish the movie, and if you don’t have it, I’ll set it up for you.” Mackenzie knew all too well what it was like being cooped up inside relying on the television for entertainment, and the way Kaden looked, he was going to need something to keep his mind occupied and off of any pain he was currently in.

“That’s just as good as any reason to move some place.” Mack had longed to have family here. She had missed her parents greatly, and from someone who had gone from seeing them nearly every day to not at all was struggling greatly on top of all the other things going on in her life. “I’m glad you’ve got people here. And from what I can tell, they seem like good people.” She sent a sad smile in his direction, before turning her attention back on the movie that was now in full swing.

Though it wasn’t what she had in mind when she had come all the way out here to see Alex, Mackenzie was weirdly satisfied with how the day was turning out, as long as she and Kaden had remained safe in the cabin. He was someone different, and oddly someone she had felt very comfortable around. Plus, he seemed to like llamas, which meant he was okay in her book, “Ask all the questions you want. I’m used to it with my mom and dad.” Looking back at him, she took in the moment cherishing it for what it was, since times like these had seemed fewer and farther between all the other bullshit that had come along. And if feeling normal meant watching a movie with Alex’s cousin while the Demogorgan of Wicked’s Rest lingered just outside their door, then she’d take it, because it sure as hell beat being lonely at home.

[cowboys-of-tombstone]

☆ Next >

      Tombstone, Arizona, the silver crowned jewel of the rugged West. This was in a time when mechanical innovation and high fashion clashed with moral decay and what some would describe as tenacious grit. A place where saints and sinners alike could plant their roots in their eternal struggle for survival.    Some of the most thriving sinners in this untamed land were from the criminal gang, The Cowboys, and their leader, Curly Bill Brocius.    When the late sun was warm and the breeze was gentle, Curly Bill and his posse of equally lethargic outlaws sat on the outside of one of the local establishments. The townsfolk marched everywhere and nowhere, much like ants scuttling across a carcass. As he wiped the sweat that lightly misted his brow, Billy and Ike Clanton arrived with a bunch of beers in their arms. “Just in time.” sighed Frank Stilwell, the first to nab a glass from the brothers. Drinks were passed all around to the half dozen cowboys.    “Here’s to some relief in this hellhole.” Tom McLaury cheered while clinking glasses with those close by.    “Ain’t that the truth.” Curly Bill agreed, wiping beer from his stauche. The day had gone by much like any other. A few shootouts up and down the main street and a few bar fights blowing up into murders, the usual. There was never a dull moment in Tombstone, except for those who have already seen it all.    Billowing smoke pulsed from Frank McLaury’s cigar with his face buried in the Tombstone Epitaph. “Huh. Some poor bastard in Tucson got his train robbed the other night. They think it was a solo job, ‘cause only a couple of gold bars were stolen. But they still don’t know how the slippery son of a bitch even got in.”    “Maybe we should take a trip to Tucson and help ourselves to the rest of the train, it's gotta beat what we're doing here." Curly Bill stretched in his chair.    “Don’t think so, boss.” Frank shook his head, "Place is crawling with police now that the train’s been compromised."    “Well, shit. There goes that, I guess.” Curly Bill figured as such, but damn, was he craving for some fun. Even if it was just a wild goose chase.    “Hey! Professor Gillman’s gonna be at The Birdcage in a bit. Why don’t we go see him catch stuff?” Barnes suggested, having already guzzled down his beverage.    The group turned to Curly Bill who shrugged and simply said, “Eh, why the hell not?”    Truly, they all knew that the cheap entertainment would not cure them of their depressive boredom, but it was better than sitting around and moping about it. The Cowboys rose from their chairs, some gracing the ground with a hearty spit, and began their march. Townsfolk stepped aside in the presence of the pack of jackals. Unblinking stares showered them even if they had no intent for trouble. Some of The Cowboys, such as Billy and Ike, returned the sneers in kind and watched as some averted their gaze. Curly Bill, on the other hand, relished the attention and threw winks and waves lazily.    That is until he noticed someone in the crowd facing away from them. Normally, the thought wouldn’t even occur to him, but that person, a woman, caught his sight from her long strawberry blonde hair. A slight breeze blew through the curls, emphasizing their wild wavy nature. She wore a denim blue jumpsuit with bell bottoms that hugged comfortably around her frame. The woman faced their direction, appearing to be lost from the constant turning of her head. Her front revealed that her jumpsuit was unbuttoned halfway to her midsection. Underneath, a blood red blouse complemented her large cherry amber eyes. The wind picked up and she held her cream colored hat with her matching leather gloves as she pulled along a platinum blonde stallion to her next destination.    Curly Bill shifted his mustache to one side, curious about the peculiar woman. He wasn’t the only one, as Billy then hollered, “Hey there, gingersnap! You lost or something?” The crowd of onlookers shifted their attention to the lone woman, and she sequentially turned towards the gang. The rest of the boys fell in the trend, and began to whistle and howl. Although the woman was looking in their direction, it seemed rather that she was looking past them before silently pulling her horse away and continuing on.    Billy bared his teeth in a snarled smile, readying to catch up with the woman. Suddenly, Curly Bill wrapped his arm around Billy’s chest, “Aw, let her go, son. There'll be plenty of birds at the theater who’d love to sing for ya.”    Content with their boss’s optimism, The Cowboys pushed on their way without much further fuss. All the while Curly Bill looked back one more time, only to find the woman and her horse had escaped his view.    As expected, Professor Gillman and his performance was less than stellar and was quickly made to dance out of terror of his feet being shot. Disappointingly, The Cowboys left the theater, soon after, out of disgust.    “Way to go Barnes!” snipped Tom McLaury, shoving Barnes harshly into the others. Soon the rest joined in and pushed Barnes into a circle and batted him with their hats.    “Hey, c’mon fellas! It was just a suggestion!” Barnes pleaded, trying to regain his balance.    “Well, if I’m gonna waste some money, it’s gonna be from gambling. You comin’, Ike?” Billy asked, taking a few steps towards one of the many bars surrounding them.    “Maybe in a bit, Bill and Ringo wanna stretch their legs and I reckon I’ll join ‘em.”    “Suit yourself, what about you, Stilwell?”    “Nah, me and the McLaury’s are fixin’ to smoke for a bit with that geezer from Shanghai.”    Curly Bill stepped forward and suggested, “Why don’t you just take Barnes and see if you two can win us all a refund? We’ll all catch up with you in a little bit.”    With that, the boys went their separate ways while Curly Bill, Johnny Ringo, and Ike set off to see what kind of trouble they could get into. It didn’t take long, however, when a loud pop erupted from one of the establishments.    A man floundered out of the building’s batwing doors, gulping for air as he clenched his crimson stained shirt. Another younger man followed, scrambling to the injured one’s side. Last to emerge was the same strawberry blonde woman from earlier, with two pistols drawn. The folks who had been meandering in front of the bar scattered for cover.    Curly Bill crossed his arms, waiting for the drama to unfold. He tilted his head to Johnny and whispered, “Who do ya got money on, Juanito?”    Johnny rolled his eyes and replied, “The winner, I’d guess.”    Curly Bill tsked and nudged Johnny’s elbow, all the while Ike watched somewhat crouched, eyes widened, and mouth slightly agape.    The woman carefully kept her sights on both men as the younger of them hissed, “You filthy, cheating bitch!” Suddenly, he reached for his holster, but before he could even draw his gun, the woman blasted both of her pistols; sending him to his knees, then the ground.    Hanging on by a single thread of life, the older man feebly reached for his own weapon, and was swiftly met with the same fate as his companion.    “What a woman!” gasped Ike, running his fingers through his beard.    No sooner after the shoot out ended that ol’ Marshall Fred White waddled onto the scene, pistol at the ready. A crowd began to form around them, obscuring the view for the three cowboys.    “I suppose that’s that, then.” Johnny Ringo shrugged.    “Yeah, she seems like a good time though.” Curly Bill noted, leading the three away from the scene.    “Yeah she does! Did ya see that head shot?!” Ike asked, imitating the woman’s duel wielding posture.    “I wonder what’s a woman like her doing around here. You don’t see someone like her all too often.” Johnny Ringo contemplated.    “Probably for the same reason as everyone else, to get a piece of this town, that is. But I agree with you, Juanito,” Curly Bill scratched his scalp, “Ya can’t help but wonder what someone like her is all about.”    Further intrigue crept into Curly Bill’s mind. This mystery woman was already easy on the eyes, that’s for sure. But to know that she could handle herself the way she did, had his mind ticking away like a swiss watch.    “And she was mighty purdy too, I wonder if she smells like good perfume?” Ike mumbled to himself, splashing some water from his canteen onto his face.    Johnny’s composure was only lost by the quick dart of his eyes to Ike and then back to what was in front of him.    Curly on the other hand, sufficed with a simple, “Shut up, Ike.”    Their walk had only just begun, and yet, the shock of the shootout had jump started some liveliness into their spirits.    “I’m feeling all red-blooded now, boys,” Curly Bill concluded as he patted his sides, “What say we go and find us some action.”    Ike and Ringo nodded in agreement as the trio began to bar hop throughout the main street, having enough bravado between them to fuel a rampaging elephant. Yet, no one was willing to return in kind. Each bar they went to left them with the same disappointing outcome. Normally, the respect and compliance from the rest of the town would have been precisely how they like it, and yet, even a single ounce of push back would’ve been just what the doctor ordered.    Before they knew it, the sun had already made its last call. Begrudgingly, their journey eventually landed them back to where Billy and Barnes were currently gambling away their funds.    “I don’t know why Bill likes to go to The Oriental.” Johnny Ringo grumbled as the group stalked near the entrance. “That knuckle dragger, Johnny Tyler, makes the joint deader than a funeral home.”    “Maybe that’s how Bill likes it.” Ike shrugged, stepping towards the establishment, “I like all the extra space it gives. I don’t need someone breathing down my neck while I’m playing cards.”    Inside The Oriental was just as barren as Johnny predicted, to no surprise. The marble statues, brass finish and floral décor was wasted on the presence of the low end, sloppy, sweaty, foul-mouthed dealer and the menagerie that orbited around him. Even Billy and Barnes, dusted as they were from the desert sands, were out of place next to the slobbish boars that sat around them.    “Howdy, Milt!” Curly Bill called to The Oriental’s owner and operator.    “Evening, Mr. Brocius.” Milt Joyce nodded with a welcoming smile, “What can I get ya?”    “I’m just gonna be at the faro table with my boys, we’ll see in a bit.”    Curly Bill walked up behind Billy and Barnes and gave them both pats on the shoulder. A sense of stillness and unease washed over the other patrons, despite the supposed friendly demeanor of The Cowboys.    “Say, you guys finally made it!” Billy remarked, peeking over his shoulder.    “Yeah, a shootout cut our walk short, and none of the bars were quenching our thirst. So we thought we’d drop in and see how you two were doing to help Barnes pay us all back.”    Barnes slightly shook his head, “We’ve been breaking about even so far. Not been all that lucky.”    “Well, keep at it!” Curly Bill chuckled as he slapped them both on the back.    “Hey, Johnny Tyler, set me up for the next round. At this rate they ain’t ever gonna get my money's back!” Ike said as he shoved another patron out of a chair.    “Y-yes, sir.” Johnny Tyler stuttered, his usual bravado shot, “Would anybody else wanna join?”    Always the hot shot, Johnny Tyler had the appearance and temperament of a bulldog. Rumor had it, he ran a lesser gang in Tombstone. But even he was wise to the fact that his pack was outclassed by The Cowboys in every sense of the word. In their presence, Johnny Tyler made sure that his barks and other overbearing acts were mummed.    Johnny Ringo and Curly Bill looked to each other with knowing grins. “Why, Johnny, thank you kindly for the invitation!” Curly Bill answered, pulling up a chair.    Things turned around and slowly they began winning their money back. Cigar smoke crept through the room, like the spirit of a serpent, billowing and coiling around the faro table. Despite this, Johnny Tyler showed saintly restraint with his throat scorched and his eyes on the verge of tears.    “Hey, Mr. Tyler, are you feelin’ alright?” Barnes asked with heavy smoked breath seeping between the cracks of his bobcat grin.    “I-I might have to head home soon, fellas. You'll wanna grab another table in a minute.” Johnny Tyler swallowed the heave back down his mouth. The group laughed and continued to blow noxious rings in his face.    Just when Johnny Tyler might’ve been ready to pass out, the front doors swung open. Rhythmic clicking of boots echoed on the hard wooden floor, turning all eyes towards the source.    “Good evening, Miss. What can I get for ya?” Milt waved.    “Just get me a beer, I’m parched.”        It was none other than the strawberry blonde woman, much to the surprise of The Cowboys.    Johnny Ringo leaned over to Curly Bill and whispered, “Guess she got off, huh?”    Barnes interjected, “From what?”    “Ya shoulda seen it, Barnes.” Ike butted in, “She gunned down a couple of fellas down the street for callin’ her a cheater. It was something else!”    The woman sauntered over to the bar, leaning on it while Milt served her a beer. Billy contemplated talking to her again, Curly Bill stood in preparation to approach her, as Ike floored it over to her side.    “Excuse me!” Ike called out. The woman turned her attention and found Ike unblinkingly staring inches from her face, “I saw what’cha did earlier to those fellas you banged up. I was just wonderin’, ma’am, are you married?”    Curly Bill grabbed the back of Ike’s shirt collar and hauled him off, shouting, “Get the hell out of here, Ike!” before sending him off with a kick in the rear. Ike waddled over to the faro table while Barnes and Billy barely contained their laughter.    “Oh, shut the hell up, the both of ya!” Ike sneered as he flopped down on an empty chair.    “Don’t mind him, we all thought you handled yourself pretty well out there. So what happened, if you don’t mind me asking?” Curly Bill probed as he leaned onto the counter.    “After you win ten hands in a row at poker, you start to seem a little suspicious to others. Those two men were no different, one swung at me and I shot him. He fell outside and, well, I’m sure you saw the rest.” the woman explained with a warm smile as she gingerly sipped her beer.    “And what about Ol’ Fred? What kinda trouble did he put you through?”    “You mean the marshal? He didn’t give me no trouble at all. There were more than a few folks who backed up my story. So he let me go without any skin off my back.” The woman continued as she turned to face Curly Bill with one hand holding her chin.    “I figured as such, but the real question is, did you actually cheat?” Curly Bill smugly asked as he raised his brows.    The woman laughed then tightly smiled, “That’s not part of the story, stranger.”    “Then how about we start with your name then, Miss?” Curly Bill leaned in a little closer.    “Suzette McCreed, it’s a pleasure, Mr…?”    “Curly Bill Brocius. It is a pleasure indeed.” Curly Bill agreed, taking her hand and pecking it.    “The leader of The Cowboys graces my presence? If I had known, I would’ve gotten all dolled up just for the occasion.�� Suzette said coyly with half lidded eyes.    “No need, Ms. McCreed. You look lovely as is.” Curly Bill retorted, earning a cheeky smile with a half cocked brow. “But I must ask, what’s a lady like you doing here?”    “Ah, straight to the point, Mr. Brocius?”    “Please, call me Curly Bill.”    “Of course, Curly Bill. Well, I just got finished with a job back in Tucson. I’m only here to recuperate for a couple of days before I head out.”        “And what is your profession?”        Suzette briefly scanned the bar before leaning in, “If I may be honest, it wasn’t a wholly professional one.”    “Oh?”    “Yes, I… take things that people tend to miss, and when they do, I'll be long gone by then.”    “I understand now, we come from similar business backgrounds.”    “That's a good way to put it.”    “So who do you run with, then?”    “No one at all. Except for me.” Suzette admitted, downing the last of her glass.    Curly Bill titled his head and his smile dropped, “Is that so? How have you been handling yourself?”    Suzette leaned into her shoulder with a sly gleam in her eye, “I haven't stolen from The Queen of Britain, but a girl can handle herself well enough.”    Curly Bill began to rub his hands together. The Cowboys were always looking for new members and one who was easy on the eyes and an accomplished criminal was always a net bonus. He shifted his gaze towards Suzette and flicked his tongue through his smile, “We could use someone like you. In The Cowboys, we work together to bring in the big haul and we wouldn't mind sharing with ya.”    “Do you always offer memberships this quickly?” Suzette softly asked.    Curly Bill responded, all the while catching glances of her figure, “Your… attributes aren't something I want to pass up on.”    “Ahh, I see.” Suzette couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing full well what the brazen scoundrel was looking for, “Thank you for the offer. But I think I’ll be fine. Besides, I don’t know what I'd do if I’m surrounded by handsome men, like yourself, all the time.” She tossed a wink and a smile his way, and rose from her seat. A few crumpled dollars fell onto the bar counter before Suzette made her way out the door.    Dang nabbit! It was as if a one-of-a-kind treasure slipped through Curly Bill's fingers. However, he recalled that Suzette had mentioned staying in town for a few days. That might just give him enough time to find a way to convince her to stay. And just maybe, he could also convince her to be a Cowboy… amongst other things.    Curly Bill clapped his hands together and felt the blood rush through them. His mind was hard at work scheming a way to meet his ends. Shooting himself off of the bar, he waved to the boys, hollering, “I’m gonna head out, boys. Gonna drop by and see if I can pay the ol’ Chinese geezer a visit for a smoke. I’ll catch up with you all tomorrow!”    Out into the moonlight, Curly Bill swayed to a beat in anticipation. It had been a while since he had his mind on a single woman in particular, but he couldn’t help but feel it was with good reason.

 Speedpaint Video:

I wanted to do something with ol’ Curly Bill, since there was no material out there for him. xP I hope you guys enjoy the story as much as I did writing and making the art for it. 

[and-so-he-rambled]

Home

(Bones)

“I saw the world, I traveled and I learned so much.” He learned that the sunrise was just as beautiful in Africa, that bones looked the same in Rome, that there was murder and mystery in every corner. He learned that the best meals of the world meant nothing eaten by yourself. He learned that epiphanies came on sparse mountaintops so devoid of life that you felt you were the only one alive. That crisis came in an empty hotel rooms at one in the morning, halfway through a bottle of scotch and realizing that you were utterly and completely alone. That the adrenaline rush of adrenaline and endorphins was almost like solving a murder, even if not quite. That it was easier to crawl into a bottle than face the reality that the family he’d built was gone. That there was a special kind of terror found in waiting rooms waiting for std results because you couldn’t remember the last four weeks.

So yeah, he’d learned a lot.

“But at the end, I just wanted to go home.” To England? To Berkshire where his mum and sister went about their lives? He did miss England, but more so he missed the past, when he could hole up in his room and read encyclopedias and National Geographic magazines. Before he had to grow and up be something. He missed the lab, when he finally was something.

Vincent wasn’t a man of faith, but he knew many religions and beliefs. He wished he did have such a strong devotion, that he wasn’t truly abandoned, but at the end of the day he was a man of facts. Facts were a lonely religion.

Even if he was the richest man in the world, he liked to think he would have found his way back to the Jeffersonian anyway. He didn’t have his doctorate and was only an intern, but he felt at home under the white lights, solving mysteries and giving people their identities back. He had a purpose there, and he would have given away every penny of that million to just go back to the way it had been.

His adventures weren’t a complete loss, and there truly was no freedom like the outdoors, but he was content to spend the rest of his days inside. It was easy to close his eyes and remember the sights before he gave in to his weaknesses and tainted his perfect memory. He could see it so clearly, every little detail.

“Did you have a favorite place?” Angela smiled at him, small and soft and kind. She was special, tolerating him and seeming to care about the facts that drove his life. Hodgins was a lucky man.

Did he have a favorite place? Maine was beautiful, if cold, and Rome was historic, if overwhelming. He’d seen beautiful and rare sights, but if given the chance he wouldn’t go back to any of them. Those mountaintop epiphanies were passed and gone, and the magic of traveling for the first time was well worn.

“Coming back, that was my favorite.” He remembered the way the plane bumped down on the D.C runway and a weight had lifted. He’d been fresh from rehab and time with his family, but the second Cam called he had been on the first flight home. His mum said she understood, had patted him on the arm with a smile only mothers could pull off and told him to go back to the family he found.

The city had never looked so beautiful that night, grimy and dark and oh so perfect. His apartment was untouched, set on a recurring payment from the account he hadn’t drained completely, and it greeted him with open arms. It was dark and dusty as he set down his bags and sat in the dark, listening to police sirens in the distance.

And he cried. He cried, an ugly messy sort of cry, until he was aching and empty. He cried for all he had done and all he hadn’t, for his mistakes and his accomplishments. He cried for the horrors he’d seen and those he’d yet to see, for the ghosts of his past already starting to follow him. He cried for any and every reason, and to just cry at all. Vincent was only human, but he was home.

“This place is really that special to you?” Angela looked at him before looking back at her painting, a 8x10 painting of the snowfall in Alaska from his description alone. She was remarkably on point.

Instead of a proper answer he shrugged. He doubted he could put into words what the Jeffersonian meant to him. He found himself falling back on habit, one he’d let fade in the pursuit of adventure.

“Did you know,” He smiled at the faux shine of painted snow on the bowed branch of an evergreen. “That it's illegal to feed pigeons on the sidewalks and streets in San Francisco?”

Angela laughed, throwing her head back before giving him a look that felt like home.

“Never change Vincent.”

But he had changed. He had lost himself somewhere between Nevada and Paris, in scotch and pints with strangers. He let his love for knowledge be overshadowed by his need to feel something and fill a hole he hadn’t realized was there until the Lab stopped filing it. If anything’s he was changing back, finding his way back to himself.

He was here, he was home and finally getting better, and he never wanted to go.

—/

Your honour I miss him 🥲

[ghostbustermelanieking]

67 for the kiss prompts 👀

of course it's another safehouse fic! warning for some self-loathing on the parts of jon and martin. 

67. When One Stops The Kiss To Whisper “I’m Sorry, Are You Sure You-” And They Answer By Kissing Them More.

Jon's on the phone with Basira in the other room. Martin can hear the rise and fall of his voice through the walls. He halfway wishes he'd said yes to Jon's offer to put her on speaker—he wants to know how bad it is. Wants to know exactly how badly he fucked up when he followed Peter into those tunnels (in more than just the obvious ways). 

Jon's said it wasn't his fault. Said that this morning, over the eggs he'd scrambled on a whim that were going cold on Martin's plate, covering Martin's hand with his: "It wasn't your fault, Martin. It wasn't. I-it wasn't even just the Not-Sasha, it… Trevor and Julia…" And then he'd stopped, a pained expression on his face, and Martin knew he wasn't the only one feeling guilty for everything that happened at the Panopticon the day before. 

The reality of Jon being here is still so new, so strange, after not talking for months, for a year, what with the coma, and the Lonely… Martin doesn't think he ever even had Jon to his flat before this; he thinks he suggested it once, after a drink one night, if Jon wanted to come back and have some tea, and Jon had politely said no, thank you, with a look in his eyes that made Martin think maybe he was thinking about all the kidnappings. So, yes, this is the first time Jon's ever been here. After months of silence, months of Martin talking himself out of going down the hall and talking to Jon, telling Jon how glad he was that he's alive, how sorry he was that he couldn't stay, how much he hated this, every bit of it… After it all, Jon came for him. Peter's dead, and there's no reason for them to stay away now. 

It's a relief, beyond what Martin will ever be able to articulate, but it's still strange, after all this time. Waking up in his bed to find Jon lying on the other side, stiff and tentative under the covers. To find Jon in the kitchen after a shower, making eggs and tea. To have Jon halfway holding his hand. Even after everything—after that period before the Unknowing where they were really sort of friends… this is surreal in a way Martin can't really explain.

Jon had actually held his hand all the way out of the Lonely, all the way back to his flat. Had reached for it over the expanse of Martin's mattress and held on. Martin doesn't remember him letting go. He doesn't remember ever wanting him to. It's a good surreal, he thinks. It's good. 

Jon comes out of the kitchen, now, his hand clutched around his phone, his face grim. Martin startles a little, his hands clenching together in his lap. "H-how was it?" he says. "Is it… d-do they have any sign of…" (Basira had filled them in on Daisy last night.)

"No, no, no sign." Jon sighs a little. Sits down on the couch beside Martin, so close their knees bump together. He doesn't meet Martin's eyes. 

Martin feels a habitual lump of worry rise in his throat. "You can tell me, Jon," he says, in case Jon is trying to shield him somehow. "It's… it's bad, isn't it?"

"I… yeah. Yeah, it's not good." Jon looks at him finally, his expression suggesting that’s all he’s going to say, like he’s going to try and protect Martin no matter what Martin says. “Basira… Basira says they’ll blame me,” he adds. “Again. She says they were already asking questions, they… sh-she said they’ll be looking for me again.”

" What? " Martin's aware his voice sounds insulted, and he is, on Jon's behalf, framed again for murders he didn't commit. (Well. Jon did kill Peter, but. Martin's not mourning that, not at all, he deserved it, and Peter isolated himself enough that the police shouldn't be looking for him. And the thought of Jon being blamed again for something he didn't even do…) "You didn't do anything, h-how can they blame you?"

Jon laughs a little, quiet bitterness in there. "It's easy. A-and it is my fault, sort of. I'm the one who antagonized Julia and Trevor. I'm the one who… who kept that stupid table, and then destroyed it and let that thing out. I'm the one who…" He stops. Winces, shakes his head a little. "I-it doesn't matter," he says. "Basira's sure they'll blame me. She says I need to get out of London." 

Martin latches onto that, his heart leaping in his throat. Maybe he has no right to be this concerned, considering he's holed himself up for months, ignoring Jon and working with Peter for a plan that didn't even do anything —but he can't help but panic at the idea of Jon leaving again, going somewhere else, somewhere where they can't keep him safe… Not that Jon isn't entirely self-sufficient, he's been fine all this time, he's saved Martin, and not that Martin's been doing a good job at all, considering everything, Jon came into the Lonely because of him and could've just as easily been lost, and it would've been his fault. But after everything… America, Ny-Alesund, the Unknowing, every time Jon went somewhere and Martin didn't, and something horrible happened, and Martin just… 

He tries to force the panic out of his voice, tries to speak levelly when he says, "Leave… leave London? And go where? "

"Scotland, apparently. Daisy has a safehouse that she… that she obviously won't be doing, and Basira said…" Jon swallows hard, looks away. "Well, she said I should leave right away. She said she would bring me the key here, and I should leave on the next train." 

"Oh," says Martin. A part of him is nearly shouting, Don't go, don't leave me here, but this is ridiculous, Jon has to go, and he can't ask… not after everything Jon's done… (But he doesn't want Jon to leave, he doesn't want to be alone again.) "I… y-yeah. Yeah, that's best," he says, because he can't, and he'd rather have Jon alive and somewhere else than arrested or dead, again, and his throat is closing up a little. "If they're looking for you, you should leave as soon as possible." 

"Right," says Jon. "Right, a-and I would…" He's staring down at his hands, intently, like he's trying to find answers in the lines of his palms. Martin is thinking absently that he does that, too, and isn't it funny how many habits he and Jon share that he's never realized, when Jon looks up abruptly. He's got an expression that's almost shy on his face; he says, "I-I was wondering if you'd like to come with me."

They're quiet for a moment.. Martin's staring; he thinks he definitely might be staring. His mouth might be hanging open. Jon starts talking again, too fast and stammering and anxious: "O-obviously if you don't want to, th-there's no obligation, of course, i-it's just that I… well, I haven't seen you for such a long time, Martin, and w-we just started talking again, and I… I thought you might want t-to get out of here, maybe, the Institute, it's… and I don't want you to be alo—" 

Martin kisses him. Leans forward, just like that, and abruptly kisses Jon, cutting him off mid-sentence. Jon makes a little sound, a punched-out gasp, and his hand moves up, resting suddenly against Martin's jaw. 

It takes a moment for Martin to fully connect his actions— Jon just asked me to go to Scotland and You just kissed him —and he pulls away abruptly. "I-I'm sorry," he says wildly, thinking I should've asked, thinking Martin, you idiot, just because he followed you into the Lonely doesn't mean he wants to… 

Jon's looking at him. His eyes are dark and wet and full of some emotion Martin can't place, and he's just looking at him. His hand is still on Martin's jaw, his fingers warm against Martin's chilly skin. Martin's eyes dart to the side—to Jon's fingers, his bitten nails, resting against Martin's cheek—and then back to Jon. "I'm sorry," he says again, and Jon shakes his head, just a little. Rubs a thumb over Martin's cheek. 

The gesture is enough to make Martin want to break. Just shatter in a dozen little pieces inside. He's not sure what to say—his brain, wildly grasping, comes up with, "Are you sure you—" And Jon leans forward, just as abruptly as Martin did, and kisses him again. Kisses him gently, sweetly, with a sort of underlying desperation that sounds like it did in the Lonely last night. We need you. I need you. His hands are still on Martin's face. 

Martin makes a little sound of shock. Fumbles up with shaking hands to cover Jon's hand with his, to grasp it gently and desperately (the way Jon is kissing him) and not let go. Not this time.

Jon's the one to pull away, first, just far enough to rest his forehead against Martin's. He laughs a little, nervous energy, and doesn't let go of Martin's hand. "You don't need to apologize, Martin, you…" He laughs again, quietly. "I'm very sure. I am. I've been wanting to do that for… quite a long time."

"Oh," Martin says faintly, his thumb tracing the line of Jon's palm. "You have?"

Jon nods, his forehead thunking lightly against Martin's with the motion. Martin chuckles. "Me… me, too."

"Oh," Jon says softly. He squeezes Martin's hand. 

Martin looks down at their joined hands (on his knee, now), leaning into Jon a little. (Just a little.). "Yes," he says, and there is no tremble, no hint of hesitation in his voice. He's sure about this, maybe the surest he's been in a long time. "Yes, I'll go to Scotland with you."

[bisexual-horror-fan]

PLEASE omg if you have open requests could you do a female reader x Charles lee ray (in his human form) where he hires her for the night *wink wink* but ends up being kinda smitten by her so he keeps coming back to her?

Heyyyyyy! Alright this took a while but I poured a lot into this, I really loved this prompt and wanted to make it hit! This is my first time writing a full solo one shot for him so I really wanted to do this right. So I hope you like it, deff made Charles pretty soft in this and am very happy with it so let's get into this!

---

Rating. Explicit. Length. 4K. Charles Lee Ray X AFAB! Sex Worker! Reader. Warnings. Sex Work (Obviously We Respect Sex Workers In This House As Always.) Some Complex Feelings. Mild Angst. Charles Being Soft. Vaginal Sex. Blow Jobs. Fingering. Hair Pulling. Dirty Talk. Fingering. Interesting Relationship Dynamics. Smoking. Mentions Of Murder. Blood And Gore.

---

Reminders Of Her.

---

She left.

She had been gone for months and he just wasn’t doing good. Nothing felt right. She finally had enough of his shit, he thought it was another stupid fight, he stormed out and when he came back home the next day all her essentials were gone, packed up and she left him a note. A fucking note for Christ’s sake. He was so fucking mad that he ripped that dear John letter into pieces.

He was mostly angry at himself. For being so blind to the signs, for thinking he could keep doing whatever, whenever and that she would always stick around, for foolishly taking her for granted. She was the best thing that ever happened to him and he ruined it. Had no one to blame but himself and that pissed him off even more. The fact there was no one to pin the blame on made it hurt worse.

He knew that he was really fucked up over her leaving when he was attempting to tape the note she left back together. The fact he saved the shreds of torn paper was already embarrassing enough. When he was sitting at the table and halfway through taping it together it hit him and he said quietly, “What the fuck am I doing?”

He snatches his coat and scarf up on the way out of the apartment. Keys and wallet in one pocket, smokes and a lighter in the other. He needed to get out of there, the apartment felt too big, too empty without her. He kind of hated how much she had gotten under his skin, caring so much about someone, relying on another person, ugh, when did he get so soft?

To say his feelings were complex on Tiffany and her up and leaving like this was an understatement. He was walking aimlessly downtown through the cool night air, hands stuffed in his pockets, mind unable to stay still, pouring over it all over and over.

He was so cold to her, he should have noticed her pulling away, how she was less excited to see him, wouldn’t engage the same way. That fight they had, her asking him not to go and the last thing he said to her on his way out the door, pulling his arm out of her grip as he spat, “Get the fuck off me.”

She looked so hurt and he should have stayed but he left. And when he got home he realized that she left too. Guilt and regret weren’t emotions he usually indulged in but she always had a tendency to pull all sorts of things he didn’t think was capable of feeling. Too many fucking mood swings but he finally settled on thinking that she deserved better. Hell of a lot better than him.

He let out this small laugh, a sad and broken thing, seriously, when did he get like this? He felt like a total idiot. He should really just let her go.

He had some misguided thought that she would come back. Was even a little confident and cocky about that but as the days turned to weeks he realized that no, she must really be done. He felt sad, he felt lonely, he felt a lot of things.

He didn’t want to be.

He had been taking walks like this out of the house more and more often, desperate for something to distract himself. He had been walking for God knows how long, well over an hour at least.

What was he supposed to do with himself now? He felt the pack of smokes in his jacket pocket and decided a cigarette was as good enough a place as any to start. He dug the pack out and stopped his stride, pulling one out and putting it between his lips, pocketing the pack and pulling his lighter up. He clicked it, nothing, clicked it again, still nothing.

Annoying. He clicked it again and still nothing, “Fuck.” he rolled his eyes and after nother few unsuccessful clicks he threw the lighter away from him, pissed and just wanting a damn bit of relief and then you spoke up.

“Need a light, stranger?”

It startled him a little, had no idea that you were there, eyes immediately looking over to you and hot damn. Look at you. Leaning against a brick wall, and the first thing he thought, couldn’t help it, you reminded him of her. The shade of purple you were wearing was something she would wear, and the lipstick you had on, the black heels, even the look in your eye, just something there that screamed her. You were looking at him expectantly, a small smile, holding a metal zippo lighter out, offering it up to him and before he realized it he was stepping closer to you, hand out to take it as he said, “Thanks.”

He was still a bit thrown, trying to subtly look you over and just it was wild the feeling you gave him that reminded him of her, he took the lighter and you responded, “No problem.”

Another click and the flame came alive on the first try and he lit his cigarette with a deep inhale and that felt better. Relief personified, whether he meant the cigarette or you was still up for debate. He flipped the lid closed and handed it back over and you asked, “Long night?”

He pulled his smoke back with a laugh and exhaled, “How could you tell?” You gave a non-commital shrug and said, “Not the first person I have seen with that look. Won’t be the last either.”

“So you see it a lot?” He asked as he watched you digging into your own pocket, you pulled out your own pack and fucking hell, of course you smoked the same brand she did. “In my line of work? Absolutely.”

He looked a little harder, another inhale of smoke, letting what you said hang there before he asked, “And what is your line of work exactly?”

You were looking him up and down, a wide smile before you asked, “Oh want me to open up and share?”

A nod from him, a bit unsure, he was wondering why you were being so cagey about this, and you said, "Alright. Might be willing but it depends. Are you looking for a good time?”

Oh.

Well shit.

The meaning obviously was not lost on him.

He thinks why the fuck not? What has he got to lose? He is sad, lonely, feeling rather pathetic and this might help him feel a bit like his old self. He was dying for a distraction and this seemed too perfect to pass up. The long and short of it is he didn't want to be alone. You asked what he wanted, started to talk about prices as you both smoked and he asked, “How much for the whole night?”

The whole night? Well fucking hell that sounded good to you. You weren’t sure if he had that kind of money, clothes were kinda nondescript, he wasn’t dressed shabbily or anything like that but if he did have the money to back that up he didn’t show it through how he dressed. Either way if he did have the cash to burn you were in for a good night. You told him and he didn’t blink at that, just agreed. If only you knew it was because he killed someone the night previous and got a hearty stack of money off him. On the way to the hotel you couldn’t help noticing that he certainly wasn’t bad looking, okay that was underselling it, he was pretty attractive, different then the usual clintell you had.

On the way up names were exchanged, he assumed it wasn’t your actual name and didn’t press, why would he? And he was unlocking the door as you said, “I’m curious, and normally I don’t ask this, but have you done this before, Chuck?”

Chuck? Huh. He wasn’t sure how he felt about you calling him Chuck so he decided to leave it for now and he pushed open the door, “Does it matter?”

“No, suppose not.” You mused with a smile and soon cash upfront was in your hand and then it was tucked away and the night got started.

Any small lingering doubt was washed away easily and quickly. You just made him feel so at ease, conversation was light and fun, you were absurdly hot and obviously very good at what you did. Your mouth wrapped around him felt heavenly, made so much of the stress and tension he had been holding release from his muscles, your enthusiasm was too good, the way you pulled off of his wet cock, lipstick smeared and damn that was a good look on you.

His back to the headboard of that hotel bed, you in his lap, rolling your hips, riding him, hands threaded in his hair, tugging as your hips rose and fell, enveloping him again and again, he couldn’t keep himself quiet. His hands on your waist, helping pull you down to meet him, hard breathes and sounds of pleasure spilling from his mouth alike, unbidden. He asked you to keep talking, he wanted to keep those pesky thoughts at bay, fill all of his senses with you and you did as asked right away.

Dirty talk was a strong suit, a frequent request and you gave it to him as you rode him, your nails raked over his skull before you wrapped his long hair around one hand, a hard pull as you uttered filth to him. Another roll of your hips that almost made his eyes roll back with a quiet, “Fuck.” Oh yes if all of that was anything to go by he liked it very much.

It was a good night. Like a really fucking good night, more than worth it, the head you gave and the way you fucked just fantastic. In between rounds you and he would talk, both smoked on the hotel room balcony, even ordered some food at one point, some late night movie on the tv. The lights were off, just the light from the tv illuminating you both as you shared fries, he caught himself looking at you as you watched, riffing off the bad movie, making some joke and fuck this was nice. He knew he had felt lonely but didn’t realize just how much until getting to spend this close more personal time with someone. It was the best night he had in a while.

In between the sex and conversations and the rest he eventually fell asleep. He woke up to see it was light out, checked the time, it was ten in the morning. He rolled over and the bed was very empty, the other side was cold, you were long gone. It wasn’t like he expected to wake up with you, actually he wasn’t sure what he expected, he sat up and snatched up his pack of smokes from the nightstand and found it empty, shit that is right he finished it last night.

He leaned over and threw it in the trash and in doing so noticed something on the opposite nightstand, folded paper. He picked it up and unfolded it, a note, a much different one then the last one he had received, not just that as he unfurled it a cigarette fell out, you left one for him.

He couldn’t help it, the smile that spread across his face as he lit it, still in the warm bed sheets as he read what you left. You told him it was a good time and that he was more than welcome to call you and hire you again anytime, left a number to reach you at, and shit he might just have to take you up on it. He reclined in that hotel bed and enjoyed that smoke you left him, reluctant to leave the room he spent that great night with you, knowing he’d have to go back to that lonely apartment. The note you left smelt like the perfume you wore and he carefully refolded it and when he checked out and headed back home his hand was on it in his pocket.

He thinks he got too invested too fast. It was a one time thing, a bit of fun, a distraction and it was a hell of a good one. So even though he held onto the note, even though he thought of it, he didn’t call you.

Well. He didn’t call you for two weeks. He tried to last longer, he really did but fuck even that? Meaning to last longer? Instead of never ever fucking calling you or seeing you again? He was in trouble. He raionalized it that he just needed to fuck you again, get you outta his stystem, yeah that made sense, he tried to tell himself as he called you.

You were happy to hear from him. He was a fun time, you didn’t have many clients who wanted to have you for the whole night, not because they didn’t like you, far from it, but you just knew your worth and charged accordingly. You were damn good at what you do and knew it, were confident in yourself.

You agreed to meet him up. He only wanted an hour this time and that was more than fine with you, while he apparently had money to back himself up not having enough to blow on a full night every time he saw you which made sense. You made easy conversation on the way to the room, a very different one than the last, the kind that you could have a deal with to book it for an hour at a time. As soon as you were both in the room he was on you. Seemed he was really in need. You didn’t complain as you were bent over the bed and the obscenely short skirt you had on was pulled up and you panties pulled to the side, rushing, he was rushing and the second he was inside you the moan of his name left your mouth, rushed and sounding almost full of reverie. How did you fucking do that? So well? It was utterly intoxicating.

Which was a massive fucking problem.

He tried to get his fill in that hour. Fucked and touched and took, really fucking took, and hoped and prayed this would be it, that he would be able to stop thinking about you.

After parting that night he felt good, really fucking good about it. Thought it just might have worked. It didn’t. It really, really didn’t. He still kept thinking about you, still kept wanting you. He was lamenting it one night and then the thought struck him, “Who fucking cares?”

Like legitimately who cares? So what if he keeps wanting to see you? Why was that such a problem? Again he was trying to rationalize to get what he wanted, and what he currently wanted was you, and so even though he should definitely be questioning all of this he wasn’t, couldn’t bring himself to.

So he kept seeing you. Here and there, spending his extra money on getting to be with you and it just kept getting better, you liked seeing him, happy he became a regular, the conversation was nice, the shared cigarettes and the vibe was just good with him, he could be pretty funny too. Not to mention the physical stuff you got up to was definitely a fucking hell of a lot more enjoyable than some people you had visiting you.

And so it became a regular thing, and faster than you would like to admit he became your favorite client, a little routine and schedule was formed, it was great. It had been weeks upon weeks of this, he was on top of you, fucking into you and the view of you below him, it was impossibly hot. Looking at the way your head fell back and exposed more of your throat, lips parted and your hands on his shoulders, just looking at you, shit. He was struck with this feeling, this longing ache in his chest, this deep and visceral want.

Not the usual want he experienced with you, one to let go and have fun, to losing himself and forget his actual life outside hotel rooms, to fuck. This want was one he hadn't felt in months, since her. At first this was about the fact you reminded him or her but now? Oh my God now it was because he actually liked you.

The compulsion to indulge himself was too great, he ignored every reason why it was a bad idea and made his move.

He leant down and you caught on immediately and put a stop to it. One of your hands dropped from his shoulder and came between you and him, two fingers pressed to his lips and prevented him from kissing you, stopping him short, you teased him. “You know that costs extra Chuck. You sure you can afford it?”

The sound he made, one of disgust and he rolled his eyes, he grabbed your hand and ripped it away as he spat, “I can fucking afford it.”

You wanted to laugh. You recalled the first time he hired you and you were talking all about what you offered and when you told him kissing cost extra he scoffed with a laugh and said, “Yeah that won’t be necessary.”

You were fine with that and let it go. Not everyone had such a rule but you liked to, kissing could be such an intimate and personal thing, you felt like it helped keep more of a barrier between you and your clients, keep some of the risk of them getting too attached at bay. He apparently has since changed his mind.

So you taunted him, looking for proof for him to back up his claim that he could to quote him, “-fucking affored it.” and you said looking up at him, all hot and defiant, just how he liked it. “Then what are you waiting for?”

He didn’t hesitate after that, leaning down, his mouth meeting yours, kissing you hard and you returned it with ample enthusiasm. It felt far too good, his mouth sliding against yours, he didn’t stop, was still fucking you this whole time, but now the pace picked up. Getting to have this after all this time was absurdly good, getting to kiss you after fucking you so rough well over ten times, it got to him terribly, he kissed you harder, his hips slapping against yours, balls deep, his hands slipping behind your knees and pushing your legs up.

He gripped harder, pounding into you, his mouth never leaving yours, heavy breathes and tongue and teeth and it was the best fuck he had with you so far. “God! Chuck-” You breathed against his mouth. Shit it elevated it and made him finish so much quicker.

He came so fucking hard, unable to stop the moan he let into your mouth, hips stuttering, pace faltering as he hit his peak, holding all the way inside and even though you thought of it you decided to not tease him about how he trembled during his orgasm.

He lingered, untangled and pulled himself away slowly, like he didn’t want to yet and you picked up on that. Neither of you commented on it and it wasn’t weird, it was all fine, a shared smoke and more easy conversation before he and you parted ways again. A casual wave with a smile and you vocalizing that you hoped to see him again soon.

Too deep. He was in far too deep. He knew that but he couldn’t tear himself away from you, just couldn’t bear it, so he decided to keep it going, continually throwing himself into this, losing himself in you. He was still trying to be careful with who he killed and took money off of, you on his mind and consuming his thoughts as he used some poor sap as his own personal ATM to continue to feed his habit of spending time with you.

Normally all that would be on his mind was the kill as it was happening but even as he watched sharp steel slide into that man's throat and the thick warm red pour out all he could think of was burying himself inside of you.

The next time he visited you and he told you what he wanted is when you realized he had feelings for you. More than just friendship or wanting to fuck and relieve stress, it was more, deeper than that. But what made you realize this? It was him, sitting on the bed and looking over you, something a bit vulnerable in his gaze but still laced with unmistakable heat as he told you what he was craving, “I want to get you off.”

You were a bit confused by that, not exactly a very usual request you got. You were about to try to question it but he was still going, “Want to know what makes you feel good, show me?” He wanted to fucking pay to make you cum? Again you liked him, had a good time but usually, other than the last time you hooked up, was rough, rushed, filthy, and that was fine with you. This was very different but not unwelcome. You agreed, excitedly.

Clothes stripped away and you were on your back, leading and letting him touch you. He took direction well, on his side beside you, hands roaming until one of his hands settled between your legs. His fingers slowly starting to work you over, fingers finding your clit easily, pressure even and steady and more importantly, consistent, once he had it just so and you gasped out, “Chuck! Just like that.”

When you first started hooking up he wasn’t sure how he felt about you calling him that but it has grown on him immensely, and how could it not when you moaned it like that? Just so sweet, every time he got to have you he couldn’t peel his eyes away but now especially, wanted to commit every little sound and move to memory. He didn’t let up, fingers kept pace as your hips started to squirm, as you got more vocal, he paused only momentarily, his hand came up, he wet two fingers in his mouth and fuck did you enjoy that particular view.

No time to linger on that, hand back down, those two same fingers inside of you making your hips roll as his thumb pressed to your clit. Fingers rocking back and forth inside of you, pressing to that sweet spot, thumb drawing circles onto that most sensitive part of you, and that urge was back, overwhelming and he kissed you again which caused you to moan against his mouth. You lost track of time after that, fingers in his hair, kissing him back, your tongue made the first move that time and that pulled a hum from him, hand not slowing and it felt so good. Pleasure making you feel almost boneless, totally at his mercy even with you breaking apart at points to give directions, and before you knew it you were breathless panting out his name, over and over until you came. Pleasure washing over you as your thighs tensed and walls clenched around his fingers, clit throbbing under his thumb as your head fell back with a curse.

Christ it was good. You were catching your breath, reveling in the afterglow and he pulled his hand away, and when you opened your eyes back up, looking up to him, taking in his expression, something warm in his gaze. “How much do I owe you?” he asked and you gave a small hum before tugging him to you with the hand that was still tangled in his hair, kissing him.

He was a bit surprised by that but returned it, after a minute of luxuriating in the shared affection you tugged him back and answered his question with a smile. “That one is one the house.”

Least you could do for such a loyal client.

[ktrivia]

Pull Your Punches (Levi Ackerman x Reader, boxer!AU)

Summary:

Moving to a new city should have been scary, could have been lonely, but thanks to your giant of a childhood friend, it was easy.

He trained some of the best boxers in the world, one of whom just happened to be the man whose poster you had on your bedroom walls when younger. His pictures did him no justice though, much better in the flesh than you could ever have imagined.

To find out he had the same penchant for winding your friend up was a surprise, something you did for fun and relaxation. But this was just for entertainment, it wouldn't ever come to anything, it couldn't. Would it?

Author's Note:

Hi everyone! Here's another chapter of this fic. This chapter was written by me, and I believe there is only one more switch between authors for this one. Then its allllll me. Here are a few boxing terms that will be used in this chapter:

Jab- a quick punch that goes straight ahead towards the person aimed at Cross- a punch that goes to the opposite side as your hand Hook- a curved punch that brings the whole arm around into a hook shape Clinch- when one boxer constrains another one by performing what almost looks like a hugging motion

I hope you enjoy the chapter and please let me know what you think in the replies or reblogs!

<- Previous Chapter : Next Chapter ->

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 3

As you watched Erwin drag Levi away from your new apartment, you couldn’t help but laugh. The sight of seeing your large friend pulling the smaller man away was comedic. Sighing, you turned around slowly to face the doorway of the apartment complex you were moving into. The squat grey building blended in with many others on the city street. You opened the large glass door and entered a small lobby area that doubled as the mail room for the building. Mailboxes lined one wall and the three other walls contained doors, elevators and stairs. You pulled out your phone to double check which floor your new flat would be on. As you did so you approached the elevator and hit the up arrow. A ding sounded and you entered the elevator and headed for the fifth floor.

The hallway was long and your flat was about halfway down. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out the key that had been mailed to you a few weeks prior. You reached out and unlocked the white door to enter the already furnished apartment. Greeting you was an open floor plan living room, kitchen, and eating area with large windows that allowed in lots of light. Luggage was forgotten at the door as you began to investigate the building that you had only seen on the realtor’s website. The kitchen was galley style with light granite countertops and new appliances. Above the counters sat upper cabinets in a black painted wood, and at the halfway point the upper cabinetry stopped allowing for a small bar top area. Past the kitchen sat a small black dining table and chair set with a matching bookshelf resting in the eating nook.

This area opened up into a spacious but cozy living area complete with a white couch, love seat, and two stylized chairs. There was a hallway that you followed and passed a small guest bathroom and ended up in front of the only other door in the hallway. Opening it, you entered the bedroom which had a king sized bed, television, bedside tables, and dressers. Your gaze was caught on the large bed, never having owned such a luxurious bedset before now. Being promoted at work really did have its perks. A wicked grin crossed your face as you ran towards the bed and leaped onto it then proceded to jump up and down while laughing. You were cut off by the ringing of your phone. Flopping back until the bed, you smiled as you saw Erwin’s name flash across the screen. Of course he would already be calling to check on you.

“Hello this is Y/N’s phone, we’re sorry to tell you that she was murdered in the twenty minutes its been since you left her,” you answered with a giggle.

“Very funny,” Erwin huffed,” I just wanted to make sure you were able to get into the apartment ok.” You knew Erwin was just making sure you were ok like he always had in the past so you cut the sarcasm to a lower level.

“I’m fine Erwin, got into the apartment ok, only had to battle a wild hord of angry dogs to get to my door but I handled them just fine.”

“Of course you did.” He paused for a second, “Hey I know I said to come into the gym once you had completely settled in, but one of my boxers in sick so I have a good chunk of free time if you would be interested in a sparring session?”

You considered this for a moment, trying to decide if you wanted to do this or not. Getting into boxing again could bring up some past memories you really didn’t feel like dealing with again.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I know it could be tough at first…. I just really wanted to spend some more time with you and the gym is always where we had our best memories.” You could feel the beginning tears entering your eyes and blinked them away before answering him, a small crack in your voice.

“Actually Erwin, that sounds great. I assume you have some gloves I could steal, I mean borrow from you.” A sigh of relief could be heard from the other side of the phone.

“Of course. I never stopped having a pair ready to go for you.” A small smile reached your lips and arrangements were made to meet tomorrow afternoon after lunchtime.

Laying back on the new bed you stared up at the blank white ceiling thinking about tomorrow and what it would bring. The traveling and excitement of the day must have took more of a toll on you than you thought because sleep soon pulled you under.

Light poured through the window as you opened your eyes. You jumped, not realizing where you were, until you started to recognize your new home. Sighing in relief, you climbed out of bed and stretched to relieve stiff muscles. The display on the alarm clock read 11:04 in the morning. Groaning you realized you were due to meet Erwin in the next couple of hours.

Your suitcase was retrieved from next to the front door where it had been left during your exploration. Hefting it up onto the bed you decided to just unpack it later after you had left the gym. After a couple of minutes sorting through clothing you found a pair of calf length workout tights and a tank top. Digging to the bottom of the suitcase you found a pair of shoes you had debated throwing out so many times. A pair of low black boxing shoes sat in your hands. They were weathered due to years of use and the mostly smooth soles had been worn down significantly but they got the job done. They got thrown into a drawstring bag and normal sneakers pulled out for the walk over. You dressed yourself and went into the bathroom to wash your face and tie your hair back.

About ten minutes later you were walking out of the front door of the lobby and heading towards a coffee shop you had passed the previous day on your walk from the gym. The bell over the door jingled as it opened and a warm atmosphere greeted you. You joined the line to place your order standing behind a man and woman with jet black hair. The two stood almost rigid next to each other and you couldn’t overhear any words being shared between them.

Buzzing could be felt from your phone and you fumbled around with it while still trying to read the overhead menu. A quick glance down showed it was Erwin calling you again.

“Yes dad?” you answered, eyes still skimming the menu over the pair’s heads in front of you.

“You’re such a comedian Y/N. I just wanted to make sure nothing had come up today.” You could hear the hesitance in his voice. He was giving you an out from today’s sparring session if you felt the need to stay away from the ring. You knew it would kill him if you said no and loved him so much for giving you the option to bail.

“No Erwin we’re still on-,” The man in front of you whipped around to face you, stoic features present and steely eyes looking into yours. “Levi?!” you gasped.

“Levi?” Erwin questioned, voice rising in tone. “Y/N what are you doing with Levi? He had told me that he and Mikasa were going to pick up tea. Is Mikasa covering for him? What the hell are you two doing together?” The rant being yelled into your ear could be overheard by the raven haired man standing in front of you. His hand darted out and snatched the phone from you hand.

“Erwin would you shut your fucking mouth for a second. Y/N happened to walk into the same coffee shop that Mikasa and I are in. I didn’t realize it was her until your shitty name passed those amazing lips of hers,” he informed Erwin while shooting you a smirk. Aggravated sounds could be heard from the other end of the line and Levi merely grunted at that and cut whatever tirade Erwin had been on short.

“I’m hanging up now. The three of us should be back in a half hour,” He explained before a wicked gleam reached his eyes, “Unless something a little more interesting happens, then it could be quite a while.” Before Erwin could say anything else, Levi hit the end button successfully silencing the larger man. Your phone was held out to you by a pale hand, successfully shocking you out of your slight state of shock. You snatched it away and placed it back in the waistband of you tights. Levi’s eyes could be seen trailing down your torso to watch the slight lift of you shirt to place your phone in its spot.

“Feel free to pull that shirt higher up Y/N, I never mind a morning show.” Levi said suggestively.

“Oh Levi, I would, but even you couldn’t handle that,” you informed him with a sultry wink and a pat to his chest as you sauntered past him to order your coffee. Levi’s gaze followed your walk, admiring the sway to your hips as you approached the counter. A younger guy with blonde hair that went down to his chin and blue eyes timidly asked for you order. He seemed like a sweet kid but was very shy. Order placed you went to stand over by the pick-up counter waiting for you breakfast, drink, and of course Levi. Levi kept glancing at you as he ordered, shooting sly glances that you immediately returned. You knew that this flirtatious streak could cause issues sometimes as people would get the wrong idea, but you had a feeling Levi was enjoying this as much as you were. You heard you name called and grabbed your food and coffee before winking at Levi and sauntering right out the door. A couple seconds later slightly rushed footsteps could be heard approaching you from behind.

“Is my presence that overwhelming to you Y/N?” Levi asked once he reached you. You noticed that it was just him and Mikasa was nowhere to be seen.

“Wow Levi are you such an ass that you just ditch who you’re with to follow random people?”

“Mikasa is fine. She’s friends with that brat behind the counter.” You nodded and continued walking in the direction of the gym, ignoring Levi’s presence, knowing it would rile him up.

“Oi, do you make a habit of ignoring extremely sexy people walking next to you or are you just blind today?” He asked. Your eyes slid over to meet his. An idea popped into your head as you slowed your pace and faced him.

“You’re right Levi. Hmmmm you really are sexy aren’t you?” You pondered with an almost seductive tone taking a step closer to him. He froze looking at you with a question in his gaze, confused about your abrupt shift in demeanor. Another step closer brought you chest to chest with Levi. You leaned into him and let you lips brush his ear lightly, causing him to involuntarily shiver.

“But I can’t let you win this game of cat and mouse now, can I?” you whispered before taking his earlobe between your teeth and slowly grating against it. A soft chuckle escaped you as you abruptly stepped back and continued walking the remaining few feet to the gym. Levi had been so focused on you that he hadn’t realized how close you were to the desired destination. Glancing over your shoulder, you could see the man still standing in the middle of the sidewalk, dazed expression evident, still trying to process the last few seconds. Suddenly you were jolted as you ran into something solid. Turning back around you found yourself looking at a disapproving Erwin.

“I don’t even want to know do I?” He asked as you were about to open your mouth to explain. A grin presented itself on your face.

“No most likely not"

After a little while you found yourself seated on a bench near one of the rings getting yourself situated. Original sneakers were removed as boxing shoes were put on and laced. Heavy footsteps could be heard, and you knew it was Erwin approaching. He kneeled in front of you holding two rolls of wrap for your hands and a medium sized box. He placed the box on the bench next to you and then held out his hand for one of yours.

“I can wrap my own hands Erwin,” You told him even as you were putting your right hand into his. “I know you’re more than capable, but let me do this for you. This was always what we did before a match. I wrapped you and you wrapped me.” He explained as he began to wind the wrap around your wrist and fingers. You watched in silence as he worked, complex techniques now effortless due to years of experience.

“Flex your hand. How does that feel?” He asked as he secured the wrap in place with the Velcro at the end. Bending your fingers and checking the mobility, or what should be lack of, in your wrist you nodded to him and held out your other hand to repeat the process. Repeated actions ensued and soon both hands had been successfully prepared for gloves. Erwin reached over and grabbed the box slowly pulling open the flaps to reveal a slightly faded pair of black practice gloves. Your mouth dropped as you slowly pulled one of the gloves out of the box and turned it over to reveal the laces, and alongside them, your name monogrammed into the leather.

“I always kept them after you quit. I figured you would decide to come back to it one day, and even if you didn’t then I would always have a reminder of everything we did together.” Erwin explained as you ran your hands over the gloves in awe. It had been years since you had seen your old sparring gloves and they reminded you of the past you shared with Erwin, memories both good and bad.

“Erwin I-“ your voice cracked as you tried to contain the emotion you were feeling, “Thank you. Just thank you so much.” You leaned over and hugged him tight, burying your head into his shoulder and neck as you regained your composure. Pulling away you gave him a reassuring smile.

“Well lace me in, we’ve got some catching up to do and these things aren’t going to tie themselves.” Erwin knew you were covering for whatever emotions were warring inside of you but he just smiled and hoped for the best as he began putting the gloves on you. Gloves were applied and laces were tied before you tested out the familiar weight. Holding your hands up in front of your face you threw a few jabs with each hand. Erwin nodded before gesturing you towards the empty ring. He held the ropes apart from each other, granting you an easier entry to the ring, before he slid through them to join you. Nostalgia began to hit you as you stood in the ring, gloves on, preparing to regain part of your past. But nostalgia wasn’t the only thing beginning to show, something darker was starting to rear its ugly head.

“So I figured rather than a full on sparring match, I could use the pads and we can see if any of your old skill is still locked somewhere in that head of yours.” Erwin explained with a smile before putting small pads over his hands.

“Good idea, I don’t feel like kicking your ass today,” you told him with a teasing tone.

“Oh now that I would love to see,” Levi said as he approached the edge of the ring, gloves on, and shirt off. Erwin glared at his fighter who was lazing against the ropes peering in to watch you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be sparring with Mike right now?” Erwin questioned in a harsher tone than he had a moment earlier.

“Tch, Mike can hit a speed bag for a while. The giant could work on his jabs. I’m not missing this.” Erwin glanced at you, a question in his eyes on whether or not you still wanted to try this. You shrugged before holding your hands in front of your face, and rising slightly to your toes. Erwin approached, hands up and began giving instructions.

“Let’s start with the basics. Jab, cross, hook.” He told you before holding his hands at your height. Your brain reacted to the instructions given as your left hand shot out to meet the left pad, right hand following after to hit the left pad, and lastly left hand over to the right pad. Erwin nodded before giving slight adjustments to increase accuracy. You tried the combination again before your hands returned instinctively to their place blocking your face. Erwin nodded and proceeded to hold up his padded hands for another round. This went on until you hits were landing at a much faster pace. This process continued on as you cycled through four more combinations, advancing in difficulty as you went. Sweat had begun to pepper your skin from the unusual amount of exertion and your breathing became more labored as time went by. You were so focused, you didn’t notice Levi as he stepped into the ring behind you.

“Ok Erwin step out. I want to go a round with her. See what she’s really made of.” Levi said crossing the ring to stand next to the taller man. Erwin glanced down at Levi disapprovingly before you responded.

“Sure why not? As long as you’re ok with me damaging that pretty face?” you said with an innocent smile. Erwin could be shaking his head before throwing his hands up in surrender, knowing that if the trash talk had started then there would be no changing your mind. He stepped through the ropes and stood at the edge of the ring watching you carefully.

“Come on sweetheart whenever you’re ready,” Levi said with a grin before getting into position. “I’ll even let you have the first punch.” He began bouncing around you as you both assessed one another.

“Oh no ladies first,” you retorted.

“You’re saying I’m the lady here?”

“I saw that tea you ordered earlier. Pretty damn feminine to me.” Momentarily you could see his focus lapse as he tried not to grin at you insult. Might as well take him up on that offer for a first hit then. Your left hand shot out in a jab. Even distracted Levi slipped the jab by ducking to the right. Two quick blows could be felt to your left side before you could even anticipate it. Levi was up again in an instant cirlcing you once again.

No more talking was going to be occurring now that the round had started. Both of you sinking into silence as you began analyzing each other’s strikes again. Levi went for a right hook, you barely rolling your body under it before attempting a blow to his side, but he was too quick. Another blow came to your side, and it felt like something was flashing in your brain. Hazy images danced in your eyes of two men. You shook your head turning to face Levi again as another hit landed on your sternum. The images in your head grew stronger and you could feel the flashbacks beginning. Each blow seeming to be dealt out of hate and spite rather than competition. Your breathing became heavier as adrenaline kicked in and your hits became fiercer and more sporadic. A dodge of a hook lead to you landing a hard hit to the back of Levi’s ear, dangerously close to illegal territory, and before he could turn again you glanced a hit off of his neck.

Self-preservation had kicked in. No longer were you fighting Levi, but rather the two men that you had repressed and avoided for so long. More punches were aimed directly at Levi’s face. He knew the only way to reset the ring and get you out of this hectic rhythm you had initiated, was to go for a clinch. Stepping forward he leaned closer to you and at the last second opened his arms to reach around and grab you, successfully restraining your arms at your sides. His leg was brought in between yours to steady himself in case of pushback and he pressed his head to your shoulder to cover his face and pull you in closer. You felt as vice like grips coiled around you. Panic seized you and grew stronger when you felt someone press their face to your shoulder and neck, and a leg came in between yours dangerously close. Immediately you began to struggle against the constraints. Unbeknownst to you, tears had begun to fall from your eyes as you tried to fight your way out of the stronger man’s grasp. Someone could be overheard repeatedly saying “No” and it took you a moment to realize it was you. Your hands ran up and down your captors back attempting to claw at their skin, not remembering the gloves confining your hands.

“Erwin!” Levi yelled, still holding onto your writhing form. He was unsure what exactly you thought was happening, but he recognized the situation from past experiences. Letting go wasn’t an option until Erwin reached the ring because Levi was unsure of the harm you could cause to him or worse, to yourself. Due to this he gripped you harder, head tilting more towards your ear so you could hear him.

“Y/N! Calm down. Whatever you’re thinking is there isn’t real. It’s just you and me. You’re ok, you’re ok.”

Words began to penetrate the panicked haze, a voice, that didn’t match the two figures in your head, was speaking to you. Slowly, the world began to sharpen and you realized that someone was still holding you. Words meant to calm you could still be heard.

“Levi?” you questioned with a sob escaping you. Arms squeezed you tighter as a low voice responded.

“Right here Y/N. Talk to me princess, what’s going on?” His voice was gentler than you were used to, and his steady breathing against your neck was soothing.

“I can’t-, I don’t want to fight them, please don’t make me, I’ll be good just don’t let them near me,” you sobbed, finally breaking down and falling to your knees. Levi sunk down with you, still clutching at you. Pure shock covered his face as Erwin finally made it into the ring. The two men’s eyes met and Erwin just nodded gravely, confirming his suspicions that you weren’t just some childhood friend. Erwin had spoken of someone he had known who he worried about when he left. Levi had considered if it was you, but the minute your strong and brash personality came out, he dismissed the idea. He should have remembered that people other than himself were able to put up facades. One phrase that you had said had stuck with him. Why did the strong woman in front of him need to assure someone that she would be good? What had broken her down to this state causing her to be so terrified and willing to do anything to stay out of harm’s way?

Erwin kneeled down next to the pair and ran a hand up and down your shaking back. You jumped a bit before you heard Erwin’s reassuring voice.

“Let her go Levi,” Erwin instructed as Levi slowly leaned back, trying to look in your eyes, but couldn’t because you kept your head down.

“Hands,” Erwin said softly. Levi was confused for a second before he saw you hold out you gloved hands to Erwin for him to unlace you. The larger man quickly pulled the laces loose and slipped the gloves off of you. The second your hands were free you snatched them towards your chest, rapidly opening and closing your fists.

“Give them back Y/N, I know you want the wraps off too. It’s always easier if you let me do it,” Erwin reasoned with you. Levi was finally starting to realize that this wasn’t the first time this situation had occurred. Erwin was too calm seeing his closest friend break down like this, and the mannerisms were too practiced. The lack of expression in the man’s blue eyes as he unwound your hands held Levi’s attention for a moment before he looked back to you. Your sobs had quieted but you still refused to look up.

Looking up meant trouble and you knew it, so you kept your gaze down as Erwin finished unwrapping your hands. This is why you hadn’t wanted to box again. You knew that recent events would cause the flashbacks to kick in while you fought. Once the wraps had dully released your hands, you pulled them back to your chest again, holding them close. You went to lean back and hit a solid surface, causing you to jump and glance behind you. Pale skin and dark concerned grey eyes met yours. Levi, its just Levi.

Without thinking about it you leaned back further into Levi, startling him. Erwin eyed you, knowing that you were searching for non-violent human contact and Levi was the closest to you at the moment. The pale man looked at Erwin questioning what to do. A sad smile appeared on Erwin’s visage and he just nodded. Taking the cue Levi wrapped his arms around your form, pulling you in closer to him, hands running up and down your arms in a comforting motion. A silence descended over the three of you and after a minute Erwin was the one to break it.

“I think we need to have a little talk.”

Taglist (let me know if you would like to be added!):

@rouge-variant @missam @leviackermanmyhero245 

[nanayoungishere]

Play It Cool (Part Eight)

TK knew the day was gonna be horrible the moment they came to work and saw that the entire diner was filled with cranky old people.

The fact that you weren’t there and your apparent replacement -- a waitress named Tina who may or may not be banging their boss -- came in forty-five minutes late only confirmed that fact.

But it wasn't until the seniors cleared out and TK got to talking with Tina about where you were that they came to realize just how God-awful the day really was.

“Kidnapped?!”

Tina nodded rapidly, her eyes wide. “Yeah! They passed out and some guy just,” she made a sweeping motion with her arms, “picked them up and ran!”

TK’s head swam as they processed the information, forcing them to lean on the counter to steady themselves. They wanted desperately for it to be a joke, but they knew it wasn’t.

The look on Tina’s face told TK all they needed to know. She was dead serious.

“Picked -- did someone chase after them?! Did you call the police?!” The panic was making TK’s voice rise to tea kettle levels. They ran their shaking hands through their hair, needing to do something to keep their mind off of --

the things they saw on the news the things they saw in scary movies thriller movies crime movies all the horrible horrible horrible things that could be happening to you right now as they just stood there and shook

“I-I don’t -- how did this --”

Tina didn’t seem to be aware of how close TK was to flipping their shit. Instead she went straight into gossip mode, leaning in close like she was telling a juicy secret. “Okay so like, I was waiting tables right?”

TK wanted to shake her. They didn’t need some long winded, dramatic story right now, not when you were fucking kidnapped oh dear God --

“And Y/N walks in and I’m like, what? You know how bad the food is, why would you eat here? But then they order a milkshake and I’m all like, ooooh, that’s why! ‘Cause the milkshakes bring all the customers to the yard --”

“Tina --”

“But then they just keep ordering milkshakes and they look super nervous the entire time, right? Like they’re shaking and muttering and sweating which, ew. But they keep ordering milkshakes, like a dozen of them. And they keep looking super nervous and scared and checking their phone a lot. And then someone came in!”

“Who?”

“I dunno. He was like, super tall? And creepy. And bald which, mega ew. I think he was old or something.” She shrugged. “Anyway, Y/N knocked over their milkshake and went to the bathroom to clean up and when they came back the guy was like, holding out a bunch of flowers which, you know, kinda made up for being bald and old? But after they took the flowers they like, passed out.”

“Passed out?” TK repeated, sounding as though they were being strangled.

“Yeah! I think he like, drugged the flowers? Which was weird ‘cause like, I didn’t even know that was a thing --”

TK wanted to throw up. Preferably over Tina’s shoes because why the fuck was she not taking this seriously and --

Oh God what happened to you.

Oh God what was happening to you right now.

Anything could be happening to you right now! You could be murdered or tortured or ra--

They could feel the bile in their throat. “Oh God…”

“A bunch of the customers ran after them, but the guy was fast. Super fast,” she said emphatically. “He was gone before anyone could catch up and the police, they showed up like ten minutes later asking a buncha questions.”

TK covered their mouth, their face growing paler by the second. “Did -- did they find them or --”

She just shrugged and went back to washing dishes.

Like she didn’t care. Like she couldn’t give any less of a fuck that one of their coworkers was kidnapped by some freak.

Calm down, a distant, more rational part of them said. Maybe there’s a reasonable explanation for this. Maybe this is all a misunderstanding. Maybe if you call them right now, they’ll pick up and everything’ll be fine.

TK clung to that shred of hope like a lifeline. They had their phone in hand and your contact on call before they realized what they were doing.

“Hello!”

“Y/N, are you --”

“I can’t come to the phone right now! Leave a message after the --”

TK hung up and tried again.

And again.

And again.

Each time it went straight to voicemail, they could feel their heart rate picking up, dread pooling in their stomach.

They didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to even consider it because these sorta things didn’t happen to them. It happened to other people, people on the news, people in crime shows, not someone they knew.

There had to be another explanation for this. You couldn’t be --

Be…

“I-I’m going on break!”

They threw off their apron and ran to the backroom before Tina could say anything.

Where is it, where is it, where -- there!

A black book, one filled with all the employee contact information. Specifically phone numbers and emergency contact numbers.

TK flipped through it until they got to your information. For your emergency contact you listed your roommate, Lucy. TK wasn’t sure why considering how often you complained about her and her willingness to leave you with all the rent, but whatever. They weren’t complaining.

They called her up, fidgeting at the dial tone. “Come on, come on, pick up…”

It answered. The person on the other line sounded irritated, and oddly breathless. “Yo! Who the hell’s this? I’m kinda --”

In the background TK heard a long, loud moan. It took a second for TK to realize what they were hearing and when they did, they had to resist the urge to immediately hang up.

Jesus Christ.

“-- in the middle of someone, ya know?” she said with absolutely no shame. “It better be important.”

TK grimaced, blushing despite themselves. “Is this Lucy? I’m --”

“Whoa.” The playful tone in her voice dropped, turning into a snarl. “Who the hell told you that name? Who the fuck is --”

“I’m TK, Y/N’s coworker from work,” they cut in. “Are they there? It’s an emergency.”

The phone was muffled for a moment. TK heard Lucy call out to someone in the background. “Nope. Not here.”

“Shit.” Their hands were trembling again. “Did they at least come home last night?”

“I don’t -- hold on.” They heard her yell to someone in the background, followed by a banging sound. The moaning, thank God, came to a stop. “What the fuck is this about? What’s going on?”

TK hesitated before giving her the whole story. She was your emergency contact, she needed to know.

She took it as well as TK did. “WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“I --”

“I’m coming over there right the fuck now. You stay there, understand?” She hung up.

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

Lucy dressed herself as she walked out the door.

She didn’t even bother to tell her newest “study buddies” to fuck off out of her apartment; she just left.

Halfway down the narrow hall she bumped into the landlord. She didn’t apologize and kept on walking.

“Lucy, your rent is --”

“Y/N got fucking kidnapped at their workplace. I don’t have time for your shit right now, Don.”

Any other time she would’ve fucking cherished the blindsided look on his face. “Wha --”

Lucy jumped down the steps and hit the ground running.

She didn’t have time to waste. Not with you.

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

Left in the hallway, Don briefly considers the idea of just letting it go.

It didn’t have anything to do with him. You were a tenant, nothing more.

Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself. Something about you had been catching his eye lately, though maybe that was the lonely divorcee in him grasping at straws.

He scowled down at the phone in his hand before finally biting the bullet and making the call. Fuck he hoped this was an actual emergency, because this was gonna get awkward.

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

Officer Williams -- also known as Roy to his friends and his Dad -- considered the information at hand.

A handle of witnesses, all who said the exact same thing. Tall, bald, hoodie vest, male, creepy looking. Short, baseball cap and hoodie, very nervous, undetermined gender. Short one passed out, tall one took them away. Flowers were involved.

And by the time the officers came to the scene, they were long gone.

Roy and the officers with him combed the area, but there was no sign of them. If he had to guess, the tall one must’ve taken a car along the way. Which meant they could be anywhere, even out of town for all he knew.

No security footage, because the boss of the place was too cheap to fix their broken cameras. Didn’t catch anything on the nearby traffic or store cameras either.

He knew your name, Y/N, and where you worked. But he knew nothing about the man who took you. Or why you were so scared of him, according to the other patrons.

An abusive ex? A thug shaking you for money? Roy had no clue.

He could look through some of the nearby shops, maybe see if they knew anything about it, but that could take some time. And he already had enough on his plate; maybe he should shift this over to someone else --

His phone rang.

“Hello? This is Officer Williams.”

“Roy, it’s me.”

He blinked. “Dad? What --”

“Listen, I’m gonna need a favor…”

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

You briefly woke up, hit with the sudden feeling that you were forgetting something.

But the warmth -- fuck, he’s so fucking warm -- curled around you kept you from fully waking.

His arms were wrapped around you. You could feel his heartbeat against your cheek. He was with you, he was yours.

You had never felt more comfortable, more loved in your life.

You snuggled back into your Honey’s arms, ignoring the nagging feeling in the back of your head. It couldn’t be that important. Not compared to snuggling up with your boyfriend.

(Previous)

(Next)

[bakugosbigtoe]

Wowowow this month has been crazy.

Here’s a piece for the BNHA March collab. This months topic was a Sex Worker AU, and I actually had a lot of fun writing this!! It’s the first thing I’ve actually finished in a long time. So I hope everyone enjoys!!!

Himiko Toga as a sex worker

Content Warnings! Nsfw, hints of dark nsfw, degradation, knife kink, blood kink, death, murder, talk of sex work

—————————————————————————

Word Count: 3,190

It was a cold winter night, as Himiko Toga walked the lonely streets of Musutafu. Her hair was down instead of in her normal messy space buns, and instead of her classic button down shirt and skirt, she wore a long overcoat that covered the black and red lingerie set she had on. She had dabbled in the trade of sex work a few times, but it didn't sit right with her.

Until now.

Now she had a reason to do what she was doing.

And that reason was for you.

By now you and Toga had become good enough friends to know what her side job was, even though Toga had promised to never tell a soul. She was scared to tell you at first, since being a sex worker was frowned upon, but of course. You were supportive, you always were. And Toga loved that about you.

The blonde woman stood outside of the hotel your husband agreed to meet her at. She assumed he made another bullshit excuse as to why he wasn't coming home to you, but she also lied about her whereabouts tonight. Toga pulled her coat tightly against her body, mostly to try and comfort herself, rather than for the fact she was cold. She didn't want to have to be the one to break the news to you about your husband's antics. But.. she also didn't want to see you sad anymore.

She would've done anything for you. Whether it was showing up to your place of work with your favorite breakfast and coffee on mornings you were running late. Or coming over and spending the nights when your husband didn't come home.

And for the past week she had been living at your house and your husband? He was nowhere to be found.

Until the night the two of you hatched this plan. Toga was swiping through Tinder when she stumbled across your husband. So of course she showed you his profile, it broke you. Toga held you while you cried, reassuring you everything would be okay. Once you had calmed down enough to form a sentence you asked her to prove he was cheating on you. You needed proof, because you still didn't believe it.

And when he took the bait all too easily, Toga was furious. How could someone cheat on you like that? You were perfect! She never would have admitted it out loud but she may have had a small crush on you.

That was a lie.

It was more than a crush and Toga knew that. She had been in love with you since the moment she met you. But you were married to a cheater nonetheless.

So Toga told you she would take care of it for you, and that's exactly what she planned to do. By any means necessary.

Around midnight, your husband's car finally pulled into the hotel parking lot. He had made a reservation at your favorite hotel, which Toga thought was just cruel. So instead of waiting outside for him any longer she walked inside. She pulled her bane mask over her face so he wouldn't recognize her by the reflection in the crystal clear glass.

While speaking to the nice woman behind the counter, Toga felt two hands on her waist and a kiss was planted on the top of her head.

“Sorry, I took so long parking the car babe.” The familiar rough voice sent a shiver down Togas spine. She didn't want to be in this situation, but she needed to do it for you.

Toga smiled up at him behind her mask, and spoke softly. “Dont worry about it.”

His smile faltered when he heard Togas voice, but he didn't make any notion suggesting he knew who she was. And for that she was thankful. Once Toga was given the room keys she tried swallowing the lump in her throat, the situation had just become surreal. She turned on her heel and started walking up the staircase to their room on one of the top floors.

Sure enough, your husband had chosen the room you two spent your last ‘staycation’. Toga remembered you flooding her snapchat with the fact there was a balcony, floor to ceiling windows and a large tub that both you and your husband fit in together. Togas stomach flipped as she watched him unlock the door for her, holding it open for her. He was trying to seem like such a gentleman, but that only made Toga more angry.

Once he let the door close behind them, he took his shirt off and hung it on one of the hooks before turning his attention to Toga. He waited until she made eye contact before he pulled off the wedding band he had supposedly been wearing for the past five years. But seeing how easily it came off, Toga was now convinced this hobby wasn't just something that he had recently picked up.

The blonde let her bag slip off her shoulder onto the floor with a clunk as she turned to set up the camera you insisted on making her bring. You needed to see what was happening, so you could move on. Which.. Toga knew that, but she never wanted to see you hurt in any type of way. She also knew that this could probably kill you. It was obvious looking at your husband that you were head over heels for him. And he couldn't even bother to be faithful. That sent a wave of rage through Toga’s body.

Fueling the anger that was already inside of her.

“What are you waiting for?” Your husband asked as he started unbuttoning his shirt, a shirt you had bought him. “I want to see that pretty face underneath that mask.” He stepped towards Toga placing both his hands on her shoulders, and slowly rubbed them before lightly squeezing her upper arms. “If you wanted to keep it on, you should’ve said that when we set this up” He squeezed her arms painfully tight.

Only no matter hard he squeezed, Toga never made a sound. Instead she looked into the camera that had started to record the encounter she and your husband were about to have.

Toga turned around to face him and pulled him towards the bed before taking off her mask, “All you had to do was ask, no need to get rough. That costs extra.” She ran her hand down your husband's chest as he cupped her cheek, running his rough finger over her bottom lip as she spoke.

“Mm, how much extra?” He asked lowly, while running his hand through her long blonde locks.

Toga’s eyes widened at his question but answered confidently. “It depends on what you want to do. We never did discuss limits or what you would like to do with your time here.”

“Well” His hands left Togas body as he slowly circled her. “First off, you will only address me as sir from here on out. Secondly, I will call you.. y/n.” He waited to see Togas reaction as he stated your name.

“Y/n?” Toga choked out. He wanted to call her your name. Your name? “It’s lovely, is she someone close to you?”

“You could say that, I guess.” He brushed Togas hair out of her face and brought her mouth up to kiss him. The kiss was awkward and down right gross.

But because she needed the proof, Toga kissed him back. She unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way, while dragging her nails down his chest. His hands went to the tie on her overcoat and undid it swiftly before pulling back to admire her body.

His hands roamed hungerly down her body, roughly grabbing her breasts through the lingerie set. “What are your limits, y/n?”

Your husband's eyes stared into Togas, with nothing but anger and hatred. “I don’t have any, sir.”

“None whatsoever?” He asked as he kissed down Toga’s jaw, before roughly grabbing her throat, cutting off her airway. He let out a soft growl in her ear and chuckled, “Then get on your knees.”

She hesitated for a moment, and he must have seen that. Because instead of letting Toga kneel on her own, he forced her to the ground so now she was eye level with the tent in his pants. He grabbed a handful of her hair and made her look up at him.

He was getting off on her distress. She was sure now, you had no idea this side of him existed. The cruel man who hired sex workers, and called them by your name, and doing the things to them you never would allow him to do you.

The man in front of Toga reached down to his waistband and unbuckled his belt then hissed through a clenched jaw, “What are you waiting for? I'm the one paying you.”

Toga swallowed her own pride for a moment and unbuttoned the man's pants, letting them drop to his knees as he slid his boxers down as well. She was rather surprised by the size of him, and now understood why you were hardly able to walk after one of your date nights. Your husband seemed well aware of how endowed he actually was and watched Toga intently. She sighed softly and gripped the base of his cock. She slowly licked over his tip, ridding it of the pre-cum that seemed to coat the entire head.

A moan was heard from the man as Toga went further down on his cock. Hearing him moan sent a shiver through her body, so she swirled her tongue around him as her hand pumped up and down his shaft. He was already practically hitting the back of her throat and he wasn't even halfway in her mouth. At this point she was grateful she didn't have a gag reflex and forced his cock down her throat.

His hand went into her hair, pulling her further into him. “Fuck, y/n~”

Toga inhaled his musky scent and pulled back for a moment, letting the trail of her saliva string from his cock to her puffy lips. She stroked his cock quickly, earning breathy moans with every pump of her hand. Without warning his hand in her hair pulled her forward until her lips pressed up against his tip again.

“Open your fucking mouth,” He growled as Toga stopped her motions and braced herself against his thighs. Once she did as she was told, the man grabbed her by jaw, pulled her to her feet and then spit into her mouth, “What a fucking slut. Get on the bed.”

At this rate, it would be a miracle if Toga didn't leave the hotel room without bruises on her jaw. She thought back to you, wondering if he ever marked you like that.

Toga pushed that thought to the back of her mind as she climbed onto the bed. As she went to turn back to face him, the man came up behind her and grabbed her hips. Turning Toga onto her back, he- quite literally- ripped the lingerie set off of her, tossing the torn lace to the side.

His hands roughly groped her body as he made his way down to her throbbing cunt. He brushed a finger up and down her slit before slowly inserting his index finger. The man may have been rough with her until now, but it seemed he at least wanted her to have a good time. When the first moan left Togas mouth, she swore under her breath. She hated that his hands on her body felt good, and that he kept calling out your name.

A second finger was inserted as Toga’s body responded to his movements. Right as he gained a consistent pattern, he stopped. She looked down at him, wondering why, and the second she made eye contact with her. He twisted his fingers inside of her, sending a sharp pain through Togas abdomen.

“I didn’t say you could look at me. Did I y/n?”

Toga shook her head and laid back down on the bed, the pain lingered inside of her. “No, sir.”

He clicked his tongue and stood up. Forcing Toga onto her stomach. The man brought her to the edge of the bed and pressed the tip of his cock against her entrance. And with no warning he inserted himself inside of her.

Toga clenched the bedsheets into her hands as she tried to stay quiet as he soon bottomed out inside of her. He moaned with every little move he made, until he gripped her hips tightly and started thrusting. He didn’t start out slow either. He slammed himself inside of her repeatedly, only seeming to use her to do the job. And somehow fill the role that- you- his wife hadnt fulfilled.

The blonde girl moaned into the sheets as he railed into as if he was trying to obliterate her organs. Soon after what only seemed like a few minutes he reached up and grabbed a handful of Togas hair. On top of pulling out of her. He practically picked up the much smaller girl and made her knee in front of him. His fingertips dug into her jaw and his other hand stroked his cock until the hot white, sticky threads of cum was released into Togas open mouth.

The second the first drop hit her tongue she tried not to gag, but it was useless. When he saw her gag as taste of his seed, he let go of her jaw and slapped her. The force was enough to knock her into the bedframe behind her.

The sound of the slap echoed through the now all too quiet room as Toga sat back up. Before she could actually process what happened, the man grabbed her arm once again and jerked her to her feet.

“What the hell was that?” Your husband squeezed Togas arm tightly as she tried pulling away from him. When she looked up at him she saw the anger and the hatred in his eyes as he slowly became more violent.

So now the situation had flipped to where instead of rough kinky sex- it was life it death. He was going to kill her if she wasn’t careful.

Toga managed to get one of her arms free of his grasp and slapped him in the face. She managed to slip her other arm from his grasp in that one split second of shock. Running across her room to the bag she had brought with her, Toga rummaged through it until she found a small letter opener.

While twisting the small knife in her hand, she looked at the camera that was still filming and mouthed, ‘I’m sorry.’

Your husband came up from behind Toga and wrapped his hand around her neck, while placing something cold and thin on the girls spine.

“You have spunk.” The man brought his hand around her to place the small pocket knife against the base of her neck. “I don’t like that, y/n. You’re supposed to listen.”

He dragged the blade across her skin slowly before ripping it away. Leaving a small shallow cut in her skin.

Togas eyes widened as she saw the blood dripping down her arm from the cut on her shoulder. He.. really was going to kill her.

She turned around and looked up at him. Keeping the letter opener behind her arm so she had at least one means of self defense. Even if it didn’t seem like much.

“I’m sorry, sir. I won’t do it again~” Her goal right now was to try and sound convincing. Despite the panic in her chest.

He reached up to touch Togas face with the pocket knife, dragging the flat part of the blade down her cheekbones. He flipped the blade so the sharp end was cutting into her soft skin, not quite hard enough to make her bleed.

Chills went up her spine as she subconsciously moved against his touch. She had always had a thing for knives and blood.

“Oh? You like that, y/n? The blade cutting into your skin? Who knew you were such a dirty little slut~” Your husband teased and pressed the knife into the artery on the side of Togas neck. “If you act up one more time, Himiko, then you’ll never see my wife again.”

Togas heart dropped into her stomach, he knew who she was, and he probably had known the whole time. Now she really was in danger.

“Not because I’m going to kill you, no no no. That,” He folded the knife and put it back into his pocket. “That would be too easy.” He tugged on her long blonde hair so she was looking up at him once again. “I’ll kill her instead, but not after telling you what you do for a living.”

A wave of anger ran through Toga's body as she listened to what he would do to you. Before she knew it something inside of her flipped and she pressed the sharp end of the letter opener into his neck.

“You think she doesn’t know?” Toga laughed, and not the cute laugh from before. This one had a sort of manic presence to it. “Y/n was the first person I told, because we have a mutual respect for each other.”

“She respects me for what I do, and I respect her for staying with a dirty cheater like you.” Toga pulled her arm back and jabbed the letter opener into the artery on the side of your husband's neck. His blood was pouring out of the small wound onto the carpet of the hotel room.

Toga reached into his pocket and pulled out the pocket knife before opening it, pressing the tip of the knife into his sternum. “If you haven’t realized I, unlike you, love your wife. So~ I’m going to leave you here, to hopefully bleed out before someone finds you.”

She stood up and grabbed her overcoat, putting it back on before walking back over to your husband's body. He had managed to pull the letter opener out, so now his blood was steadily coating the floor.

The girl grabbed a small glass vial from her bag and filled it with your husband's blood. Taking it to the small box of vials that she kept tucked away into her bag. Another cheater down and another wife to comfort..

Before she went to leave the room, she walked back over to his belongings and took his wedding ring. She could at least return this to you. Regardless of her hatred for your husband she wanted you to be happy.

She pulled the bane mask over her face and pulled her bag over her shoulder as she left the hotel quietly, completely unbothered by the fact she had just killed a man.

She waited on the edge of the sidewalk for a cab, giving them your address once she sat down inside.

She couldn’t wait to see you.

[mai-sau]

Prompt "give me attention" for kidnap family?

"haha, im gonna take it easy with prompts this time around, only a few hundred words -" cue spongebob title card "2.3k words later"

seriously tho thank you for the prompt!! (and sorry about the wait!) i had fun working on this one bc well i love any chance to write about this lil family of murderers and tiny bois :') hope u enjoy!!

Prompt: "Give me attention."

“Nelyo.”

“Nelyo.”

“Ne-”

Thump. Maedhros slammed his book shut. A puff of dust wheezed out from the crusty pages; Maglor could make out the swirl of particles flying about in the dim shafts of sunlight peeking into his brother’s study from windows that he was sure were clean at some point in their existence.

Said brother tossed a glare over to Maglor from the other side of his desk.

“You’re allowed to be here. Quietly.” Maedhros threw a pointed look towards the abandoned scroll in Maglor’s hands.

“But I’m so very lonely, Nelyo,” Maglor pouted, and dropped the scroll on the desk. The parchment rolled out towards Maedhros, whose face was fast approaching the same shade as his hair. “Besides, I’ve already taken care of all my correspondence for the day. Nothing much else to do, really, but seek out the company of my darling brother.”

“I’m older than you,” Maedhros grit out, rubbing his temple in terse little circles. Which one of them he was reminding Maglor couldn’t say.

“Only by a few years,” Maglor teased. He let the corners of his lip curl up - he was well aware this made him look like “a cat about to feast on the fattest saucer of milk it’s ever conned” according to his brother, and that was why he did it.

On top of that dusty old book, Maedhros’ fingers twitched. Got you.

“Come on, Nelyo,” he whined. “Give me attentiooon.”

Maedhros threw him a positively hateful look, but Maglor knew he wouldn’t throw him out just yet. By this point, Maglor liked to think he knew his brother well enough.

There were some things he didn’t, of course, and this was fine. When his brother would wake and traipse out to the courtyard in the dead of night, staring at the moon hungrily for hours and hours as if he would never glimpse its light amidst the pitch dark again; when one of the many elves around Amon Ereb would do something wrong - not when one of their craftsmen made the same excited little exclamation as Curvo used to, or hunters fletched their arrows just how Tyelko did, Maglor understood these, at least - but a request phrased too sweetly, an abrupt movement, a smile too wide, and Maedhros’ throat would tighten, his words clipped, before excusing himself to go lock himself in his room for an hour, or two, or three: these parts of his brother Maglor may never know.

But he knew much, or at least enough. A few months after they’d taken in the twins, Maglor had just finished mopping an explosion of jam on the dining floor and sweeping up the shards of what was once the hefty jar that contained it. He’d first gently let Elros know that if they wanted food, they need only ask; he’d then let him know that no, of course they wouldn’t cast him out for breaking the jam jar, with no small amount of tears or internal panic on either end of that conversation.

By the time Maglor slunk into Maedhros’ study that evening to go over reports from around the fortress, he was maybe a bit tired. When Maedhros told him to wait for just a few minutes while he wrapped something or other up, Maglor might’ve let slip a touch of petulance and no small amount of theatrics into his voice when he asked when his dear Nelyo could spare just a moment for his poor baby brother, simply wilting away from the neglect.

Maglor had frozen, fearful of what his second-most severe brother would have to say in response to - well, whining. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d let himself do so. Oh, he’d been quite the brat in Valinor, and used to be quite proud of that fact, thank you. Each and every one of his brothers’ last nerves practically had his name on it. But it seemed ever since they arrived here, it was as if they simply couldn’t afford the waste of time. Ribbing was a favored pastime of his in Aman, but Beleriand offered no such frivolities.

But living with the twins, putting on playful words and coaxing laughter from two young faces that Maglor couldn’t bear to see two seconds from breaking anymore, had apparently loosened his discipline.

He’d thought Maedhros would treat him to one of his signature frowns, barking at him that neither of them had time to make things any harder for each other, but instead he’d… laughed. Just the slightest huff of air, yes, but a laugh nonetheless. Maglor hadn’t heard his brother laugh since…

Well, if anything, he was honoring his cousin’s memory.

So Maglor experimented over the years, let a few more teases and whines slip into his day-to-day interactions with Maedhros. His brother had since mustered a valiant effort to act annoyed, but Maglor could still catch a muffled chuckle or smothered grin here and there.

So. All in all, he’s sure he knows his brother pretty well at this point, and Maedhros was not troubled (bad), just bothered (good).

Which, of course, meant they could continue to play; Maglor would show no mercy.

“Please? Please, please? Just a smidgen of tender love and care from my dearly beloved big brother?” Maglor asked, eyes wide and pleading, hands clasped in front of him as he leaned over the desk. His hair, inky black, spilled all over his scroll.

Maedhros’ nose twitched. His right ear flicked. Oh yes. He was close to a chuckle now, he could tell. His dearly beloved big brother stood no fucking chance.

“Oh dear Eru, let my brother pay attention to - MANWË’S TITS!” Maglor shrieked, springing up from his seat after spotting a dark shadow peeking through the window.

His brother whirled around. Quick as a viper, his hand darted out to grasp the hilt of his sword. Despite this, Maglor could hear a choked noise he was more than halfway certain was the chuckle he had so desperately hunted. Oh well.

A chubby face stared right back at them, eyes round as saucers. Wait, make that two faces.

Both Maglor and Maedhros sagged with relief.

“Elros, can you please come in?” Maglor croaked, feeling five feet to the left of his physical body. “You too, Elrond.”

The two of them nodded bashfully, heads bobbing as they fumbled over to the glass. And they were… flapping. Each twin sported small brown wings on their back, looking much like the falcons Tyelko used to play with as a child. Maglor supposed, thinking of a great bird soaring away over the sea with light itself clutched tight in its talons, maybe they should have expected this one in particular.

Elros pushed once, twice at the windows, tiny arms straining against the pane and looking more panicked by the second. Behind him, Elrond simply pointed to the - oh, the window latch. Yes.

Maedhros stood up and flicked it open. Elros came tumbling through, nearly bashing his skull on the desk before Maedhros caught him midair.

Elrond flew in smoothly and landed on Maglor’s empty chair, wings neatly folding in. Maedhros dumped Elros on his own chair. His wing smacked Maedhros’ arm by mistake.

“We talked about this. No new shapeshifting without me or Maglor there,” Maedhros said, fixing each of them with a stern look.

Both the twins looked down at this. Elrond wrung his little wrists.

“We’re sorry!” Elros burst out, tears welling up in his eyes. “We won’t do it again, promise!”

“That’s what you said last time, sweetheart,” Maglor told him.

“And the time before that,” Maedhros grumbled.

“What we’re saying, dear, is that we understand that you’re sorry. But keeping your word has to take first priority,” Maglor explained softly.

Maedhros coughed.

“Or, er, not doing it again,” Maglor corrected. “That’s what counts.”

“We understand,” Elros sniffled. “It’s just, we wanted to hear, but you weren’t there to check with, because well, you were here, and, well, um, yes -”

“Bringing us to the next point of order,” Maedhros rumbled. He raised a brow at both of them. “Eavesdropping. We have also been over this.”

Oh dear. Elros looked like he was about to drown in a puddle of tears. Maglor rubbed a hand between his shoulder blades soothingly, careful of the new feathery appendages.

Thankfully, Elrond stepped in. “We remember, it’s not nice because we like to be in private sometimes and it’s not fair for us to not let other people be too,” he recited shyly. “Um, we just… we know you both meet up a lot like this, and we know it's important… but… um…” His lip trembled; his voice cracked. “Do you... talk about us? Do you not want us to hear because it’s bad? Because we can do better!” He promised quickly, eyes wide and wet. “Elros is getting really good at his music lessons, he’s practicing a lot! And I’m working on my writing lessons every day!”

Something in Maglor’s chest twisted. “Oh, honey, no -”

But his brother beat him to the punch. Striding out from behind the desk, he knelt down in front of Elrond. “Can I hug you?” he asked very quietly.

Elrond bit his lip and nodded. Without another word, Maedhros wrapped him up in his arms.

They stayed like that for a moment, Maedhros’ hulking frame wrapped around Elrond’s body, like a drape of russet locks, leather and rich furs. When his brother finally pulled away, he gave a heavy look to both children.

“We will never give you away because you’re not good enough. Alright? You will always be good enough. Both of you,” he told them. He reached out and covered Elrond’s tiny hand with his own, fingers curling around and intertwining. “And not because you’re caught up on your lessons, or do what we say.”

“Though those are certainly nice,” Maglor added. He flashed them a teasing grin before taking care to soften his expression once more, and laid a gentle hand on Elros’ shoulder. “You will always have our love. And nothing, not even the worst jam spill, or missed harp lesson - don’t think I didn’t notice that last week, dearest - can ever reach in and steal it. It is your’s by blood and birthright.”

“Love you,” Elros sniffled. Elrond echoed him, voice no less wobbly.

Maedhros gifted them with a small smile. “Love you both, starlights.”

“And -” Elros started, hiccuped, and continued. “And same for me too. Nothing can change that! I’ll always love you two.”

Maglor felt a pang of sickly guilt invade his chest and looked away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maedhros stiffen.

“Me too,” Elrond said, voice suddenly clear. Maglor glanced at him and met a gaze that seemed years ahead of its time; he froze, rooted to the spot. “We’ll always love you no matter what you do.”

“Well -” Maglor started. “That’s…”

“No need to worry about us,” Maedhros recovered quickly, waving his hand. “Now then, it’s nearing bedtime, hm?”

“But wait!” Elros cried. “What were you two talking about then?”

“Yes! We saw Atya going like this,” Elrond clasped his pudgy hands together and shook them. “And his voice sounded all funny, and then he prayed to Eru about Atar paying more attention to Manwe’s t-”

“ALRIGHT!” Maglor yelped, clapping his hands. His face must’ve been steaming, his cheeks were burning, oh stars - “Bedtime!”

“But we want to know why you were saying all those funny things,” Elros complained loudly. His voice slipped into a high pitched whine, dripping with petulance. “Nelyo, Nelyo, give me attentioooon -”

“I do not sound like that!” Maglor gasped, scooping up a giggling Elrond to be carried to bed.

“I do not sound like that!”

Maglor turned around, gaping. That was not Elros’ voice.

Maedhros stared back. His eyes glinted with mirth and the most shit-eating grin curled his lips. In his arms was a starstruck Elros, who looked no less shocked than if the clouds themselves had just burst into song and danced a lively jig. And quite frankly, Maglor would be less surprised.

Maedhros dealt him one last smirk before twirling on his heel and walking out of the room to go deposit one elfling in his bed. Maglor still had the other, who poked his cheek.

“Atya? Are you okay?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, Maglor felt a smile grow across his face. His eyes stung with tears. He quickly wiped them with his sleeve before they could fatten and spill over his cheeks and probably make Elrond worry even more.

“Wonderful, dear.” He frowned for a second, considering. “Although I think there is a dreadful amount of mockery in my future.”

He looked down at Elrond. His son merely tilted his round head, offering a blank look. Maglor sighed happily. “But that’s okay.”

XXX

In time, it became clear that there was no need to worry about the looming threat of brotherly teasing paid back in full; Maedhros may have been looser with his laughter, but even this was a rare occasion still. Maglor did not mind, for any time he saw his brother’s eyes alight with anything other than fatal passion was a gift.

The true threat that lurked within Amon Ereb made itself known eventually.

Two weeks later, Maglor was scurrying to meet up with one of the smiths to discuss pending repairs but stopped short in front of a small figure in the courtyard blocking his path.

“Not now, sweetheart, Atya’s very busy,” Maglor told Elrond, harried, ready to flag down someone on the way to attend to whatever his son needed.

And then it happened. Elrond’s face crumpled just so. His eyes widened: big, round, and wet. His lip wobbled. When he opened his mouth, his voice took on a tone so absolutely, horribly pitiful that Maglor half-suspected the echo of Lúthien herself lived in his words.

“Please, Atya,” he begged, every word a death sentence. “Give me attentiooon.”

Oh Eru, Maglor despaired, even as he opened his arms for an evil little elfling to leap into, repairs forgotten. I’ve made a monster.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Protégé (Pt. 2 | S.R)

Summary: See Part 1 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Word Count: 7.5k CONTENT WARNING: DEAD DOVE; DO NOT EAT, Discussion of attempted rape/assault, death, murder, 🚨DARK!SPENCER🚨 Knifeplay, Penetrative Sex, Degradation, unprotected sex/creampie, impregnation/breeding kink, rough sex, blood, choking, hair pulling, handcuffs.

MASTERLIST

“I already told the others years ago. I don’t have nothin' to say about that girl.”

The dim, flickering lights of the man’s shitty apartment building were straight out of a horror movie, which seemed fitting to Spencer. After all, not many ex-felons lived in luxury - especially not ones who went in hiding after almost being murdered by a serial killer.

The lonely, dark surroundings would keep others away, just like the man wanted. Spencer didn’t particularly want to be there, either, but there was no other choice. So instead of running away, he leaned forward, trying to keep his eyes on the man’s eyes rather than the large scar that stretched across his neck.

“I understand this is hard for you. But… You’re our only chance of catching her right now.”

The man didn’t seem to care. He tapped his fingers and bounced his leg, his eyes boring through Spencer’s with an alarming ferocity. Behind that anger, though, was a very real and understandable fear. That was a fear he could exploit.

“She came out of a 5 year hiatus to kill her old partner, which means she might be pursuing old vendettas and people from her past life.”

He chuckled darkly, looking up at the only halfway sympathetic FBI agent as he asked, “You think she’s comin' for me?”

“I don’t have any reason to think that, but I also can’t promise you that she won’t.” Spencer swallowed, noting the hesitance that was slowly beginning to melt away. “You’re the only one she failed to kill. That’s a pretty big loose end.”

The man’s leg stopped moving, his hand dragging over the table like he could see something in the wood that Spencer couldn’t. There was a wistfulness in his stare as his memory brought back a slew of disturbing images that he wouldn’t talk about.

“She was such a beautiful girl. I should’ve known she would be trouble,” he muttered, another laugh coming from his cruel, sarcastic grin.

“How did you meet her?”

It was a necessary question to determine whether his story was consistent. Spencer had read basically everything he could about the case, but it was hard when this man had only given the bare minimum of details.  He had his suspicions as to why.

“At the bar. She was obviously underage. Probably about 16.”

“How old were you?”

And there it was. Spencer knew the answer, and the man knew that. Leaning back, he crossed his arms over his chest for just a second before one hand raised to rub the scar across his neck.

“I didn’t agree to talk to you so you could judge me.”

“I’m trying to figure out why she might have targeted you,” Spencer explained, although he was unable to hide the disgust that still bled through his voice.

“Well, I might’ve done that for her. Her friend was obviously trying to get her to agree to spend some time with me outside alone. She didn’t want to.”

Spencer could picture the bar, as well as the young Cat who sat inside of it. Unlike her friend, she was allowed to be there. But what he didn’t entirely understand was why Cat, a woman who had already taken up her illustrious role as a sadistic hitwoman, wouldn’t be present when the kill happened.

“So how did you two end up alone?”

“I waited for her," he drawled, his eyes glazing over as he stared at the wall behind Spencer. “When she left, her friend made it easy. She just let me take her. Egged me on a bit, really.”

Spencer’s hands turned to fists, his eyes narrowing as his mind continued picturing the scene. He could see a young girl, trying to apprentice another killer, being taken away by force.

 Of course, that had been their plan the whole time. It was clear they  had been orchestrating a rape. Because if they could prove he was a bad man, his death would be justified. It was a means to an end. But still, even knowing that this girl had an urge to kill, he felt for her.

He could see the way Cat’s face would form a grin as she waved goodbye to her friend. She would either come out a success, having made her first kill and thereby proving herself worthy of Cat's mentorship, or she would come back even more broken. Or, Spencer supposed, she wouldn't be Cat's problem anymore. She would've been too weak to matter to her, anyway.

Spencer shook away the thought, sighing as he continued, “Where did you go?”

“Not far. Just down an alley a couple buildings over. The music was loud enough that no one could hear her.”

They couldn’t hear her scream, Spencer finished in his head. No one would know to come help the 16 year old girl crying for help.

“That’s not where you were found,” was what he said out loud.

“No, it wasn’t. After I tried to have fun with her there, she started to get into it. I figured that she must like to be manhandled. Putting up a fight for fun. Decided to take her back to my place.”

It was hard to feel bad for him while he described something that Spencer couldn’t believe. But he made it easier by never removing his hand from his neck, recalling the moment he almost died. Feeling the mark that she left.

Spencer tried not to be proud of her for standing up for herself. He was still a victim, after all. She’d planned for him to have the reaction he did. He didn’t want to hear any more details that would make him feel for the man in front of him. He wasn’t here to help him. It was selfish, but this man was alive, and probably not in danger.

“Did you notice anything unique about her?”

“I try not to think about her if I don’t have to.” He was shaking his head too hard, a clear sign that he was suppressing his thoughts. But Spencer wouldn’t let him forget. He needed him to remember.

“Did she have any distinguishing marks?”

It was like a lightbulb went off in his head. He turned to Spencer, his hand moving to the back of his neck now, instead. “Now that you mention it… Yeah, there was something. She had a burn on the back of her neck. It was pretty new. Must’ve just happened a couple days before.”

“A burn?” His face twisted into a grimace while he tried to picture what the man described. A sudden, uneasy feeling blossomed in his stomach. He knew someone who had a scar in that exact location.

But there was no reason to believe he knew the unsub - and it seemed unlikely that the woman this man described would insert herself into the lives of federal agents. Unlike Cat, she didn’t seem to thrive on the attention of law enforcement or the general public.

In fact, it was like she didn’t want to be seen at all; especially after Cat’s imprisonment. Spencer had monitored her contact for a while, but had never seen anything suspicious. She appeared to have cut herself off from Cat almost completely. It wasn’t what he was used to seeing with Cat; people were usually enamored with her.

It would take something big to draw this woman away from her. Something like an extreme betrayal or a shifted focus of the obsession… A level of obsession that would come between the two women and would certainly be obvious to the object being fawned over.

(Y/n)’s face popped into his head, but he tried to will it away.

“Yeah. Looked like a cattle brand. One of the hearts.” The man finished with a shrug, not noticing the way Spencer had become absorbed in his words. “She said she did it herself, but I didn’t understand how she could’ve in that spot or with that much pressure. Figured she was just that into pain.”

Lost in his thoughts, but still taking in the new information, he cleared his throat that suddenly felt tight.

“Is there anything else distinct that you remember?”

“Kind of. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Spencer could barely hear him over the sound of the ticking of the clock on the wall that got louder, his heart pounding at two, three times the speed.

“What was it?”

He could hear her voice in his head.

‘She won’t bother us—! You. She won’t bother you anymore.’

The slip of her tongue had meant much less to him then than it did now.

Her body was dancing through his thoughts, the way his fingers ghosted over the Medusa tattoo on the back of her neck hiding a raised scar. He could feel her nails digging into his back, her breath on his ear when she asked him a question that he hadn’t stopped thinking about.

The way she was all consuming when he fucked her, the way she sneaked into his life so swiftly and cleverly. Her kind smile when she spoke with his mother, the way she would play with Henry.

Was it all a lie? Was she capable of something like the love she seemed to feel for him and his family?

She’d called him honey, and he remembered thinking a bee was a fitting animal for her. He thought about how,  if a second queen honeybee arrived at a colony and wasn’t rejected by the worker bees, the two would fight until only one remained.

“Right before she brought out the knife, she asked me something. She sounded so excited…”

“What was it?” He felt the words more than heard them, his throat suddenly dry as his breathing got more rapid.

The man across from him was also lost in memories of the same woman. He locked eyes with Spencer like he could see the torture happening inside of him.

“She asked me, ‘You havin’ fun, honey?’”

Each second that passed without seeing Spencer felt like a lifetime. Most days I wasn’t even able to focus on my work, and each night I ended up laying in my bed, dressed to the nines and staring at the ceiling in the hopes he’d appear to follow through on his promise.

The only flaw in my plan was that he’d never find the person who killed Cat. I'd made sure that every forensic countermeasure was performed. I’d learned from the best on how to get away with murder.

His team, although dedicated to figuring out who it was, had bigger fish to fry. There were so many more dangerous people than me. No one would miss Cat Adams. Except Spencer, apparently.

It still tore me apart, to know he was searching so hard for her killer. But I knew it wasn’t done out of love; it was done out of hate, just like the rest of their relationship. Luckily, though, the hate would exhaust him before our love did. He would get tired, and eventually come home to me. And once we were together, I’d make sure he forgot about her forever.

That fateful day, I was sprawled over my couch, drinking my third glass of wine as I stared at the clock on the wall, literally watching the time pass me by. It would only be a little bit longer before I gave up, crawling into bed to admit defeat for the day. I glanced at the half empty bottle, wondering if I should just finish it before I heard a sound that knocked the breath from my lungs.

The soft, familiar knock of Spencer Reid’s hands against my door caused goosebumps to ripple over my skin. I nearly dropped my glass when I darted from my seat to the door. I stopped myself just in time to calm my racing heart before I opened the door with a much more composed appearance.

“Spencer! It’s so nice to see you,” I practically purred, immediately stepping out of the entrance to allow him passage. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Can I come inside?” he asked like it wasn’t already obvious. There was a slight nervousness to his voice that I found both concerning and endearing. He almost sounded upset with me.

Stepping away, I gestured inside.

“Of course. My home is your home. I imagine you remember your way around from last time you were here.”

Spencer passed me but didn’t go very far. He stood in front of me while he shut the door, turning the lock with a satisfying click. I felt like I was on fire, my body leaning towards him even as he came closer. When he brought his hand up to my chin, my eyelids fluttered shut, unable to process the emotions stirring inside me.

“What do you remember from that night?” he whispered, his hand moving to brush the hair out of my face and away from my neck. His fingers moved over the tattoo that rested against my spine, but I didn’t think anything of it. Despite what people believed, he was a very touchy feely man when he wanted to be.

When he was with me.

“Everything.” The word came out more like a sigh. Shortly after he got his answer, though, he disappeared. I watched him make his way to my kitchen, opening the cabinet to grab himself a wine glass.

I stood at the entryway to the kitchen, gripping the wall in an attempt not to jump the man before he was ready. It was so hard, with him looking so domestic.

“But I’d be happy for a refresher. You did promise me, you know.”

“I’m a man of my word.” He turned to me when he spoke, his hands resting behind him on the counter. “But the case isn’t over yet.”

“Oh?” It wasn’t news to me, but I could play along. When he raised a finger in a beckoning motion, I walked over to him cautiously, trying to drum up some sympathy for his hard work that would go unfinished. Unfortunately, it was hidden behind the desire that permeated my every move.

I stopped just in front of him, my hands behind my back to stop myself from touching him. I wanted it to be his idea. I wanted him to take what he wanted. I wanted him to take what was his.

“Can I help?”

His hand was back on my face, his thumb toying with my bottom lip as he looked at me with narrowed eyes.

“Yeah, I think you can," he muttered while licking his lips and swallowing down something I couldn’t place until it hit me.

Rage.

An anger so powerful that it was as if it rolled off of him and seeped into my skin. I could feel it in the way he held himself back, how his finger pressed just a little too hard. His nostrils flared and his brows furrowed while he tried to concentrate on just one thing.

“Anything for you, Spencer.”

I could hardly breathe, the anticipation causing every nerve in my body to go haywire, my fight or flight instinct alerting me of the danger, but I couldn’t be bothered to listen. Not when Spencer stood before me, holding me with the perfect mixture of tenderness and hatred. I wanted to feel it all.

“Just answer one question for me, would you?”  

I knew what was about to happen, but it didn’t stop me from enjoying the sound of the knife sliding from the block behind him. I closed my eyes, shuddering at the way he gripped my arm, spinning me around so that my back was against his chest.

He brought the knife to my throat so quickly, I hadn’t even taken a breath when I felt the harsh, cold metal side press against my skin. There was a brief moment of silence, the only sound in the room that of his heavy breath against my hair.

“Does it feel as good for you on the other end of the knife?”

Unable to talk through the rush of adrenaline, my back arched into his body, a soft whimper escaping my lips when I rested my head against his chest. It gave him the answer he was looking for, and soon enough he was taunting me again.

“This isn’t what you did to those men, though, is it? You liked to sit on their chest or their dick while you slit their throat.”

My hands were grabbing his arm that was wrapped around me, but I didn’t pull him away. I basked in the warmth he provided, trying to memorize the moment. And even though I was out of breath, I managed to get a few words out.

“I’d be happy to sit on yours, too, Spencer.”

The distraction appeared to be working. He could pretend like he was angry, but I could feel his arousal straining against my backside.

Still, he tried to keep up the façade of stoicism.

“Why did you kill her?” he growled against my ear, earning a small giggle from myself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Spencer decidedly did not like that answer, and within a few seconds he’d spun me around again and slammed my back against the wall. The paintings beside me rattled, nearly falling from their already precarious positions.

Pressing the knife to me again, I glanced down to let him know that I was perfectly aware of the reason why he’d changed positions. This time to get my attention, he shifted the weapon so that the sharpness of the blade was against my skin.

“Tell me why you killed Cat, or I swear to god, I’ll never touch you again.”

I’m not sure why the way he said it got to me, but it did. The idea of him never touching me again, of torturing the both of us with yearning, it made me sick.

“I did it for you!” I snapped as my body tensed under his control. “She was going to try to hurt you again!”

“That’s not what happened.”

Despite his words, it was obvious he believed me; he just didn’t want to.

“I’m telling you the truth!” I said as I started to struggle under the knife, mostly just to see what he would do with it. “She made me help her get out of prison and she promised me she’d leave you alone, but then she started taunting me about how she was going to take you away from me!”

He paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing and his tongue darting out from between his lips before he settled on a few words I’d never believe.

“I don’t belong to you, (y/n).”

“You kind of do,” I laughed, my smile only growing when he pressed up on the knife. My skin was itching for the sharpness that would follow. But it didn’t, his hands shaking with restraint and something else.

“Think about it, Spencer. Everything you’ve ever wanted to do to her, you could have with me,” I taunted. Once my hands were free, I ran over his chest with longing. His eyes flickered for the briefest millisecond. He was still trying to fight himself.

“I would never try to hurt you or the people you love,” I continued, urging him to listen to his instincts and let that rage loose.

He was either going to feel so strongly that he ravaged me or killed me. Honestly, I was fine with either at that point.

“The team adores me. So does Diana. Remember? We had a wonderful time togeth—"

I never got to finish the thought, because Spencer’s hand slipped in his haste and dragged a shallow cut into the sensitive skin. I gasped, my eyes rolling back as I imagined what he saw. The small beads of blood gathering on the knife — I knew that perspective well.

“Don’t talk about my family.”

“I could be your family, Spencer!” I cried, balling his shirt in my hands and trying to bring him closer.

Although he didn’t move, I saw the desire in his eyes. His self-preservation was stubborn, but I could be just as persistent.

“I would never judge you. We wouldn’t need any secrets,” I cooed, moving my neck to drag the metal through the blood he had already drawn. The action caused another shallow cut, but this time Spencer removed the pressure.

He didn’t want to hurt me. At least, not badly enough to risk my life. It was exactly the kind of sweet gesture I expected of him. My finger traced his jaw, feeling the muscles tense under my touch.

“That knife to my throat doesn’t mean shit to me. I killed for you, Spencer. I’d die for you, too.”

He’d never looked at me as carefully as he did in that moment.

“Do it. If that’s what you want, I want you to do it.” I could feel the knife trembling in his hands, ghosting over the red smearing left behind from his actions. Taking his hand in mine, I turned the blade back onto myself. “You know I’m telling the truth.”  

Without moving the metal, his mouth found mine in a heated kiss that couldn’t be compared to anything I’d ever felt before. I gasped into the contact, a desperate moan slipping out when his tongue came to mingle with mine.

I tangled my fingers in his hair like I had before, fervently pulling on the fine brunette locks. The longer it went on, the more panicked my heart became. The sharp tool against my pulse grew farther away, and I whined at its retreat.

“You told me you wouldn’t hold back,”  I rasped into his lips. “You promised me, Spencer.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he hissed before dropping the knife down to our sides. It didn’t go unused for very long though, because within seconds he’d hiked up my nightgown and grabbed the band of my barely-there lacy underwear I’d worn for this exact scenario.

Once he slid the knife between my hip and the fabric, my lungs drained of all air and my head fell back and hit the wall with a thud.

With more force than necessary, he sliced through the band, cutting a long but shallow cut against my stomach.

“Fuck!” I moaned, practically hyperventilating as his eyes were stuck on the red liquid about to stain the white negligee. I opened my eyes in hope that his face would calm me down enough that I wouldn’t pass out, but what I found only made my heart flutter more.

There was an undeniable hunger in his eyes that bounced between the knife in his hand and the new streak across my stomach. When he saw the way that I was smiling at him, he suddenly dropped the weapon.

I bit back another moan, taking his hand in mind and leading him to remove the little fabric I still wore. But before we got there, his hand slid across the wound, smearing the blood up my chest. The action elicited a whimper that was born more out of desire than pain, but he didn’t care.

“You deserve worse than that,” he muttered while pressing me into the wall with the same hand.

“Punish me, then.”

His eyes were narrowed, but there was something playful in them. His tongue curled in his mouth before he bit his lip.

“You should be a lot more scared than you are, sweetheart.”

“And you should be thanking me for killing that bitch,” I said through a clenched jaw.

My body had a visceral reaction to the thought of her. Luckily, Spencer seemed to have a similar reaction. Although the knife was on the floor, he used his hands to practically tear the nightgown open. He didn’t even bother trying to remove it from my shoulders, satisfied with the skin he had access to.

“You think she could make you feel this good? Do you think she could make you do this?” I laughed, sighing when he brought a hand to my chest and roughly grabbed hold of my breast to keep my position against the wall.

Not like I wanted to move. I loved being stuck between this rock and a hard place. But it was what he did next that truly intrigued me. I heard the handcuffs first, the chiming of the metal sounding too much like music to me.

“Trust me, Spencer. You’re going to want my hands free,” I joked, which earned a dastardly grin from the man in front of me.

“They aren’t for your hands.”

Before I could respond, he’d grabbed both cuffs, stretching the chain over my still wet neck and pressing me back against the wall.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growled, bringing his face just inches in front of mine, “You want me to hurt you?”

I tried to smile because I wanted to more than anything, but each time my lips started to curl, he’d press harder against the slippery red surface, eliciting a jolt of pain that caused my mouth to drop open again.

“You look so fucking pathetic. You think I belong to you?”

There was that twinkle in his eyes again, the desire to do something more. I had my suspicions by the way he kept looking at my open mouth, and the idea was thrilling. I could barely breathe, and I was convinced the pain from the metal slipping against split skin was the only thing keeping me awake.

Slowly, I opened my mouth more, tilting my head back and presenting my tongue to him with what I’d hoped would be a clear message. Sure enough, after a second of pause, Spencer granted me the first surprise of the night when he spit directly onto my tongue, watching me choke on the extra saliva for a moment longer before finally letting me breathe.

He tore the handcuffs away, tossing them onto the counter beside me, replacing them with his hand on my chin. Forcing me to look up at him, he enunciated each word so clearly in such a low register, I almost didn’t recognize it as his voice.

“You’re the pawn here. I use you when I fucking want to. You don’t have any power or any choice, do you hear me?”

I was nodding before he even finished his sentence, but he halted the movement.

“Speak up. I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m yours.” My words were so enthusiastic, there was no way he could ever doubt them. The smile on my face was positively beaming, my eyes barely able to stay open through the euphoria. “I’m yours to do whatever you want.”

By the time his hands reached between my legs, I was already drenched with desire. A twisted smile appeared on Spencer’s face in response, and he was clearly pleased that he could have such an effect on me.

My own hands were struggling to undo his bottoms, and he offered no help. Instead, he roughly inserted two fingers at once, his mouth dragging over my jaw when I shouted in a mixture of pleasure and pain. He wasn’t even pretending to be gentle, staying true to his word and taking whatever he wanted.

Eventually, I managed to remove his pants. No sooner than they dropped down did he press his entire body weight against me on the wall. I couldn’t breathe, his fingers still working inside of me while my lungs were crushed from the force.

Capturing my lips with his, he dug his teeth into my bottom lip so hard that I could taste blood. I cried out at the sensation, a little shocked by how easily he overwhelmed my senses. Normally, I’d be able to follow what was happening. But each time he touched me it was like a shock from a fucking taser.

“Fuck me.”

It wasn’t meant as an order, and in fact, I whispered it without thinking. But Spencer took the opportunity. Removing his fingers and replacing them with the head of his dick, he thrust into me without an ounce of concern for adjustment.

I cried out, my face contorting in pain and my nails digging into the back of his neck and shoulders. But the grimace didn’t last long, as it quickly morphed into a large smile.

“God, you feel even better than I remembered,” Spencer groaned, one hand on my hip and the other inspecting the damaged skin around my neck.

My breathing rate increased exponentially when he made a loose handle around my neck. But he didn’t squeeze; he took the blood covered hand and clamped it over my mouth and nose, cutting off my air supply in a different way.

“Why is that, hm?” he teased as he slammed his hips into mine. His eyes scoured my face for any sign of displeasure, but all he found was an unparalleled love and loyalty. He smiled before he proposed his theory. “Maybe it’s because you’re not running your fucking mouth.”

My hips were bucking wildly against his hand, struggling to get more from him. Granting me the brutality I sought, his pace and strength between each movement increased dramatically.

“You don’t even know what to do with yourself,” he growled into my ear, “No one else could handle what a stupid, filthy whore you are. That’s why you have to fucking kill them.”

As if on cue, the painting beside us collapsed to the floor and the glass shattered across the tile. I tried to gasp but couldn’t get any air from behind his palm.

Under the guise of sympathy or pity, or something else, Spencer removed his hand long enough for me to take just half a deep breath. But then his hand was back over my neck, squeezing harshly enough to draw more blood.

“I think it’s time you thank me for not ending your miserable fucking existence right now.” he muttered, not once slowing down.

I tried to speak through my broken moans, but all that came out were whimpers. I batted my eyes at him, a little pout on my lips as my hands clawed over his skin much like Cat had tried to do to me.

Spencer wasn’t giving up though, and he pressed his forehead against mine while he ordered again, “Say it. Thank me."

His hand got looser just for a second, and I tried to get the word out, but it was cut off when he pressed down on my throat.

“What was that?”

Unable to swallow or make any noises, I choked on saliva and tears that were now sliding down my face. Still, he chuckled at the way my mouth never once stopped smiling.

“You’re not grateful at all,” he whispered, licking the dried blood that had gathered on his lips from kissing the wounds he’d made on my neck. “You don’t deserve for me to fuck you. You don’t deserve anything.”

Despite the words, he continued to fuck me into the wall with the utmost passion. When he removed his hand this time, he didn’t bring it back. The sudden availability of oxygen made me feel even more delirious, and my instincts demanded large breaths. But between them, Spencer forced his mouth on mine, stealing the breath I did manage to take in.

I could taste my blood in his mouth, and the thought alone caused my eyes to roll to the back of my head.

“You’re lucky your body feels so fucking good," he cursed into my mouth, followed with a loud moan. “Even after all the disgusting things you’ve done with it.”

Now that I could make noises freely, I laughed.

“Obviously not disgusting enough for you to stop,” I joked before biting my bloodied bottom lip. When he raised his face to stare into my eyes, I couldn't help but taunt him further.

“Because you can’t stop, Spencer.”

“Do you really think now is the time to taunt me?” His words would have been more threatening if they weren’t said out of breath with his muscles tensing with each movement. I could tell that he was getting close to his end.

“I can’t wait to shove my dick so far down your throat that you choke," he groaned as he buried his face in my neck for a moment.

My whole body was trembling against him, one leg raised to pull him closer with each thrust.

“But we’ll have to save that for another day. For now…” His breath was hot on my ear, and his voice was filled with a paradoxical softness.

I shuddered at the mention of us doing this another day.

But he wasn’t done drawing out goosebumps and palpitations, nipping at my ears when he whispered, “Tell me what you want, you fucking bitch. Tell me what you thought killing Cat would get you.”  

The levels of bliss that I was experiencing before multiplied tenfold at his offer. He wanted to hear what I wanted. That meant that there was a chance I could actually get it.

“I want what she always wanted from you,” I said so quickly that the words all bled together, my hands struggling to grab his face and bring his lips to mine. I watched the realization dawn on him, his eyes widening and softening so drastically I swore it gave him whiplash.

“...What?” he asked, breaking the scene and that dominant personality with a stuttered breath. “What did you just say?”

I listened to our heartbeats, pounding wildly against the other when he started to slow down, his thrusts faltering while he held tighter to me.

My hands were gentle, dancing over his cheeks and pulling him close enough that my lips touched when they moved.

“I said I want your baby, Spencie.”

He didn’t answer immediately, instead grabbing the hair on the back of my head and forcing me forward. This kiss felt different; tender yet animalistic. If I thought Spencer felt possessive before, this was something else entirely.

I couldn’t breathe, my entire body craving more of him—an impossible amount of him.

“Do it,” I ordered, and Spencer yanked my hair to tilt my chin up.  

From his position above me, he bottomed out inside of me, forcing me down harder against him. I couldn’t stop the way my body shook under him, dangerously close to collapsing into the nothing I wanted to be.

“You think you’re in a position to make demands?”

“You know you want to do it,” I panted. Grinding my teeth together, my hands dragged over whatever skin I could reach. “You want to make me yours forever. Ruin me. Own me.”

“I already do,” Spencer spat, forcing my mouth open again with a tight hand over my jaw. “I’ve owned you from the first time you spread your legs for me, and you fucking know it.”

The only initial reaction I had was to moan, my back arching so that the blood on my stomach would equally stain him. If he wanted me to be filthy, then I would. I would show him just how much of himself he hides away. I would show him what he could be with me.

Himself.

“Picture it, Spencer. Think about how good it’ll feel to fill me up,” I begged, the tension in my stomach teetering over the edge. “Picture me carrying your child. I would be such a good mother, wouldn't I?”

He was silent, but his body said enough. Each movement of his hips was purposeful as he drove into me with bruising force. The sweat on his brow mixed with the red that now stained everything. It was a perfect visual representation of where our hands had been.

Spencer’s eyes hadn’t moved from mine, and I could see him following my directions. I saw the fantasies in his head. I put them there, and they belonged to me. He belonged to me, and I belonged to him.

That was the last thought I had before he buried himself to the hilt inside of me, his eyes blinking shut from the overwhelming pleasure we were both trapped in.

My orgasm surprised us both, but I didn’t even bother trying to stop it. Through the heaving breaths and high pitched cries, I managed to get out one last thought.

“You and me, Spencer. We can make our own happy little family.”

If you had told me that would be the thing to finally drive Spencer over the edge, I would have struggled to accept the thought. But now that we were here, it made perfect sense. With my hands firmly in his hair, I held his face back against his hardest efforts. I didn’t care if he was tired, I wanted to watch his face when he came inside me.

“Fuck!” he gasped, his eyes struggling to stay on mine while my walls fluttered around him, taking every last drop of him.

“That’s it,” I rasped, feeling the soft, synchronous pulsing deep inside of me. “Give me everything.”

Watching him was more than I could have ever wanted. He threw his head back, baring his neck to me in one final moment of submission. I watched the way his heartrate increased, the veins protruding and his body shaking.

He was so beautiful, so perfect, so very mine.

Once we finally came down from our collective high, I thought he would need to step away, but he didn’t. If anything, he came closer, resting his face against my shoulder and hair and taking deep breaths of the iron filled air.

“So what now, Spencer?” I asked quietly, gently stroking his hair and the back of his neck. “You gonna take me in?”

“You know I can’t,” he scoffed while simultaneously nuzzling closer to my neck for a moment before retreating.

I immediately missed his warmth when he pulled himself out from me, causing the mixed mess of fluids to slide down my legs. His DNA literally dripping down my thighs.

He took a step back and looked at me, blood and semen smeared all over all of me. His eyes followed the few lines he’d drawn into me with a knife, a darkness and a guilt permeating his gaze.

“Hmmm, it would be hard to explain, wouldn’t it?” I smiled through a pout, sad to see him looking like he regretted something.

When I reached out to him, he let me cup his face, and I hid my stomach underneath the stained red, pink, and brown nightgown.

I couldn’t describe the way I looked at him, but I knew he didn’t like it. There was a humor and satisfaction in it; an understanding that we’d both done something and enjoyed something we shouldn’t have.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he whined, looking down and away from me to avoid any stronger emotions. “And go clean yourself up.”

Once again, my heart stopped at the order. I loved when he spoke so simply, because I could tell he knew I would listen.

“Fine,” I said with a sigh, leaning over to pick up the knife that was on the floor. I ran it over my tongue, cleaning the dried blood off and stepping past him. He watched me carefully until I’d dropped it in the sink. Like I couldn’t feel the questions and concern coming from him.

Like I’d kill him now. Like I didn’t have more use for him alive.

I tried not to think about that look, focusing on his reaction to other, more fun things instead. Realizing my clothes were destroyed and my body covered, I decided a shower would be the quickest way to clean up. Part of me felt guilty for not inviting him, but absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.

I’d never considered that he wouldn’t be there when I got out, and I was right not to worry. Because when I entered my room, there he was, lying naked and as clean as he could be using paper towels and kitchen soap.

“I missed seeing you like this,” I giggled before crawling onto the bed and under the sheets.

His hands gravitated to my hips, helping guide me back over him. I followed, just grateful for the contact. I sat below his hips and let my hands run up and down his chest. I couldn’t stop smiling, even though he was staring at me confused and still kind of angry.

I couldn’t blame him. I understood that anger. It might take a little bit of work, but I was sure we’d get through it.

“What’s that look for, Spencer?” I asked as I tapped his nose just like before. Although he moved away, he smiled.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” The words tumbled from his mouth, his voice breaking and soft. “You’ve had the chance twice. Why didn’t you do it?”

The questions, despite being expected, bored me beyond belief. I'd known he was going to do this. He would read into everything I’d ever done and draw stupid, unfair conclusions.

“I’ve had more than two chances, Spencer. The better question is why would I kill you?”

“Because you’re a sadistic psychopath who derives pleasure in the complete domination of men that are attracted to you,” he replied matter-of-factly, furrowing his brow at me like it was an obvious conclusion.

I rolled my eyes but realized that even a genius might need some patience and understanding on this topic. So I lowered myself, hovering above him with raised brows and a patient smile.

“Did I try to dominate you, Spencer?”

“No?” He said it like a question.  

“Did I derive pleasure from you?”

“Potentially,” he joked, “You might just be very good at faking.”

I quickly devolved into a fit of laughter that made me sit back up and cover my mouth. He laughed with me, forgetting for a second what exactly our conversation was about.

“I’m flattered by your humility, honey.” The name caused his hands to jerk, bringing back a memory. I suspected it wasn’t one I knew about. I didn’t want him to dwell on that. “Why can’t it extend to your profile of me? Isn’t it possible you were wrong about me?”

“Doubtful.” He was so sure, so confident. His hand slid up my thigh, my stomach, and eventually landed on the marks he’d left on my neck. “I got most of it right.”  

“I guess next time you’ll have to let me hold the knife and I’ll prove it to you,” I happily hummed, taking his hand in both of mine and closing it around my neck.

He accepted my offering and used his grip to tug me back down to him.

“Look at me. This doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.”

I could have accepted the answer but decided to press a chaste kiss on his lips, instead. He’d given me access, after all. He almost fell for it, too, because his tongue slipped back into my mouth within seconds.

But then he pushed me, holding me just far enough away that I couldn’t kiss him if I tried.

“You murdered someone for no reason.”

“For no reason? I did it for you!” I yelled, thoroughly annoyed and insulted that he would imply I’d end my five year streak over nothing.

“I didn’t need you to kill her.”

There was no nice way for me to tell him that I did, in fact, need to kill Cat for him. It wasn’t that I didn’t think him capable of it, I was more concerned that he would do it... poorly. And if he didn’t kill her, it would all just take too long. I was tired of waiting.

“You’re just angry you didn’t get to kill her yourself,” I replied with a bitter laugh.

“No, I’m mad because now I have to watch you like a fucking child to make sure you don’t do something stupid again.”

My excitement couldn’t be contained, and my body began to shimmy against his thighs with a thrilling friction. His hips bucked ever so slightly, and I wondered how hard it would be for me to convince him to take me again before we fell asleep.

“Watch me? That sounds nice,” I cooed. Prying his hand from around my throat, I lowered it down to just below my stomach to remind him what he’d already partially committed to. “But you don’t have to worry, Spencer. This body belongs to you. You get to decide what it does… and what happens to it.”

Slowly, cautiously, his hand began to wander over the area. I could just picture his thoughts, imagining what I might look like eight months from then.

“I’ll give you whatever you want, whenever you want. I’m yours,” I purred, rocking forward until my heat rested against his cock. He hissed at the contact, nonetheless wrapping his hands around my hips and bringing me closer.

“I’ll never let anything happen that would hurt our happy little family,” I promised, sighing at the thought of the two of us bound together forever.

Lacing one hand through my hair again, he tore me from my fantasy to give me one final warning.

“If you make a single mistake, if you hurt a single person, I will destroy you. You will wish that you never met me.”

However convincing his threat was, it only excited me more.

“I don’t care if you have my child.” The sentence made me shudder. “Do you understand me?”

I smiled.

"If I haven't made it abundantly clear already, Spencer... I'd do anything for you."

(Tell me what you thought of this fic here!)

[cobaltusami]

Self conscious

Aaaahhhh this was so so SO much fun to write, Fuyuhiko Is my second favorite character from Goodbye Despair. I love this smol Yakuza boi so much. I wanted to do something sort of body positive, I'm not sure how well I did In that regard, But I love how this turned out either way. It's just so much fun to me. <3

Holy shit, It just occurred to me that this Is now my longest fic. and I wrote It In eight hours with breaks-- Dayum.

Also bonus fun points because Kuzuhina Is one of my favorite ships from the game-

Characters: Lee!Fuyuhiko, Ler!Hajime

Words: 4196 (It's a long boi)

Pairing: Kuzuhina

also mentions of MahiruXHiyoko

The sound of the ocean waves crashing against the sand, the warm sunlight enveloping his skin, the gentle cooling breeze dancing from tree to tree… It was almost relaxing enough to put Hajime to sleep.

Almost.

However, being pelted with a water balloon ruined that relaxing atmosphere.

He let out a shriek, jolting upright from his lying position on the newly soaked beach towel in the sand. His eyes darted around, offended, until they landed on the doubled over laughing perpetrator. Of course It was Ibuki.

“Bahahahaha! You should have seen your face! Ibuki thought you were going to have a heart attack!” She cackled, holding her ribs with one arm and pointing with the other.

Hajime should have known better than to relax, especially with Ibuki around. He sighed and stood up. “Yeah yeah, Very funny Ibuki…”

He felt something hard and plastic press Into his back, he quickly shot a questioning glance over his shoulder, meeting Chiaki’s gaze.

“It’s dangerous to go alone, Take this.” She whispered, He reached around and took the water gun from her. He winked and whispered his thanks, keeping the toy concealed from Ibuki’s line of sight.

“You think you’re sooooo funny, Don’t you Ibuki?” He smiled, shuffling closer to the laughing rockstar.

“Ibuki doesn’t think she’s funny, She thinks she’s hilarious!” She laughed, tears formed In the corner of her eyes. She was completely oblivious to her impending doom.

“Yeah,” He sighed, an evil grin on his face. “Well I think that this Is funny!”

The ‘this’ he was referring to, was blasting Ibuki in the face with a cold stream of water from the Water gun. She shrieked in surprise, still giggling as she brought her hands up to protect herself.

“Mayday mayday! Target has obtained a weapon! ABORT MISSION!” She went running off, With Hajime chasing after her laughing.

The other students laughed as they watched the two, joining In on the game by grabbing their own water guns.

Soon almost all of the students were enveloped In a water gun battle.

Well, Almost all.

Fuyuhiko remained in his spot In the shade under the tree, his arms crossed as he watched the others playing and having fun. Even Peko had joined In on the fight, throwing water balloons left and right like a friggin ninja.

He rolled his eyes with a fond smile watching their antics.

“Fuyu?”

He quickly stopped smiling as he looked away from the beach, looking up at a now dripping with water Hajime. “Y-Yeah?”

“Do you wanna join In? I’ll get you a water gun an--”

“No.” was his curt response. “I don’t.”

“Are you sure? You look kind of lonely over here all by yourself…” Hajime sat down In the grass next to him, pulling off his shirt and wringing it out.

Fuyuhiko glanced at him for a moment then quickly darted his eyes away, flustered. “I-I already said I don’t want to.”

“Will you at least change Into something beachy? That suit has to be uncomfortable.”

“No way!”

Hajime raised an eyebrow, questioning the urgency of his tone and the quickness of his response.

Fuyuhiko blushed, quickly thinking up a reason. “You’ll just shoot me with water if I do!”

He has a reason, but there’s no way In hell he’s going to talk about It. He’s insecure about his body.

“I promise I won’t?” the taller boy tried, thrown off by his odd behavior.

The young Yakuza shook his head. “No way.” he stood up and hurried inside the beach house, abruptly ending the conversation.

Hajime blinked in confusion. What was that about?

He wasn’t sure, But he knew someone who would be.

“Peko?” He approached the swordswoman, who was in the middle of cleaning off her glasses with a towel. “Can I ask you something?”

She looked up curiously, pausing her actions. “Sure. What Is It Hajime?”

“It’s about Fuyu.”

Her red eyes darted over to where Fuyuhiko had previously been sitting. “What’s wrong with Young master? Where did he go?”

“He went inside, He’s fine I think…” Hajime responded, putting the swordswoman at ease. “Does he have a fear of water or something?”

“Hm? Not that I am aware of. Why do you ask?”

“Because I asked him if he wanted to join us and he said no. Then he got kind of agitated when I suggested he change into some beach attire.”

She sighed softly, continuing to clean off her glasses. “Ah. I see now… Young Master Is, how should I put this… Self-conscious.”

“Self-Conscious? Of what?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“His body. He Is smaller than most boys his age.” She replied, putting her glasses back on and wrapping the towel around her shoulders. “He hates showing off his body.”

Hajime frowned as he looked back at the beach house, He wouldn’t have pushed him so much if he had known that.

“Don’t feel guilty. You had no way of knowing.” Peko said as she put a hand on his shoulder.

“I still feel bad though. I knew he felt self conscious about his height but I didn’t even think about his body.”

“Perhaps I should go check on him, If you are that concerned.”

“No! No It’s okay, I’ll go check on him. You go back to playing with the others.” Hajime interjected. This was the first time he’d really seen her let loose and have fun, He didn’t want to be the reason she stopped.

She gave a small tilt of her head. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I can handle him. Go have fun.” He smiled reassuringly at the woman, She gave one last skeptical glance before getting hit with two water balloons in the back by a wildly cackling Kazuichi and Ibuki.

She narrowed her eyes, Holding out her hand. “Hajime, I am going to need your weapon.”

Hajime chuckled at her dead serious demeanor and handed her the toy gun. “Don’t murder them.”

“I make no promises.” She replied, whipping around and pumping the water pressure slide on the gun. “Which one of you wants to die first?!”

Kazuichi and Ibuki screamed and went running with Peko chasing after them.

Hajime laughed and shook his head at them before making his way up the beach house stairs and into the building.

“Ugh,” Fuyu had lowered his book to see who came inside, but upon seeing it was Hajime he quickly brought it back up covering his face. “What the hell do you want? I already said I’m not joining you guys.”

“I know, I’m not here to ask that.” He replied softly.

He pulled out the chair across from Fuyuhiko and dragged It over to the spot at the table next to him before sitting down.

The Yakuza glanced up from his book again for a moment, a skeptical look on his face. “Then why are you…?”

“I’m here to apologize.” Hajime answered.

“Apologize?” He parroted, more confused than before.

“I didn’t mean to pressure you earlier, I just wanted to include you In on the fun.” He said. “I didn’t realize that you were self conscious about your body.”

Fuyuhiko’s face turned bright pink with embarrassment, His hazel eyes widening with surprise. “W-What?! I’m not fucking self conscious! Where the fuck would you get that idea!?”

Hajime blinked. “It’s okay to be self conscious, There’s nothing wrong with feel--”

“I am NOT self conscious! I just don’t like getting blasted with water!” Fuyuhiko shot back, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“Fuyu?”

“W-What!?”

“Take off your shirt.”

“Excuse me??”

“If you aren’t self conscious… Take off your shirt.”

Fuyuhiko kicked out his chair from the table, aggressively shrugging off his jacket and tossing it on the floor. Next he undid his tie and dropped it on top of his jacket. He did all this without breaking eye contact with Hajime.

Hajime folded his arms as he watched with a skeptical look, It was as if he was challenging him with his gaze.

The Yakuza started to unbutton his dress shirt but stopped halfway. Without his jacket to obscure his frame even a little, He already felt shy.

He crossed his arms and looked away from the brunette. “I can’t.” He mumbled under his breath.

“What?”

“I SAID I CAN’T!” He snapped, clearly flustered. “Are you fucking happy now!? Yes! CONGRATULATIONS YOU FIGURED IT OUT! I’m fucking self conscious!”

Hajime frowned and hooked his leg around Fuyu’s chair leg, Pulling him closer without any protests. “Hey, It’s okay. Everyone has something they’re self conscious about.” He reassured the embarrassed boy In front of him.

“Yeah right.” He muttered, still refusing to meet Hajime’s eyes.

“It’s true. Even I’m self conscious.”

Fuyu rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not.” He insisted.

“What do you have to be self conscious about? Look at you…” The tips of his ears turned pink as he blushed more.

Hajime smiled a little and reached forward, starting to button Fuyuhiko’s shirt back up for him. “I can’t make people laugh. I can’t tell a joke to save my life… I’m not funny.”

“It’s because you’re trying too hard. You’re someone who is unintentionally--” Fuyuhiko immediately clamped his mouth shut, flinching rather violently as he felt Hajime’s fingers graze his ribs accidentally.

Hajime paused what he was doing, his hands hovering over the buttons of the white dress shirt still. “What was…”

“N-Nothing!” Fuyu stuttered, pushing his hands back. “Listen… I appreciate the attempt to make me feel better but-- HEY!”

The blond yelped as he felt a few fingers poke experimentally Into his side, He reached down and grabbed his hands, holding them away from his body. “Will you fucking stop that!?”

The Yakuza didn’t appreciate the grin on Hajime’s face. “Oh, Fuyu… I might be able to make you laugh after all~” He said teasingly, trying to pull his hands free.

Fuyuhiko narrowed his eyes at the other boy, keeping his hands in a vice grip. “Don’t you fucking dare!” He hissed.

“Don’t I dare what?” Hajime asked innocently, batting his eyelashes at the smaller boy.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

“I won’t.”

“Liar!”

“Will you relax? I’m not gonna touch you. Can I have my hands back now? I’m kind of losing feeling in them.”

Fuyu watched him closely as he slowly released his hands. Hajime made a show of shaking them to regain feeling. “See? Have I touched you?”

“N-No… I guess n-nahahaha! You fucking lihihihied!” Fuyuhiko giggled boyishly, doubling over in his seat to block as many spots as possible.

Hajime grinned as he dusted his fingertips along his exposed neck, when he brought his shoulders up to try to protect the sensitive spot he darted his hands into his partially open shirt and began tickling his ribs. “I didn’t lie, I’m not touching you… I’m tickling you. There’s a big difference.” He winked at the laughing boy.

“Ihihihif you don’t stahahahap right nohohohow, I’m going to kihihihill you!” The blond laughed, writhing under his torturously gentle touch.

“Ooh I’m so scared~ Is the big bad Yakuza gonna kill me dead In my sleep?” Hajime laughed, paying special attention to a sensitive spot near the bottom of his ribs. “C’mon, How am I supposed to be scared? You’re so adorable when you’re being tickled!” he cooed.

The young Kuzuryu’s neck and ears turned red from that, He brought his leg up to try to kick Hajime away. “Stahahap! Dohohon’t fahahahacking tehehease me you jeheherk!”

Not only did he not succeed In kicking him, Hajime caught his leg and held it firmly in his lap as he administered tickles to the top and underside of his knee. “I’m afraid that’s gonna be impossible, You’re just too cute not to tease~” He hummed In reply.

Fuyuhiko squealed and desperately tried to pull his leg back, laughing much harder than before. “N-NOHOHO! AHAHAHAHAHA!”

Hajime glanced down at his hand, noticing every time his laughter spiked It was because he was scribbling against the spot above his knee. “You have ticklish thighs, Fuyu?” He asked amusedly, now honing In on that spot.

Fuyuhiko spazzed out, His body flailing at the electric sensations coursing through him. Unfortunately that meant he also threw himself out of his chair.

As soon as Hajime realized what had happened he was quick to follow, Kneeling beside the still lightly giggling boy. “F-Fuyu?! Are you okay?? I’m so sorry, I didn’t think you would fall…”

He gently pulled the blond up into a sitting position and was checking his head for any injuries when Fuyu waved him off. “I-I’m fine…” He reassured, still recovering.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh like that, It’s nice. You should laugh more often.” Hajime smiled.

“Y-Yeah yeah… whatever.”

He thought about It. Maybe that wasn’t the worst thing he’s ever been through… It was actually kind of fun to let loose. He was still super self conscious about his body but for a minute he forgot about that, only focusing on the sensations and laughing.

Then again, Maybe It's the possible concussion talking.

He blushed as he shook his head. “I’m just glad you didn’t hear my real laugh.” He mumbled. “It’s really obnoxious.”

“Your real laugh?” Hajime tilted his head, his curiosity piqued.

“Yeah, when I laugh hard enough I snort.” He calmly replied.

“Okay, I have to hear that.” He laughed, slowly raising his hands.

“Keep your fucking hands to yourself.” Fuyuhiko narrowed his eyes half-heartedly. What he wanted to say was; ‘Go for it.’ but Yakuza pride and all that.

Hajime Isn’t an idiot, he can tell Fuyuhiko likes the attention but won’t admit it. And he isn’t going to make him uncomfortable by making him admit it.

“Who’s gonna stop me? You? I’m so scared.” Hajime smirked, quickly he pulled the Yakuza into his lap and pinned him against his body. “Now, Wanna make It easier on us both and tell me your ticklish spot~?” He asked teasingly.

Fuyuhiko squirmed, seeing If escape was even physically possible. It wasn’t. “Go to hell.” He growled, blushing.

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged, undoing the rest of his shirt buttons. Using both hands he ghosted his fingertips across the exposed sides.

Fuyu immediately began giggling again, his body actually relaxing under the soft touches. It wasn’t unbearable or torturous, but gentle and pleasant instead.

Hajime smiled at the string of bright laughter moving to his ribs brought about. He massaged his fingers in small careful circles against the ticklish bones. “Come on Fuyu~ There’s only a few spots I haven’t tried… If I have to find your tickle spot myself I’m really not gonna be nice~”

“Fuhuhahahahack you!” Fuyuhiko retorted, squirming aimlessly.

“That’s not very nice.” Hajime pouted, shoving his hands under the Yakuza’s arms. His fingers drilled and wiggled unrelentingly, which drew hysterical laughter from the smaller of the two.

“NAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAP!”

“I would, But you sort of have my hands trapped and… Well, since they are, I might as well tickle you~” He teased, obviously pleased with himself for turning the tough Yakuza into a laughing heap in his arms.

“HAHAHAHAJIME! I WIHIHIHILL STAHAHAB YOU!”

“No you won’t.” Hajime smirked.

He continued to torture the blond student for a bit longer before ‘freeing’ his hands and brushing his fingers across his quivering stomach teasingly. “How about here? Is this a bad spot, Giggles~?”

The boy let out a shriek as he quickly brought his hands down over top of Hajime’s, trying to pry them away out of instinct. “Dohohon’t!” He tittered, blushing.

“Ooh, Looks like It is!” He declared, unfazed by Fuyuhiko’s attempts to stop him. His fingers gracefully descended on his soft belly.

Fuyu shrieked again, throwing his head back with loud bright laughter. His body jolted, and was sent flying out of his lap by the intensity of his flailing.

Hajime froze, did that seriously just happen a second time? He didn’t stay frozen for long, He sat on his legs to pin him down. “There, Since you’re on the floor you shouldn’t be able to fall for a third time.” He laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Fuyuhiko’s face couldn’t get any brighter pink. He wrapped his arms around his midsection to hide his body and protect his stomach. “Okay, You found one of my worst spots… congratu-fucking-lations… Now let me up.”

“Oh no, I’m not letting you out of this. I warned you what would happen If you didn’t tell me, Didn’t I?” He hummed. “Although, I think Instead of being mean, I’m going to be nice instead…”

Although the tickles that he unleashed on his poor belly weren’t very nice. His fingers scribbled mercilessly against the sensitive skin.

“KYAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHO! STAHAHAHAP!”

“Look at this cute ticklish belly, It’s just begging for affection. And what better affection than tickles?” He grinned at the whine that slipped past his lips.

“THIS IHIHIHIHISN’T BEING NIHIHIHICE!” He whined between laughs.

“Yes It Is. I’m going to compliment every spot I tickle so that you feel a little bit better about your body by the time I’m done.” He replied. “I think that sounds pretty nice to me~”

Fuyuhiko covered his face with his hands, hiding his embarrassment.

“I like all the freckles across your skin, It makes you unique and It looks adorable~”

He switched to skittering his nails across his trembling stomach, drawing some higher pitched laughs from the boy. “I also like how your skin turns pink after a little bit of tickling.”

“BAHAHAHAHASTARD STAHAHAHAP IHIHIT!”

“Nope!” Hajime leaned down and blew a raspberry against his belly button.

“NAAAAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAJIME N-NAHAHAT THAT!” He laughed hysterically.

Just as he said, He began to snort between laughs. It was absolutely precious to the younger of the two.

“So what If your frame Is smaller? At least you have all your organs and bones, like your ribs for example.” He winked, fluttering his fingers across his ribcage. “There’s definitely twenty four of em. Unless you want me to count~?”

“Nohohohoho! *snort* Don’t you fucking dahahahare *snort* You bahahahastahahahard!”

“Well, Maybe I better count. Just In case.” He winked, Starting from the bottom set of ribs he worked his way up teasingly, Counting as he did.

So this was how Fuyu was going to die? Not the most dignified death in the world but… There’s worse ways to go, he supposed.

“Yep! All twenty four ribs!” Once he finished he skittered his fingers across Fuyu’s neck. “Your skin is really soft and tender, Perfect for tickling~”

“I wihihihill ehehehehend you!” He giggled.

“Shush! Let me hype you up.” Hajime laughed, going back and forth between neck, chest, ribs and underarms. Keeping Fuyuhiko In stitches. (and snorting, much to his chagrin.) “So what If you're not as tall? I think your height suits you. Plus, It makes it easier to pick you up and smother you with tickles.”

“Okahahahahay! Okahahay! *snort* Ehehehenough! Plehehehehease!”

Hajime relented, sensing he’d had enough. He sat down on the floor next to him and watched his chest rise and fall as he gasped for air.

Fuyuhiko brought his hands up and wiped the tears away from his face with his sleeves. “Oh my… God…” he panted.

“So, Are you feeling any better?” He asked with a grin.

“Y-Yeah… Th-Thanks…” Fuyu blushed as he sat up. “But… If you tell anybody what just happened--”

“Don’t worry, It’ll be our little secret.” Hajime winked, smiling at the flustered Yakuza.

“I can’t believe you think I’m cute. I am not fucking cute.” he huffed, crossing his arms.

Hajime blushed. Huh, He didn’t realize how that might sound without the proper context… Of course he didn’t mean romantically initially but.

He also didn’t feel any need to clarify this.

Is this inner conflict between platonic feelings and romantic feelings what being bi Is like? (Yes. Yes It Is. at least In my experience--)

“I can’t believe you think you aren’t cute.” Hajime retorted. “If I find out you’re feeling self conscious or dissing on yourself again, I will find you, and I will wreck you with compliments and tickles.”

Fuyuhiko gave a cheeky grin. “Is that supposed to deter me? You think I’m afraid of you?”

Hajime smirked and stood up, offering his hand to pull him to his feet. “You should be. Because you said I found one of your worst spots, Not the worst one… which means I still need to find it. And when I do, there will be no mercy.”

Fuyuhiko shuddered internally as he took Hajime’s hand and got to his feet.

“I’m not going to pressure you but… I might have a temporary solution If you wanted to join us.” Hajime said, going over to where he left his swim bag. From it he produced a tee shirt. “You could wear this with your swim trunks so that you don’t have to walk around shirtless.”

The Yakuza’s expression softened. “I didn’t bring my swim bag.”

“Peko did. She thought you might change your mind.” Hajime looked up at Fuyu and smiled, standing back up. He set the clean shirt on the table and ruffled Fuyu’s hair as he walked past. “If you change your mind…” He lingered in the doorway, looking back at him. “I’d love It if you joined us-- Uh, I mean, WE would love it-- Oh, You know what I mean.”

Flustered, The usually tsundere boy hurried back to the beach, Leaving behind the smiling Ultimate Yakuza.

“There you are! You sure were gone a while.” Mahiru sighed. “What were you off doing anyway?”

“Was Young master okay?” Peko asked, suddenly at his side.

“Fiend, Why Is your face so red? Are you possessed by a demon!?” Gundham asked.

“Did someone say Demon possession?” Sonia practically bounced over, Her eyes sparkling excitedly at the prospect.

Hajime stammered, Trying to process his words. “I-I was at the beach house with Fuyuhiko, He’s okay Peko.” He answered both Mahiru and Peko at the same time before turning to Gundham and Sonia. “No, I’m not possessed by a demon.”

“Aww...” Sonia pouted momentarily.

“Then why is your face so red? Did you forget the Human uv protection barrier?” Gundham asked, crossing his arms.

Hajime blinked. “The what?”

“Sunscreen?” Sonia asked, Turning back to Hajime after Gundham nodded in response to her question. “His face does not look sunburnt. Actually his face looks like it is going back to it’s normal color.”

“So that means Hajime was totally blushing!” Ibuki giggled. “What went on In that beach house, I wonder.”

Hajime’s face went red again as he was swiftly reminded of the reason he was blushing in the first place. “Sh-Shut up Ibuki!”

“Did something happen with Young master?” Peko asked curiously.

“N-No, Of course not! I-- GAH!” Hajime yelled In surprise as he was pelted with a water balloon, He whipped around In the direction it came from, Expecting Soda or Chiaki to have thrown It but instead finding Fuyuhiko.

He stood there barefoot In the sand, wearing swim trunks and Hajime’s shirt, which looked baggy on him and obscured his frame.

Peko’s face lit up, As did Hajime’s. The others were shocked.

“Hey Dumbass! Don’t lie to them. The truth Is I was going to stay inside but he cheered me up and convinced me to join you all.” He smirked, winking at Hajime who smiled lightheartedly.

“Well, There goes my fun! Who said he could join us??” Hiyoko pouted.

Chiaki sidled up to Fuyuhiko, handing him a rather large water gun with a bright smile. “Upgrade unlocked.”

Fuyuhiko grinned and took it from her. “Target acquired.” He responded, Locking eyes with Hiyoko as he pumped the water pressure slide.

The dancer screamed and took off running with Fuyuhiko on her tail. “NOOOO! MAHIRU HELP!”

“GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT!” Fuyu called after her.

Mahiru and Hajime exchanged looks, cracking up laughing at their friends. “I’ll get my girlfriend to be nice if you go call off your boyfriend.” She said jokingly.

Hajime blushed, laughing along with her. “Deal.”

“Hiyoko! Over here!” Mahiru called, taking off running after her girlfriend.

“Fuyuhiko! Stop it, she’s already deeeaaad!” Hajime called after his friend, Laughing. He took off running after him too.

Chiaki leaned against Peko, sighing dramatically. “I think we pushed them In the right direction today.”

Peko nodded, patting the Gamer’s head. “It was smart of you to bring Fuyuhiko’s bag. How did you know he would change his mind?”

“I had a feeling. Thanks for carrying it for me, It would have looked suspicious If I’d been spotted with it.” Chiaki smiled sweetly up at the swordswoman. “Good work getting Hajime to go check on him. I don’t think either of them saw us In the doorway.”

Peko faintly smiled, watching Fuyuhiko get thrown over Hajime’s shoulder and carried away from Hiyoko. “I don’t think so either. Not that they could have heard us over Young Master’s laughter.”

Chiaki giggled as she watched Hajime getting sprayed down with the water gun now. “Mischief managed~”

[write-orflight]

Like Real People Do. Chapter 4

*Gif not mine*

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Rating: M, eventually will be smut.

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Sexual themes, talk about sex (not NSFW though), fainting, reader just being thirsty in general. 

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

A.N We’re getting into the main crux of the story now! Message to be added to the taglist. thanks for reading! Much love, Cia

                Chapter 4: Why were you digging?  

Months pass and the early spring turns into hot humid D.C summer. You were never a big fan of the summer, you preferred the colder months despite the bad memories you had associated with them. 

Things changed and some things stayed the exact same. You caught bad guys, which was typical, you actually ended up getting tackled by a drunk Unsub once which results in you being out of the field with a broken arm for four weeks. You found a cat in an alley digging through the trash near your apartment one day when you were walking home. You left food out for him since until one day he decided to come up to you. And now you have a cat you affectionately named Garbage. 

You and Ethan (the guy from the bar) had a “situation-ship”, as Garcia liked to call it for about a month and a half. In your opinion, there was no situation-ship, you guys had mediocre sex until he wanted more and was upset you “worked too much”. So when he “broke up” with you, you weren’t really upset. Your heart wasn’t in it anyway. 

You and Spencer never talked about that night at the bar. In fact, you hardly talked at all. Your Saturday’s together stopped, you had no excuse to see each other now you were finished with school. Now that there was no thesis, there was no thesis for him to help with. 

That didn’t stop Spencer from occupying the space in your head rent-free though. You couldn’t help yourself, he was always in the forefront of your mind and frankly it was starting to affect how you worked. It was a paperwork day and everyone was working silently, merely coexisting and since there was nothing really going on your mind couldn’t help but wander. Spencer was sitting across you reading case files, taking occasional notes in a legal pad next to him. Your eyes instantly went to his hands as he traced it down the page as he often did when he was reading. You studied them for a while, long slender fingers resting on massive palms. You never thought you were someone who’d be attracted to hands but the amount of times you thought about them on particularly lonely nights, specifically the things he could do with them. 

Yea, it was enough to make you a cheirophile. 

You went back to watching him when suddenly one of the aforementioned hands were waving in your face. 

“Y/N” he said. “I’ve been calling your name for 3 minutes.” 

“I’m sorry, Spen.” You flush instantly at being caught. “What did you need?” 

“I asked if you had a red pen I could borrow?” 

“Yea.” You rummaged through your drawer, producing the pen in question. His hand brushes yours as he grabs it, you try very hard not to shiver at the contact but you couldn’t help it. “Keep it.” you say. 

“Hey, are you okay?” He says. “You’ve been extremely out of it lately.”

He was right, you have been out of it lately. Spencer was putting you out of it. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that night at the bar and your almost kiss. Since then, it was like he was trying to constantly bring your attention to his mouth, whether it was by his habit of stealing lollies from Garcia’s office or the constant biting and licking of his lips whenever he was deep in thought. They had seared their way into your frontal lobe without permission. 

Working with him had become exceptionally hard and an unwelcome distraction, especially out in the field. Last month, the two of you had gone undercover in a nightclub, an unsub had been murdering young couples who were overly affectionate in public, so you had to spend the night practically wrapped around the man you had an insane crush on, breathing in his scent. You sipped your “cocktail” (it was just cranberry juice) as Spencer kept his arm steady around your waist. Eventually, you hear Emily in the earpiece you were wearing. 

“You’ve gotta do more guys if we’re going to draw him out.” She says. 

“Yea and loosen up. If  you guys look uncomfortable, no ones going to believe you’re a couple.” Morgan adds. 

You and Spencer look at each other for a beat.  

“If I do something that makes you uncomfortable, you’ll tell me right?” He whispers to you. You nod instantly. Suddenly Spencer’s arm is tighter around you, pulling you flush to his body. He dips down attaching his lips to your neck and jawline. You gasp, you had not been expecting that at all, you clutch your drink harder other hand moving to his side. He pulls you in tighter somehow, suddenly you feel his hand move downward until he is palming your ass, you bite your lip to keep your composure but his lips suddenly meet that spot behind your earlobe that he couldn’t have possibly known about prior. A quiet moan unintentionally rips through you and you could’ve sworn you felt his fingers twitch, squeezing your ass slightly. Emily and Morgan were right, the Unsub did approach you guys shortly after that and led you into the alley like he did so many couples before only to be met by your badges and guns. 

Then there was the time a couple of months ago when you and Reid had gone to interview a child psychiatrist and discovered that he was a molester. Spencer had been livid talking to the man, making threats that honestly should've been promises to throw the man in jail. You had never seen Spencer angry or at the very least this angry, and for some reason that turned you on beyond belief. 

You decided to close that can of worms and save it for another day. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.” You say, smiling tightly at him turning back to your stack of files. You couldn’t be mad at Spencer for your inability to keep it in your pants while you were working. So that’s what you did, worked and tried to avoid Spencer as much as you could. And if that night from the club replayed in your head often while you were alone in your bed that night like many nights before, it was no one’s business but your own. 

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

In the morning, you woke to the sound of construction equipment being used next to your apartment. D.C’s already so dense. What more could they be building?   You thought as you got up to make yourself a much needed cup of coffee. 

Now without your schoolwork or  standing date with Spencer, Saturdays always felt too long. You drank your coffee, read a book, watched some TV and when you looked at the time it was still only noon. You sighed heavily before getting up to get changed. The weather was nice, you hoped a jog would at the very least tire you out so you could waste a couple hours napping. 

So off you went, down the path of a nearby park. You had been jogging for about 30 minutes when you see a familiar shape in the distance. As you get closer you notice it’s exactly who you wanted it to be. 

“Hey, Spen!” You say excitedly as you slow to a stop in front of him. He looks up from the book he was reading on the bench. He smiles once he sees you. “Y/N, Hey.” He says. 

“What’re you doing in the park alone?” You ask. 

He lifts up his book. “I just came to read, thought a change of scenery would do me better than sitting around my apartment.” He says 

“Same here. Now that I finished school, it feels like I have too much time in the day. Now it just feels like I’m doing stuff just to keep myself busy, hence the jogging.” You say lifting your leg slightly, pointing out the running shoes you were wearing. You felt his eyes slowly trail up your bare legs, taking in your form slowly and diligently as if he thought he would forget it all the second he blinked. His eyes finally stopped at yours and you released the breath you didn’t know you holding. 

“Well, I’ll let you get back to your book. I’ve still got 2 miles to go.” You say, as you start to jog away, you hear Spencer call out to you. You stop and turn back. “Yea?” you ask. 

“Umm…” He says trailing off before taking a breath. “I’m going to see a movie later, I was hoping maybe you’d wanna come? It’s in french, but I can whisper-translate for you.” He says. 

“Yea sure, I’m doing anything else.” You say, a little too excitedly. Calm down, Y/N, he didn’t even say it was a date. You think to yourself. “What time should I meet you there?” 

“7?” He says. 

“Great! See you at 7, Reid!” You say before jogging away. 

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

You leave your house around 6:45, after spending about an hour and a half trying to find something to wear. Since it wasn’t a date, or since he didn't say it was one, you opted for something casual. A pair of comfortable jean shorts and your favorite band’s t-shirt. You did light makeup, and after an inspection in the mirror you decided you looked the right amount of cute and comfortable. 

Spencer was waiting outside the theater when you arrived. He was dressed casually too, a blazer over a simple t-shirt, cuffed jeans and converse. He smiles brightly at you as you walk up to join him. 

He insists on paying for the movie and you have to fight him to get him to let you at least pay for snacks but soon you are seated in the almost empty theater together. 

He moves close to you as the movie starts, whispering translations in your ear. At some point halfway through the movie, his arm ends up around your back as he continues to translate, your hand falls instinctively to his thigh. 

The movie ends eventually, and the two of you begin to walk outside together. You know a really good ice cream place that’s not a far walk from the theatre so you suggest going Spencer instantly says yes. You guys walk in silence for a while before you open your mouth to say something. 

“Can I confess something to you?” You ask him. 

He turns and looks at you. “Yea, what is it?” 

“Je parle quatre langues, dont une est le français.” (I speak four languages, one of which is french.) You say. 

He looks at you incredulously. “Pourquoi m'avez-vous laissé traduire le film entier pour vous?” (Why did you let me translate the entire movie for you?) He asks 

“Tu veux dire, pourquoi t'ai-je laissé chuchoter à mon oreille pendant deux heures d'affilée?” (You mean, Why did I let you whisper in my ear for two hours straight?) You smile flirtatiously at him. “Je suis sûr que tu peux comprendre celui-là.” (I'm sure you can figure that one out) You nudge him with your arm. “Come on, I believe you owe me ice cream.” 

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

You and Spencer, deciding you don’t want the night to end just yet,  take your ice cream and walk to a park. You lick lazily at the cone you opted for opposed to the cup he got. You guys seem to try and catch up on everything the two of you had done since your last coffee shop visit. He tells you about the books and Doctor’s journals he’s read. You explain to him the entire plot of the latest season of Drag race. You talk and talk and talk, to the point you don’t even realize it’s getting late. 

“It’s late.” he says, “We should head back.” 

And so you do, the two of you walk back to your cars parked near the movie theatre in semi-silence. As the two of you approach your driver door, you turn to look at each other. 

“This was fun, to hang out, I mean.” You say. 

“Yea, it was.” He adds. “I’d like to do it more, if you don’t mind.” 

You shake your head. “No, I’d love that.” you say. 

He takes a step closer to you and you do the same. This was it, he was finally going to kiss you. He looks down at your lips and up to your eyes again as if searching for the approval you give a quick tiny nod. He smiles, moving a hand to the side of your head leaning into you--

Your phone rings. He takes a step back. 

Moment ruined.   

You look at your caller ID. “It’s Hotch.” you say, he nods at you while you answer the phone “Y/L/N” you say. 

“Y/N/N, you need to meet me at the office. Right now.” He says. 

“Why sir? Is there a case?” You ask. 

“No case.” He says. “Gabriel Ferguson’s date has been set.” 

That name. 

You tried everyday to forget that name. 

The name of the man who took your family. 

Your innocence. 

Your way of life. 

Gabriel Ferguson. 

The Beechwood Killer. 

You freeze. Spencer is watching you, concerned now. “W-Why do you need me to come in for that?” You stutter. 

“Because… he’s refusing to tell us where he dumped the first bodies.” Hotch pauses. “Until he speaks to you.” 

You drop your phone. 

The last thing you hear is Spencer calling out to you while everything fades to black.

Taglist: @haylaansmi​     @yoruebeautiful​ @kianagilder-blog​ @l0ve-0f-my-life​ @bihoeofmanyfandoms @dreamer7black​ @baby-banana​ @drreidshands​ @blameitonthenight21​ @slyskyeey​ @liaabsurd​ @di-essere-amato​

[azure-bliss]

shinran oneshot

Fandom: DC

Pairing: Shinran

Excerpt: 

“Shinichi,” she whispered, warm blue orbs losing focus as she looked at him, though her smile remained. She rose her hand to caress his cheek (she’s so, so cold). “You found us.”

Her chapped lips met his, and then, “Arigato.”

A/N: I swear that this was supposed to be fluffy but brain said nope, angst-infused it is. Also, I’m no expert in medicine nor the Japanese police system, even criminology for that matter. Spare me. Enjoy!

Day 9

“I should write a book.”

Shinichi’s first instinct was to snort, as he was reminded of Kogoro-ojisan’s—who he should really be calling otousan nowadays—intention of becoming a mystery novelist, much like his actual father. Kudo Yusaku had made millions writing his thrillers, and today, years after the older Kudo patriarch decided to publish his final novel, he was still adding money to the Kudo fortune.

Perhaps his mother playing the titular character in one of Night Baron’s spinoff adaptations, Lady Baron, played a huge factor too. His parents were weird that way, almost like a tag-team, because the moment Kudo Yusaku announced his writing retirement, Kudo Yukiko came out of hers.

It was as if they thought that the world could not handle more than three (he was pretty sure his popularity was on par with his parents, despite his lack of big screen appearances) famous Kudos at a time.

“Finally jumping on the full Kudo experience?” he teased, adjusting himself on the hospital bed where his wife sat, left arm wrapped around her whole frame, right palm covering hers.

Eyes focused on the little bundle in her arms, she hummed before answering, “A best-seller for sure.”

As if on cue, their newborn squirmed before revealing twin orbs that matched his mother’s, unfocused eyes looking up to the woman who went through hell and back prior to his birth.

“Anata,” she called, her tired voice laced with a hint of excitement. “He’s beautiful.”

 Day 1

He stood in an abandoned room of an equally abandoned motel located just 50 km on the outskirts of Tokyo, the very location that had him and nearly the whole Tokyo Metropolitan Police Taskforce wrecking their brains and exhausting their resources to find. The identified suspect was one Seisaku Miyazaki, a serial rapist and killer with a tendency for flairs. The 27 crime scenes he left always had distinct blood splatter to them, resulting from either gunshot wounds straight to the temple, or intraoral ones.

Shinichi had never seen a crime scene so gruesome in his life.

As soon as Shinichi stepped into the room, the first thing he should have registered was the blood-spattered left wall and Seisaku’s limp and lifeless body on a chair in the same left corner, his riffle trapped in between his legs.

Instead, Shinichi’s frantic eyes zeroed on the figure on the bed in the middle of the room, merely 10 feet away from Seisaku’s body. The woman had her back against the headboard with an ungodly amount of blood running down her bottom half, arms cocooning a small bundle wrapped with a violet-colored cardigan—the same one she was last saw wearing before her disappearance.

She had her eyes on her baby, as if the newborn was the only person who mattered, seemingly unbothered by the chaos unfolding before her. It took the lead detective a full five seconds to notice that the newborn—oh God, their newborn—was not crying.

He was beside her in her flash, holding her tighter than he should. His wife was again, unbothered, but he noticed that she closed their baby more to her semi-naked chest. The cuts and bruises on her face and torso did not go unnoticed by him. All of Seisaku’s victims had the same markings, but unlike those women who bled from their heads, she was bleeding from bottom down.

Kudo Shinichi screamed for the medic.

It was only then did he hear a soft cry, and he released a breath he did not know he was holding.

“Anata,” she called, finally removing her gaze from their son to look at him “He’s beautiful.”

Her face was pale and hollow, but there was no mistaking the warmth in her eyes and the gentleness of her smile.

His heart both bloomed and broke for her.

“Ran,” he choked out the name he’d been desperately calling for the past few hours. “You’re going to be okay.”

When the medic team finally appeared, his wife first handed the closest medic the baby, “Take care of him, onegai,” she requested, sounding too much like a plea. “He’s a good boy.”

Releasing her son’s warmth, the brunette fell back onto her husband, who caught her naked shoulders, throwing her full weight onto his.

“Shinichi,” she whispered, warm blue orbs losing focus as she looked at him, though her smile remained. She rose her hand to caress his cheek (she’s so, so cold). “You found us.”

Her chapped lips meet his, and then, “Arigato.”

With a sigh of relief, she shut her eyes, and rolled limp further into her husband’s embrace.

Shinichi’s world stood still, the only things registering in his mind were his wife’s cold body, and their newborn’s loud cries in the distant.

 Day 8

She was in pure fight mode, forcing her body to function and conscious to stay awake. Once she knew that her child was safe, all the injuries and agony finally caught up to her, and she welcomed the numbing darkness.

The last thing Ran remembered was Shinichi’s rapid heartbeat drumming her ears.

The new mother woke up a week later, on an unfamiliar bed, to the familiar but tormented eyes of her husband.

“Baby,” she mustered breathily, and her husband’s eyes all but softened.

She knew that they were safe.

   Day 10

It was another two whole days before she was deemed fit enough to hold her newborn.

“Anata,” she beams, “He’s beautiful.”

“He is,” the Heisei-Reiwa Holmes agreed. “The brat gave the doctors and nurses a fright with his fever, would not stop crying too.”

If his wife was worried, she did not show it. “Is that true?” she cooed, “But you’re okay now, aren’t you sweetheart? Your Papa found us after all.”

Day 0

Kudo Ran did not fit Seisaku Miyazaki’s victim profiles by the slightest. The females he preyed on were usually late teens to early twenties, lived alone, physically petite, and had questionable practices in their private lives.

Or, in the words of Seisaku himself, whores.

Catching the serial killer had been the detective’s top priority, with the death count at 27 and the most recent killings at the heart of Tokyo, it was one of the most challenging cases for him to date.

With half of the murders in Tokyo and the other half in Osaka, it was a no brainer for both Detective of the East and West to join hands, special taskforces from Tokyo and Osaka rallying under their (unofficial) command. The investigation had been ongoing for more than four months before special unit finally made a definite progress, being able to identify a potential victim, shadowing her day and night, coming in to save her just in time from being abducted, and arresting Seisaku’s paid minion.

Genzo Okubo was no Seisaku, the two detectives figured. The latter was confident, methodical, a true psychopathic mastermind, yet the man they caught fumbled with his words, sweated profusely, and most importantly, had little loyalty as he quickly confessed to everything.

The unit rejoiced, but Shinichi and Heiji knew that it was too simple, as if Seisaku wanted Gento to be caught.

By the time they were finished with the guy, it was already 2 a.m.

The lack of miscalls from him wife caught him off guard.

He tried not to panic, reasoning to himself that Ran was probably at her parents’, fell asleep, and his in-laws forgot to inform him. After all, it would not be the first time this had happened. If anything, the Mouris had not stopped fussing over their daughter, and with this case constantly on his mind, Shinichi had not really been the doting husband and father-to-be that he ought to be. Their six-year-old twins were away with his parents somewhere in New York, the elder Kudo couple wanting to give the once-again new parents space to get ready for the youngest Kudo’s arrival.

Halfway through dialing Eri’s number (because his mother-in-law was a light sleeper), Heiji burst into the break room with a suspicious package in his hands.

“Kudo,” the dark-skinned detective panted, as if he just ran up flights of stairs instead of taking the elevator, “that bastard’s got Nee-chan.”

Inside the package were two things: a picture of a very pregnant Kudo Ran, blindfolded and gagged, and a lone platinum wedding band.

  Day 10

“He panicked.”

“Hmm?”

“Seisaku-san, he panicked.” His wife stated, the name of her kidnapper rolling of her tongue like she was mentioning a student of hers. “I started having contractions, started bleeding too. He mumbled something about ‘not following his plan’.”

Shinichi rose his brows, puzzled by Ran’s statement, but he let her continue.

“I think,” she paused, readjusting her hold on their son when they boy started to writhe, “that he was halfway out when Seisaku-san decided to shoot himself.”

Her voice was cool, too indifferent, and deep down, Shinichi knew that his wife may be scarred for life.

“Three sounds,” she gulped then snickered. “Me screaming during the final push, the baby’s cries, and the riffle going off.”

Shinichi held her tighter.

“His blood was everywhere, Shinichi. On the walls, the carpet, the bed, my face,” There are now cracks in her voice, the memories flooding her overwhelmed mind as she remembers it all again, “On our baby boy.”

“Ran…” He trailed off, not knowing what to say. His wife and son were alive, but the trauma she went through was something he wished on no one, not even Seisaku himself.

“I didn’t want him to get cold, so I wrapped him with my cardigan. Not the most hygienic, I know, but I didn’t exactly have many choices,” a chuckle. “He locked the door, so I couldn’t escape, and I couldn’t exactly kick the door open, my energy was spent on giving birth. So, I started breastfeeding the baby, burping him…making sure he was alive long enough for you to find us.”

Something in him shattered even more.

Ran averted her eyes away from their son to look at her husband, their faces only a few centimeters apart.  There were no tears in their eyes, the pain and regret that remained in their hearts too crushing to be expressed by mere crying. “I’m safe, our boy is safe, because you found us. None of this is your fault, so please, Anata,” she kisses him before continuing, “don’t blame yourself.”

Shinichi could not imagine what life would be without her. She was his wife, partner, lover, best friend, soulmate, the mother of his children, his world, his everything.

“Okay,” he promised simply, capturing her lips for a second time before kissing her forehead. “I love you.”

He felt her smiling into his neck, and at that moment, nothing was wrong; they were whole.

They stayed like that for a few more moments, savoring the peaceful yet short time they had with their baby boy before one of the nurses took him away for the night.

    Day 11

 “Your book,” Shinichi remembered far into the night. “What are you going to write about?”

A mischievous look twinkled in Ran’s eyes, and the man knows that his wife will heal just fine. “Kidnapped 101.”

- end

A/N: Nope, not their firstborn. And I also imagine that Ran has had her fair share of getting kidnapped so might as well write a book on it lmao.