#what else was a seven year old to do but get really good at. paperwork

[railingsofsorrow]

summary: in which a phone call ruined your day.

... or not, because your boyfriend made sure to be there for you until you were okay again. pairing: s. reid x gn!reader

w.c: 2.1K

warnings/content: reader is reckless and puts themselves in danger (one time); angst; mentions of shutting people out; an argument happens but the fluff comes right after; case-related violence; reader is going through something but it isn't explained; mentions of past bad habits; be aware of spelling errors.

A/N: my finals aren't over but I forced myself to take a break for the night. thus, I'm posting this hurt/comfort blurb. hope you like it.

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

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“you're mad.”

the day started good. you even got breakfast at home, which is something it almost never works out. but a case only arrived at around nine, so you had time to eat something before leaving.

spencer made toast, crispy, just the way you liked it. you sipped on your orange juice as he took his coffee, hand resting above yours in the comfortable morning silence you liked to partake in.

the day started good.

until things went south really quick.

it all begun with a phone call. not a work call, you were pretty used to those and when hotch called you up to the briefing room, everybody was already filling out paperwork in the bureau.

your mood went sour in a matter of seconds. you think you were able to desguise it from most of the team, though. except for spencer and maybe emily, because emily noticed every eyelash that was out of place, she couldn't even help it.

the news you got caused you to retract back to old habits, shutting people out and drowning in work to avoid thinking about it. you were numb, doing everything on autopilot, but you didn't let it compromise your professionalism. never. that fucking phone call wouldn't make you a bad profiler for a second. you wouldn't let it.

being numb lead you to be impulsive. and you took advantage of that. you'd jump straight into action just to avoid dealing with your problems. just to forget.

“i'm not mad.”

your boyfriend's tone was clipped, short. almost cold, but it didn't got that far yet. it took a lot to make spencer reid mad. but when it happened, and you were the reason, you were always conflicted on whether to let him cool off for himself, give him space, or beg for forgiveness right after you screwed up.

this time, you decided on the former. you don't think it worked that well.

the unsub had a gun pointing at a seven year old child. he was cornered in every way possible. police cars were still arriving at the scene, although five FBI agents aimed at the man, ready to shoot in case he so much as twitched a finger on that trigger.

anxiety ran along the bystanders as they watched it all happen in their neighborhood. you hadn't plan that, in fact, all of you had planned something else entirely. the profile was solid as well as the location and the unsub's endgame.

but people are unpredictable. no matter how hard you've studied the human brain. in certain circumstances, they would be capable of anything. including threatening children's lives.

your boss advised everyone to stay back. that they had it covered. it was only a matter of talking him down, carefully and with confidence.

but the second you heard the sob of that seven-year-old boy, you stopped focusing on the command reaching your earpiece. bulletproof vest and gun set aside, you marched forward, no ounce of hesitation. you knew what you were doing.

“spencer.” you followed him into your bedroom, a tired sigh leaving your lips as you felt your legs wobble slightly. you were exhausted. the day was hell both physically and mentally and you just wanted to take a good shower and sleep for forty eight hours. you wanted to forget it ever happened. you wanted to forget that phone call.

he didn't spared you a glance as he grabbed a pair of clothes to get into the bathroom. there was it. that coldness you hated. it was finally here. “spencer, please. can we talk?” you begged. if there was one thing that suffocated you was sleeping while upset. and your boyfriend was an elite grudge holder. you just couldn't do that tonight.

“of course.” he leaned back from the door just before entering the bathroom. an impassive expression across his featured as he turned to you. you wanted to scream at him. “you've been avoiding me all day, but you want to talk now? of course.”

okay. you deserved that.

did you though? why couldn't he make your life a little easier?

“sorry I was rude to you,” you said, holding back the petty comment wanting to slip out of your tongue. sorry I'm going through something and you're being an idiot about it. “i didn't mean to. I shouldn't have treated you that way.”

spencer's tongue poked around his cheek and you braced yourself for what was about to happen. an argument. in the middle of the night — morning, it must have been past two am.

“i don't care that you were rude the entire day.” spencer clarified as if that would make things better. “i care that you threw yourself in front of a psychopath with a gun, without a bulletproof vest and only your hands to work as a shield.”

“you had my back.” you insisted, recalling the moment the whole team started to shout at both you and the unsub. they were behind you, you had good coverage. “someone needed to talk him down.”

he didn't seem to be on the verge of snapping anymore. his shoulders were slumped. he was tired too. he was exhausted. it has been a long day and you needed to rest. you needed to sleep. you needed to forget.

it had started as a good day.

“we were doing that.” spencer mumbled, softly. he eyed your bitten cuticules, the bandage in your arm and your far away gaze. spencer wasn't stupid. he noticed things. he noticed you. he knew something was wrong from the moment you excused yourself to take a phone call in the middle of the case briefing. you came back into the room a different person. contained. robotic. strictly professional. “why couldn't you wait?”

“it was a child. he was scared.” you snapped, flinching away from him. “he didn't have time to wait.”

spencer pressed his brows together, deciding to not mention the time you did have to do what you had to do. statistics wouldn't help now. “you could have gotten shot in the chest.”

“it barely grazed my arm.”

“that's not the point!”

“and what is?” you yelled back, turning to him, fuming. “there is no point. the boy was in danger. you decided to wait. I decided to act. he's alive. I'm barely hurt. the case is over.”

spencer faltered, seeking something in you that he wasn't able to find. his gaze travelled accross yours in a desperate attempt to make you realise how stupid that single sentence was. one mistake. one wrong move. and you could have been somewhere else instead of in your shared apartment.

a bodybag.

“who called you?” you blinked at him, taken aback by the question. you expected him to blame you further. you even expected him to ignore you for the rest of the night. you would not back down. “i know something happened. someone happened. you're not... you wouldn't do that if you were thinking.”

“so because I'm impulsive one time, you're questioning my judgement?”

“when your judgement makes me almost lose you, yes. I am.” he crossed his arms, licking his lips as he studied you. profiled you. you fucking hated him right now. you wanted to rip his brains out.

“there was an entire team aiming at the guy, spencer.” you scoffed, pressing a thumb against your forehead, a headache brewing. your will to argue has vanished. you just wanted to sleep.

“you were blocking our aim.”

“can you stop?”

“no.”

you no longer had control of your emotions as your sight begins to be blurred by tears. fuck, I can't do this.

the room became silent. as if hearing your inner turmoils, spencer paused. he thought it through, any possibility that might have caused your sudden mood change. your impulsiveness. he thought he had done something, but by your reaction it wasn't that. it wasn't him.

it all shifted after that phone call.

you didn't retract when he approached. you didn't reject his touch or pushed him away. but you remained frozen, locked up in your own cage.

“do you want to talk about it?”

it had started as a good day.

you stood up, brushing your strands behind your ears and swallowing up the feeling of something permanently lodged in your throat.

you didn't turn to watch his expression faltering in disappointment. you didn't had the guts to see it.

“no.” you said. “i'm fine. I'm going to take a shower. I'm tired.” you left to your shared bedroom without a goodnight, knowing it would be pointless since you'd be sleeping alone tonight.

sleeping was a strong word. you closed your eyes, pressing your eyelids so tight that you're seeing stars. tossing and turning for around one hour in an empty bed was enough to leave you upset. the weight of the day and the argument you had with your boyfriend taking a toll on you.

maybe you hadn't been fair to spencer. it's not like he did anything to force your sudden mood change; he had absolutely nothing to do with it, actually. he wasn't responsible for that phone call, he wasn't the person at the other line whose voice you didn't want to hear ever again. he was just the one at the receiving end of your irritability.

your boyfriend, he wasn't one to pry. to force you to speak of things that made you uncomfortable. things you weren't ready to discuss yet. he was the kind of person who would ask if everything was alright and he would make sure you knew you had a shoulder to cry on and a ear to vent if necessary.

spencer was caring and respectful. he knew you needed space just as he did at some moments. so much so that he wasn't sleeping on the couch because he was mad at you — though you had been rude for that to be case — but because being around him, or anyone for that matter, would only set you off.

his curled up frame on the couch, half covered by the blanket and half uncovered to the night air. curls splattered around the pillow he stole from your bedroom when you were still in the bathroom. you wanted to bury yourself into his arms and never leave him again. you wanted his warmth all over you.

standing on the entrance of the living room, you watched his eyelids move incessantly. it was what told you he wasn't in a deep sleep.

he was pretending to be sleeping and you knew he was aware of your watchful eyes.

“i'm sorry.”

you mumbled into the uncomfortable silence, scratching your arm beneath the bandage in nervousness. shifting into your feet, you contemplated approaching him, but remained in the spot.

he peaked at you as his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the room. he moved to a sitting position, outstretching a hand in your direction. an invitation.

“c'me here.”

you didn't need to be told twice.

“i'm sorry I was rude to you, I didn't mean it. you were just there and I—” he shushed your ramble with a kiss to your temple, arms squeezing you against him the way you craved in bed a few minutes ago. “i'm sorry, spencer. please don't be mad at me.” the last part you let out in a soft whisper but it only made him pull you closer as a form of comfort, to erase the pain you were feeling.

spencer cupped your cheeks so you would look at him “i'm not mad.” he promised, thumb grazing your face lovingly. “i just thought you needed space, but I promise I'm not mad, okay?”

you nodded with your lips trembling slightly. you were fairly certain that if you were to speak anything right now you'd burst into tears immediately.

you did manage to let out i don't want space, I want you. because it was all that you needed right now. always.

he kissed every teardrop that slipped out after that, bringing you closer to lay on his chest as he rested his back against the arm of the couch.

“i'm here, baby.” he whispered, fingers dancing across your arms. “always.”

you turned on his hold to be face to face with him, lifting one hand to touch the side of his face, caressing his jaw where you felt the growing stubble on his chin.

“thank you.” you said, smiling faintly when he pecked the tip of your nose.

he ended up covering the both of you with the spare blanket.

he breathed out as if pretty satisfacted with your current position, even though you both will most certainly be complaining of backache as soon as you wake up tomorrow. “i love you.” he let out, not minding about the pain in his joints in the morning. the only thing that mattered was you in his arms, safe and sound.

the day started good, until a phone call ruined it completely.

or not. because spencer was there and he kind of made things bearable. and if he could just make you feel better for a little while, that's what he would do.

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taglist: @lilyviolets

[love-lilly02]

The Challenge- Ch. 7

An- hey. (drops random half edited chapter that’s probably the shortest one i’ve ever written) see ya🚶🏾‍♀️

A total of two months, three and a half weeks and six days. 

That was how long you had been MIA. Each time another day was added to that count, you grew more restless than before. You wanted to go home, to sleep in your bed, eat american food, damnit just to have a different color shirt to wear. 

And yet you were still stuck here. 

Each day started off the same. You would wake up at the ass crack of dawn, eat something akin to breakfast with Nikolai and wait to see if today was the day you were going back. Instead, he would silently place a knife on the table— some days it was different— and walk out of the room. The same routine, every day. for the past two months.

It was enough to drive any normal person insane. and it had almost driven you insane, definitely would have if you weren’t in the military. 

You had managed to work up the courage to ask why he didn’t immediately send you back one day, why he tolerated you staying with him for this long. 

“If i send you back they do things different. Look at you oddly, treat you weirder. Here you can rest, regain your skills.” He had said, not pausing to spare you a glance. 

“I take you back when you ready.”

according to him, you had not been ready in a long time. 

you never really gave up hope. Not actually, you knew logically at some point he had to bring you back to them. And going back on your own was a suicide mission, one even worse than the thing that had gotten you into this mess. So you waited. 

If it took five months or seven years, you would wait. 

Kate Laswell was a woman of action. 

She knew this for a fact, it had been thrown back into her face so many times she lost body parts to count it. Which is why your disappearance bothered her so much. You were a person of action as well, it’s what prompted her to introduce you to the 141. So then why had you been MIA for the past three months? The thought sat there constantly, turning even the best days sour. 

That, and what you were doing to the team.

It didn’t take a genius to figure it out, although you did have to look a bit harder to see the changes. Especially in people like Ghost and Price, whereas Kyle and Soap might as well have worn their emotions on their sleeves. She wished she could do something to help, to find where exactly you were. Or if you were alive, even. 

All given evidence suggested otherwise. 

She had replayed the shitty camera footage of your disappearance, watched it frame by frame, pixel by pixel. Mutiple times, and she couldn’t figure out how there could be a way for you to get out of there. It just wouldn’t have added up. 

But she didn’t give up there, of course she wouldn’t.

She kept searching, looking for any sign of you. As a civilian, one of the russian’s captives, anyone. anything could come into play, you were a smart girl and everyone knew it. 

Unfortunately, that also meant you could cover up your tracks well. 

It took another month for anything good to come up. And that something good came as salvation always does.

In the form of a call. 

John had made an attempt to push the situation out of his mind, to allow you to handle your own business. His thoughts screamed at him to be more active, to do something more, but there was literally nothing for it. 

Or so he thought. 

The call came in while he was walking out of a meeting, silently dreading the mound of paperwork he would now have to do. When he saw the caller ID he had to do a double take, and he rushed to answer the call. 

“Nik?”

“Captain. It’s been a while, no?”

“Damn right it has. Makes me scared.”

His old friend laughed, and Price could imagine the way he was shaking his head.

“Yes, yes. But i have gift—what? okay, okay sheesh. I have… surprise… for you.”

Price just stared. “Is there someone else there? What’s goin on Nik?” 

There was silence on the other end of the line, then a lot of rusting. 

“Um. Hey.” 

Price almost dropped the phone. 

The process of getting you back wasn’t as hard as they thought it would be, but it certainly took a very long time. 

In reality it took two weeks. But to them each day felt like a decade.  

The entire flight took 11 hours, and they weren’t allowed to meet you halfway (something about using military vehicles for non military purposes. all four boys thought that was absolute bull shit but they couldn’t do anything about it) So they did the next best thing. 

wait. 

And they waited. and waited. Each time a chopper landed on the helipad they were rushing to the window, seeing if it was you. It got to the point that they had someone constantly surveying that area of the base, just so they could be immediately notified. 

And finally, finally you were back. 

It was a whole ordeal, theatrics that even soap had to roll his eyes at. The moment you got off the plane you were swamped with people asking questions, doctors trying to assess how you were alive and unharmed, people just staring in awe. 

But you ignored them all, scanning the crowd with a panicked expression. It didn’t disappear till you saw the four of them, standing far, far away from the mob of people surrounding you. 

Nik walked out behind you, placing a steadying hand on your shoulder. The two of you made your way down the ramp to the group, and Price smiled for the first time in a long time when he saw you. 

“Welcome back, kid.”

this was gona be an akward chapter anyways, i had NO idea how to write the reader's return. I'll make it up to you guys next time, pinkie promise

My Masterist

[tears0fsatan]

I have something in mind

Can brothers+ Simeon (If you can) react to a smutty fanfic with male mc written by some random succubus?

They're just randomly scrolling on devilgram (or any other platform) and they see this fanfic (if you know what I mean)

Sorry if it's a bit confusing.

✦ ⊹ ˚˖ warnings... nsfw??, below 16 do not interact u'll be blocked if u do, male!mc, mainly implied dom!mc, mainly implied top!mc, possessive language yeahhhh 🤘🤘🤟, praise, levi has two dicks lol (its canon atp yall source: trust me), implied blowjob lol (levi), lowkey exhibitionism (satan&beel), mention of somno (belphie), mention of body worship lol (simeon)

 :¨·.·¨ ♥︎  a.n... wait this is actually pretty cute??? HAHAHA had so many ideas for this thank you hon <3 (lol lets move past the fact that this req is almost a year old and it reminded me of svsss lowkey)

LUCIFER !

he doesn't really remember how things had gotten to this point, one moment he was busy doing his paperwork and the next he was reading this... obscene nonsense on his phone. it was horribly vulgar and terribly inappropriate, not to mention how it invaded his and MCs privacy.

yet for some reason, he couldn't look away.

lucifer was no teenage boy, he had the willpower to move mountains and never felt the urge to masturbate, especially to something as crass as smut of someone he knew personally.

he had no need to read horrible stuff like this since he could easily have the real thing, yet he had to admit, there was something rather enticing about someone's lewd fantasies between him and MC. it annoyed him to no end that someone thought of his MC in such a way but knowing that they knew it was lucifer that was the one making his human feel so good eased his jealousy.

it was comical almost, how the author depicted him fucking MC into the next day when in reality it was the opposite. it was lucifer who was under the mercy of the human, the one who would cry and beg for more, not that anyone outside of the two of them needed to know.

however, there was one commonality between the vulgar post and reality that made his pride flare, no one, not human, angel, or demon, could ever make his little human feel as good as he did. it was interesting to see how accurate yet inaccurate this succubus's fantasy was at the same time and only lucifer would know.

lucifer thought about leaving a comment correcting the author on what a satisfied MC really looked like, on how it was really he himself that trembled under the human's touch, and how MC managed to get the avatar of pride into such a state. yet, knowing that he was the only one who truly knew those little things pleased him greatly, and quickly dismissed the thought. some things were better left unsaid.

MAMMON !

during one of his nightly visits to his favourite casino, mammon couldn’t help but notice how some of the succubi keeping the gambling demons company were whispering amongst each other and giggling to themselves while occasionally throwing glances at him. at first, he thought nothing of it, he was a demon lord after all and the second oldest of all seven avatars of sins on top of being a model, it was no surprise people would recognise him.

throughout the night he caught wind of bits and pieces of the succubi’s whispering and immediately opened his D.D.D. to see exactly what the hell they were muttering about. what he found left him speechless and unable to focus on his bets the entire night, though he tried (and subsequently failed miserably) to not let it show.

there was a flare of anger at the thought of other people thinking of his MC in that way but the fact that they imagined him with MC had a different feeling flaring up in the pit of his stomach. a sense of smugness bubbled up from within, damn right it was him that was fucking MC, as if he would allow anyone else touch his treasure.

mammon's thoughts kept flitting back to the post despite himself, images of scenes the author described coming to haunt him through his bets and they had him shifting in his seat, eager to keep the money rolling in but also desperate to have MCs arms wrapped around him and make the dirty fantasies of a random succubus come to life.

he wanted to feel MCs desperation on his skin, he wanted the humans attention all on him, his eyes focused on the demon and him alone, but most of all, mammon wanted to hear the cascade of praises that the human sang his way, just like how the post had described. he needed all of it.

before he realised, his thoughts were no longer focused on the money he could've been earning and instead on his human. he'd deal with the perverted succubus and his increasing debt another day, what he needed right now was MC.

LEVIATHAN !

now, leviathan was no stranger to fan fiction, especially smut and x readers. he was what one could describe as an expert on internet culture, so how could he not know about something as infamous as fan fiction? they were his guilty pleasure, not that anyone knew.

he was also no stranger to searching MC up online, whether it was on devilgram to see the most recent photos captured of him or fabsnap to replay the videos of him doing a silly challenge with one of his brothers. while he knew that the real living human was merely a few steps away, leviathan wasn't sure if he wanted such a useless and gross otaku breathing down his neck.

so, when he was scrolling through devilgram to see updates on a new anime he was into and accidentally stumbled upon a once in a lifetime goldmine, how could he pass up the opportunity to read it? i mean, to think that some other basement dweller thought of him with MC in such an intimate way... that was pretty fucking awesome, wasn't it?! leviathan was divided between feeling like the luckiest demon in all three realms and feeling like he had tainted something he shouldn't have, as his eyes shakily scanned the blob of text with bated breath.

there were several moments that sent a shudder down his spine, the description of MC taking his cocks oh so sweetly had him running laps in his mind. even after he finished reading the entirety of the post, he had to go back again, as if to burn the text into his memory.

a whine made its way out of the demon's throat when the mental image of the human stroking his cocks with a lazy smirk on his lips and sharp eyes analysing his every move took reign over his thoughts, the image coming back despite how hard he tried to will it away and focus on the post again. his attempts proved futile, thoughts of MC on his knees in front of him with a cock in each hand, movement stopping completely just as he was about to come flashed in his mind with every breath⎯ leviathan couldn't get him out of his head.

hidden beneath the guilt that came with thinking of such lewd acts with MC lay a flare of envy⎯ how dare someone think of the revered human in such a manner? the more he thought about him and the post, the brighter the flare burned, and soon it consumed him, on top of the sinful thoughts of his human.

SATAN !

while waiting for a certain human to join him at the library for their promised tutoring session, satan decided to scroll through his devilgram, chuckling quietly to himself when he comes across a silly video of cats. however, his laughter soon died down when he scrolled onto the next recommended post and saw that it was about his study date and himself.

after a moment of pondering whether he should take the time to read the horny rambling of a random succubus or not, he ultimately decided, fuck it, why not? it was crude and quite poorly written, he noted, but the thought behind the post was made clear; satan took MC to the library under the guise of tutoring him when in reality it had only been a front to fuck the human in public.

a concoction of emotion bubbled underneath his skin and his mind ran rampant, the thought of someone naively believing that satan would be the one who would do something as ballsy as that nearly made him laugh, but he imagined a scenario where the dynamic flipped, and the chuckle died in his throat. various images of MC using him in a place he deemed to be his haven weaselled past his wall of self control and it became the only thing he could think of.

it wasn't something he hadn't thought of, it was just one that he tried not to acknowledge. after all, it was a public setting and satan had the reputation of a demon lord to keep up, he couldn't just do something indecent where lesser beings could see him and MC. yet, in a way, the vulgar musing of some unknown succubus brought an onslaught of unwarranted thoughts about him and the human doing uncouth things in places where someone could randomly stumble upon them that he didn't hate all that much.

the idea of the human covering his mouth with his hand to silence all the obscene noises so people wouldn't discover them had more of an effect on the demon than he thought and he had to stop himself from divulging in his horny daydreams further.

he was pulled out of his dirty fantasies by the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and satan looked up to see that the human had arrived, chest rising and falling faster than it would normally, giving him the idea that he had run to meet him. the demon put on a smile and continued with the date like he never read the post in the first place, but unbeknownst to MC, there were endless plans swirling around in his mind.

ASMODEUS !

there is no demon in devildom who is more active on devilgram and fabsnap than asmodeus, the avatar of lust himself. it was no surprise to find him scrolling through his phone whenever he wasn't checking himself out on the nearest reflective surface. he isn't ashamed to admit he often checks posts tagged with his name, he enjoyed seeing all the compliments random succubi and inccubi showered him in.

though as of late, there was another name he found himself searching up alongside his. there was no one else it could've been besides MC, the human had somehow managed to worm his way into asmodeus's self fulfilled heart, which shocked even asmodeus himself. the demon always read every caption and comment under a post with either his or MCs name in it, especially posts tagged with both of their names. he made sure to never miss a post, regardless of whether they had something good or bad to say (of course the negative ones all got mysteriously bombarded with death threats and soon after were taken down). it was how he found the random musing of one of his fans.

it was scrambled and all over the place, not to mention the number of inaccuracies woven into it, and yet it turned asmodeus on nevertheless. there was one thing they got right; how the demon absolutely adored milking the human dry. the way his spit coated lips would bleed from how hard he bit on them and the way the filthy, degrading names that made asmodeus tremble in all the right ways would tumble past his lips as he rode him, he loved it all.

he fed off of MC's grunts and delirious praises like they were his last lifeline, both in this fan's fantasy and in real life. he never thought that someone could look as beautiful as himself while orgasming but then the human came along and suddenly it was like he had found god again.

the demon found himself getting more and more worked up as he read the text, the detail in the writing of what the two did sent a delightful shiver down his spine, and asmodeus had a sudden urge to stalk the human down and jump his bones. who knew someone's horny rambling could make asmodeus, the avatar of lust, feel this heated? as he skipped off in the direction of MC, thoughts about commissioning the fan kinkier work in the future cycled through his mind.

BEELZEBUB !

the avatar of gluttony wasn't someone who was constantly glued to his D.D.D. like a certain brother of his, if not for communicating with his brothers and MC or using his food sleuthing skills to find new and upcoming food businesses, he hardly even glanced at his phone.

yet somehow, beelzebub found himself unable to take his eyes off of his phone after one particularly tiring fangol practice. while all the other players had finished washing up and changing, the avatar of gluttony was still seated on the bench, unaware of the world around him. the post that had the demon so entranced was one about MC and himself doing sinful things that he only thought asmodeus would indulge in inside the very room beelzebub was situated in at the moment.

a shiver went down his spine and goosebumps broke out all over his skin, both from sweat that clung to his skin and the cool air and the post on devilgram. he was already hungry from not being able to eat during practice, but the description of MCs equally sweaty chest pressed against his back while his hands roamed beelzebubs waist made him feel a different kind of hunger⎯ a different sort of want.

usually his sin felt like a neverending void that he couldn't fill no matter how much he stuffed himself, and he still felt that, but the constant buzzing was somehow not as strong as the ache in his chest and the fire in his lower belly. amidst the heavy racing of his heart and the adrenaline from practice was still pumping through his veins, the post didn't exactly help with his current predicament.

he knew he needed to shower, to go back home and see his family, to stuff his face with all the food he could imagine in hopes of one day being able to silence the ravenous hunger, but after reading the post, he didn't know if he could take a shower without his member getting hard at the thought of MC doing him there too.

to be pressed up against the wall with his hands bracing his weight, the feeling of lips leaving evidence of their activities and lingering on the spot that drew out all sorts of uncharacteristic noises from the demon for a beat too long, the rough yet gentle touch of the human, all the thoughts swirled around in beelzebub's mind and it overpowered his insatiable hunger.

BELPHEGOR !

he had just woken up from the perfect after school nap with nothing to do, MC wasn't around and beelzebub was most likely in the kitchen emptying out the fridge. all homework that needed to be completed was filled out, it wasn't his turn to make dinner and he had already finished all of his chores. with nothing better to do, belphegor slid his phone out from where it was tucked underneath his pillow and scrolled through devilgram with no real goal in mind.

all the posts that flooded his feed were of fellow RAD students he couldn't have been bothered to remember and random promotional shots of RAD from the student council account that he felt the sleepiness creep back into his mind. just as he was about to shut off his phone and continue his nap, a flash of MCs name caught his eye and he scrolled back up to the post.

it was a relatively long post and belphegor mentally groaned, not in the mood to read something so lengthy, but he caught a glimpse of a few rather enticing words along with the human's name thrown in between and he was suddenly filled with an overwhelming urge to read the entire thing.

the way the author had detailed how MC fell victim to late night wood and couldn't sleep it off no matter how many times he tried while cuddling the demon, resulting in him rutting in between belphegor's thighs until the demon stirred awake had him squirming underneath his blanket.

with the help of his sleep addled mind, he could feel the ghost of MCs touch on his skin and he had to suppress the whine that wanted to crawl out of his throat. his eyes continued to skim through the fat chunk of text, swallowing thickly when he read about how the human sucked on his neck to muffle the sound of his own groans, leaving marks in his wake.

belphegor could hardly finish reading the post due to the onslaught of vivid scenarios of MC being all over him and feeling him up in his sleep, to which he felt his half hard dick twitch in his sweats. content with the train of thought his mind was heading in, the demon shut his phone off with the perfect dream to indulge himself in.

SIMEON !

all he was looking for was a new recipe and yet somehow, he found himself entranced with the filthy, sinful words. simeon was by no means the perfect angel, he had done his fair share of dirty deeds in his time but nothing quite enough to make him fall like his former brothers.

temptation was, naturally, an angel's worst enemy and simeon was known to flout the rules every now and then, and this was of no exception. the words on his D.D.D. were familiar yet strewn in a way that was foreign to the angel. it wasn't as though he was completely ignorant of such activities, but his status as an angel certainly meant that he had limited understanding of it outside of reproduction purposes.

so when this post suddenly showed up on his feed, as an author himself, how could he pass up the opportunity to read such a miracle?

the writer described MC in such a way that left simeon feeling flustered, with how this written version of him became so pliable, like putty in the human's hands. he didn't consider himself submissive, but rather something in between. however, there was something about MC praising him for doing well that made the angel think corrupting himself for the human wasn't all too bad of an idea.

he particularly enjoyed the way the writer entailed that MC was gentle and didn't limit himself when it came to praises while he caressed simeon's body, worshipping his body like it deserved. the angel could practically hear the breathy whisper of his name on the tip of the human's tongue, could see the satisfaction on his face whenever simeon couldn't hold back a noise from how good the human was making him feel.

well, as long as he didn't actually act out what was written, he wasn't breaking any rules, now was he? then, it wouldn't hurt to indulge in a few more similar works, right?

© 2023 TEARS0FSATAN. please don’t translate, modify, repost or plagiarise my works anywhere.

[fanficforlife]

~

You stepped out of the cab in awe. A huge log house with a wraparound porch loomed in front of you. Across from the house, there were miles of fences along with three large barns and corrals. But, what really held your attention was the view past all of the buildings. Snow-covered mountains and trees surrounded the property, everywhere you looked the view was incredible.

"Miss?"

You spun around to see the driver waiting with your bag. "Oh, sorry." After taking your suitcase from him, you paid him a hefty sum. Since you didn't have a car and the ranch was quite a ways from the city, you were expecting it. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." The older man smiled before climbing back in the car and driving off.

Okay. Do I go to the house or... Your eyes left the front door when you heard talking behind you, three cowboys saddling up horses. One of the men was already watching you and when your eyes meet, you froze. Your heart stirred from the slumber that had plagued it for the past two years.

The other cowboys, a man who looked similar to the one who caught your eye and an older one with a grey mustache who had both been trying to get his attention, followed his gaze to you. The man who looked like he could be his brother grinned and swatted the guy who was staring at you. The tall, good-looking rancher smiled. You swallowed before quickly looking away.

"You must be Violet." A strong voice sounded from the porch.

"Yes, I am."

"John." He informed. "I can get that."

"No, it's okay. I can do it." You picked up your suitcase and started up the steps but he took the bag from you when it was within reach.

"So, Rick from the motel tells me you've had cleaning jobs in the past."

"Yes, at a few different motels."

He set your bag down as you walked into the large living room which was partially open to the second floor above. "How long were you at each one?"

"Umm, I've kind of been on the road the past two months so I've worked at each one for a week or two. Before I started traveling I lived in a big house and did all of the cleaning."

"So, are you looking for a new place to settle down or would we only have you for a week or two before you move on to the next town? Unless we're your last stop before going home. Rick said you're originally from California?"

"Yes, California. I'm not going back." Your hands wrung together tightly before you took a quick, calming breath. "I've been looking for somewhere new to stay and this is without a doubt the most beautiful place I've been."

John smiled as you both looked at the view through the glass patio door. "I've lived here my whole life and I'm still not tired of it." His eyes lingered on the mountains for a few seconds before turning back to you. "Sit." He motioned to the couch while he sat on a chair across from it. "Our original housekeeper, Mrs. Sanders, was with us for seven years before she got sick and had to leave. She did the normal housekeeping tasks: the floors, dusting, laundry, beds. She was also the one who took care of my grandson, Tate, when he was younger. His mom's never been in the picture and my son was in the Navy when he was a baby. I've raised my kids but I'm not as young as I used to be and that kid can be a handful sometimes." He chuckled. "His dad's name is Kayce, he works on the ranch and lives upstairs, and so does Tate. He's seven years old so he'll be in school most of the time. The only time we will really need your help is driving him to and from school. Is that something you are okay with? And, the cleaning?"

"Yes, the cleaning is good and I'm okay with school runs and whatever else you need."

"Good. Good. Well, from what you've told me and what Rick said, the job is yours, if you want it?"

"Yes, it sounds great."

He smiled. "We can get to the paperwork later this week but I can show you to your room. Rick told you it was a live-in position, correct?"

"He did." You stood up and reached for your suitcase but he beat you to it.

He grinned and lead you through the expansive main floor, showing you the dining room and kitchen on the way. "We have a cook so you don't have to worry about that. He lives in the bunkhouse with the wranglers. Help yourself to whatever you want in the fridge and pantry. If there is something that you want food-wise, you can add it to the running grocery list hanging on the fridge. Oh, that's another job you might get. Gator, our cook, hates grocery shopping."

"No problem." You smiled as he rounded a corner and opened the first door in the hallway.

"This will be your room." He set your bag next to the bed. "My other son and daughter also live here. Their rooms are upstairs. I should probably warn you that my daughter, Beth, is pretty particular. You will be the fourth housekeeper since our original one had to leave two months ago. Beth's made a list of tasks and what days to do them, hopefully, making it a bit easier on you. I hope you like it here because I'm tired of hiring a new one every other week." He chuckled. "My oldest son, Lee, lives on the property. You might have noticed the other two houses over the hill?" You nodded. "Lee is in the one closest to the main house. The other one is the ranch foreman's house. You don't have to worry about cleaning either of those. Did you need some time to get settled or...?"

"No, I'm good. I can start now."

"Alright. I'll give you a quick tour upstairs before I head out. I'll pick up Tate from school today and do the school run tomorrow so you can get used to the house then you can take over on Monday. I'll come with you in the morning and let ya know where you're going."

*****

"Violet, this is my son, Kayce, and my grandson, Tate."

You looked up from the clean pile of laundry you just finished folding to see John standing in the doorway of the laundry room with a cute little brown-haired boy. And, the tall, good-looking cowboy you had locked eyes with two days ago. He's even cuter up close but he's technically my boss. Plus, after everything... "Hi."

"Hi," Kayce said as his piercing brown eyes gazed into yours.

"I like your name."

"Thank you." You smiled at Kayce's son. "I like yours too."

"How did you get that scar on your face?"

Kayce gave his son a swat. "Tate."

"No, it's okay. I uh, fell off my bike when I was little."

"Ouch. I bet it hurt."

"It did." Your mind went to the night you got the scar that ran from your jaw up to your cheekbone...and how you actually got it.

"Grandpa said you're from California. Are you a transplant?"

"A transplant?"

Kayce's cheeks darkened and John stifled a grin, knowing what Tate was about to say. "Dad said a transplant is someone who moves here and tries to make it like the place they left. Rich people from California move here all the time. Are you rich? Do you want it to be like where you're from?"

"The last thing I want is for it to be like where I left." You replied quickly and Kayce's eyes searched your face. Your chest tightened. Why did I say that? And, I answered too fast. "And, umm, I'm definitely not rich." You smiled down at Kayce's son.

"So, she's one of us." Tate looked up at his dad.

Kayce's eyes surveyed your face as he smiled. "Yeah, I think she is."

Tate grinned before looking around curiously. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, I just finished folding some laundry."

"So, now what are you going to do?"

"Now I'm going to go put it away."

"Can I help?"

John and Kayce looked down at the boy with wide eyes. "You want to help put laundry away?" His grandpa asked in shock.

You smiled down at the seven-year-old. "I'm sure there are a bunch of other things you would rather do on a Saturday than put towels away."

"I wanna help. You're just going to check fences and I don't want to."

"I don't know if Violet's going to want to have to keep an eye on you, buddy. We're going to be gone for a couple hours."

"But dad, I'll be good."

John looked at you. "Feel free to say no. I know that when you were done with this you were done for the day."

"He can stay and hang out. I was actually thinking of making some cookies when I was done with this."

"Yay! I can help!"

You giggled at how excited he was, and your eyes left him and went to his dad. Heat crept across your cheeks when you found his eyes already on you.

"Alright then, I guess it's just you and me son." John clapped a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Are you sure you're okay with him getting in your way?"

You smiled. "Yes, I'm sure."

Kayce nodded. "I guess it is just us then. Do whatever she says, okay buddy?"

"I will." He left the doorway and came to your side. "Let's hurry and put this away so we can get to the cookies. Gator's a good cook but he sucks at making cookies. Do you make cake? He sucks at those too."

While Tate continued on, John left grinning. Kayce gave you a smile that made the butterflies in your stomach which had gone dormant long ago, begin to flap their wings. No. You gave your head a quick shake before picking up the laundry basket full of clean towels. "To the linen closet down the hall." Tate nodded and you followed him out of the room, answering his nonstop questions.

*****

"So, how were your first two weeks?" Kayce asked after pouring himself a cup of coffee.

You had just finished making chocolate chip cookies and set a plate of them on the kitchen island in front of him, Lee and Beth, had both filled a mug before him and sat down. "They were really good."

He picked up a cookie as John walked in with his other son, Jamie. "And, Tate, bringing him to school and back is going okay? I'm sorry he's been hanging around you so much."

"Bringing him there and back is good." You stepped out of the way when Jamie crowded in next to his dad to get a coffee. "You don't have to apologize. I like spending time with him, he's a great kid."

"I think you might be his favorite person on this ranch." John chuckled and grabbed a cookie. "And, if this is the outcome, he can spend all his free time with you. You're a great baker."

"Thanks but Tate's the one who should get most of the praise though. He likes to do most of it. I'm just in charge of the oven."

"Great, the heir of the ranch would rather bake than ride a horse." Jamie huffed.

Kayce's smile disappeared and was replaced with a scowl. "What the hell's your problem today? If Tate wants to spend time with Violet and make cookies instead of going for a ride, he can."

Beth rolled her eyes. "He's just a kid, Jamie. Besides, Violet is the perfect little cleaning fairy, she's always done everything before she goes to pick up Tate from school. It's a good thing too because she's been helping him with his homework when he needs it. Lord knows we're all busy enough during the day. By the time we can help him, he should be in bed and sleeping already."

"We barely know anything about her and you let your son spend more time with her than he does with you."

You swallowed while your hands started wringing together.

"Seriously, what the fuck is your problem?" Kayce snapped.

John placed a hand on his youngest son's shoulder. "Kayce, why don't you go find Tate? He's out by the corrals watching the guys work with some cattle."

He took a deep breath and nodded. Before he left he walked over and placed his cup in the sink. His hand wrapped around your wrist and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Jamie scoffed. "She's not only got her claws in your son but she's also hooked you too."

You hung your head, staring down at your hands.

"You really need to shut your fucking mouth." Kayce spun around to face his older brother. When his fingers left your skin, you immediately missed his calloused touch, but you pushed it to the back of your mind.

"Kayce." John stepped in front of him.

"Come on little brother." Beth got up and went to Kayce's side. "I have a meeting I need to get to. You can walk me to my car." She gave you a soft smile. Every morning this past week, you had taken your cup of coffee out onto the porch while you enjoyed the sun beginning to peak over the mountain tops. Beth had joined you, whether you were visiting back and forth or just relishing in the quiet before your days started. You liked her and her tell-it-like-it-is, take-no-shit attitude.

Kayce gave a small nod. As he followed his sister out, a sympathetic smile pulled at his lips, and his eyes bore into yours. You looked from him to Jamie, who was glaring at you.

"So, Violet, where are you from? And, don't say a small city in California we've never heard of. We are also still waiting for your social security number."

Lee set his mug down with a scowl on his face. "Calm down, brother."

"I umm," your hands clenched together while your heart started to race.

"Well?!" Jamie snapped and you flinched.

"Jamie, that's enough," John said firmly. "Violet, why don't we go to my office?"

Unfortunately, Jamie was hot on your heels and the second you sat down in one of the chairs across from John's desk, he attacked again. "So, you won't tell us where you're from, you won't give us your social security number so we can add you to the payroll. What about why have you only stayed at your previous positions a week or two before leaving? Are you a thief? Did you steal from them?"

"Jamie," John warned.

"She's hiding something!" His voice rose while you sat staring at your shaking hands clenched together on your lap. "Where are you from in California? Did you get into trouble there? Why are you running?"

"Jesus, Jamie." Lee sat down in the chair next to yours.

"I looked you up. There's no one named Violet Smith matching your description from California."

Your heart began to pound out of your chest. "I-I-" tears started to prick your eyes, "I've never stolen anything or done anything illegal."

"She's obviously lying! She wouldn't have given you a fake name if she wasn't hiding."

"I...I am hiding but not from the cops, not really."

"Not really?" Jamie mocked.

"Violet, who are you hiding from? Maybe we can help."

"We can help ourselves and let the cops know she's here."

"No! Please, don't. He'll kill me!"

John's brow furrowed. "Who will kill you?"

"M-my fiancé, ex fiancé." You said quietly.

"Why would your ex want to kill you?" Lee asked, his voice full of concern.

"Probably because she stole from him."

"Jamie." John's voice was harsh before taking a deep breath. "Violet?" He urged.

"He...he hurt me. He had been for two years. I couldn't go to the cops because he is one, he's a detective. His uncle is the chief of police, he has cousins who are cops. His dad is the mayor. His family's everywhere."

"Tell us their names and we'll look them up and see if you're telling the truth."

You looked at John's oldest son with scared eyes.

John observed your trembling hands, the tears streaking down your cheeks. He noticed every time you flinched when Jamie yelled. "We won't tell him you're here."

You searched your boss's face and saw nothing but the truth. "His...his name is Nick Harrington. S-Southaven." Lee held a box of tissues out and you took one.

Jamie began his search on the laptop sitting on the desk. "Southaven. Okay...the chief of police is Mike Harrington. There is a Nick Harrington." He confirmed after a couple of minutes. "The mayor is Carl Harrington. There's a Larry Harrington who's a doctor and the head of the hospital and Eric Harrington who's an attorney. Jesus. A company, Harrington Incorporated, owns practically half the town. Apartment buildings, condos, houses, business property rentals."

"No wonder you couldn't go for help." John leaned back in his chair. "They own the city."

Jamie turned the laptop towards his dad. "An engagement announcement, Nick Harrington and Violet Hawkins."

Your heart started racing even faster than it already was. "I-I've tried running away before but he found me and brought me back. I can't-I can't go back again. You don't know what he's like. He-He'll kill me. I'll leave just please, don't tell him. You don't have to pay me. I shouldn't have come here. I'm sorry. Just please, please don't tell him." You begged.

"What? No, you can't leave. You'll be safe here." Lee said.

"We won't tell him." Jamie closed the laptop. "But, I have a meeting in town in an hour so I can bring you to the bus station."

"There's no need for that, she's staying," John looked across the desk with warm eyes. "I want you to stay. Everyone here loves you, even Beth and she doesn't like anyone." He chuckled. You glanced at Jamie who gave in and sighed. "Nobody is going to tell him where you are. And, we will let you tell everyone else here when you're ready."

"Umm, okay."

"Does your family know you're here? I know you have a cell phone..."

"I don't have any family left. Nick and I moved into a new house about a year and a half ago and one of our neighbors, an older couple, knew what he was like. They helped me run away a month and a half ago. The cell phone is one of those burner ones. They have one too that we use to keep in touch with."

"So, you do have family." John smiled. Your heart warmed at the thought of your sweet neighbors. "Like Lee said, you'll be safe here, Violet. We'll add an account to ours at the bank and put it under your new name, we'll get you a debit card, and you can stay as long as you want. But, if you and Tate keep making us cookies, we're all going to gain fifty pounds." A small giggle escaped your lips.

"Maybe throw in a few healthy ones or some granola bars, muffins," Jamie said with a faint hint of a grin.

"Violet? Violet?!" Tate's voice traveled down the hall, followed quickly by him. "There you are. Can you help me with my English homework? Dad said he could but you're smarter than he is."

Kayce came in and tousled Tate's hair. "Hey, that hurt you know?"

Tate laughed and pushed his dad's hand away. "Can you help me? Please?"

You nodded. "I'll go get us some cookies."

"Can I have some milk to go with mine?"

"Get." Kayce chuckled and gave him a gentle push down the hall. "Is everything okay?" He asked when Tate was out of sight.

"Everything's good. Just finished getting payroll stuff out of the way." John pushed his chair back and stood up. "Come on Jamie. Lee and I should get back outside and you said you had some stuff you needed to get done at your office. Have fun with the homework." He smiled at you before he left with Jamie. Lee followed them, giving Kayce a playful nudge with his elbow as he passed him.

"Are you okay?" Kayce asked as he stepped closer. "I'm sorry for before. Jamie can be an asshole sometimes."

"I'm good. Jamie was just making sure I wasn't a serial killer who was going to murder everyone here."

"And, are you one?" He teased.

"No, you're safe."

"Good. Are you sure you're okay with helping Tate? It's not really in the job description. You don't have to."

"I'm sure. Like I said before, he's a great kid. I like spending time with him."

His perfect smile formed. "He likes spending time with you too."

"Violet!"

You both laughed as Tate called you. "You're being summoned."

"It appears so."

"I might tag along since I have the rest of the day off. Maybe you can teach me a few things too." He gave you a crooked grin before stepping aside so you could walk past him.

"Would you like milk with your cookie or coffee?"

A chuckle left his lips as you walked into the kitchen. "Coffee. I can grab the milk."

You busied yourself with getting two mugs and a glass out of the cupboard before handing the glass to him. There was a comfortable silence that settled between you as you poured the drinks and went to the living room where Tate was waiting. A calmness filled you as the three of you started going over Tate's homework. Maybe I can stay here. Maybe I will be safe.

[altschmerzes]

if anyone has cats they would like to send me pics of i would appreciate that a lot i am having a very very fucking weird one right now and don’t really know what to do with myself.

the short version is: my dad died today. the long version is..... probably an absolutely ridiculous overshare but. like i said. don’t know what to do with myself so i’m just. idk im talking out loud i guess, putting this Somewhere. it’s. heavy, sorry.

so the post i made recently celebrating seven years going no-contact with my abusive father who kind of ruined my life in a lot of really serious ways i am likely never really going to completely recover from? yeah. he had a stroke earlier this year that sounded like it was pretty serious and that was a lot to process and then i just got the call from my mom that he had a heart attack while fishing with a friend this afternoon and died. apparently it was fast, which is good. he was fifty-five and i guess he’d just hit two years sober.

my mom sounded really upset on the phone, and i guess she’d only found out less than ten minutes before she called me, she just told my sister, who lives with her, and my sister went off to take a shower (read: have a breakdown in the shower), and then called me immediately and said “your dad died” as soon as i answered with a hey, what’s up. they’d been divorced for twenty years and he was a fucking bastard but i guess your ex-husband and your kids’ dad who you’ve recently been reconnecting with and spending time with again dies and you’re probably gonna have some strong feelings about it. my sister is in pieces, they’d reconnected and were spending a lot more time together. in their text they said ‘i barely got any time with him and i’m fucking heartbroken’.

and because he has no other living relatives my 23 year old sister who is uh, in a fragile state on the best of days, is gonna have to deal with all of the paperwork and shit that happens when someone dies. and my sister and i’s relationship is like.... it’s complicated, to put it politely, they are very hard for me to be around for a lot of reasons, but i wouldn’t wish that on them and i wish i was able to take on that stuff if only because i’m almost through law school and i’m the least emotionally invested in the man and it just would be easier for everyone if i did the paperwork and whatever.

and then there’s my brother, because i have a brother, who i barely talk about because it hurts to think about him. he’s nine years older than me and he’s my half-brother by my dad and after my dad went to prison on drug charges i didn’t see him for thirteen years. and then a long time after a brief visit too. he’s got two kids now, and for a while there we were in sporadic contact, but i haven’t seen or heard from him since i was maybe nineteen. and my mom was just kind of rambling on the phone about how she had to find my brother’s mother’s contact information because someone had to tell him and because i’m all the way out here and i can’t DO anything else i told her i’d find her and tell her what happened and get everyone’s contact information for whatever’s coming next so. now i’ve texted my brother, who is a living wound in my life, for the first time in like six years. he hasn’t answered yet and according to his mother he’s ‘devastated.’ so.

i’m not. i’m not devastated. i don’t know what i feel honestly. once i tracked her down on facebook and dealt with all of that i just sort of sat at the kitchen table and stared at the wall for a long time. listened to the mountain goats song ‘pale green things’ and drifted in a weird numb void. i’m not.... sad. not about him anyway. i don’t know what i am. i have a very difficult time articulating my feelings on a good day, fuck i mean i have a hard time identifying my feelings on a good day. some combination of autism and cptsd and the sense that if i have feelings someone is going to die, maybe me, maybe someone else. if i have feelings, i get someone killed, is the thought process, which is a long story but. is extremely hard to work around, especially when i don’t see the point because taking active steps to make my feelings known and make them something someone else has to deal with is like. what’s the point. why do that.

so i don’t know what i feel. i feel strange and distant and not-sad and kind of angry at my sister and brother for some fucking reason and guilty and resentful and relieved. there’s some relief in there i think, because it’s like. i don’t know. i had the thought earlier, ‘oh thank gd’ which is. it sounds heinous but i now i’ll never have to choose between attending my sister’s wedding and not having to see him there, if i go back to my hometown and feel like there’s a monster stalking me from the shadows i can just tell myself the fucking monster’s fucking dead and he can’t ever hurt me again. nobody in my family is ever going to be able to pressure me to just talk to him already, just move on and let it go. reconcile, forgive, get past it.

(i don’t know how much any of them know. i have never discussed this with my parents or my sister and i never plan to. we’ve talked about some things in vague euphemisms and talked around it even more. when he got out of prison and then when he was done stalking us which he did for a while and got some help i guess and was doing a bit better my sister wanted to reconnect with him and i didn’t. i had panic attacks, i was terrified, i didn’t want anything to do with him and i didn’t want my sister anywhere near him and i remember all my mom had to say to me about that was ‘if it makes you feel any better, i could take him.’ i don’t know what to... i just don’t know.)

i dunno. i don’t know. when i visited my hometown and stayed at my parents’ house (my grandmother’s house, when i say ‘parents’ i mean her and my mom generally) i slept with a knife on my bedside table and a plan of how to get out the window because i’d heard that he’d started dropping by sometimes and i was too scared to sleep otherwise. he terrorized me. i have very few memories from before he went to prison and most of them are of being terrified for my life. of being chased through the house, staying above the garage because for some reason we couldn’t be in the house that night. sexual abuse that i can still barely handle thinking about. he haunts my nightmares regularly, even though i haven’t seen or spoken to him in seven years, didn’t see or talk to him very often before that. i have panic attacks in my sleep dreaming about him, enough that i have to be medicated for it.

he’s a person who was deeply troubled and sick and suffered unimaginably in his life and it’s just.... i know all of that and i just. i don’t know. i hope he’s at peace i guess. i know he never was when he was alive. i know i’m not at peace most of the time, largely because of the shit he did to me. i don’t know. i don’t know. my dad’s dead.

[pbandjesse]

Before I can talk about anything else I have to talk about how freaking cold it is. I'm just leaving ceramics now and I didn't bring my jacket inside and it just cold. I'm going to have to bring up my hat gloves and stuff tomorrow because this is almost unbearable. Honestly it was a very cold today so I don't know why I'm surprised but I am frozen.

Today was okay though. It wasn't as stressful as some of my Native American field trips are. It was just still a lot. I woke up this morning and the sun was not up yet so I was very confused. I hate waking up in the dark. And like I'll get used to it it's fine and daylight savings is next weekend but also terrible.

I got up though and I got dressed and things were going pretty good. James had packed me a breakfast and a lunch and they were being very sweet. And I felt all right. I'm not feeling as good right now but I was doing pretty good this morning.

I left for work on time. And I got to camp without much issue. It was nice watching the sunrise if nothing else. The sky was very pink and beautiful. And I got to camp at 8:00.

I did realize as soon as I got in the car that I had left my office keys on the desk and could not get into the office. Which is a problem because I get there an hour before everyone else and I need walkie talkies and schedules and other things for my program. So I do not have access to these things. I decided I would do everything else that I could possibly do before I texted someone for help. I went to the lodge and I set things up there and I made sure that the tables were the way that I wanted them. I got the Pueblo and the Hogan setup and oxenboe where everything was the way it should be. I got the heat turned on in both buildings and I went down to the bears to put the bus sign that I always forget about. I was doing great but it was barely 8:30.

I decided to park my car over by the lodge so that parents could visually understand where to park. This worked out very well. I was part of my car as two parents showed up. About 45 minutes early. Which was fine. We had an overabundance of parents today. Four five, some even had six at each station. We were lousy with them. But they were all wonderful and so prepared and they would slowly trickle in and I would walk them to their areas as needed. And once the big group was there of parents I decided to take them all as a group to give them kind of a tour of each site so that they would all understand what they were going to be teaching and what everyone else was teaching. And I was able to stop at the office where Elizabeth had graciously printed my maps and schedules and got all of the walkie talkies..

The kids were supposed to arrive at 10:00 and they did come a few minutes late but it didn't matter. I don't know why I never considered how old these kids were. I think I had just assumed they were fourth grade because that's the normal age of this field trip and Elizabeth didn't say anything so I just had made I guess. And then one of the dads had said that his daughter came to camp for an overnight last year and stayed in silver City so I was like oh cool she's like seven or eight so that's how old the kids are. No. These were preschoolers. They were five. They were shockingly tiny.

But they were awesome. Once they got inside I was able to get them quiet and we did the PowerPoint and the journals and then we did brush making. And it was chaos. But I think everyone had a really good time. And I had a good time. Things were going great.

Once they were done their brushes I cleaned up all the tables and sent them off on their way. All the parents really had an under control so I was not that worried. So I would spend a few minutes getting some stuff together for James.

I use my laptop and was able to get my w-2s and my bank information and paperwork that we would need for a mortgage. Which is crazy. And mine are very bizarre because I've had so many weird jobs over the last couple years so just using the YMCA and the BMI it doesn't really look like I make much money. But I'm hoping with James is consistency and our down payment and all of those things that it will be fine and it'll work out.

But I felt good telling James all of my fears about it. They had a meeting on the phone with the financial guy at 2:00 and he would tell us more of the things that we would need and need to know. And then we see if we move forward with this house.

during the second half hour program I bopped around to make sure everyone was okay. But I kept poking in and everything seemed fine so nobody really needed me. Kept making circles. I would find some interesting things as I was walking around though.

While I was waiting for the parents this morning when I couldn't get into the office I did finally remember to get a shovel to dig out some of the ash in the fire pit inside the Hogan. And while I was in there shoveling away, very hard by the way, there was a toad! He was just on my shovel all of a sudden and he was huge. I'm assuming he was hibernating and I bothered him. And I feel very bad about that but I would have felt worse if I cut him in half. So I took him and I put him in my pocket and I carried him around and put him in a box. And when the kids were there I walked him around so that all of them could see him and once they were off on their programs I would return him to nature.

I am slightly concerned about him though because it's so cold I was worried about him getting somewhere cozy where he can hibernate it but Celia thinks that he will be fine and figure it out so I put him close to where I found him but not in the fire patch. I put him out in the woods and I hope that he is okay because he was just so cute.

The group ordered pizza and they were gracious enough to share it with me and their bus drivers. And I had given them like 45 minutes for lunch because normally the 25 is not enough time. And I thought that maybe they would play a game or something but they ended up finishing with an extra 15 minutes and asked if we could ship to the schedule and I said that was totally fine so at 12:50 we got them back out and doing their programs. And that actually allowed them to get on the bus a little quicker. They were still not on the bus at the other day until 2:15 but it could have been worse.

While the kids were doing their programs and I didn't have anything else to do I went to the office to get a drink and told everyone about our house visit and Sarah was kind enough to hold up a laptop and change the slide so that I could explain the layout of the very strange house and everything that's going on. It is funny hearing everyone's opinions on how you should handle getting a house. Specifically things like letters to the owner. Which I heard you should have do and it's not the thing that people do anymore because it can leave the housing discrimination but apparently both Alexi and Heather did it when they bought their last houses and I think it's just kind of by location and by community style I guess? Regardless I wrote one but it feels very hokey and will probably not use it for anything. We'll ask the realtor if it's something that is done in that area.

Once the kids were done the last program I thanked the parents on the walkie talkies and ask them to put all of their stuff in the bins and then they came and I said goodbye to the children and have the kids say thank you to all the parents again. And then they were off. I think the teachers were very worried about the space being so messy and me being the only one cleaning it but Sarah was going to come over anyway and they had gotten basically all their trash so I wasn't that concerned.

Plus we have a group tomorrow that's about the same size so we don't really have to put anything away We just have to wipe all the tables down sweep and take the trash out. We had some contention on if pizza boxes are recyclable but apparently as of this summer they are so we were able to recycle all of their pizza boxes and Sarah wipe down all the tables while I swept and she is just a rockstar helping me out and making sure that things are done.

Once we are all cleaned up I got my car and started driving around picking up materials. I decided that some things are just going to live in the spots they are because they're in boxes and it doesn't matter. And then three once I was back at the yard building and the boxes for fibers are all set up and ready to be reset I decided I was going to set my hammock for a half an hour. My body hurt real bad for all the walking and my chest feels a congested again and that is not ideal I don't have time to be sick. Taking one day off was bad enough.

I would head back down to the office around 3:30 and I spent the next 2 hours working on computer stuff my lesson plans I watched some videos while I typed. Started working on some research about natural dyes in the area. I had found a gigantic shaggy black pink mushroom and I'm trying to process the mushrooms that I've been finding into ink. So far the three I found yesterday have already started to melt and hopefully this big one will help me even more. I'm hoping that I can find like a few more but they're kind of rare even though they are available in this area. And one of the problems with them is that they do completely melt away. So it's hard to find them. I think they're very neat.

I also would be part of a discussion with Heather and Alexi about the FOP group. Friends of puhtok. They are basically all old guys now and they're trying to figure out how to get the young people to come in. What would bring people our age to camp to do volunteer work. It means there are both agreement that it's food. So I started writing out some ideas for what a day for volunteers would look like to help make camp nice. And then we talked about social media problems and indigenous peoples month and how we can say and put out things about current indigenous people and what they're doing and support them in different ways. Like a highlight. And we had a nice discussion about how sometimes it's better to say nothing but also sometimes saying nothing is worse. It's all learning and I think that that's important.

I did stay really late today. Stay until almost 5:30. But that was because I had my ceramics class and I had had my lunch at like 3:30 so I was not hungry and did not really want to go anywhere. So I stayed and hung out and then once alexian Heather were on their way out I decided I would just go to the ceramics class early.

And that's exactly what I did. I got there a little after 5:30 and I beat Lindsay. But she came soon after me and I spent that half hour trimming and just chatting with her about stuff and it was really nice.

We would have a really good class honestly. Everybody came and we had lots of good discussions and conversations and we talked about our cats at Halloween and we showed up our costumes and the older woman in the group brought us all candy and it was really sweet. But I had more trouble today making anything. After I trimmed all of my stuff from last week I finally, finally, have things on the shelf to be fired. So hopefully next week I'll have a couple the square pieces that I can glaze. And then I was like okay I'm going to try to make something big and so I cut 3 and 1/2 lb of clay and I tried and it just wasn't happening. Lindsay wants me to try to center with my left arm instead of my right and I just don't have control from that direction. So I'm still trying to figure it out. I'm struggling with centering a little bit still more than I thought I was. So I was also just struggling to throw anything because I was trying to get back to basic just get it on the wheel strength. I would make a couple things. But eventually I got to the end of my bag of flight. That didn't mean that I don't have any clay it's just that all of my clay was in my second bag which was too bad or too dry or just scraps. So then I would spend some time wedging it and making some balls so that next week I just have those ready to go. And it was nice to just kind of work with the clay and not really have a direction.

I took one of the balls though and spent the last hour making little figures. I made some cats and some bears and some frogs. I think they'll be fun just to glaze and have just cute little guys. I'm not that worried about it but I would like next week to try to throw something that is more cup-like rather than bowl like. We'll see.

I decided that since I got to class early I would leave early. I kind of wanted to just go home. And now I'm out. I am about halfway back. I'll be there in 20 minutes. I'm excited to take a shower and wash my hair which I definitely got clay in. And then hopefully just get a good night's rest. We have preschoolers again tomorrow. Which is going to be great. It's going to be very different from today. And I just hope that I feel all right.

I hope you guys all are having a good night. I hope you're staying safe. Please wash your hands and take care of yourselves. Good night.

[cjsinkythoughts]

In Need of a Breath

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4007

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Zemo, Feelings, Another PTSD Flashback

A/N: So…Part 4 is going to have a couple parts to it. Maybe even three. I didn’t even make it half way through the episode on this one, mainly because I really wanted to fit in the Reader’s backstory and I wanted her and Sam to have a heart-to-heart again. I’m suuuuper tired, so I probably won’t be posting the next part for another few hours (it’s 5 am right now and I haven’t slept), BUT it’s my day off work and I won’t be doing anything I planned because my grandmother had a stroke a couple days ago so plans have changed and I’m staying in to help her, meaning I’ll mostly be writing all day. 

This Part is kind of a mix between off-screen and shot-by-shots, but it’s mostly off screen/what’s going on inside Reader’s head.

I’m really excited about future parts and the characters that are being introduced! I will say that after these parts, I will be doing one shots of previous MCU movies with the Reader, due to the information that is being given about the Reader now. You kind of see more of how she was affected/how she affected the previous MCU movies and what she was doing during that time.

Like always, this hasn’t been beta’d, again it’s SUPER early in the morning, and I’m really tired, so please excuse any mistakes! I hope you guys enjoy this part! Stay tuned for more to come later today!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

“You know…I’m really starting to regret saying yes to this.” You huffed out, craning your neck and squinting your eyes against the sun as you stare at the facility in front of you, hating the skin-crawling feeling of being back.

“Would you relax? Whenever you’re nervous, I get nervous, and I don’t wanna be nervous about this.” Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Do either of you have a better plan?” Bucky grumbled, crossing his arms.

Gnawing on your lips, you finally take the lead and breathe out, “alright. Let’s go then.” You could feel the hesitance from your - what were they? Partners? Coworkers? Teammates? - the fellas before they started after you.

There was a sick twist in your gut as you entered the building, going through the lobby and security.

You had been there.

You had been there when Zemo impersonated Bucky. You had been there when Zemo unleashed the Winter Soldier at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre Building in Berlin. You had been there during the battle at the airport. You had been there when Zemo turned Tony and Steve against each other in Siberia. You had been there when Zemo tore the Avengers from the inside out. Your family. The only family you’d ever known.

But you’d always been good about pushing your personal feelings aside for the sake of the mission. It’s what you’d been born to do. All you ever knew.

“Hey. Doll. You hear me?”

“Hmm. What?” You looked up from the ground to look into those enchanting blue oceans Bucky had for eyes, staring worriedly down at you, eyebrows pinched and forehead creased.

“I’m going in alone.” You frowned, opening your mouth to argue, but he shook his head. “Sam already agreed-”

“I didn’t necessarily agree-”

“You’re an Avenger, sweetheart.” Bucky tilted his head, speaking softly, those eyes of his worried. Worried for you. It made your stomach flip. “And you were there in Siberia, and that almost makes it worse. Especially considering you went after him. Just…just let me do this, okay?”

You cracked your knuckles nervously as you thought. It was a terrible idea. But it was an idea. And it was all they had. “Okay.” You finally relented, shrugging as your hands hit your thighs and slid up to your hips. “But don’t do anything stupid.”

“Steve took all that with him.”

Knowing about their little inside joke, you scoffed. “Sure he did. Go before I change my mind.”

You watched him walk down the hallway, hands fidgeting with excess nerves. “I think you’re the only one he actually seeks approval from.”

“Good thing I’m so lenient then, huh?” You joked, turning to Sam with a strained smile. Your smile slipped at the curious expression on Sam’s face, his eyes darting to each of your features. “What?”

“Are you doing okay?”

You groaned, throwing your head back. You thought you got out of talking about your feelings back in Baltimore. “Oh my God, Sam-”

“I’m serious. You…you just don’t seem like yourself.”

You shook your head, looking down the hall to where Bucky disappeared before turning back to him. It was weird to have a self that people recognized. Your whole life you’d been searching for it and when you finally found it…everything went to shit. “Honestly, Sammy, the only time I’ve ever felt like myself was with the team. Zemo took that away from me and now we’re here, practically begging him for help.”

Sam hummed, leaning against the wall. “Have you thought of taking a break?”

“What?”

“A break.” At your bewildered look, he rolled his eyes. “Cher, this time last year most of us were dead. This time a few months ago you found out about Wanda. This time last week you were out looking for her. Maybe you should just stop and take a breather.”

Shoving your hands in your pocket and looking at the floor, you couldn’t help but snort at his advice. “I haven’t taken a breather since I was eighteen.”

He clicked his tongue. “That’s my point. FBI academy as soon as you graduated. SHIELD recruit by 21, undercover operations leader by 24? Slow down. You’re in your thirties. Next thing you know, you’re gonna be ninety something, lying on your deathbed, wishing you had stopped to smell the roses.”

“If I live to be ninety, shoot me.” He chuckled in amusement. “I’m so fucking serious, Sam. I will not be put in an old folks home to play Bingo and be pushed around in a wheelchair. It ain’t happening.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” There was that infectious smile, which you unconsciously grinned back at. “Y/N…I’m serious. You’ve been in and out of missions since you were a teenager. What’s the shortest undercover operation you’ve done?”

“I dunno.”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “Yeah you do.”

Licking your lips, you turned away and shrugged. “A couple months. Seven weeks and three days, to be precise. September to October in 2012.”

“And the longest?”

“August 2007 to May 2009. Twenty one months.” 

Letting out a puff of air through his nose, Sam pushed himself off the wall and caught your chin between his fingers to make you look at him. “That’s nearly two years under cover. And I’m sure you went right back under after-”

“I was sitting at a desk for four months doing paperwork on it.” You defended yourself.

He shook his head, brows knitting together, lips drawn down. “You say that as if four months is enough time.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Sammy. I’m out. I’ve been out since Ultron and Sokovia. I haven’t been under in almost a decade-”

“A decade half the world was dead for half of-”

“I wasn’t!”

“I never said you were.” Sam sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. You were always amazed at his ability to keep his emotions in check. To stay cool under pressure. Sometimes you forgot how experienced he was with dealing with other people’s trauma. It was no wonder why Steve thought he’d be good for Bucky. “Listen. All I’m saying is once this is done…don’t go diving back into searching for Wanda. Don’t go running to the kid every time he calls - and I know you’ve been doing that-”

“It’s just been homework and stuff-”

“Y/N.” You stopped, biting your lip at the stern look he gave you. “Go home. Order take out. Binge watch TV. Go for a jog through the park. Actually meet your neighbors. Go grocery shopping. Just…live. If only for a couple weeks. Don’t worry about anyone else. Don’t pick up the phone, don’t drop everything because someone needs you. You need you.”

“I-I…” You shook your head, looking at him, sincerely apologetic. “I can’t. I wish I could. But I can’t. I’ve never had one normal day in my life. I’ve never had someone to care for, never had someone to care for me. I can’t let people I’ve come to…I can’t let them think I don’t care. I don’t even know where I’d go.”

“Whaddya mean?”

You winced, not thrilled for his reaction to your next statement. “I, uh, I sold my apartment in D.C.”

He gaped at you in complete disbelief. “You got it in December!”

“I know, I know. I liked it. I really did, but…I dunno. Nomadic life has always suited me better. It’s what I grew up with.”

He took a breath, making you cringe again. You don’t think you’ve ever legitimately gotten on his nerves like this before. “Have you ever thought that, instead of going with the flow and jumping place to place, putting down roots might actually help?” He cut you off before you could say anything, holding up a finger to stop you from talking. “I can’t imagine going from foster home to foster home like you did. I can’t imagine not having a home for as long as you can remember. Louisiana’s my home. Always has, always will be. But I understand your life has been anything but stable. And maybe, just maybe, that’s why you need some stability.”

You clenched your jaw, crossing your arms. “The Avengers were my stability. Steve was my stability.”

“Because you loved him.”

“I’m not doing this with you again.” You turned to walk down to the lobby to wait for Bucky there, but Sam caught your arm.

“You were in love with him! It’s okay! You two were super close! No one would blame you! Why won’t you just admit it? I’m trying to understand! Why won’t you-”

You tugged your arm away, finally snapping at him. “Because he could never be mine, Wilson! Is that what you wanna hear?!” Sam took a step back at your exclamation. You closed your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat and pushing down the tears. “He could preach all he wanted about moving forwards, Sammy, but we all knew he was stuck in the past. He visited the museum every Thursday because her interview showed in his exhibit on Thursdays. He carried around that broken compass because her picture was in it.” You looked back up at him sadly, shrugging. “And I get it; it’s hard to move past your first love. I get it because…that’s what he was to me.”

There was a silence that blanketed the hallway, before he spoke up hesitantly. “What about Bucky?”

“I thought - I thought I was projecting my feelings for Steve onto him because I knew Steve couldn’t ever…”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You thought? What do you think now?”

You cleared your throat. “I’m still figuring that one out.”

“If you ever need to talk, I’ll be here.”

You chuckled, nodding slightly towards him. “Back atcha. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you not being yourself lately, either.”

“It’s…a tough topic.”

You nodded in understanding. “Just know that I’ll support every decision you make as long as you think it’s the right one. Because I trust you. Steve trusted you. It’s all we can do to try to do what’s right. That’s what makes you a good man, Sammy. He gave you that shield for a reason, and if you think what you did was right…I’ll stand by it.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, calming down in each other’s presences and taking comfort knowing you’d be there for each other through thick and thin. “Thank you, cher.”

“Of course, Sammy. Now let’s go see what’s taking the old grump so long.”

He laughed at that, nodding in agreement, taking your offered hand and squeezing it as you made your way down the hall.

****************

“What?”

Bucky eyed you as you spluttered, coughing on the water you were drinking. “Please don’t choke, doll.”

“Break him out of jail?!” You repeated his words and blinked at him, absolutely baffled by his plan. “Oh my God.” You groaned as Bucky and Sam started arguing, moving your flashlight around the room. “Where the hell are we?” There was no response as they kept going back and forth.

“Zemo’s gonna mess with our minds! Especially yours! No offense.”

“Heelllloooo!” You tried again. “Where the hell are we?!”

Bucky turned on the lights, giving Sam a look. “Offense.” Glancing at you he quirked an eyebrow. “Stop worrying your pretty lil’ head, sweetheart. You trust me, dontcha?” Your breath hitched at his words. You quickly recovered, huffing and pouting - although you’d deny ever pouting - and crossing your arms. You stood between the guys like that, eyes darting to whoever was speaking, waiting for them to stop so you could actually think.

“Look. Let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?”

You and Sam exchanged glances. “What did you do?”

“I…didn’t do…anything.” Bucky shrugged.

“How is it that you, one of the most deadliest assassins basically ever, are one of the worst liars I know.” You tilted your head at him, an eyebrow quirking up in confusion.

“Shush it you. Just, okay. The weakest point in any system isn’t the software, the hardware, it’s the meatware. The human element.”

The more you listened to Bucky’s “hypothetical”, the stronger the gut feeling telling you this was a terrible terrible idea got. You brought your hands up to your head, eyes wide as he spoke.

“I don’t like how casual you’re bein’ about this. This is unnatural.”

You couldn’t help but agree with Sam’s words, your head falling back and your eyes closing. “Sweet Jesus. Listen, God, I know we don’t talk much these days, but please, please don’t let this not be a hypothetical. I’m fucking begging you.”

A noise to your right made your head snap over. “Oh hell to the fucking no!” You shook your head as Zemo himself walked in, wearing a prison guards uniform. “Uh-uh! No way! Bucky, this was not part of the plan!”

“What did you do?!”

“We need him!”

“You’re going back to prison.”

“If I may-”

All three of you faced him, simultaneously shouting, “no!”

You held your face in your hands as your head dropped, shaking back and forth, your eyes squeezing shut, tuning them out for just a minute to think. Bucky had a point. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that, and the Avengers were technically disbanded, which was Zemo’s whole objective in the first place, but…God. You were good at compartmentalizing, but not that much. You were willing to put your feelings aside for the mission so Bucky could talk to him. Not for you to work with him. But he had connections, you knew he did, and he had information…

“Doll?” You looked up, Bucky anxiously licking his lips as he met your gaze. “I need you to say something.”

You looked to Sam, who shrugged, gesturing to Zemo. “What do you think?”

What did you think? What did you think?! You thought that it was the worst idea in the history of ideas and you should turn back and find another way! But…you knew this was the fastest, probably most reliable way to get information that you needed.

Dammit, since when were you the deciding factor?

You sucked in a breath, looking over Sam’s shoulder at Zemo, who lifted his hand in greeting. You raised your eyes to the ceiling, pointing your finger accusingly. “This is why we stopped talking.” Gaze dropping to the still waiting fellas, you gnawed on your lip, before hissing out, “ffffine…” Running a hand through your hair, you threw your hands up as you shrugged. “Fine. Okay. Fine.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded, taking charge again.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Except, that was a lie. You could. You’d seen weirder. You’d experienced the impossible. Lived through the unbelievable. This…this was completely imaginable.

Which is why, with a lot of hesitation and very little confidence in this plan, you followed Zemo through the auto shop you were in until you reached a large room with a ton of different old cars.

Bucky’s hand found yours as Zemo explained what the plan was, rather vaguely, in your opinion, but at least he was explaining. Point for him. Not that it would make up for the level of distrust you held for him, but it was something.

You looked up at him, giving him a puzzling frown. He usually only grabbed your hand in front of other people when he was feeling anxious. Which, yeah, he had a right to be anxious right now, but it wasn’t the right kind. The type of anxiety caused by large crowds and loud noises, ones that startled him and threw him into a defensive mode.

But the look on his face made you squeeze his hand in reassurance. He was pouting, staring at you although he did something wrong - a puppy that tore up a pillow - and all you wanted to do was give him a hug.

“You’re mad at me.” He mumbled as the four of you headed out with Zemo in the lead.

“No I’m not.”

“Yeah you are. 

“Bucky, I’m not mad.”

“Listen, if I had a better idea I wouldn’t-”

You brought your linked hands up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his gloved knuckles. “I’m not mad.” You repeated more firmly. “It’s just…a lot for me, right now.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, Buck, I-I just…” You thought about your and Sam’s earlier conversation and suddenly understood what he meant. “I need to breathe for a second.”

His features twisted into ones of uncertainty, eyes squinting as you stepped outside. “Do you…do you wanna leave?”

You shook your head, tugging his arm to stop him and grabbing the sunglasses on his collar, slipping them over his eyes. “No. I just need some time to think. Hopefully the plane ride to wherever the hell we’re going will give me that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, James. I’m sure.”

He lowered the glasses on his nose to scan you over the frames, before nodding and sliding them back up. “Okay. You ready for this, then?”

“No.” You breathed, turning back to where Zemo and Sam were still walking. “Let’s do this.”

*****************

Climbing onto the private jet, you raised an eyebrow at Sam, who shrugged, giving you a bemused expression. A Baron…huh…who knew? You feel like you should’ve, yet there you were.

You sat besides Bucky, across from Zemo, crossing your legs and leaning back while staring at him through narrowed eyes.

His butler seemed nice, which made you even more suspicious. You obviously didn’t know as much about Zemo as you wanted to. It was a habit you picked up after years of undercover work; once the mission was complete, that was that. There was no looking back on it. No sitting on it. It was over and you moved onto the next one. It was a bad habit in cases like this.

The moment you spotted the notebook over Zemo’s book you knew something was going to happen, yet you still flinched when Bucky lunged at him, grabbing his throat. You leaned back in your seat again, steadying your now racing heartbeat. You decided you were too tense, trying to relax your muscles as Bucky sat back down in his seat.

“I’ve seen that book. It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book.” Sam seemed so proud of himself that something he recommended was written in Steve’s little book and it made you smile.

You remembered that; Steve and you were supposed to meet up for coffee after his run, but Fury called him in so you rescheduled it for when he got back. He asked you about Marvin Gaye. For your opinion. You told him to check it out and make his own.

You remembered asking him about that little notebook of his, and he just shrugged you off telling you about his list. He would read items off to you, but he never let you read the book yourself. You never found out why, and you supposed you never would now. The thought made an ache behind your ribs that you’d come to familiarize yourself with appear.

You smiled a little more as Zemo and Sam told Bucky how awesome Marvin Gaye was. “C’mon, baby. Back me up.”

Chuckling, you looked at Bucky. “They’re not wrong. But,” you quickly added before Bucky could whine at you, facing Sam again. “Neither is Buck. I mean, c’mon. You can’t find music like the 40’s anymore. Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Benny Goodman, Fred Astaire. Ol’ Blue Eyes himself.”

“Thank you.” Bucky grinned at Sam, who rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay. But, I mean, c’mon! Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

“I like Marvin Gaye.”

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.”

Your face fell as Zemo started talking about Steve and icons and Red Skull, your mind once again slipping away from reality.

~

“Kids love you.” You giggled as you finally made it out of his exhibit. You’d wanted to show it to him since he moved to D.C., and you’d finally got an opportunity after coming back from being undercover for ten weeks. “You’re their hero, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just trying to do what’s right.”

You nudged him, scoffing at his answer. “You’re too humble. You’re a national icon, you know.”

Steve shrugged, looking around the museum at the planes surrounding them. “I never wanted to be.”

“Why not? Everyone loves you.”

“I’m sure not everyone loves me.” He rolled his eyes. “And…I just wanted to help. To fight. Protect my country and the people I cared about. I-I didn’t ask for…all that.” He waved behind his shoulder where his exhibit was getting smaller with each step they took away. “People were dying. Bullies were winning.”

You shook your head, spinning and walking backwards besides him to face him. “Sure, but you did that. And you became someone people could look up to in the process.”

He narrowed his eyes at you before asking, “why do you do what you do?”

“...because I’m good at it?”

“Honey.” He gave you a look. “Answer the question.”

You hummed in thought. “Because I couldn’t stand by, knowing there would be orphaned kids if I didn’t help any way I could.”

“Alright. Why do you do it in the dark?”

“Whaddya mean?”

He shrugged. “Why don’t you come out and take credit for all the lives you’ve saved?”

“Because that’s not why I do it. I don’t want that attention. I just want to know I’ve helped people. I’ve kept them safe.”

He gave you a soft smile. “I just wanted to beat the bully. I never wanted to be a dancing monkey, too.” You looked at him in a new light then, understanding where he was coming from. “Watch out, honey!” He grabbed you and pulled you aside before you could crash into a wall, arms wrapped firmly around your waist. He gave you that charming smile of his. “Wouldn’t want you hurting that pretty lil’ head of yours, now would we?”

~

“Y/N!”

You snapped back into the conversation, moving your eyes from the window to Bucky, who tilted his head, eyebrows pinched and eyes narrowed. “Sorry. So, Madripoor. That’s a fun place.”

You ignored the side eyed glances Bucky and Sam exchanged, Sam turning to you curiously. “You’ve been?”

“Once. Back in 2010 for a few months”

Zemo raised his eyebrows. “You’re lucky to have gotten out.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Lucky, maybe. Skills were a part of it, too, though.”

“Good.” Zemo nodded. “Because we’re going undercover…and if we blow it. We’re dead.”

You breathed out, shaking your memory away and getting your head back into the game. Because like the man you were severely wary of in front of you said, if you blew this, you were dead. And, sure, you didn’t want to live until ninety, but you weren’t even half way there yet. So dammit if you were going to die soon.

“Hey.” You looked over at Bucky’s murmur, his head tilting as he grabbed your hand and pulled you from your seat closer to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Are you okay? You know you’re going to have to be-”

“I know.” He nodded. You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed thickly. “I’ll be fine. Just…tell me right now if you need to step out for this one.”

You gave him a smile that you knew he didn’t buy, just by the slight narrowing of his eye, his lips pressing together. “No. No, I’m good for this. If you think I’m gonna let you two idiots go into Madripoor with him - alone - oil that cyborg brain of yours, because there’s no way.”

He squeezed your hand, eyes still filled with uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

“If there’s even a slight possibility that I can protect you, then yeah. I’m sure, Buckaroo.”

[hockeylvr59]

Collide Part 2 || Sidney Crosby

Summary: Life as a single foster mom and a pediatrician didn’t leave much time for dating. But when Dr. Erin Lancaster becomes the pediatrician for Pittsburgh Penguins Defenseman Brian Dumoulin's baby boy, her association and quick friendship with his wife Kayla turns her crazy but quiet life upside down. 

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: Apparently my brain is just on a Sid kick lately. First a blurb update, now this one. Let me know what you think. 

Warnings: alcohol consumption        Word Count: 2,001

~~~~~

The weeks leading up to the holiday season were usually some of the best as a foster mom. The kids that I called my own, even temporarily, generally didn’t have a great experience with family holidays in the past and it was always exciting to teach them the magic of the season. The joy of watching the Macy’s parade and then football before having a big meal, going looking at Christmas lights, and everything else that filled the days between Thanksgiving and Christmas. 

This year though, this year was tough. A few weeks ago, just days after my trip to the hospital, the seven year old I was fostering was moved to another placement. More biological siblings had popped up in the system and taking them would have placed me over my permitted limit. So instead, the rambunctious boy I was finally starting to make strides with was moved so that he could be with siblings he had never met, all because of the preference of keeping siblings together. A week later, my five year old was transferred back into the care of his mother who had successfully completed a rehabilitation program. I wasn’t sure the woman could be trusted but the court had decided she was fit enough to regain custody and there was nothing I could do about it. 

Finally, yesterday, my newborn had been deemed stable enough to be placed with a paternal grandmother now that he was completely off the drugs. I had done my limited job of making sure that he got elevated care and now he was in the placement I knew he’d end up in all along. 

It was the weekend before Thanksgiving and for the first time in a long time I didn’t have any kids under my roof. Honestly, I couldn’t remember the last time I didn’t have any kids placed with me, it had been that long. Yesterday, it had been easy enough to ignore, I went into the office to catch up on paperwork, I picked up dry cleaning and went grocery shopping before drinking half a bottle of wine and falling into bed exhausted. 

Today though, things were quiet and now that the world had stilled around me, my normally thick exterior cracked and I found myself sobbing steadily. I loved being a foster mom, I really did, but it was heartbreaking to know that these kids would never be mine for one reason or another. That while most days my house was full of laughter and as much love as these kids could manage, days like today would always be waiting at the end of it all. 

While drowning my sorrows with a pint of ice cream I definitely didn’t need to be eating at 11am, my phone buzzed beside me with a message from Kayla Dumoulin. She had texted more than once over the past few weeks with worries such as whether Brayden’s cord was healing normally and whether she could cut his nails because he didn’t like the mittens but she didn’t want him to cut himself. Through our text conversations she had learned of my rapidly emptying house and her message this morning was just to check in and see how I was doing. 

She was such a sweetheart and I replied with a shrug emoji declaring that if sobbing over a pint of ice cream at 11am was normal then I was doing just fine. The phone rang a moment later and I sighed seeing her name pop up because the message wasn’t intended to make her feel guilty or anything, it was just genuine honesty. Still, I answered the phone, setting the pint of ice cream aside for a moment. 

“It sounds like you need some baby cuddles.” Kayla stated, the sound of soft chatter coming through the line. “Why don’t you come over. Brayden wouldn’t mind seeing his favorite doctor.” She suggested. 

“That’s sweet but I’ll be okay.” I assured her. “I don’t want to impose. I’m sure I can find something to do.” 

“You’re not imposing.” Kayla insisted. “Me texting you at 2am with a breastfeeding question was imposing.” Her voice was teasing and I sighed softly remembering being up with my own newborn when she had a question about hers since Brian was on the road. 

“Seriously.” She continued. “Come over, snuggle Brayden, and give my husband a second opinion on this bottle of wine he just got since I can’t drink.” She suggested. Sensing that she truly meant it, I sighed and agreed reluctantly telling her to send me the address. 

____

45 minutes later, I had cleaned myself up so it didn’t look like I had spent the last few hours sobbing. After putting on some light makeup, I had thrown on some black jeans, a striped long sleeve tee, and a tan pullover before deeming myself decent enough to head out. 

Plugging the address in my phone’s gps, I drove over to Kayla and Brian’s neighborhood, parking down on the street in front of their house. It didn’t even register that there were approximately a half dozen cars spread between the driveway and the street already as I made my way up to the front door. 

Kayla greeted me after just a minute and I gently teased that if I didn’t know better I wouldn’t believe she just had a baby as she let me inside. That made her smile, and as she guided me to the kitchen for a glass of wine I realized that there was a significant amount of noise coming from the living room. It wasn’t until she was murmuring for me to make myself comfortable that I realized the living room was occupied by almost a dozen Penguins players, football pregame on tv. 

“Alright Muzz, you can give my baby back now.” Kayla declared half-joking, half-serious. As soon as the goalie handed the baby over, Kayla was crossing the room back to me and handing off the little boy who just snuggled into my chest as soon as he was placed there. “There...baby snuggles.” She murmured. 

“Thanks.” I whispered, resting a hand over the infant’s back before taking a sip of wine feeling slightly uncomfortable as eyes slowly landed on me. 

“Hey doc.” Brian greeted appearing from somewhere else in the house. “Let me know what you think of that wine, not sure if this brand is a keeper or not.” He stated simply portraying the feeling that I wasn’t at all anywhere I didn’t belong and that this was a normal occurrence. Nodding I promised to do so before just focusing back on the baby in my arms. The physician portion of my brain noted that he was doing well and had certainly been growing while the rest of me just found myself relaxing at the feeling of a baby’s steady breaths. 

Most of the guys paid me no mind as the game started. Yet I felt one pair of eyes linger. As I stepped outside after handing Brayden off to feed just before halftime, a four legged companion joined me and I chuckled petting the Dumoulin’s dog Roo while sitting on the steps of their patio nursing my second glass of wine. 

The patio door slid open and then shut before a body slid down next to me on the steps. 

“So where are your foster kids?” A familiar voice asked and glancing over my eyes met those of the Penguins Captain. 

“With another foster family, with their mother, and with their paternal grandmother.” I whispered, quickly taking another sip of the wine to try and push back another round of tears. “The sucky thing about being a foster mom is they always go away in the end.” 

“I...I didn’t know.” Sid mumbled after a moment and I waved him off petting Roo and wiping at my eye with the back of my hand. 

“I didn’t expect you to.” I stated simply. 

“So that’s why…” Sid trailed off, stopping when I nodded. 

“Baby cuddles to try and make everything better.” I shrugged. “To fill the three new cracks in my heart. It’s been a long time since I was childless.” I whispered. “I’ve been trying to recall when it was and I honestly can’t remember. I feel like it had to have happened at least a few times but I really can’t recall not having anyone since I became a foster mom in the first place.” 

“How long is that?” Sid asked, tone softer now than it had been that day at the hospital. 

“Two...almost three years. I applied to become a foster parent toward the end of my residency.” 

“Can I ask how many?” Sid questioned. 

“36.” 

“In three years? That’s...wow.” Glancing over I could see the genuine shock on his face. 

“I don’t know what the turnover rate is generally but I’m fairly certain my rate is higher than average. I get a lot of the drug addicted babies because of my skills and they’re generally only with me 2-3 weeks until it’s safe to move them into a more permanent placement, often with other family members.” 

“How do you handle that?” He murmured, reaching down to pet Roo as well who had rolled over onto her back for belly rubs. 

“Usually I just focus on my patients, on the kids that I do still have with me because they deserve all of my love and attention. This time? Crying over Ben and Jerry’s at 11am until Kayla insisted I come over.” A smile cracked Sid’s face and he apologized quickly declaring that this isn’t something to smile about. 

“No it’s okay. You can find it amusing, I know it wasn’t the most healthy coping method.” 

“Are you going to be okay?” He inquires softly. 

“Yeah. Well, I should probably lay off the wine. Dumo has really good taste.” Sid’s eyes crinkled a little bit and he looked at me like be serious. “I will be. I mean it’s only a matter of time before I get the call that another child needs me.” I assured him. “I just...sometimes...days like this...they make me wonder whether I still want to do this, you know…” 

“Go on…” Sid urged. 

“I just...it’s so hard. Never knowing whether I’m going to wake up and have to say goodbye again. Constantly giving away pieces of my heart that I’ll never get back. Days like today make me just want to be a mom. Not a foster mom but a mom. To have my own kids who won’t be there one day and gone the next.” 

“I get that feeling.” Sid murmured after a moment. “Not the ‘here one day gone the next’ part, but uh, wanting your own kids part, that I get.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke before dropping his hand back down to pet Roo, his fingers brushing against mine. Immediately my mind flashed back to the feeling of his hand wrapped around mine and I quickly pushed that aside. 

“There you are!” Kayla exclaimed, popping her head out the door, her eyes shifting back and forth between you and Sid and noting how close you were sitting. “We just put out some food if you’re hungry and want something other than ice cream.” She grinned, dipping back inside looking like she was about to burst with what she just saw even if it was absolutely nothing. 

When Sid stood he offered a hand out to help you up, murmuring for Roo to come inside and he’d see if he could find her a treat. The bulldog was eager for that and followed after him as you brushed yourself off and picked your wine glass up moving to rejoin the group. 

Ridding of your buzz with some food and water and more baby snuggles you finally headed home with the feeling that there was something more to your conversation with Sid that you hadn’t put your finger on.

Outfit: 

[tharros-auris-black-asimi]

Lay All Your Love on Me (Chapter 4)

Pairing: Soft!Dark!Lee Bodecker x Female Reader

Summary: After moving to Knockemstiff, Ohio with your troubled parents, you find solace in the local Seven-Eleven. There, you bump into the Alpha sheriff, Lee Bodecker.

And then you keep bumping into him. There’s just something about that chubby Alpha that keeps drawing you in. Now there’s something going on with the new preacher of the church that you attend. Everything’s a mess.

But you’re an unbonded Omega. Life can turn to shit anyway.

Chapter Warnings: ABO dynamics, dysfunctional families, mentions of cheating, age gap (Reader is nineteen while Lee is in his late twenties/early thirties), religious themes, scenting, explicit language. There is a physical fight in this chapter, as well as some mild slut-shaming words being used.

As the months flew by and the springtime slowly turned warmer, hotter, your mother had been pondering. Looking. Sitting in the car in front of the police’s office, as she had been for the past few hours now. Since her husband had been off doing his gambling again. It was nighttime.

The sheriff’s light was still on. She could see it still lit from where she was in the car.

Sometimes, your mother wondered, how she had allowed it to come to this.

She always thought about leaving. About skipping town with you and never coming back.

It would’ve been so easy. She should've done it sooner.

But she didn’t.

She couldn’t.

Divorce would’ve been okay for her. Betas had so much leeway with the laws, that no one would've batted an eyelash with a pair of Betas divorcing.

But if a Beta couple had an unbonded Omega?

Forget it.

She knew after the Civil Rights movement that Omegas were slowly getting more and more rights now. Especially in the workplace. Just a bit. Not enough to change everyone’s view of Omegas working in the workplace, however. But it was a start.

The car door opened. She let out a sigh. Her chest heavy. She closed the door behind her as she made sure to lock it, slipping her car keys into her purse. Clutching her purse tightly to her chest, she made her way into the police station.

Lee had been working.

He had been working all night.

He wasn’t able to have a date with you tonight. You had gotten the cold and had stayed home. Your mother had been taking care of you for the past couple of days. Lee had felt so empty without seeing you sitting in the chair across from his desk, smiling at him. Sipping at your slushie as you watched him work. He never felt so lonely. It was almost like his mood had soured.

A knock on the door made him pause his work. The chair squeaked as he got up to walk out of his office, to the front entrance.

What he saw made him pause.

Your mother stood on the other side, looking at him with the same exact look she had given him the same day he was there at church. Looking at him up and down, as if she was studying him. Like he was something to be studied. It didn’t make him uneasy. He had faced hell and back. His Alpha was not scared of this Beta. But Lee could smell your mother’s citrus scent. She had notes that smelled like you. Your familiar smell of chocolate chip cookies. It was a slightly sweeter undertone that made him feel safe. Made him feel at home. Warmed him from head to toe. It reminded him of home.

“Evenin’ ma’am.” Lee greeted your mother. Your mother gave him a nod.

“Sheriff Bodecker. Are ya the only one on duty?” She asked. Nodding came from Lee as he escorted her inside. He might’ve been an Alpha, had a position of power that was above you and your mother, but Lee Bodecker was still a gentleman. When the two of them had walked back to Lee’s office, he told her to make herself comfortable before he sat down behind his desk and looked at the last bits of paperwork that he had. The things he did to be where he was now.

“I need ta ask ya, Sheriff. What are your intentions with my pup?”

Lee looked up at your mother. Completely and utterly caught by surprise for the first time in his life.

“Ma’am?”

She only leaned closer. Looked at him straight into the eyes, like she was trying to pick him apart. Or rip him limb by limb. Whichever seemed palatable at the moment.

“You heard me, sir. What are your intentions with my pup?” She said again.

He blinked.

“Um…”

“Do you want her bite? Are you going to give her pups? A warm home? Are you going to take care of her and your pack?” she demanded him.

And she waited.

For a few seconds, she looked at him, her gaze seemingly burning into his soul like she was his Judge.

It was at that moment that Lee made up his mind.

Like it clicked.

The puzzle pieces going right into the place where they should be.

“Yes.”

Now it was just easy.

Flowing through him like drinking water on a cool day.

He knew exactly what he wanted.

His Alpha was in total agreement. For once, they were on the same page. Totally and completely.

No more fooling around.

He needed to get straight to the point and just do it.

“Yes, what?”

Your mother was just the slightest bit unconvinced. Because she needed to know. Right from the source. She needed to make sure that you would be okay. That you would be taken care of. That if she were to pass away suddenly, that you had a roof over your head, someone to support you, and a family that you would have with your future Alpha.

You needed to be secure.

“Yes. I want it. I want all of it. I want to be with her. I want my mark on her gland.”

And how badly he wanted it too.

He wanted to see it.

He wanted to see his mark on your gland. He wanted you to smell like him.

He wanted you to carry his pups.

Be his Omega.

His Bondmate.

His wife.

Everything and anything. All of it. The entire package.

“… I want her to have my pups too. My ring. My name. All of it.”

Your mother listened.

There might have been a part of her. A part of her that was preening because it had been exactly what she wanted to hear. Her hands put themselves on Lee’s desk. She continued to look at the dark-haired, much older Alpha and pondered.

“And you’re sure? You’re sure can take care of her, be the Bondmate, be the Alpha, be the father to her children, her pups? Be the one she needs?”

Lee leaned close. So close your mother could see the storminess in them.

“I’m not sure. I know I’m the one she needs. Are you going to doubt me anymore, ma’am? Any more questions?”

Your mother’s lips curled. Stretched into what looked to be the beginnings of a smile.

“No. No more questions, Sheriff Bodecker. Thank you. Have a good night. I’ll go and tell my daughter that you said hello.”

She stood up, beginning to head to the door.

“Wait.”

She was just about to turn the doorknob when the tone of his voice made her turn her head back.

“Tell her I love her too.”

Your mother smiled.

“I will.”

And then the door opened and closed.

A few weeks later… in Coal Creek, West Virginia…

It was sticky.

Hot.

Humid.

You felt like you could drink the air as if it were water.

Such weather you were not surprised with, nor not used to, due to living in Michigan before you had moved to Ohio.

So the sticky hot, humid air didn’t quite make you suffer as much.

Emma and your mother were out. They had gone into town to grab some supplies with Arvin.

There was going to be a new preacher that was going to fill in the position after the old one had retired. At least, that was what Lenora had told you. The two of you were back at the church graveyard. Visiting her mother, as she usually did. Or tried to. She had told you that she hadn’t grown up with her mother. That her dad was nonexistent. She had been a baby when her mother died, and when her father had basically vanished off of the face of the earth. But Lenora was convinced her dad was still out there. Somewhere.

You came for emotional support.

Because you didn’t know if you could be helpful for anything else, really.

Hand clutching, holding her Bible close to her chest, Lenora got up from her crouched position. She looked at her mother’s grave, a solemn look in her eyes.

“You know… I think he’s still out there. My daddy.”

You looked at her.

“That’s good, Lenora. Maybe… maybe one day you’ll find him. You’ll see him.” You assured her. Lenora didn’t smile though. She just gave you another solemn look and only gave you a short nod.

You hugged her. Gently rubbing your wrist against hers, softly enveloping her in your scent.

“It’s okay,” your whisper was gentle.

“It’s okay.”

“Did you get the stuff?” You asked Arvin later that day when the two of you finally had some alone time. The two of you were now outside, on the porch, while Arvin was standing up and you were sitting on the old rocking chair that Emma never truly wanted to donate, or give away. She loved that old thing. It held a special place in her heart. She had a point though, every morning you tried to get some sun, and you’d just come out there and sit on the chair. Just gazing out. Seeing the sun slowly rise.

Arvin looked at you.

“Yeah, we got the stuff. Some liver,” Arvin replied back to you. A thoughtful hum came from you.

“Liver, huh?”

He nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, “it was all we could really afford. We ain’t as rich as the other people who go ta church with us.”

That you understood. You could understand that.

“Your grandma’s a hell of a good cook though. Anything she makes, I’ll eat it.”

Arvin chuckled. You could smell the wafting smells of a bonfire. It made you feel warm and safe. Cozy.

But you could still feel her. Your Omega. She was slithering around, waiting on the sidelines.

Now. Your Omega didn’t mind Arvin.

Not at all.

But he wasn’t Lee. He did not smell like her Alpha. He did not smell like chocolate and bourbon. He smelled like a damn bonfire and it made her want to choke sometimes. It wasn’t that she hated him. She was very fond of the other Alpha. Arvin was only a year younger than you. Around your age. So it was okay.

“Even if it got burnt?” Arvin questioned you.

You let out a snort.

“Puh-lease. As if ya Auntie could burn anything. Hell, she could burn it and I would still eat it. Put enough salt n’ pepper on it, and I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

Arvin laughed again.

Later that week...

You were pulling at the sleeves of the dress that you were currently wearing.

Itchy.

Your skin was itchy.

And it was still hot. And humid.

You hated this.

Your Omega was looming in you. Being depressed, as usual.

She missed her Alpha. Dearly.

Because as people were crowding into the church, she loomed. Watched as people walked around you.

Preston Teagardin was standing in front of the room.

Watching.

His blue eyes looking around.

Watching all of these people as Emma put her dish down on the table, before walking back to where you, Arvin, Lenora, and your mother were.

And then he saw you.

Standing there. In your black dress, looking around like this place was the last place where you’d rather be. Your kitten heels on. Your hair was tied up, due to the hot and humid weather.

And you were looking back.

A chill creeping up your spine as you looked into those blue eyes.

Your Omega stirred.

She was up and alert now.

Narrowing her eyes at him from where she was seated in her cage.

This Alpha.

She did not trust this Alpha.

A few days later…

The worst day in your life happened in the afternoon.

Your father had come home early. Your mother was still at one of her friend’s houses from down the block. Doing as housewives did. Catching up. Gossiping. Discussing their book club. Stuff like that.

When he stepped through the front door, nothing had been out of the ordinary. There were no noises coming from the house and he suspected that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t home.

And you weren’t. You had secretly gone out to go and get some air, go to the local library to catch up on the latest book that you were reading, and then later after you came home and got some time by yourself, you were going to go to the Seven-Eleven and meet up with Lee as you usually did. Your usual schedule.

So when he walked into the hallway and peered into your room, because your bedroom door was open, he saw something strange.

A leather jacket had been nestled into your nest. Your room smelled like you. Chocolate chip cookies. Sweet. Making your father remember the happier moments in your childhood.

But there was something lurking on the surface. If your father had been drunk, he might’ve not noticed it.

However, he was not drunk now. Now, he was fully and completely sober. Having been off of the alcohol for a few days. Three, at the least. It was a well-known and memorized routine that you knew by heart. Your father would drink, wait three days, and then drink again. Not like Lee, who was kept off of the damn beverage.

The slight smell of bourbon and chocolate was filling the air. Almost like it was possessing the space. Like it was sinking its way in.

His footsteps carried him into your room as he opened your bedroom door with a small creaking noise.

He came closer to your nest. In your space.

When you and your family had fully moved in, you had told your parents up and down, side to side, that they were not welcome in your room unless you allowed them in. Your room was your space. It was the only room in the house that you could have all to yourself. Needless to say, you were a bit territorial with your room. And who could blame you?

The familiar thought went through your father’s mind as he walked into your room, towards your bed. As he got closer, he realized what he was looking at.

A leather jacket had been nestled into your nest. When your father took a whiff, it was nearly rubbed out completely of its scent.

Chocolate and bourbon came up to his nose.

There was only one person he knew that smelled like that. Had that particular scent.

Sheriff Lee Bodecker.

You were messing around with the sheriff.

His eyes were narrowing. His scent, his woodsy scent became more pronounced, changing, shifting to someone more woodsy. He could almost imagine himself in the woods.

Your father would wait. He was patient.

When you got home from the library, it was too late.

As soon as you had come through the door, made sure you had even locked it behind you, a hand came, gripping your hair so tight you were sure it was going to be pulled from your scalp. You let out a shout. It had happened so quickly that your brain hadn’t even registered it.

Pulled. You were getting pulled somewhere into the house. Deeper into your family home. You were beginning to shout now. Shout and scream in protest. If it weren’t for the overwhelming, overbearing smell of a tantalizing woody forest, you would’ve never figured it was your father dragging you by your hair. Your feet kicked from underneath you. Not good enough to trip your father by his own two feet. He had been a doctor after all. He had been trained in situations like these. He worked in the damn ER, for fuck’s sake.

From the familiar clicking of your kitten heels on the floor, you managed to look down.

The kitchen. You were being yanked into the kitchen. Then you were shoved headfirst towards the wooden cabinets. Being shoved so hard that you nearly broke your nose due to the hard impact. There was a loud thud noise when your face smacked up against it. You must’ve heard a cracking noise.

Your nose was broken. It had begun to bleed. You were gasping, frantically gripping the countertops of the sink to keep you steady. A sharp kick to your back made you cry out in pain. Not that you weren’t in pain already. You could feel your Omega within you, screeching. Having begun the starting points of throwing a fit. Screaming at the audacity of your Beta father for treating you this way.

Your head had begun to ring. A white noise buzzing.

You had been so focused on getting your wits back, and your Omega was far too busy throwing her fit that the two of you had blocked out your father’s yelling.

“… and then I see this! Have you decided on being a fucking harlot now?”

You turned your head.

Your eyes had gone wide.

In your father’s grip, in your father’s hand, was Lee’s leather jacket. The one he wore so often. The one he had given to you because you had gotten cold one day. It had been a slightly chilly night and he had given it to you. You had protested the entire way home, saying that you would be fine. Even though you were visibly shivering. But Lee had shrugged it off of him, his jacket pouring pure Alpha pheromones, and had put it on you.

You had been so certain. So sure that you had put it away from sight.

But then you had remembered that you had put it in your nest.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You were so fucking stupid. How could you have done that? Put Lee’s jacket in your nest like a fool? Those types of behaviors, those types of things were for bonded pairs! Like your parents. Not like people such as Lee and you. You didn’t have his mark. He didn’t have yours. What the hell were you thinking, entertaining this charade?

As your father continued to shout at you, his words were slowly sinking in.

He was right.

Why had you been entertaining this goddamn charade? Why?

How could you let this go on?

You couldn’t do it.

You couldn’t keep doing this.

“… I raised you in this house-”

No, you didn’t, your Omega thought snidely. You’ve been sleeping with other women. What’s your excuse?

Was your father hearing himself?

“… after all the damn hard work I did, raising you-”

Please, your Omega was butting in again. If anything, I saw my mother more than you. All you did was work. I barely saw your ass.

Stupid Beta.

When your father had opened his mouth to speak again, your Omega lashed out.

Your foot came from your front. Shooting out and kicking him as hard as she could. Your Omega had been aiming for his groin, but apparently, she had reached just a bit higher. Good on her. She saw your father shout something as she kicked him again, sending him back a bit.

Yanking the cabinet door open. Your hand grabbed the first thing it could find a grip on.

A handle.

This felt familiar.

Oh.

Oh.

It was a skillet. When you managed to pull it out and whack it in your father’s face, you then realized, you had grabbed a cast-iron skillet. The one that your mother had used yesterday to make dinner. It was a little rusty. But it would do. Scrambling to get to your feet, your Omega snarled.

She was done.

Finished.

Her temper had sky rocked out of the roof.

She was done with a capital D.O.N.E. and this Beta, this lousy excuse of a Beta who had given you his sperm was going to pay for the words that he had spoken against your Alpha.

Another whacking noise had sent him back. The further he crawled back, yelling at you, the more she stepped forward.

How dare he.

When she raised the skillet down and rained blow after blow down on his body, she might’ve heard something crack. Or snap. She was sure she had gotten his shoulder. Maybe cracked one of his ribs. She knew his face was bleeding. Blood coming down from his nose.

How dare he talk bad about her Alpha?

How dare he?

“How fucking dare you!”

Pissed.

Oh, she was so fucking pissed off.

And it was around that time that she began to hear sirens. Shouts were filling the house and your Omega screeched, screamed, and shouted as someone was trying to pull her off.

“Get off of me!” You were howling. Clawing at someone’s shirt.

This was not your Alpha. A young Alpha deputy was pulling you away as you howled in dismay. Your Omega being pushed back again, kicking and screaming.

Alpha.

She needed her Alpha.

Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44, @bxnnywriting

[fruitcoops]

Hello! I truly love your writing! Would you consider a continuation of that piece where Jules stays with coops for a week? Or just some snippets of what they get up to?

Here’s part 1, folks! It’s about 3k words and I’m thinking there will be three or four parts total, released over the next couple days. I hope you enjoy it!

Sweater Weather and Jules credit belongs to @lumosinlove!

“Jules.” A series of gentle knocks echoed down the stairs and Sirius smiled into his coffee cup. “Jules, it’s time to wake up.”

Regulus snorted. “Bet you five bucks he has to drag the kid down.”

“Deal.”

“Jules.” Remus knocked again, sounding more exasperated. There was a heavy sigh and the door clicked open; after a moment of quiet, someone yelped. “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Go away!” Jules groaned. “An’ give it back!”

“It’s time for breakfast, get a wiggle on. I’ll carry you if I have to.”

“I’m cold.” More rustling noises followed before Jules appeared at the top of the staircase, bundled in Remus’ sweatshirt—which was really Sirius’, but it didn’t matter—and scowling. His bedhead was outstanding.

“Bon matin,” Sirius said with a smile when Jules sat heavily in the chair next to him and put his forehead on his arms. “How’d you sleep?”

“I don’t like your fiancé.”

“Oh?”

“He’s mean.”

Sirius winked at Remus as he rolled his eyes and pulled a cereal box out of the pantry. “What did he do?”

“He stole my blankets with no warning.”

“That is such a lie,” Remus scoffed. “I knocked on your door for five whole minutes before I came in!”

“Thank you for that, by the way,” Sirius said, walking over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Reg owes me five bucks now.”

“Sweet, we can get more Oreos.”

“Oreos aren’t on your diet plan,” Jules sulked as Remus passed him a bowl of cereal and milk.

“How do you know?”

Jules mumbled something and shoved his spoon into his mouth. The night before had been hectic, with Sirius driving the Hope and Lyall to the airport while Remus helped set Jules up for the night. Regulus came back from hanging out with Leo around ten pm; by that time, Jules was still wired for sound at the idea of a week-long sleepover. He finally went to sleep around eleven thirty and Sirius and Remus crash-landed into bed, exhausted.

Practice was going to be hell.

“Why do we have to wake up early, again?” Jules asked around a yawn.

Sirius ruffled his hair as he sat down again. “Practice starts at ten. Eight o’clock is not early at all.”

He squinted at him, confused. “How early do you usually wake up?”

“Seven, seven-thirty.”

Jules shuddered and turned back to his cereal while Remus plonked himself down in Sirius’ lap with a coffee cup, looking moments away from falling asleep again. “Children are exhausting. Why did we get two of them?”

“Hey!” Jules and Regulus said in unison, clearly offended.

“We’ve got terrible judgement,” Sirius laughed.

“Older brothers are the worst, right Jules?”

“Totally. Are you coming to the rink with us?”

Regulus shook his head. “Sorry, buddy, I’ve got college stuff to work on. Want to help me with paperwork?”

Jules made a face. “I’ll pass.”

“We’re leaving in forty minutes, okay?” Remus said, stretching his back as he stood up and left Sirius’ lap cold and empty. “Jules, please take a shower.”

“I smell fine!”

“You didn’t take one yesterday or the day before. Scoot.” Jules rolled his eyes and got up. “Don’t give me that look! And put your bowl in the sink.”

Sirius and Regulus shared a glance as Jules put his stuff away and trooped up the stairs. “Hi, Hope,” Regulus snickered.

Resignation overtook Remus’ face and he sighed. “Fuck. I’m turning into my mother already. Reg, you should take a shower, too.”

“I smell fine!” The withering look from both Sirius and Remus made him raise his hands in surrender and wander off to his bedroom. “I’m nineteen, not nine!”

”And yet we still need to babysit you,” Sirius called back. Finally, they were alone. He hopped up to sit on the counter and grabbed Remus around the waist as he passed by, pulling him back for a hug. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Good morning.” Remus kissed him gently, bracketing his hips with his hands. He looked tired, but happy. “I’m actually pretty excited to have Jules stay with us. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“Ne rien. It’s good to have people here.” They kissed for a moment longer, listening to the shower running upstairs and Regulus’ rummaging noises down the hall. “I swear to God, he’s like a raccoon.”

Remus laughed and leaned his forehead on Sirius’ shoulder. “He definitely sounds like one.”

“At least his room’s clean.”

“Cheers to that. He’s heading back tomorrow, right?”

“Mhmm. Dumo’s been bugging me for, like, three days.”

Remus hummed, wrapping his arms around Sirius and snuggling into him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. We’ve only got a little bit of time before Jules is out, so we should get dressed.”

Remus groaned, but released his limpet hold. “That was so close to a perfect sentence.”

Sirius paused just before hopping off the counter and raised his eyebrows. “If we have extra time…”

“Come on, you,” Remus laughed, tugging him off the counter by the hand and hurrying toward the stairs.

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

They arrived at the rink at 10:05, and Sirius began bracing himself for the inevitable chirping as soon as he stepped out of the car. Jules bounced on his toes in excitement as they walked toward the building, laden with their hockey gear and still a bit frazzled from the mad dash out of the house.

“Is this the munchkin?” Moody asked when Remus knocked on the door to the PT office.

“Yep.” Remus looked down at Jules, whose eyes were wide and more than a little nervous as his grip tightened on Remus’ jacket hem.

“Alastor Moody,” he grunted, holding a hand out that Jules tentatively shook.

“Jules.”

“Wanna see how bones work, kid?”

Instantly, his nerves disappeared. “Yeah!”

Moody winked at them as he led Jules toward the joint models on the far wall and Sirius let out a slow breath. “He’ll be fine.”

“God, I hope so. If anyone can drive Moody off the wall, it’ll be my little brother,” Remus murmured as they headed off down the hall.

The yelling started the second Sirius opened the locker room door. “You’re LATE!” James shouted, grinning from ear to ear. “Hand over the badge, Captain.”

“We still have fifty minutes until practice starts, shut your face.” Sirius socked him on the shoulder and set his bag in the stall.

“What, pray tell, was the reason for this tardiness?” James leaned over and batted his eyelashes.

Remus rolled up a towel and smacked him on the ass with it. “My little brother.”

“Jules is here?” Leo perked up on the other side of the room, and Sirius saw several of the guys look over in excitement, as if they were hiding him in one of their bags.

“He’s staying with us for the week since my great-aunt passed away.”

“Shit, Loops, I’m sorry.”

Remus shrugged. “I never met her, but my folks went back for the funeral. Moody said he’d keep an eye on Jules during practice.”

“Lupin, Black, you’re late,” Coach Weasley said from the doorway, giving them a look over his glasses. “Do we need to have a conversation?”

“No, Coach,” Sirius said as he pulled his pads over his chest.

“I hear you’ve commandeered my head PT for the day.”

Remus shook his head. “If Jules starts bugging him—”

“I’m kidding, Loops.” Arthur’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Moody loves kids. This’ll be good for his disposition.”

Finn snorted. “Can’t get any worse.”

“I expect all of you on the ice in twenty. Any stragglers are doing laps outside!” Arthur slapped the edge of the doorway before ducking out into the hall again; his sneakers squeaked on the freshly-washed floor and Sirius stifled a laugh as he finished buckling up.

The five minute delay did not have a terrible impact on his pre-practice rituals, which he took a  moment to be grateful for—they had a scrimmage planned, and he didn’t intend to lose. Once warmups were over, they moved into running plays, until finally the whistle blew and Coach called out the teams. Remus ended up on the other side and he slapped Sirius’ ass with his stick as he passed him, grinning over his shoulder before stopping next to Dumo.

Jules and Moody came out to watch a few minutes in; Sirius caught a glimpse of his wide eyes when he saw the speed of the game and smiled to himself. Everyone else seemed to notice the new arrivals as well, because their effort doubled and suddenly the plays were running smoother than ever.

Showing off for a ten-year-old, he thought with a shake of his head. Talk about baby fever.

Remus sped through the defense, weaving back and forth until he was nearly face-to-face with Sirius. His whole face lit up and he braced; when Sirius went to check him, he dipped sideways at the last second and slipped the puck right through his skates, catching it on the other side and zipping toward the goal at top speed. The goal light went off and Talker whooped, checking him in celebration.

“Lupin! Where’s that been all season?” Arthur demanded, though he was laughing. “Christ, guys, thanks for finally waking up!”

“Where the fuck did you learn that?” Sirius asked as they headed back for the face-off.

“You think you’re the only one who skates in the basement?” Remus said with a cheeky grin.

The whole rink buzzed with energy throughout the rest of the scrimmage—once or twice, Sirius realized even he was showing off a little for Jules, who cheered louder than fifteen thousand fans whenever someone scored.

Arthur shook his head when the final whistle went off. “Everyone say ‘thank you’ to Julian.”

“Thank you, Jules,” they chorused. Jules looked like he was about to die of happiness.

“I need to get him in here more often,” Arthur muttered as they headed to the locker room to change into their gym gear. “Let’s get that energy for every practice, okay? Not just the ones with Little Loops.”

“What are you talking about?” Kasey laughed.

Arthur fixed him with a look. “Don’t bullshit me, Winter, all of you were showing off for the kid.”

Remus blushed all the way to his ears, and the rest of them mumbled some half-assed excuses until they were shooed away. “I put the new schedule on the mirror,” Sirius called over the noise. “Try to pay attention to it for once.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Logan reached up and patted him on the shoulder as he passed; Sirius dragged him back into a headlock to ruffle his hair. “Ow, fuck, okay!”

Logan did not, in fact, stick to the schedule. He was far too busy tossing the lightest medicine ball they had with Jules, who staggered slightly whenever he caught it. Both looked absolutely thrilled.

Sirius, on the other hand, was glad for the opportunity to do a fair bit of ogling while he spotted Remus—who stuck to the schedule, Sirius had never loved him more—until he finished his bench-pressing rotation. He was strong before being a player, but now…well, it was safe to say he could sweep Sirius off his feet literally and figuratively.

“Re, Re!” Jules ran over when Remus finally sat up, then paused and made a face. “You’re sweaty.”

Remus pulled him in for a hug, making him shriek and wiggle to get out. “I am, yeah! Isn’t it great? Here, lemme just—”

Jules flailed, but he couldn’t get out of Remus’ hold in time to avoid the head nuzzle that plastered his hair up on one side with sweat as the guys laughed. “Ewww!”

“Did you need something, buddy?” Remus asked at last.

“Well, now I need a shower.” Jules grimaced. “I was going to ask if you guys actually do ice baths.”

“Of course we do!” Kasey cut in before Remus could quickly divert the topic. “And your brother loves them.”

Sirius had to turn around to muffle his laughter as interest lit on Jules’ face. “Really? Can I see?”

Kasey opened the door dramatically. “Right this way, Little Loops.”

Two of the ice baths were full when they arrived and Sirius did not miss the pained look on Remus’ face at the sight, nor did he miss the devious smile on Kasey’s. Jules hurried over to one and looked over the end, practically sticking his whole face in. “Woah.”

“Pretty cool, huh? You want to know what the best part is?”

“What?”

“Oh, Christ,” Remus muttered.

“Loops, will you do the honors and make sure your darling little brother has a good time?” Kasey asked, the picture of innocence. Remus sighed and stood next to the ice bath, silently begging Sirius for help with his eyes as Kasey motioned Jules over. “Alright, so you take one of these, and then you have to be super careful as you aim. Lucky for you, you’re learning from the best.”

Remus winced as the first ice cube smacked him in the side of the head and gritted his teeth as the second went down the neck of his t-shirt. Sirius schooled his expression into the mildest, sweetest smile he could muster. “He’s not doing anything,” Jules whispered. Remus began taking deep breaths.

“He will.”

“Try me, Wint—oh, sh—” Remus muffled a squeak as ice went directly down his spine. “Hoo, boy, that’s cold.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you censor yourself,” Kasey said, amazed. “It’s uncanny.”

“Are you done?”

“I could do this all day, but it’s my turn to make dinner tonight and Nat gets hangry if I’m late. Good game, Little Loops.” Kasey and Jules high-fived and Remus shook his shirt out; no less than four ice cubes clattered to the ground.

“Young man, you are in such big trouble,” Remus growled playfully as he swept Jules over his shoulder and began tickling his knees. Sirius dodged the squirming legs and held the door open for them as they walked back into the hallway. “You’re okay hanging out with Moody while we get our stuff together, right?”

“Yeah! He’s got the coolest knee statues.”

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

Dinner was anything but a quiet affair; all three of them had taken a nap when they got home, then had a dance party in the kitchen while Remus taught Jules how to actually cook chicken so nobody got food poisoning. Sirius was torn between begging them for the details of that particular story and wanting to stay as far away from it as possible.

Regulus and Jules got into a fierce game of footsie under the table that only ended when a small foot—he still didn’t know which one it was—slammed into the base of Sirius’ knee, hard enough that it would certainly leave a bruise. “Ow.”

They both froze, shared a look, then silently went back to eating. “Practice starts at nine tomorrow,” Remus said around a bite of broccoli. “That means wake up time is six thirty, okay? We’ve got a game on Thursday and it’s super important that we’re not late again. Reg, what time are you heading out?”

“I was thinking noon-ish? That way I can get my stuff set up while Dumo’s still at practice. Don’t want to bother him.”

Jules turned to him with the biggest, saddest eyes Sirius had ever seen. “You’re leaving?”

“I live with Dumo, remember?” Regulus hesitated. “I’ll be at the game, though.”

“Can I sit with you?”

“Absolutely.”

That seemed to placate him, and he turned back to his chicken happily. Sirius nudged his brother, giving him a significant look, which was met with an eye roll that couldn’t quite cover the fond flush on his face.

Jules and Regulus took care of the dishes after dinner and Sirius stretched out on the couch to the sounds of the kid’s excited chatter as he recounted the day’s events. Remus flopped down on top of him, settling between his thighs with a contented smile. “Today went well.”

“Yeah, it did.” Sirius began running his fingers through Remus’ soft hair. “I think Moody is about thirty seconds away from adopting him.”

Remus laughed against his chest. “I think so. It’s pretty cool seeing him so excited about PT stuff.”

“It is.” There was a slow sigh and Sirius raised his eyebrows. “What was that about?”

“I just realized that even though Reg is leaving tomorrow, we won’t have the house to ourselves for six more days. It’s been two weeks.”

Sirius closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the armrest. “Fuck. I didn’t even think about that. Think we can dump him on Dumo for a night?”

“We can handle six days, right?”

“Yeah, totally.”

There was a beat of silence. “This is going to be difficult.”

“If we make it to the three-day mark, I say we break open the Oreos as a reward.”

“Sounds good to me—oof.”

They both groaned as an extra hundred pounds of person squished on top of them. “Dishes are done!” Jules chirped.

“Did you wash your hands?” Sirius wheezed, blinking the dark spots out of his vision. Remus’ chin was digging into his upper ribs.

“Yep! Regulus wants to watch a movie. I think we should watch Jurassic Park, but he says it’s terrible—”

“He what?” Remus raised his head slightly and craned his neck to look back at the kitchen. “Regulus!”

“What?”

“You don’t like Jurassic Park? I thought you had taste!” Remus pushed off the couch and Jules wrapped all his limbs around him like an oversized koala. “We’re watching it tonight and you’re going to like it. Come on, baby, we need to make sure your brother has culture.”

Two hours later, as the credits rolled and three people snored gently, Sirius smiled to himself. He could handle a week of this.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love and Medicine ~ 1

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 2,300ish

Summary: You begin your intern year at Avengers Medical Center

You let out a little groan as you turned around. You immediately knew you were naked as the cold wood floor sent chills down your bare body. Slowly opening your eyes, you took in your surroundings. You were home, in the house you had just inherited, boxes still pilled high around the living room you were laying in. Suddenly, someone else groaned beside you. You teased, clenching your eyes shut. The headache you had been ignoring since you woke finally broke free and you realized that your late night drunkenness must have caused you to bring a guy home.

You let out a long breath as you reopened your eyes and looked over at the hopefully-still-asleep man beside you. He wasn’t bad looking at all. You had really done well. He was blonde with a chiseled body. He had to have been at least six foot, which didn’t hurt. He was naked though, all out in the open on your living room floor. Cringing, you sat up, pulling one blanket from the couch to quickly cover yourself before standing and pulling one over him. You stood up silently, and began making your way out of the room. It was your first day of your intern year as a doctor, you couldn’t afford to be late.

You successfully made it to the doorway of the living room without a sound before the floorboard beneath you creaked. You should there, frozen, closing your eyes in hopes that the man sleeping behind you wouldn’t wake. You could hear him turn over, letting a small moan out of his mouth. Waiting a few more seconds, you started going again.

“You know…” the man started, clearly in his morning voice, “it’s usually rude to disappear on someone after spending a night with them.”

You quickly spun around to see him, still laying on his stomach, looking up at you with a sly grin.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, “it’s my house, so it’s not that rude.”

He stood up, not grabbing the blanket as quick as he should have, letting you have another look at him. When you met his eyes again, it was clear that you had been caught staring and that he was enjoying it.

“Why the rush to silently get out of here?” He asked, tucking the blanket around his waist. “Have a husband or a boyfriend you have to hurry and get ready for?”

“Neither,” you responded, tightening your hold on the blanket covering you. “I’m running late for my first day of work. So, if we’re done here, you should go.”

“We don’t have to be done here.”

“I think we do.” You kicked up his shirt, grabbing it, and throwing him at it. “You need to go.” He caught his shirt, slipping it on slowly over his clear cut abs. “So, um, goodbye… um…”

“Steve,” he reached his hand out.

“Steve. Right,” you shook his hand. “Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He smiled. It almost took your breath away, but you couldn’t let it show.

“Yeah.”

“Nice meeting you.”

“Yeah. Bye, Steve.”

You fled up the stairs, hoping that by the time you were done getting ready, Steve would be gone.

~~~

You made it to the Avengers Medical Center just in time to meet up with the other interns in your year. The Chief of Surgery, Dr. Nicholas J. Fury, was leading a small tour to the ORs. He started talking as the interns took in the OR.

“Each of you comes here hopeful. Wanting in on the game. A month ago you were in med school being taught by doctors. Today, you are the doctors,” Fury stated. “The seven years you spend here as a surgical resident will be the best and worst of your life. You will be pushed to the breaking point. Look around you. Say hello to your competition. Eight of you will switch to an easier specialty. Five of you will crack under the pressure. Two of you will be asked to leave. This is your starting line. This is your arena. How well you play? That's up to you.”

He then told each of the interns which resident they were assigned to. You got Dr. Gamora. All of the interns were then taken to the locker room, where each of you were assigned a locker and given scrubs to change into and start your long day.

“Only ten women out of thirty,” you muttered as you slipped your scrubs on.

“Yeah,” the woman with fiery red hair next to you responded. “I heard that one of them was a model. Seriously, like that’s going to help with the respect thing?”

“You’re Natasha, right?”

She nodded. “You’re Y/N?”

“Mhm,” you hummed.

“Which resident did you get assigned to? I got Gamora.”

“Me too.”

“You got Gamora?” A male intern repeated beside you. “So did I. At least we’ll all be tortured together, right? I’m Clint Barton, uh, we met at the mixer. You had a dress with a slit up the side, those shiny heels…” You and Natasha exchanged looks. “Now you think I’m gay.”

“Uh-huh,” Natasha hummed, heading out the door.

“No, I’m not gay! It’s, ah, it’s just that, you know, you were, I mean… You were very unforgettable,” Clint rambled as you both followed after Natasha. You shot him a sympathetic smile before hurrying to catch up with Natasha. “And I’m totally forgettable.”

“Barton, L/N, Romanoff, Valkyrie, Lang,” a doctor called at the door way.

“Gamora?” Natasha questioned that doctor that called you.

“End of the hall.”

The five of you that were called began walking. At the end of the hall, you saw a pretty woman working on paperwork. She didn’t look as threatening as you had heard she was.

“That’s Dr. Gamora?” Natasha wondered.

“From what I heard, I thought she’d look scarier,” the other male in your group of five said. You guessed it was Scott Lang.

“Yeah,” Clint agreed. “I thought she’d be… well, bigger.”

“Same,” you added.

“Maybe it’s professional jealousy,” a woman in your group suggested, Valkyrie, you presumed. “Maybe she’s brilliant, and they say things about her because they’re jealous. Maybe she’s really nice.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re the model,” Natasha said.

“Wait…” Clint said, looking at Nat. “I thought you were the model.”

Valkyrie shot Natasha a look before turning to Dr. Gamora with an extended hand. “Hi, I’m Valkyrie, but everyone calls me Val.”

Gamora looked her up and down, not even moving to shake Val’s hand. “I have five rules,” Gamora stated, clearly unimpressed already. “Rule number one, don’t bother sucking up, I already hate all of you, that’s not gonna change.” She turned and pointed to things on the counter. “Trauma protocol, phone lists, pagers. Nurses will page you, you answer every page at a run. A run, that's rule number two. Your first shift starts now and lasts forty-eight hours.” 

Gamora began walking away with you and the others quickly following, after each of you have grabbed the things off the counter. 

“You’re interns, grunts, nobodies, bottom of the surgical food chain, you run labs, write orders, work every second night till you drop and don’t complain!” She continued. Gamora led you to a door, opening it to reveal a room with bunk beds. “On call rooms. Attendings hog them, sleep when you can, where you can, which brings me to rule number three, if I'm sleeping, don't wake me, unless your patient is actually dying. Rule number four, the dying patient better not be dead when I get there, not only would you have killed someone, you would have also woke me for no good reason, we clear?” There was a brief pause before you nervously raised your hand. “Yes.”

“You said five rules,” you tried to hold back a cringe as you spoke up. “That was only four.”

Suddenly, Gamora’s pager beeped. “Rule number five. When I move, you move.” She ran down the corridor, followed by you and the other interns. “Get out of my way!” She yelled at a few doctor’s blocking the hallway.

You had the others followed Gamora to the ER. There was a bustling trauma room that the six of you entered. There was a young female on the stretcher, already being hooked to the machines.

“What’ve we got?” Gamora asked.

“Savannah Chase, fifteen year old female,” the paramedic still in the room stated. “New onset seizures, intermittent for the past week. ID lost en route. Started gran mal seizing when the ambulance pulled up.”

“Alright, get her on her side, Val, ten milligrams Diazepam.” Val started to do as she was directed while the rest of you watched. “No, no, the white lead is on the right, righty whitey, smoke over fire, a large bore IV. Don’t let the blood haemolyse, let’s go!”

Val injected the young woman with the diazepam and she stopped seizing. A new Doctor entered the room.

“So I heard we got a wet fish on dry land?” The man asked.

“Absolutely Dr. Banner,” Gamora responded.

“Dr. Gamora, I’m gonna shotgun her.”

“That means every test in the book, CT, CBC, chem seven, a tox screen,” Gamora clarified for the interns. “Natasha, you’re on labs, Clint, patient workups, Y/N, get Savannah for a CT, she’s your responsibility now.” Gamora began to walk away.

“Wait,” both Val and Lang called out. Gamora turned back around.

“What about us?” Val asked.

“You two—honey, you get to do rectal exams.”

~~~

You were currently in an elevator with Savannah, the patient, trying to find your way to CT. Since it was your first day at the medical center, you didn’t know where anything was and you were too stubborn to ask.

“You’re lost,” Savannah stated.

“I’m not lost,” you defended. “How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I’m feeling? I’m missing my pageant.”

“You’re missing your pageant.” You wheeled her out of the elevator and around a corner, still not knowing where you were headed.

“The Manhattan Teen Miss? I was in the top ten after the first two rounds. This is my year. I could’ve won.” Savannah sat up as she was wheeled back around the same way. “Hello? You’re so lost. What are you, like, new?”

“I’m— just tell me what happened.”

“I twisted my ankle. I do rhythmic gymnastics, which is like, really cool. Nobody else does it. And I tripped over my ribbon, and I didn't get stuck with someone this clueless. And that was like, a nurse.”

You gritted your teeth, trying not to be over-the-line rude to a patient on your first day. It took you almost another forty five minutes to find CT. You helped her with the scan before taking her back to a room. Before you knew it, it was lunch time. You grabbed some food from the cafeteria, finding your group of interns alone at a table.

“Savannah Chase is a pain in the ass,” you grumbled as you sat down with your tray. “If I hadn't taken the Hippocratic oath, I'd Kevorkian her with my bare hands.” The others around her just stared. “What?”

“Good afternoon interns,” a new doctor came up. “I’m Dr. Maria Hill. It’s posted, but I thought I’d share the good news personally. As you know, the honor of performing the first surgery is reserved for the intern that shows the most promise. As I’m running the OR today, I get to make that choice. I’ve been watching you all and I have to say, you’re all something. The intern I’ve chosen is, Scott Lang.”

Scott coughed up the drink he had been taking. “M-me?” He questioned.

“You’ll scrub in for an appendectomy this afternoon. Congratulations.” Then she left.

“Did she say me?”

“I can’t believe you were chosen over me,” Natasha grumbled. “It’s already clear that I’m a better surgeon that you.”

“Did she say… I’m sorry. What?”

~~~

After lunch, you went back to Savannah’s room to take care of her. As you did, a man and a woman, not doctors, came in.

“Savannah, honey, mom and dad are here,” the woman said, coming over to Savannah’s bedside.

“They gave her a sedative for the CT scan, so she’s a little groggy,” you informed them.

“Will she be alright?” The mother asked.

“Our doctor at home said she might need an operation, is that true?” The father wondered.

“What kind of operation?”

“She’s, um, well, you know what,” you tried your best to sound professional through your nervous stuttering, “I’m not, I’m not the doctor, uh. I am a doctor, but I’m not Savannah’s doctor, so I’ll go get him for you.”

You quickly left the room to go find Gamora. Thankfully, she was at the nurses desk just outside of the room. You hurried over but were too nervous to start speaking.

“What?” Gamora questioned, not looking up from the paperwork she was doing.

“Savannah’s parent’s have questions,” you responded. “Do you talk to them, or do I ask Banner?”

“No, Banner’s off of the case. Savannah belongs to the new attending now, Dr. Rogers, he’s over there.”

You follow in the direction that Gamora gestured to. You only made it a few steps before freezing. The man Gamora gestured to was talking to another doctor. But that wasn’t the reason you froze. Dr. Rogers was none other than your one night stand, Steve. Your eyes widened and you turned to go, but it was too late. Steve glanced your way, having to do a double take. You quickly left, feeling his eyes on the back of you.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

next chapter >

NOTES: Yes, this has been posted before, but I deleted it. I’m trying again. From now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

[ghost-party]

congrats on 200! i'd love to see Erwin x reader where they are both professors! looking forward to what you come up with, anything fluffy involving fumbling academics would be fun <3

This request... YES. ❤️ I have a huge weakness for this type of AU. (I used to teach college English classes.) And the idea of Erwin as a professor? Perfection.

Warnings: alcohol A/N: So much awkward, adorable fluff. This ended up being longer than I expected, and I still felt like there was so much more I could write. There’s a very good chance that I’ll end up turning this into an actual fic... 😅

• • •

Erwin + Professors

It’s a few days before the fall semester begins, and you’ve just finished settling into your office. It’s small, but unlike the communal space you shared with the other TA’s back in grad school, it’s all yours. The wall-mounted shelves have been filled with books, your desk is stocked with sticky notes, highlighters, and your favorite pens, and you even managed to bring some small plants from your new apartment.

Feeling satisfied, despite the constant hum of nervous energy you’re sure will stick around until the first week is over, you sit back in your chair and rest your head against the wall. That’s when you hear it.

Sometimes I wonder, how I spend The lonely night dreaming of a song...

It’s music, coming from the office next door — an old song you swear you’ve heard before, but you’re not sure where. When you tilt your head, listening more closely, you hear someone moving around.

When stars are bright, you are in my arms, The nightingale, tells his fairy tale Of paradise, where roses grew...

You’re curious about your mystery colleague. After all, it’s nearly seven o’clock on a Friday evening, and you suspect you’re the only two crazy enough to still be here. While you’ve met the department chair and a few of the other professors, you have yet to meet everyone. And nobody so far has mentioned having the corner office right next to yours.

But then your phone vibrates, reminding you that if you don’t hurry up, you’ll be late to dinner with an old friend who’s passing through town. You grab your bag and keys and quietly shut your office door behind you. The door to your right is closed, but you can see light spilling out from beneath it.

Before you walk away, you take note of the name plate: Erwin Smith, PhD

• • •

The first day of classes is a whirlwind. You barely have time to eat lunch, and you empathize with your students as you, too, struggle to locate your various assigned classrooms on a still-unfamiliar campus.

By the time you return to the English department for office hours, you feel frazzled. Carrying a lukewarm coffee in a to-go cup and an armful of student info sheets in labeled folders, you quickly round the corner — and walk straight into someone.

“Oof.” Your folders tumble to the floor, and coffee splashes onto your shirt. The only reason you don’t lose your balance completely is a large, warm hand at the small of your back, preventing gravity from wreaking even further havoc.

“Are you alright?”

When you look up, you have to remind your brain that words exist and you should use them. Because the man in front of you — who, much to your embarrassment, is holding you rather close — is very, very handsome.

Golden hair, carefully combed back. Bright blue eyes that reflect a concerned warmth. Strong features, sharp cheekbones, a smile that would make anyone melt...

“Y-yes! I’m fine!” Once you’ve found your footing, you glance down at yourself, and then notice you’re not the only one who’s now coffee-stained.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, kneeling down to collect your folders and the many papers that slipped out of them. “I need to be more careful.”

“No, no, it’s my fault,” the man assures you, squatting down to help. “And I keep a spare shirt in my office. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve spilled coffee on myself while grading papers.”

Your fingers brush against his when you both reach for the same folder, and you feel your cheeks grow warm. “Still, though, I’m really sorry.”

You both stand, and he smiles kindly. “Please don’t worry about it. Can I help you carry these? It’s the least I can do.”

You nod and walk down the narrow hallway, with him trailing close behind you. “I’m going to take a guess and say you’re the new hire,” he ventures.

“Is it that obvious?” you ask with a small laugh.

“I’ve been here for a while now, so new faces stand out. Keith said you moved here for the job?”

You’re so flustered, it takes you a moment to connect the name with the stern but friendly department chair. “Yeah. New city, new job, new everything...”

“That’s a lot to be dealing with.”

When you reach your office door and retrieve your keys from your bag, the man behind you chuckles. “So it is you. I wondered, but they haven’t put your name plate up yet.”

“Hmm?” You turn to find him grinning and pointing at the door next to yours — the office of your mystery colleague.

“This is me. Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself — Erwin Smith.” He goes to offer his hand, then realizes your arms are full. You both share an awkward laugh.

You unlock the door and gesture for him to come in. “I’m beginning to think that we both apologize too much,” you tease, dropping the folders onto your desk and tossing the now-empty cup in the trash.

“Only when I’ve thoroughly embarrassed myself and made a questionable first impression.” Erwin hands you the remaining folders and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“No, you’re fine! Really, I appreciate the help.” You offer your hand and return his smile. “Let’s try this again. I’m Y/N.”

You notice that his hand is lightly calloused as it closes around yours. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” And you can tell from the look on his face that he means it.

• • •

Over the next few weeks, you see more and more of Erwin, as you both adjust to your respective schedules and learn when they overlap. He holds office hours at the same time as you, and since it’s still early in the semester, it’s unusual for students to actually show up. More often than not, you end up in his office. It’s larger and more comfortable — “lived in” he joked the first time you saw it, telling you about the evenings he’s inadvertently fallen asleep on the small sofa, reading after a late grad class.

There are twice as many shelves as there are in yours, all of them absolutely crammed with books. You could spend hours perusing them all. Sometimes, after you’ve finished grading papers, you pick one at random and page through it.

“Where are you?” Erwin will ask, in the midst of his own grading, and you’ll read a line from whatever book you’re holding, playing a little guessing game with him. More often than not, he knows the title and author from the smallest of clues. It’s obscenely attractive.

Then again, everything about him is attractive. You often feel guilty for sneaking glances at him while he’s preoccupied, watching how his brow furrows while writing an email, noticing when he rolls up his sleeves, revealing hard, lean muscle, thinking that he has no right to look so good while wearing reading glasses. On the few occasions he’s caught your gaze, always offering a small smile, you mentally berate yourself. He’s a friend — your first real friend here. But he’s also a colleague. Keep it professional, Y/N...

You meet his friends when he invites you to join them for weekly trivia nights at their favorite bar, the Garrison. All of them teach at the university, and they’ve formed their group slowly, over years of faculty get-togethers, awards ceremonies, and one terrible team-building camping trip. Hange, who teaches chemistry, immediately adds you to their group chat, which mostly consists of them spamming everyone with memes and Levi from the history department colorfully (but also endearingly) insulting everyone.

By the time midterms come around, your office hours have become much busier. But you still make time to talk with Erwin, and you’ve even spent time together off campus, when he offered to give you a tour of his favorite museum. When you mentioned it to Hange, they nearly spilled beer all over the table, gasping, “You two finally went on a date?!” Erwin choked, coughing as Levi pounded a fist against his back, and you were positive your face was so hot, it would spontaneously combust. Neither of you mentioned it afterwards.

But that hasn’t changed the fact that you have the biggest crush on him. And you’re not sure what to do about it. His friends — now your friends, too — haven’t exactly been subtle about trying to make something happen between the two of you. But neither you nor Erwin has made a move.

This evening, you’ve both stayed late, in an attempt to catch up on paperwork. You notice him stand and walk to the old turntable in the corner, changing the record. The song that begins to play makes you lift your head from the pile of tests sitting on your crossed legs.

“It’s that song.” When Erwin looks at you, puzzled, you explain, “You were playing it, the first time I was here — before the semester began.” Your face heats up as he continues to stare at you. “Sorry, that’s weird, right? I just... didn’t know anyone else was here, and it was a nice song, and —”

He laughs, raising his hands as he approaches you. “Whoa there. It’s okay, you just surprised me. It’s a favorite of mine — ‘Stardust’ by Hoagy Carmichael. My parents used to dance to it sometimes, when they stayed up late drinking wine, thinking I was asleep.”

“Let me guess,” you say, propping your chin on your hand. “You pretended and then read books beneath the covers.”

Erwin smiles. “Guilty.” He stands there for a moment, seeming thoughtful. And then he asks, softly, “Did you think it was a date?”

You blink up at him, setting your papers aside. “Oh. I... Um... No.” You’ve grown close enough to him that you can now read the subtle shifts in his expressions, and when you see a flash of disappointment, you blurt out, “But I wanted it to be.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I’m just... not great at things like this. Especially with a coworker. I didn’t want to make things complicated.”

Your gaze is fixed on the floor, so you don’t notice him sit beside you until the sofa cushion dips. When you turn to look at him, he smiles. “I’ve been feeling the same way. And I didn’t want you to think we’re only friends because of that — like I had an ulterior motive or something.”

He reaches for your hand but hesitates, allowing you to meet him halfway and entwine your fingers with his. There’s an almost imperceptible sigh of relief before he murmurs, “I like spending time with you. I’m sorry I’ve wasted some of it trying to figure out the best strategy, when I could’ve just... told you that.”

You squeeze his hand and smile. “That sounds an awful lot like an apology, Dr. Smith.”

Erwin chuckles. “Well, then, instead of ‘sorry,’ I’ll go with, ‘Would you like to have dinner tomorrow night?’ And to be clear, this would definitely be a date.”

“Hmm...” You glance at the clock on the wall. “It’s only eight. Is tonight too soon?” When his eyebrows inch upwards, you remind him, “You said you didn’t want to waste any more time. And if you do any more work tonight, you’ll end up doing that thing where you pinch the bridge of your nose over and over.”

He lets out a loud laugh. “Someone’s been paying attention.”

“You make it hard not to.” You stand, pulling his hand to your lips and brushing a soft kiss across his knuckles. It’s worth it, to see his blush deepen. “So... Where to?”

[trainsinanime]

If I may get political here for a moment, I want to talk about a political issue in Germany that I think isn’t getting enough attention. Now, it’s not a big issue or a top ten important one - or even top 100, but that’s exactly why we need to talk about it here, because nobody else will. That issue:

The Bundesstelle für Eisenbahnunfalluntersuchung is not very good at its job. I think that’s due to a lack of resources rather than incompetence, but it’s still a problem.

The job of this federal agency for railroad accident investigation (literal translation, short BEU) has the job of investigating railway accidents, defined as any incident with either someone dying or more than two million euros in property damage. Its investigation is supposed to be impartial, and the goal is not to apply blame, but rather to make recommendations for how to make the railway system safer. All countries have something like that. The UK equivalent is the Railway Accident Investigation Branch (RAIB), while the US has the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB), which also covers other modes of transports (which are handled by other agencies in Germany and the UK).

These investigations are super interesting and super important. They investigate what caused the accident, what underlying factors allowed it to happen, what other things are noted along the way, and what this means for the safety of the whole railroad system, and how that can be improved. Learning from accidents and making changes is a crucial part of how we improve safety. There is a good reason why old railroaders say “the railway rule book is written in blood”.

The BEU is the newest iteration of such an agency in Germany. Previously this was investigated by the Eisenbahn-Unfalluntersuchungsstelle des Bundes (EUB), which is literally just the same words arranged differently, which used to be part of the Eisenbahn-Bundesamt (EBA, Federal Railroad Agency), and before that, accidents were investigated by the EBA directly. The split happened because of EU regulations, which were in turn based on the idea that this accident investigation branch must be able to criticise the federal agency that makes the safety rules.

The problem is that the EUB didn’t do a very good job investigating, and the BEU isn’t doing enough to make it better. The EUB has a really long backlog of cases that just never got any proper attention, and the BEU is now clearing them up, very slowly, resulting in a lot of utterly pointless accident investigation reports.

Take, as an example, the train derailment of Ruhland. This really minor accident happened in April 2015. The report came out in January of 2022, almost seven years later. The report notes that a signaller got confused, sent a train to the wrong track, then tried to change the points back, but the train was already on them, so it derailed. It was travelling slowly because the engineer had noticed he was on the wrong track, so nobody got hurt at all. The report takes a lot of pages to essentially just say, “yup, that happened”. Why did that person do that? Were they overworked or fatigued? “No signs”. Were they confused by the construction works? “No signs”. Were they properly trained? “The paperwork says they were”. How were they managed and supervised? Were the risks with the construction work assessed? The report doesn’t say. Why didn’t technical means prevent this? The station doesn’t have them. Why does it not have them? The report doesn’t go into that.

And arguably, it doesn’t need to: It’s been seven years, after all, and by now that station has been retrofitted with a new electronic signal box. The signal box where the person did their mistake no longer exists, and new electronics ensure that whoever controls this station now, remotely, won’t be able to repeat this mistake. That is a good thing! But it means the investigation report is just completely pointless. We didn’t learn a lot, and the things we learned no longer apply. Consequently, the report ends without any safety recommendations. It is both too shallow and too late to have any impact on rail safety at all.

There are newer investigations as well, but they are far from perfect either. Consider the derailment between Köln Bonntor and Köln Süd. In that case, the investigation took just under two years. Mind you, the legally required maximum time is one year, but still, relatively good. Here, a handbrake on a freight car was on when it shouldn’t have been, which damaged the wheel, which caused a derailment. Nobody knows why the handbrake was on. It was discovered that a lot of internal radio calls around this incident were done very unprofessionally, which caused lots of confusion and made the situation more dangerous than it needed to be. A signaller is criticised quite heavily for this. The report does not investigate how they were trained and supervised, though, so we will never know why they didn’t use proper safety-critical language. The report again ends with the wordy german equivalent of a shrug emoji: No measures have been taken, and none are recommended. In the world of the BEU, shit just happens sometimes.

Compare and contrast this with the british RAIB, for example, and e.g. their report into the case at Toton where some empty freight cars ran away and ended up in a ditch. This report was published in a timely manner, and in my opinion it looks much better and has a more useful organisation. But it also goes much deeper, going into who communicates with whom (paragraph 66), what unsafe practices were normal at the site (paragraph 71), how the whole process was managed (paragraph 85), and whether safety installations worked correctly (paragraph 88) and why not. It also mentions other ongoing investigations, and it concludes with a useful summary and four recommendations. It also identifies two learning points, things where the RAIB wants to draw attention to already existing rules that need to be applied more carefully. This is how the RAIB always works. In fact, in minor cases, they still publish short reports called Safety Digests.

To some extent, the RAIB does seem to be better managed, at least based on the better layout of their pages. But I wouldn’t be surprised if resources are also part of the problem: The BEU has 33 employees, while the RAIB has 44, exactly a third more. Now, the RAIB also covers trams and metros, which the BEU doesn’t, but Germany’s rail network is literally twice as large (33,590 km in 2017 vs 16,837 km in 2015, or about 20,000 miles vs about 10,000 miles). And Germany also has other complexities like way more international trains, in particular many freight trains that pass through with no intention of stopping in Germany at all. Covering all that with noticeably fewer employees just won’t do as good a job.

(Oh, about the trams? They are covered by the Technische Aufsichtsbehörde (TAB, technical oversight agency), of which there is one for each state. Their reports do not get published at all, as far as I can tell, unless you file a freedom of information request. In my opinion that’s also not acceptable, but sadly this area isn’t covered by EU laws.)

The net result of this worse performance is ultimately a lower level of safety. Don’t get me wrong, german railways are very safe, and I would never hesitate to use them. But there is always room for improvement, and these improvements don’t happen when deficiencies aren’t identified. Our rail network is only growing bigger and more complex, and while that is great for the environment, it must be met with proper government oversight. Our government needs to increase the size of this agency so it can investigate more, more quickly and more in depth.

[merakiaes]

The One For Me - Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Requested: By @nuvoleincielo​

Prompts: #16, #30 and #63 from the fluff-list. 

Warnings/notes: This is my first time writing for Hotch and Criminal Minds in general so please be patient while I get used to these new characters, might be slight OOC😭 It’s also the first piece I’ve written in a few months now and I’m a bit rusty, so please let me know what you think. Not proofread so I apologize in advance for any possible mistakes. Send in more requests for Hotch, Reid and Morgan and let me know if you want to be added to the Criminal Minds taglist! I hope you like it💕

Wordcount: 4118

Summary: Hotch has doubts about letting your relationship go further and you reassure him that he’s what you want. 

After being raised in one of New York’s worst, most crime ridden and low poverty neighborhoods by a family who was constantly targeted by the law enforcement, the last thing you’d expect was that you would become an active worker of said law enforcement.

Your mother died ten minutes after giving birth to you and your father had never been a part of the equation, most likely having ran the second he found out your mother had gotten pregnant. With no other immediate family, you ended up in the system, where you were stuck for the first seven years of your life.

You jumped back and forth between families of all kinds but for reasons unknown, no one wanted to keep you. It wasn’t until a couple adopted you two days before your eight birthday that you finally felt like you belonged.

They had many children of their own as well as more foster children, all between the ages of ten and twenty-five at the time of your adoption. On top of that, the children had children of their own and aunts, uncles, cousins and friends stayed with you more often than not as they struggled to hold on to homes of their own.

It wasn’t the most ideal way to live, a dozen people staying under the same roof of a two bedroom house, but you had dinner on the table every evening and the love for family was strong, so despite the conditions you lived in and the struggles you were forced to face on a daily basis, you guessed you couldn’t complain; you’d had it better than most.

The people who lived in those parts were always getting pinned for various kinds of crimes, just so the police could get it out of their hands and go on about their lives.

The male members of your family and the company they kept were some of the biggest targets even though they rarely did anything wrong, but despite the injustices they faced every day, they remained respectful when staring in the face of a cop.

You, on the other hand, despised them. You were an outspoken little girl, too feisty for your own good and on more occasions than one, you’d ended up pissing off some rich kid in school for which your dad and uncles were forced to pay the price.

You’d always hated the injustice the less fortunate suffered every day, but it wasn’t until you witnessed your first murder at fifteen that your interest of making the world a better place really piqued.

The victim had been one of the boys living in your neighborhood. He was two years older than you and he always gave it his all to make something out of himself. He walked with you and your younger brothers and cousins to school every day to make sure you got there safely, studied hard, kept out of trouble and always remained respectful.

The only reason he died was because his skin was the wrong color in the eyes of the law and because he was born into a less fortunate neighborhood, and it was then your eyes truly opened to the police brutality and misuse of power plaguing your country.

You joined the police force when you were nineteen years old and you stayed there, on top of your game and determined to do it better than the bad ones, until you were twenty-one. 

At that point, most of your family had passed away either out of old age, or simply from being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and your determination to help people was stronger than ever.

But even you, the tough little firecracker as your uncles had always called you, could only tolerate so much.

After two years on the force, you got tired of being undermined by your male co-workers and set out to step up your game, taking up studies of criminology and psychology among several other subjects.

You studied your ass off and was just barely able to get by with the money you had saved up over the years, and at twenty-four, you finally had your degrees and clearance to begin working in higher places.

Starting off in New York, you stayed there for six months before you were transferred to Quantico, Virginia, where you were recruited by the one and only Jason Gideon who had heard word of your talent in the field.

You had worked with the team for little over a year now and Jason, who had always acted as a kind of mentor and father figure for you, was gone, having left only a letter for you and Spencer each.

Taking his place was Aaron Hotchner, a fellow agent to which you hadn’t paid much personal attention before the departure of Gideon. But things changed when he left, a lot of things.

Hotch was fresh out of his divorce, moodier than ever and in a really bad mental state. He stayed in his office until the late hours of the night, sometimes even the early hours of the next morning, barely slept and often forgot to eat if he wasn’t reminded by his team members.

Everyone urged him to take some time off, to go home and get some sleep and to take care of himself, and although he always told them that he would, he never followed through.

Up until then, you still hadn’t spoken much with him except for when you were working on a case. You were just an agent and he was just your boss, there was nothing else to it. But you couldn’t just sit by and watch as he neglected himself, so you followed your team-mates’ example and approached him.

He dismissed you at first, like he had done everyone else who had tried to offer him their support. But as time passed by, in some miraculous way, you made him laugh, and as you continued your attempts on offering him your ear to listen, he opened up to you, and you grew to become more than just colleagues.

Your first and only date had been on your initiative. You invited him to dinner at your house during your weekend off, to which he agreed.

You cooked together and although it started off as kind of awkward – more from his side than yours – you ended up kissing later that night after having had a bit too much to drink, and fell asleep together on your couch while you were flicking through your childhood photo albums.

The next morning, he was gone. You had always been an extremely light sleeper so you found it strange that he had managed to slip off without alerting you and also having managed to wrap you up in a blanket before he left.

He didn’t leave without a word though. A note was neatly placed on the coffee table in front of you, on which he explained that he needed to pick up Jack and that he didn’t want to wake you, finishing it off with a thank you for the night before.

That was the first and last time you spent time together, just the two of you, but it wasn’t like it was intentional.

You wanted to do it again, to continue exploring the budding romance between the two of you and to see where you could take it, and although you knew nothing of his feelings, he wanted the same thing.

But work got very stressful; stressful to the point where you could never find a moment to talk to each other if it wasn’t in the presence of the entire team. But the spark between you wasn’t gone.

It was still there in the way he would let his hand hover above the small of your back when you were walking side by side and step in front of you if you were ever in danger, and in the way you would always take a second to ask how he and Jack was doing, if they were eating enough and getting enough sleep, whenever you were heading somewhere; no matter if the team was with you.

It was there in the way he would always encourage you to go on the less dangerous tasks while he took the ones that were more life-threatening and in the way he would always smile, the slightest of smiles, whenever you were exchanging jokes or sarcastic remarks with Morgan, or messing around with poor, clueless Reid.

It was there, but it was unspoken. At least until now.

The case you had been working on for the past two days was that of Gilbert Stratton; a serial killer who had targeted young women, killed them, drained them of their blood, and then proceeded to hang the bodies up by their feet in trees all around the city.

You had caught him just in time to save the last kidnapped girl and you had originally been the one assigned to question him, but Hotch had stepped in last minute after the man had made a crude comment about how ‘girls like you always tasted the best’.

You had attempted to tell him that you could take it, but before you had even been given a chance to state your case, he had shut the door in your face and you had been whisked off by JJ.

You were the one out of the entire team who was the most interested in the psychology of a serial killer so you really wanted to be the one to interview Stratton, but you knew that Hotch had taken over for the sake of your safety and not because he underestimated you, so you couldn’t even bring yourself to be mad.

While he did his job, you settled at your desk with a sigh, getting to work on the heft stack of paperwork that had been building up throughout the week. 

The first ten minutes you kept close track of the clock next to you, wondering why it was taking so long, but the more time that passed, the more focused you became.

Soon enough, you only had a few reports left and you had completely lost track of time, when there was a sudden bang behind you, sounding an awful lot like a door slamming shut.

And your suspicions were proven correct, when you looked up to see Hotch march straight the bullpen.

The corners of your lips tugged up at the sight of him, but the arising smile quickly fell again when he walked right past you, without even an acknowledging glance, heading into his office and shutting himself inside without as much of a word to anyone.

Left behind with dumbstruck looks on their faces were the team, glances of bewilderment being exchanged.

“What happened?” Reid asked the question you were all thinking after a moment of silence, just as Emily walked in from the interrogation room.

Rather than answering Reid’s question, she looked right at you, offering you a small, comforting smile. “I think you better go talk to him.” She said simply, and as confusion and anxiety bubbled up inside of you, you slowly drawled.

“Okaaay…”

They all watched you as you stood up from your seat, brushing down your shirt and turning off the lamp at your desk before heading for the stairs.

You could feel their eyes following your every move and you would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous of what you were about to walk into.

Everyone had gotten negatively affected by a case or unsub at some point during their career, most more than once. They were all very good at getting into your head, no matter how little you wanted to admit it. But you had never seen Hotch react this strongly to anything before. The only time you had really seen him snap was during one single case, right after Haley had filed for a divorce.

Still, you kept walking until you reached his closed office door, stopping only then to peek inside the blinded windows to see him sitting at his desk, hands rubbing over his face.

You knocked on the glass gently and in any other case he would have looked up and meet your gaze, but when his head kept hanging this time, you let yourself in, only when closing the door behind you cutting off the curious eyes of the others.

Once you were inside, you wasted no time in approaching Hotch where he sat by his desk, analyzing his every move which led you to only one question.

What the hell had Stratton said to him to make him this distraught?

He didn’t even look up as you reached him, keeping his eyes closed as you came to a stop beside his desk.

Treading carefully, you reached out and gently put your hand on his shoulder.

“What happened?” You asked softly, the sound of your words instantly bringing a long, heavy sigh out of his nose.

“Why are you doing this?” He wasted no time in replying, causing a crease to form between your eyebrows.

“What?” You asked back, confusion lacing your voice.

Finally, he brought his hands down from his face and slowly spun around in his chair, forcing you to drop your hand from his shoulder and to take a step back.

He stared up at you, face wiped free of emotion as always. But the eyes said it all.

“Why are you so adamant on being with me? Why do you try so hard?” He questioned you, taking you by surprise.

Your eyebrows shot up and your eyes grew slightly wider, and you took a moment to regain your composure after the, to say the least, unexpected question.  

“What kind of question is that?” You asked once you finally regained your senses. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you want to be with someone? Try?”

One of your eyebrows sank again, leaving only one raised in question.

Hotch’s face softened slightly and for a moment, he averted his eyes, letting out another, smaller sigh from his nose before looking back up to meet your eyes once again.

“What I mean is, why do you want to be with me?” He asked again, clarifying and slightly shaking his head in what seemed to be disbelief. “The second you walked into this office, both Morgan and Reid had their eyes on you, and they still do. They’re closer to your age, they’re energetic, humorous, full of life, while I’m ten years your senior, and can’t offer you what they can. So why do you want to be with me, when you can have them, or anyone you want?”

“What is it that they can give me that you can’t?” You didn’t waste a second in firing back.

You had no idea what had brought this on, but it was clear that it was bothering him and quite frankly, you found it ridiculous even though you didn’t like making it a habit to judge other people for what they were feeling.

“They can make you smile-“ He started explaining, and you instantly cut him off.

“You make me smile, all the time.” You shook your head, but your affirmation only seemed to fuel his frustrations even more as he was up on his feet within the next second.

“But I’m not- I’m not fun.” He stated, staring you down. “My clock is ticking. I’m ill-tempered, irritable, too serious for my own good. I’m barely capable of taking care of myself at this point much less my son. I’m miserable and I’m a bully, who only cares about this job. Why would you want to be with someone like that?”

“Where is this coming from? I thought we had something good going.” Your face fell slightly, and you carefully reached your hands out to grab a hold of the front of his suit, taking a small step closer.

“Is this because of Stratton? Is he the one putting these doubts into your head?” You asked, keeping your eyes on your hands for a short moment before looking up to meet his heavy gaze staring down at you.

And once your eyes met his, he knew there was no point in lying; you were a profiler after all, and a good one at that.

“He did.” He confessed calmly, his lips pursing into a straight line.

“Aaron…” You began, the softness of your voice matching the one in your eyes.

“But everything he said is true.” He quietly interrupted you. “I’m not fun to be around, I push people away. That’s what I do, what I’ve always done.” His eyebrows rose and he stood still.

You knew about the doubts he had about himself. You know he felt inadequate as a friend, as a colleague, as a father, and more than anything as a partner after the way Haley had left him. You were aware of all of it, and yet the sound of those self-doubts being voiced aloud saddened you nonetheless.

Silence fell over the two of you for a moment as you took another step closer, flattening your palms out on his chest and your eyes never leaving his.

“Those people didn’t deserve you in the first place. They knew what they were getting themselves into when they started building a relationship with you, whether it be a romantical or purely platonic one. They knew how passionate you are about your job, how much you value it. Them leaving… That’s on them, not you.” You said softly, shaking your head. “I’m not about to give up on you, on us, just because you happen to be a few years older than me. Derek, he wants to have fun, to be young. He may be attracted to me but he doesn’t want anything serious. Spencer isn’t ready for a relationship either, for obvious reasons, and either way, they’re not the ones I want.”

He watched you intensely as you spoke, lips still tight and strained. “What is it that you want?” He asked you, and you wasted no time in replying.

“Something serious and stable, someone who’s ready to settle down, and for me, the best chance to get that is through you.” You smiled, breaking your eyes away from his to follow your hand as you moved it up to his face. “Regardless of what other people say, you’re an amazing person. You’re passionate, driven, kind, loyal, gentle, and so much more. Despite what you may think, you do have a sense of humor and you’re the only one who can make me smile until my cheeks hurt. If that’s not a good man, a good person, then I don’t know what is. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

By the time you finished, the remaining doubt was wiped free from his face, a small, gentle smile instead having taken its place.

It was a funny thing, Hotch only ever spared the tiniest of smiles, and yet it was them that brought you the biggest and most intense amount of happiness. It was so rare to see his ever-stoic features reflect joy that you couldn’t help but light up like a kid on Christmas every time it occurred.

And true to what you’d always been told growing up, your smile was just so contagious that he couldn’t help but to smile wider at the sight.

“Thank you.” He whispered, and visibly relaxed where he stood.

Your heart swelled in your chest when you took note of the way he was slowly but surely shuffling closer to you, picking up a significant amount of speed when you then felt his hand brush against the side of your hip.

But he didn’t dare touch you, hesitation still lingering in the air. So you did what your heart told you and grabbed a hold of his hand, and pushed it down into the curve of your waist.

From then on, he moved on his own, raising his other hand to mimic the same position at your other side, and you let your hand drop from his, instead raising them to busy with his crimson red tie.

“I know you’re struggling, with yourself, with Jack, and that you’re still processing the divorce. And if it’s time you want, then I’ll wait.” You spoke quietly, feeling your skin flush hot under his touch as his thumbs began to move over the thin fabric of your shirt. “But if you want to keep going and see where this can go, then I’ll be here every step of the way to support and help you in any way I can. You just need to let me in.”

More shyly then before, you dared loo back up at him through your lashes, hands stilling on his chest.

His smile was gone and his eyes creased together in concentration, but his eyes were soft and his head slowly nodded. “You’re right.” He said, and you allowed yourself to smile again.

“Aren’t I always?” You lightheartedly teased, tilting your head to the side.

In return, a smile spread across his face, his head shaking. “Don’t make me take it back.”

“No, no take-backs. What’s said is said.” You kept joking, your smile only widening.

He kept smiling down at you for a few seconds longer, but then his face fell again, just like that, out of nowhere, completely sudden. The gaze he held on your face grew absent as he got lost in his thoughts, and before you could question him about the sudden change of mood, the words spilled from his lips as if there was no tomorrow.

“I think I love you.”

Your mind instantly broke into a flurry of thoughts, countless emotions battling in your body. Nervosity and excitement ended up coming out on top, the mixture of the two creating an uncomfortable, sickly feeling in your stomach.

Your face fell in disbelief and your eyes searched his as he came back to reality.

“You do?”

Your voice came out so quiet and small, you mentally cursed yourself for sounding so pathetic, but luckily, you didn’t get much time to beat yourself up over the anticlimactic reacting as he continued.

“You don’t have to say it back if you don’t feel the same way, but I needed to say it. Every day, this job puts all of our lives in danger. I couldn’t bear it if one of us died before I got the time to let you know how I feel.”

You sucked in a breath, feeling yourself growing weak at the knees as he absentmindedly rubbed your waist with his thumbs.

“Just a minute ago, you were trying to end… whatever this is, and now your proclaiming your love for me?” You asked. 

It was meant to be a joke, an attempt to ease the anxiety you were currently feeling, but you realized quickly that said anxiety made it sound like the exact opposite of a lighthearted, teasing joke.

Luckily, the man standing in front of you was a profiler and knew that you meant no harm, understanding how shock could render your ability to react appropriately.

“I was never trying to end what we have. I just wanted to be sure that you were sure. That I won’t be holding you back.” He explained, and you finally managed to pull yourself out of the state of shock.

“Being with you motivates me. And I love you, too.” You confessed, the smile once again returning to your face as you moved your hands from his chest to wrap around the back of his neck. 

“I’m happy to hear that.” He smiled right back. “Can I kiss you?” He quietly added, and your face instantly lit up in a mischievous expression.

“In the office?” You gasped dramatically, bringing your arms down, taking a step back and lightly slapping his chest. “Aren’t you feeling frisky today?”

A large smile stretched across his lips, his chest shaking as he chuckled. “Come here.” He said simply, and before you got the chance to argue, not that you would’ve if given the opportunity, he sat back down in his chair and pulled you down with him. 

The chair spun in the process, causing you to let out a squeal of surprise. Your arms wrapped around his neck and your small laughs of glee quickly became muted as he placed his lips on yours, replaced by low hums of contentment. 

You clung to him as if your life depended on it, basking in the feeling of his lips moving against yours and his arms tightening around your waist, and as your entire body burned with passion, you realized that he really was the one for you.

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