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oukabarsburgblr · 1 month

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Man in the Elevator [Office AU]

FEATURING : MALE STRANGER (OC) x male reader

As you arrive to work, you find yourself stuck in the elevator with a handsome unknown coworker. Unable to exit, a robotic voice from the intercom announces that to leave the elevator, you'd have to do the despicable. And with a total hot stranger?!

Dubcon, variation of sex pollen kind of fic, male oc x male reader

aftermath

Find out more under the cut!

What kind of porn scenario is this?!

The (h/c) gritted his teeth, tempted to smash the button of the intercom. "...I think someone is just messing with us." He didn't want to turn around, only glancing at the mirror to his left, the only big reflective piece in the small elevator.

A man, handsome (m/n) noted, stood in a nice, ironed black suit, a navy button up and a matching black tie. His skin was pale, spiky and short dark hair, his build strong and quite beefy. He'd look like someone you'd have a crush on at the gym. The expensive one you'd think twice before purchasing a membership.

Daisuke Yuichi.

(m/n) read his name tag as he sighed and crouched down on the elevator floor, hearing the man behind him trying to reassure him.

It was like any other morning, he'd wake up, get ready for his job at any normal office environment and arrive to work using the public railway. Although the normal elevator he would use in the lobby was unusable, scheduled for maintenance, and he opted to use the lower ground one on the west side of the building so he went downstairs to the garage.

He didn't pay any mind when a guy who looks richer than his office acquiantances waited for the elevator beside him and stepped inside as well. It was sudden when the elevator shook and went rigid, not responding when the (h/c) frantically smashed the button to open the elevator.

"To exit the elevator, please commit sexual intercourse with the person closest to you!"

The (h/c) felt his stomach dropped as the formal prerecorded voice rang inside the lift. A gasp escaped the stranger behind him as well. "Hey what the fuck? This isn't funny!" He kicked the metal doors, agitated but to no avail.

"To exit the elevator, please commit sexual intercourse with the person closest to you!"

"I...This never happened before..." (m/n) turned behind him. The good-looking man had a worried expression. "Can you try calling for maintenance? My phone has no line."

True to his words, the (h/c) could not call anyone for help, limiting his communication to the outside world making him feel more panic inside. "Damn it..."

Currently, every time they pressed any button whatsoever, the same message would repeat, clarifying that someone needs to fuck someone and (m/n) would rather not be involved. Well-

"I'm really sorry if I make you feel uncomfortable...I'll stop talking now." The stranger, Daisuke, really tried his best to reaffirm the (h/c) as he sat in the corner, as far as he could but (m/n) ignored him, too annoyed to even talk. It doesn't help that his face was a real beaut too. One of those gentle giants that girls would rave over.

"..." (m/n) didn't speak, annoyed at the whole situation as he remained his crouched stance, crinkling his suit. "Do you...work here too?"

The (h/c) groaned, Daisuke really was a chatterbox, either that or he speaks to calm his nerves. "If it isn't any obvious, then yes. I do work here." He snapped accidentally.

"Sorry. My name is Daisuke! Daisuke Yuichi." Hearing (m/n) respond made Daisuke's tone much lighter, smiling as he held out a hand. The (h/c) grabbed it and shook it lightly. "I know." "Eh? You know me?" "No. I read your nametag." "Oh..."

The ravenette seemed disappointed, (m/n) almost rolled his eyes. Was he supposed to be some hotshot or something?

"Can I know your name?" "(m/n) (l/n)." "That's a nice name." Daisuke's lips form a gentle smile, reaching his eyes. The (h/c)'s face was blank however.

"...so what's the plan?"

(m/n) squinted his eyes at Daisuke, who still had that polite smile on. If he had to describe this new stranger, a polite, neat, rich guy. Other words, a golden retriever, maybe?

"We wait. This can't go on forever." Daisuke pouted and looked the other way to hide his face. He mumbled an 'okay'. (m/n) was horrified. What the fuck was wrong with this guy? Was he ready to do the deed with anyone at any time?!

The (h/c) scooted further into the corner, burying his face into his knees. Waiting for the elevator to return to normal or when help somehow miraculously arrived.

Half an hour passed when the intercom suddenly announced that 'assistance' would commence.

"To ease the occurence of an intercouse, external assistance would be provided!"

(m/n) was screaming internally and screamed externally when visible coloured gas came pouring in from the vents. It was heavy from Daisuke's side. "Hey hey! It's okay. We'll be fine." The ravenette held (m/n) by his shoulders when the (h/c) was panicking and thrashing about.

"You're fucking with me right now?! This is absurd!" (m/n) wailed into Daisuke's hold as the ravenette immediately took off his blazer. He grabbed a water bottle and soaked part of his blazer and pressed it into the (h/c)'s face.

"Don't breathe it in. This will help." "What about you?!" (m/n)'s voice muffled against the damp clothing. He only noticed the rising red hue on Daisuke's cheeks and the flush on his neck and ears. He smiled apollogetically. "I think it's a bit too late for me."

The (h/c) blinked owlishly as he glanced at the feverish ravenette's crotch, his mouth screeching when he saw the big hard outline on his slacks. Daisuke sweatdropped as he slumped down against the wall of the elevator.

"Don't worry. I pride myself on my self-control. I'll just...ride it out." Daisuke smiled as he turned his face away, his breathing getting heavier and heavier.

(m/n) couldn't help but feel slightly guilty. He pressed the damp blazer further into his nostrils, the small space being filled up with the gas. He could feel himself getting slightly aroused, although notbas affected as Daisuke.

Said person only faced his body away, panting to himself in the corner while clutching his tie, pulling it loose. The ravenette closed his eyes, humming to distract himself from the growing fervour in his pants.

Daisuke felt bad for the other person in the lift, (m/n) that is. Such a handsome guy too. Wish our introduction was a bit different... Daisuke thought to himself, resisting to look at the (h/c).

"Daisuke..." "Yeah?" He croaked out. The aphrosidiac was really getting to him but he couldn't just pounce on the (h/c). What kind of person would he be then.

He flinched when a (s/c) hand grasped onto his shoulder. "Don't-!" "It's fine." (m/n) hummed, Daisuke's blazer was crumpled in a corner. The ravenette's eyes widened seeing (m/n) willingly inhale the stimulating gas.

"Why did you-" Daisuke went to cover (m/n)'s nostrils but the latter swatted his hand away. "It's...not fair for you. Besides, it's the only way we can get out of here right." The (h/c) straddled the ravenette, Daisuke's face becoming entirely flushed seeing (m/n) in his lap.

"We can do it." (m/n) mumbled, furrowing his eyebrows and glancing elsewhere. Daisuke stared at him for a bit before pushing his hips upwards, lightly grinding himself into the (h/c)'s crotch. (m/n) let out a surprise gasp as he clutched the ravenette's shoulders. He panted lightly as he tried to avoid Daisuke's horny gaze.

"....But I don't want to bottom." A vein almost popped on (m/n)'s forehead as he punched Daisuke's bicep. "FUCK OFF!" The ravenette laughed as he wrapped his arms around (m/n). "I'll do my best, (m/n)." He smiled up at the (h/c) who only nodded feverishly, feeling the lust fully taking over.

Daisuke pulled (m/n)'s waist down and began to rub their the (h/c)'s ass on his crotch, elliciting a few gasps from the latter. He could feel his nails digging into his shoulders which only drove his excitement further.

Daisuke unbuckled (m/n)'s belt, earning a whine and pulling his pants down. The (h/c) had never been so grateful that he was wearing nice briefs today. Daisuke palmed his erection, rubbing his thumb over the wet patch on his underwear.

(m/n) instantly pulled off his bottoms and hurriedly pawed at Daisuke's own pants. After their lower halves were bare, the ravenette slid his cock, (m/n) didn't dare to look at how big it was, in between the (h/c)'s ass, slipping and humping their bottoms together.

"Don't just- mmff! Shove it like that! Stroke it first- gah!"

"S-Sorry. Is this- ang ahh! Good for you- mmng!"

Even (m/n) was moving his hips, back and forth to reciprocate Daisuke's movements who was gliding his now wet cock under the (h/c)'s dick, balls and asscrack. (m/n) was confused on how the hell did Daisuke had that many precum as he stroked his own cock, ignoring the staring ravenette.

Everything felt hot and sticky, (m/n) felt every inch of his pores being pressed and melting. His body twitched against Daisuke's, his teeth gritting as he shut his eyes closed, relishing in this sinful hedonism. He flinched when he felt a spurt of wetness hitting his lower back.

"S-Sorry..." Daisuke clenched his teeth, clearly embarrassed of his quick ejaculation. (m/n) ogled the ravenette's face, scanning his reddened cheeks and long eyelashes. The world really did gifted this stranger with a good body and a good face. And the world gave this man to (m/n).

The (h/c) pursed his lips as he mumbled. "You talk too much..." He quickly jacked off his own penis, his hips stuttering when he came, Daisuke holding his waist in place. Cum smeared on Daisuke's clothed torso, littering his navy shit with milky white.

"To exit the elevator, please commit sexual intercourse with the person closest to you!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" (m/n) yelled at at the intercom, opting to throw his shoe at the button panel. He heard Daisuke chuckle as large hands began rubbing his sides up and down. "We don't have as much as a choice do we?"

The (h/c) slowly turned to see the smiling ravenette before scrunching his nose. "You're doing it from the back."

Hands gripped the cold metal railing, pants escaped from his mouth as it fogged up the mirror in front of him. (m/n) had long discarded his shoes but kept his long-sleeved top on. Daisuke had already unbuttoned his, well-defined abs, fat chest and his happy trail exposed as he pressed his crotch against (m/n)'s bottom.

Both of them were standing, the (h/c) bent over and holding the handrails of one of the two walls it was built in. Daisuke behind him, his large pale hands caressing (m/n)'s back, the latter slapping his hand away. It doesn't help that they just so happened to be in front of a mirror, fortunately for (m/n) it only showed their upper halves.

The ends of (m/n)'s shirt barely covered his behind, he felt Daisuke lightly touching it, Daisuke was thinking whether to move it but decided otherwise.

"Do you mind?" (m/n) looked up to see Daisuke holding two fingers near his face, his back almost touching Daisuke's bare chest. The (h/c) furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Why won't he do it himself?

"I've never done it with a guy before." "So?" The ravenette didn't answer, only pushing his fingers into the corner of mouth, (m/n) reluctanly opening his mouth, the gas influencing most of his decisions currently.

Daisuke began to rub his fingers all over (m/n)'s teeth, gums and his tongue prompting a gagging noise from the (h/c) as he rolled his eyes back. Instinctively, (m/n) began to suck on the thick, rough fingers, licking the padding before swirling his tongue all over his digits as knuckles knocked on his hard palate.

The ravenette's index and middle finger began to piston in and out of (m/n)'s mouth, dragging his saliva back and forth and encouraging choking noises from the (h/c). The bottom's eyesight was getting blurry and he glanced at the mirror to see Daisuke breathing heavily, his face flushed as he shoved his fingers down (m/n)'s throat.

This fucker is really getting off of this. The same could almost be said for the (h/c) who groaned as Daisuke finally pulled out, his fingers dripping with wetness and (m/n)'s throat felt raspy and sore. He flinched as cold fingers tapped on his entrance.

Daisuke tested the waters by gently prying (m/n)'s asshole, slowly pushing his fingers in as the (h/c) shivered. Sweat began to drip off of his face as he felt the ravenette behind him began caressing the inside of his hole, rubbing his walls and slowly pushing deeper and deeper.

"Mmnng just hurry up...please."

It was so teasing to feel the stranger trying to relax his hole by circling his fingers inside his ass. Clearly he wasn't lying when he said this was his first time with a man. "Patience is a virtue. I'll put it in soon." Daisuke teased (m/n) as he tapped his ass gently, the latter feeling heat rise on his face. As soon as they got out of this elevator, he's clocking his face.

Fingers pulled out and (m/n) sighed at the empty feeling in his anus but he heaved and immediately covered his mouth when Daisuke's tip suddenly impaled his entrance. The ravenette shivered as warmth enveloped his penis, he threw his head back and gazed at the mirror to see (m/n) but only found a shaking (h/c) whose head was facing the ground, concealing his expressions.

Daisuke frowned at that, wanting to see (m/n)'s face as he experimentally thrusted the rest of his penis in. He hissed at the tight hole, the (h/c) clenching down on him. The ravenette rubbed circles on (s/c) hips to calm him down as he felt the grip on his dick relaxing.

He let out a breath of relief as he gripped (m/n)'s hips and immediately pushed the rest of his cock in, hearing a muffled squeal from the (h/c). Daisuke grinned and took it as a green light, instantly thrusting in and out of his ass, moaning ardently. "F-Fucking hell. Haanh ha hah you feel so good-"

He took in the sight of his moving crotch and (m/n)'s ass colliding together, getting turned on more at the sight of his dick pounding into the squelching hole. The gas was too good at its job, precum leaking out of the (h/c)'s hole as Daisuke fucked into (m/n) harshly.

(m/n) cupped his mouth with his hand, not wanting to let out any lewd noises but having only little success. His thighs shook every time Daisuke's hips slapped into (m/n)'s behind. He could feel the ravenette's large cock pushing against his walls, filling him up to the brim.

Daisuke frowned at the (h/c)'s shirt as he pushed the fabric upwards, exposing a (s/c) back. A yelp escaped (m/n)'s lips as the ravenette licked a stripe up the (h/c)'s spine. The shock made him cum, semen squirting from his sensitive penis, spraying on the elevator walls.

The sudden tightness made Daisuke groan loudly as he stilled himself inside the (h/c). Unconsciously filling up (m/n)'s hole, the owner whimpered into his hand. "Urgh unh huh are we done-?"

"Required quota has not been achieved! Please try again!"

"Be so fucking for real right now." (m/n) groaned as he rested his head on the cool metal pole, he didn't move as Daisuke pulled out, liquid pulling out of his puffy hole. He could feel Daisuke's stare on his ass, he wiggled away when Daisuke began to poke into his drippy anus with his index finger.

Another wave of aphrosidiac poured into the lift from the vents, making (m/n) wanting to pull his hair out. What kind of sick pervert is making us do all of this??

"So."

The (h/c) let out a noise of shock as Daisuke suddenly hugged him close, pushing him against the mirror and the metail rail. "Can I do more than the back?" He smiled, blinking at (m/n) who stared at him in absurdity. The audacity??

Daisuke remained nonchalant, blinking his black eyes up at (m/n), his long lashes fluttering against his smooth white skin.

"...Fine."

Maybe (m/n) regretted saying that. Daisuke went on for so long, pushing him further up the wall, bringing up his left leg to push it against (m/n)'s chest. Exposing his puckered hole, the ravenette pushed in again, thrusting like a wild animal moaning like crazy in the (h/c)'s ear.

(m/n)'s leg was shaking, struggling to hold himself up on his tippy toes as he endured Daisuke's slams, covering his mouth again. The (h/c) shivered when Daisuke lapped his tongue at his ear, licking the shell and teasing him. He could feel cum from the previous round leaking down his leg.

"Don't cover your mouth please." The ravenette kissed (m/n)'s neck. "I want to hear you. Your voice." Daisuke pressed his lips on his jaw. "Please." He begged the (h/c), fucking himself in deep and slow earning a muffled whine.

His hand trembled before he hesitantly uncovered his mouth, Daisuke's face visibly lit up as he began to pound harder. (m/n)'s high pitched moans drawn out longer with each thrust. His hips shuddered when he felt a hand stroke his cock, pushing his precum out from the base of his dick.

His head was hot, everything felt hot, like he was smothered by a thick layer of warm air. And that warm air was causing him to these sinful things, well that's exactly what's happening.

(m/n) didn't even realised when they both had cummed. Only when Daisuke pulled himself back and began fingering his hole to get his attention. "Mmngg angh ah hn-!" "That's it. Thaaaaat's it."

Daisuke drew out his voice, whispering praise into (m/n)'s ear as he fished his semen in the tight entrance, rubbing his gummy walls. It was either the aphrosidiac had a love spell embedded into it or Daisuke was really attractive. The (h/c) took in his features, his sharp nose, round eyes and nice plump lips.

(m/n) felt like kissing the ravenette. He shook himself sober when he realised he was leaning into Daisuke's face, the latter disappointed when he pulled away.

It's fine if (m/n) doesn't feel like kissing him, Daisuke does. And he'll coax him using sex!

"Required quota has not been achieved! Please try again!"

The next few scenes were a blur to (m/n). All he could remember was that the gas was the thickest for the next hour, and he was moved into all sorts of positions. Daisuke fucked him up a wall, his arms under his knees as he held up the (h/c) like a champ, his muscles sweating as he teared off the rest of his clothing, exposing his bare body to (m/n).

His thrusts began to increase as well, the lust seeping in their veins were at its maximum as they fucked like wild animals in the small elevator. (m/n) whined for more by spreading his legs, biting on Daisuke's neck, nibbling on his skin and leaving marks all over his flushed neck.

Cumming into the (h/c), Daisuke pushed his thighs against the wall, fully spreading (m/n) open, the rim of his hole stretched as it throbbed around the ravenette's dick, massaging it and swallowing it whole. (m/n) no longer held back his voice, openly crying and moaning like a bitch in heat, fully accepting the gas into his system. Daisuke did a long time ago.

The ravenette breathed in (m/n)'s scent in his neck, inhaling before hovering over the (h/c)'s neck with his lips, experimentally kissing it all over. (m/n) bit his lower lip, gazing at the ravenette as he was still held in an embarrassing exposed position.

A pink tongue pressed against (m/n)'s Adam's apple, lapping it up with spit as he bit the skin with his fangs, breaking it. The (h/c) squirmed, mewling in Daisuke's hold. "Stop teasing me..." He muttered, his gaze elsewhere.

Black eyes scan (m/n)'s face before his right hand softly pulled his chin to make eye contact. Daisuke carefully leaned forward, his breath mixing in with (m/n)'s as he leaned in closer and closer, the tips of their noses touching. The (h/c) peered, his eyes moving left and right before stopping, gently blinking as he stared at the face in front of him.

Slowly, Daisuke's face moved lower, his lips brushing against (m/n)'s before full-on pressing them together. The (h/c) closed his eyes, relishing in the soft kiss as he felt his body relaxed in Daisuke's hold.

A swipe at his teeth and (m/n) opened his mouth, Daisuke eager to tie their tongues together, mashing them and coating them with saliva. Drool seeped out of the corner of Daisuke's mouth, he shoved his tongue against (m/n)'s gums, teeth and his palate.

They both ignored the announcement of the intercom as Daisuke lowered them to the floor. (m/n) wrapped his arms around the ravenette's neck, pulling him in closer and Daisuke tilted his head to obtain more access to the (h/c)'s delicious mouth.

The mood changed instantly, even with the gas dissipating, they were still going at it, both on their knees and Daisuke thrusting up into (m/n)'s bottom as he stationed himself behind the (h/c) whose top had been pulled off by Daisuke, exposing his chest. (m/n) moved himself as well, bouncing against Daisuke's thighs, impaling himself over and over, his head turned behind as he continued making out sloppily with the ravenette.

Passionate gasps tore through the small space of the elevator, especially from the (h/c) every time Daisuke thrusted a little too harsh, driving the tip of his cock into the bundle of nerves that drove (m/n) insane, making him see stars just from that small wet touch. Daisuke couldn't stop cumming in (m/n)'s ass. It was so addicting. It wasn't much different from a woman's but (m/n) was so incredible in his eyes.

Fingers rubbed and twisted (m/n)'s nipples, making the latter broke contact from Daisuke's face, a string of spit breaking as the (h/c)'s body shivered when the ravenette pressed his fingers harder. (m/n) jerkily shoved his ass down, tightening himself on Daisuke's cock, the ravenette gasped out and buried his face into the (h/c)'s shoulders as he immediately spilled cum in (m/n)'s already filled hole.

White semen dripped out onto the floor beneath them, (m/n) moving up and down shallowly on Daisuke's cock, teasing him. The (h/c) wanted more. Daisuke was close to passing out. Tiredly, he fell backwards, lying on the tile floor of the elevator. (m/n) whined as he turned around and crawled over the ravenette.

"Mmm are you done already?" (m/n) complained feverishly. Daisuke's cock was still hard, aphrosodiac working overtime but the owner could barely feel his hips anymore. "...I'm sleepy." He croaked out to which (m/n) frowned.

Daisuke flinched when he felt a tongue swiped across the bulb of his cock. (m/n) ran his tongue up until he reached the tip, sucking on the precious mushroom, licking the slit fervently. He released with a pop as he straddled the ravenette.

Nodding eagerly, he cried out for the (h/c) when his dick was enveloped in a plush warmth. (m/n) grinned lewdly, moving his hips side to side, clearly enjoying the joystick in his ass before he propped himself up with his hands and began to bounce on Daisuke's large cock.

His loud moans resonated in the small space as he threw his head back in pleasure, using Daisuke's penis like a warm dildo. Eyes twitching, his face was covered in sweat, his chin coated with a thin layer of drool and his anus was painted with thinning precum over and over again.

Daisuke's hands reached behind (m/n) and squeezed his plump ass, massaging and pulling at those soft cheeks. He slapped the (h/c)'s butt, earning a whorish moan, as he shamelessly thrusted himself up into (m/n). "C'mon- mmff! Just a bit more- mnggahh!"

Slaps of wet skin reverberated faster as Daisuke continuously smacked the (h/c)'s ass, rubbing his palm over the spot before hitting it again. (m/n) rode the ravenette harder, pressing down harshly, feeling the pit in his stomach burn intensely as he brought his hips up to clench on Daisuke's tip. Repeating the same motion for god knows how long before he came, squirting watery semen on Daisuke's abs.

The ravenette moved his hands to (m/n)'s hips, holding him in place as he pounded up into the (h/c)'s asshole from below, riding out (m/n)'s orgasm who cried out from overstimulation. He groaned and focused on chasing his own high as he slammed himself in and out of (m/n) until he felt himself tipping over the edge.

Daisuke came one last time, although his cum gushed out halfway through his thrust but he persevered and continued humping the (h/c) all while cumming for ten seconds straight.

Both paused, catching their breath before (m/n) collapsed on top of Daisuke, the latter wrapping his arms protectively around the (h/c) as he adjusted himself, making sure he pulled out and patted the (h/c)'s head before promptly passing out on the elevator floor.

(m/n) was still awake, his hands laying on Daisuke's chest as he stared at nothing, his mind blank and his balls empty, although his ass was filled. His eyes widened as he heard the familliar 'ding' of an elevator as he turned back to see the doors opening, revealing the garage they had came from earlier.

"Daisuke wake up! It's open!" He shook the ravenette in an attempt to wake him up but the latter only groaned and continued to remain in his dreamless slumber. (m/n) frowned as he hurriedly pried himself away Daisuke's strong hold.

He quickly dressed himself to the best of his abilities and donned on Daisuke's clothes onto the ravenette, not wanting him to get caught in a naked manner. Fixing his shoes, he collected himself and avoided the wet spots and quickly exited the elevator, wincing in every two steps he took.

With a final glance back to Daisuke, (m/n) hurriedly left the area, reminding himself not to use that same elevator ever again.

"(m/n)! Someone's looking for you."

The (h/c) looked up from his cubicle as he stood and approached his supervisor, the one who had called for him earlier. It had been two days since the incident. (m/n) lied to his boss, saying that he had overslept and took a sick day the next morning, not wanting to run into any weird shenanigans ever again. Especially the ravenette.

He tried asking his coworkers about some mysterious lift that's possessed by a sex demon but all he received was recommendations to a psychologist.

Stepping into a meeting room, guided by his supervisor, he was ushered inside and was immediately left alone, not noticing the other person in the room. "Hey! What's that for?" (m/n) pulled the door knob, knocking on the wooden surface.

"It's for me. I asked them to."

(m/n) froze, remembering the familliar voice. The voice he fucked two days ago in that really weird elevator. The same person he left alone, lying on the floor in a desperate attempt to save his own face.

"It wasn't hard to convince my father to search for you, you might know him. He's the CEO after all." Daisuke shrugged, playfully pulling the (h/c)'s tie, twirling it around his finger. He paused and smiled at (m/n).

"I miss you."

The (h/c) didn't know what to say and he opted to turn himself back around, not facing the ravenette as he tugged on the knob much more aggresively. Daisuke laughed as he pulled (m/n), who screeched and squirmed, into a hug.

"I wanna take you out, (m/n)! Even though we already skipped a couple of steps, I'd love for us to go on a date."

[END SCENE]

[unedited]

Afterthoughts :

Oml i love it if the reader is a tad bit sassy or just an untouchable (not shy) beauty HEHE

OR WHEN LIKE THE TOP MOANS??? LIKE U WAN ME THAT BAD?? HEHEHHEEH

this the same daisuke that was in my ybc gangbang fic btw hoho and by Office AU means that this is not their official like storyline that i want, it's just an AU where they fucked in a horny elevator

I would describe Daisuke Yuichi as someone who's rich AF, daddy's boy (as in father is so protective of him), nice and polite (although everyone has a dark side 😉), kinda needy and demanding but in a "i dont want to say it so im just hinting it until u say yes" kinda way. The only character i would describe that looks like him the most (hair term) is kashima yuu💀. I hope u look forward to see him more!

more of daisuke yuichi! ☾

aftermath , profile

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harringtonstilinski · 2 years

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It’s A Date - Steve Harrington (Smut)

Author: @harringtonstilinski Characters: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader Word Count: 3,530 Warnings: ST4 spoilers, fluff, little bit of angst Smut: car sex between m+f, mutual masturbation Requested: Nope. Based off a prompt from this list A/N: Hi, friends! Of course, my first Steve Harrington fic is a smut piece, haha! This contains spoilers for S4, so if you haven’t watched it already, pls do not read. If you have any requests for our mom of 6, my askbox is open for requests. I might overuse the gif below because hotdamn🥵!!! Anyways, I hope you like this little piece! If you do, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

“Dusty! Hurry up, you’re gonna be late!”

Do you know how many times a week I hear that? Five. Five days a week! All because my brother is still in his room, doing God knows what!

Upon hearing Mom’s voice calling his name again, I pulled the covers off my body and got out of bed. Opening my bedroom door, I glared at Dustin’s. I walked over to it and opened it up. “If you don’t hurry the hell up, I’m gonna drag you out of here by your hair. Got that, dipshit?”

“Okay, okay,” he said, getting up from his desk chair. “I was talking to Suzie.”

Confused, I asked, “Why?”

“None of your business. Besides, aren’t you late for work?”

Facial expression going serious, I asked, “What time is it?” before going back to my room to look at my clock. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Keith is gonna kill me.”

I quickly changed my shirt and brushed my hair out. Since I had a phone in my room, I called up Family Video. As it rang, I searched for my jeans that I thought were on the floor. They ended up being on my vanity chair.

“Family Video.”

“Steve? Holy shit, thank you for answering.”

“Y/N? Aren’t you supposed to be here by now?”

Resting the phone between my ear and shoulder, I pulled my shorts down and began putting my jeans on. “That’s why I’m calling. I apparently overslept and somebody was supposed to come pick me up.”

“I was? Damn, I forgot. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Cover for me until I get there?”

“What should I tell Keith?”

“Lost track of time running an errand?” I heard Dustin’s voice and got another idea… well, excuse. “I had to wait for Dustin ‘cause Mom needed me to take him to school. It’s also a perfect excuse for me to use the car today.”

“Has anyone seen Y/N?” I heard Keith asked.

“I’m on the phone with her now. She has to wait for her little brother so that she can take him to school.”

Silence. I stopped zipping and buttoning my jeans to hear what else Keith had to say. After a few more seconds of silence, I whispered, “Am I in the clear?”

“Not in the slightest,” Keith answered. “If you’re late again, you’re fired.”

“R-roger that.” I hung up after that, quickly zipping and buttoning my jeans before grabbing my vest with my name tag attached. I went to the kitchen, seeing Mom standing at the sink. “Can I borrow the car?”

“What for?”

Looking around to find the clock I knew was there, I spotted Dustin about to walk out the door. Quickly turning my head back to my mom, I said, “Dustin asked me to take him to school.”

“No, I didn't,” said boy responded, confused.

“Last night, you did.”

“Before you two start up, yes, you can borrow the car,” Mom said.

“Thank you,” I said, kissing her cheek. “I love you! I’ll be safe!” Walking towards Dustin, I said, “Your ass owes me.”

~~~

10:30AM. Only 30 minutes late for work. It took me all of 15 mins to get Dustin to school and myself to work. Did I go over the speed limit? Maybe. Was I driving like I didn’t care about the speed limit? Maybe. I mean, I didn’t get pulled over or anything, so I’m good!

Once I walked in the video store, I was met by Keith at the front counter. “You’re late.”

“Yes, I’m aware. Thank you. We’ve already established this,” I answered. I walked around the counter and straight to the back to set my stuff down and clock in. Once that was done, I immediately got to work on putting away the tapes people had returned.

“And then Vickie laughed,” I heard Robin say. I peaked out from one of the aisles to listen in on her conversation with Steve. “And it wasn’t like a cheap, fake laugh, either. It was like…”

I moved out of the aisle, knowing that she had to be at the basketball game the night before. “It was genuine, right?”

She looked at me and smiled a little. “Yeah. It was.”

“I remember when I used to make someone laugh genuinely,” I said, looking in Steve’s direction.

Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. Steve and I dated for about a year. We got together the night he fought the demodogs, and then we broke up right before I was supposed to leave for school. Yes, my feelings are still there. Are they still there for him? I’m not sure. Anyway.

I went back to putting the movies back up, and before I knew it, about 15 minutes had gone by. Sitting down behind the front counter, I watched the movie that was playing; Doctor Zhivago. Don’t ask. Robin put it on. A body sat down next to me.

“Ya’know, if I’m utterly and totally right, I would say that Steve still has mad feelings for you.”

I looked over Robin, giving her a face of… well, curiosity. I looked back at the tv, crossing my arms. “Yeah, I’m not so sure.”

“Hey, guys, check this out,” Steve said, turning the tv behind the counter on.

Robin and I both moved to the front of the counter; Robin sitting in a chair, me sitting on the counter, and Steve standing. I was in the middle. What was on the television disturbed me; a teenager from Hawkins High was killed.

My first thought was, “Dustin.” I hadn’t realized that I said his name aloud until I felt an arm around me, the hand attached rubbing my left arm up and down.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Steve said.

“Better be,” I said, tearfully. “Or else I’m gonna revive him and kill him myself.” Hearing the front door open, I quickly gathered myself, but was shocked when I heard a voice say, “Hey, Steve.”

I turned around so fast, I thought I gave myself whiplash. “Oh, thank fuck.”

“You see this?” Steve asked.

“How many phones do you have?” Dustin asked, Max right on his tail.

“Someone was murdered.”

“How many phones do you have?” Dustin enunciated.

“Two, why?”

“Actually, we have three,” I said. Robin, Steve, Dustin and Max all four looked at me, but my eyes landed on Steve’s. Shrugging, I said, “If you wanna count Keith’s, it makes three.”

“Three works,” Max said.

“Guys, what’s going on? Does it pertain to the person was murdered?”

Taking off his backpack, Dustin said, “Y/N/N, move.”

Moving, I asked, “What fo–” Interrupting me, Dustin slid his bag across the counter, causing Steve and I to shout, “What are you–?”

“My pile,” Robin complained.

Dustin slid across the front counter, knocking over the tapes Steve stacked, causing him to shout, “No, no, no! My tapes! Dude!”

I had moved as soon as I knew what my brother was doing when he slid his bag and then his body across the counter. I walked up to him as he sat down at the computer. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Setting up base camp,” Dustin said.

“Base camp? Dusty, you can’t do that. This is my place of work.” I looked behind me at the back of the store. “If Keith finds out you’re back here, I’m dead.”

“You won’t,” Steve said.

I looked at him, asking, “What?”

“He left after you got here,” Robin said. “While you were in the back.”

Sighing, I said, “I’m gonna kill him.” Looking back at Dustin, I asked, “Why do you even need the computer?”

“Eddie’s friend’s phone numbers,” Dustin said.

“Your new best friend you think is cooler ‘cause he plays your nerdy game?” Steve asked.

“If you stop complaining about Eddie, I’ll go on a date with you,” I said, looking at Steve.

I turned back around to watch my brother, seeing him writing down names and numbers. Groaning loudly, I walk to the front of the counter to help Robin finish picking up.

“You want me to strangle him or should I let you do those honors?” Steve said.

“Take turns,” Robin said.

“Oooh, good idea,” I smiled, looking back and forth between the two.

“Fill them in, please,” Dustin said.

“Fill us in on what?” Robin asked.

I looked at Max, who looked like she didn’t want to say anything, but told us anyway.

~~~

Apparently, Eddie had killed Chrissy Cunningham, and how he’s on the run from the cops… or at least that’s what I got out of it.

“So, he killed her or something else killed her?” I asked.

“I’m thinking something else,” Max said.

While Robin, Max and Dustin called Eddie’s friends, we ended up getting a few customers in the store, to whom Steve and I both attended to. As I walked past him and a female customer, I overheard him try to explain Doctor Zhivago to the poor girl, who stated she had a boyfriend.

After I was done with my customer, I noticed that Steve had walked this girl to the door and stood there as she got in her car and drove off.

“Stop gawking,” I said. He pulled himself back in the store after saying the GD word. Looking at me, he gave me those eyes that I knew was him beating himself up on the inside. I took a step closer to him, almost chest to chest. “Hey, listen. If you can go the rest of our shift without complaining about Eddie or beating yourself up mentally, I’ll go on a date with you. Tonight.”

“Where?” he asked.

“Lover’s Lake. Pick me up at 9. I’ll be sitting on the trunk of my mom’s car.”

“It’s a date.”

“I might have a lead,” Max said, interrupting our moment. She started explaining something, but all I heard was one name; Reefer Rick.

“Wait a sec, I know him,” I said, walking to the counter.

“You do?” they all asked.

“Yeah. I used to buy weed from him back when I was a sophomore. I know where he lives.”

~~~

Robin, Max and Dustin gave the plan of going to see Reefer Rick as soon as possible. So, the five of us went to see him, only for him to not be at home. We found Eddie, though, in the boat house, hiding in a boat.

He explained what happened with Chrissy after we convinced him to tell us. As he was explaining what happened with her bones and how they were snapping, I shivered and turned my head to the side with my eyes closed.

I jumped when I felt an arm around me again. The arm belonging to Steve. I did what I always did when he did that; curled into him the best I could.

“You all think I’m crazy, right?” Eddie asked.

I looked over at him, sniffling, “No. We don’t think you’re crazy at all.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N! I know how this sounds.”

“We’re not bullshitting you. We believe you.”

“Look,” Dustin said. “What I’m about to tell you might be a little… difficult to take. You know how people say Hawkins is… cursed? They’re not way off.”

Sniffing again, I said, “There’s another world. A world hidden beneath Hawkins, and sometimes it bleeds into ours.” “Like ghosts and shit?” Eddie asked.

“There are some things worse than ghosts,” Max said.

“There’s monsters in this other world,” Dustin said. “We thought they were gone.”

“But they’ve come back before,” I said.

“That’s why we needed to find you.”

“If they’re back again,” Max said. “We need to know.”

“That night,” Robin said. “Did you see anything?”

“Dark particles, maybe?”

Eddie shook his head before Dustin explained, “They would almost look like dust, swirling dust.”

“Or snow,” I said.

“No, there was nothing you could see or touch,” Eddie said. “I tried to wake her. She couldn’t move. It was like she… she was in a trance or something.”

“Or under a spell,” Dustin said.

“A curse.”

“Vecna’s Curse.”

Rubbing my arm again, Steve asked the group, “Who’s Vecna?”

“An undead creature of great power,” Dustin answered.

“A spellcaster,” Eddie said.

“A dark wizard.”

~~~

After taking Max and Robin home, Steve took me and Dustin home… well, mainly Dustin since it was already about 9pm. When he got out of the car, Dustin asked, “Aren’t you coming?”

“Tell mom not to wait up,” I said. “There’s a conversation that needs to happen.” I looked over at Steve for a second before looking at the sky, lightning striking.

“Make it fast.”

Steve drove off towards Lover’s Lake, the silence in the car deafening. “Hey, listen,” he said. “What happened between us–”

“Can we pause this conversation until we get there?” I asked. He sighed and went back to not saying anything. I watched as the rain started to come down, lightly before it gradually got heavier.

I looked out at the lake as soon as Steve put his car in park. After a few seconds of silence, I said, “I don’t know why I did it.” Looking down at my lap, I tried to will the tears back. “I was either scared you’d cheat on me or that I’d cheat on you. Truth is…” I sniffled. “I never stopped caring about you, thinking about you, or… loving you.”

I looked at him, seeing his eyes already on me. “I wouldn’t have.”

“I know, I know, I just– I had that small fear. And no, it wasn’t because I didn’t trust you because I did and still do. It was me and my stupid brain.” I couldn’t hold the tears back as I said, “I’m so sorry, Steve.”

He cradled me the best he could with us being in the car. “Hey, it’s okay. I understood then and I understand now.” I looked up at him the best I could as he looked down at me. “I still love you, too.”

Without thinking, I leaned up and kissed him, feeling him kiss me back. A simple kiss turned into a make out session which turned into me climbing into his lap after he pulled the seat back.

Detaching his lips from mine, he smiled a little, saying, “Bring back memories?”

I took my shirt off and nodded, but I said, “Shut up and kiss me.”

We quickly locked lips again before I helped him take off his shirt. His lips went for my neck as my hands went to the back of his head, gently balling up his hair in my fists. He found my sweet spot, which made me moan.

“God, I’ve missed that sound,” he said.

“Steve,” I breathed.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up, please.” I hadn’t realized that he unhooked my bra and pulled it off my breasts a little until I felt the flesh of his hands on the flesh of my breasts. “Steve, do something.”

I put my arms down, feeling my bra straps fall down before I felt Steve’s hands on my back, pulling me straight. I moaned loudly as I felt his lips wrap around my nipple, him hardening the bud.

Pulling away from my breast with a small pop, Steve said, “There’s my girl,” before moving on to the other one, eliciting another moan from me.

I felt his bulge on my core, so I reached down once he pulled away from my breast again and palmed him through his jeans, making him groan. After doing that for a moment, I looked down at his button and popped it, unzipping his jeans right after.

Without him even saying anything, I got up on my knees as best as I could so that he could slide his jeans down his thighs. Before I could reach into his boxers, he said, “Do you remember where I keep them?”

I nodded, turning my head to the glove box and reaching the best I could to open it and retrieve a condom. Steve and I were both a panting mess, our breathing heavy. I turned back to him, holding the packet up and smiling. “Are we really about to do this?”

He nodded while smiling before taking the packet out of my hand. “Yup.”

I chuckled before I looked down at his package, reaching for it. I looked at him and asked with my eyes if he was totally sure, to which he nodded just slightly.

It’s not like Steve and I never had sex before because we have. We just haven’t had sex in about seven months, so I just wanted to be sure with him before we went any further.

Reaching into his boxers, I wrapped my hand around his hardened length, pumping slowly a few times to get the blood flowing even more. Before long, I started pumping faster, finding a rhythm.

Steve moaned, letting me know he was liking what I was doing. Not realizing that he popped the button on my jeans and unzipped them, I moaned as well when I felt his finger enter my core. Mutual masturbation, I guess.

“Mmmm, baby, baby, baby,” Steve said. “You keep going, I’m gonna cum right all over your hand.”

I stopped, putting my hands on his face to pull him in for a deep kiss. He pulled his hand from my panties before I felt him tap the outside of my thighs. I got up on my knees again before he broke the kiss.

“Sit over there,” he said, breathing heavily.

I did as he asked and sat in the passenger seat to finish undressing, him doing the same. “Do you have a blanket in the back?”

“Always,” he smiled.

I watched as he rolled the condom down his length after taking it from the packet. He grabbed my hand and helped me back over, but not before I hit my head on the roof of the car. “Ow, fuck!”

He chuckled while holding my head, kissing where I hit it. “Are you okay?”

I chuckled as well, looking up at him. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

After calming down, I looked down and grabbed his hardened cock, giving him those eyes once more. He nodded again, so I carefully lined him up with my entrance and slowly slid down, moaning all the way.

“Fuck, I forgot how big you are,” I breathed.

“You know you love it,” he said.

“I do,” I said. “I do.” After adjusting for a moment, I started bouncing… or what bouncing I could do considering we were in his car.

Steve and I were still breathing heavily, moans coming out of my mouth left and right. I felt his hands on my hips, his own meeting mine.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I breathed, stopping my movements. “If you’re wanting to do that, we should lay the seat back. It feels awkward.”

He thought about it for a second before nodding and saying, “You’re right.” He laid the seat back and told me to stay on my knees before we started up again; me bouncing and him thrusting up into me.

With my hair in front of my face and my mouth open, I moaned with every thrust Steve made.

“You’re so beautiful,” he grunted. “So goddamn beautiful.”

“Oh, my god,” I breathed. “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna–” With one more thrust into me, I came all over Steve’s protected cock. Leaning forward, I caught myself with my hands on the top corners of the seat.

With his hands on my hips, I looked down at Steve, seeing him eye our bodies meeting, sweat forming on his brow. “Almost there,” he grunted.

“Ahhh, fuck,” I moaned loudly.

With one final, “Fuck!” from Steve, he stopped all movements, grunting while his hips jerked, letting me know he had came.

We didn’t move from our positions, just sitting there trying to catch our breaths. After a couple of minutes of being completely still, I moved my hand from the seat to Steve’s cheek, bringing our lips together.

When we pulled apart, we rested our foreheads against each other. I had my eyes closed, so I couldn’t tell if his was open or not.

“I love you,” I whispered.

“I love you, too,” he whispered back. “But, uhm, can you move? I’m getting soft.”

I laughed at his statement, nodding my head. I moved to the backseat, hoping he would pick up what I was laying down. Grabbing the blanket, I wrapped it around myself, noticing that Steve was pulling his boxers and jeans back up.

“Y/N/N?” he asked.

“Back here, dorkwad.”

He turned his head and smiled when our eyes met. He looked at my clothes before handing them back to me, silently telling me to get dressed, and after doing so, he climbed in the back with me, laying down in the seat first before I laid on top of him.

He sighed, rubbing his hands up and down my back. “I’ve missed this.”

“Me, too,” I smiled. “Next time we do this, though, at least take me to dinner first.”

He chuckled before saying, “It’s a date.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2: hi, friends! i hope did steve harrington justice! i’ve been wanting to write for him since season 3 came out but just didn’t have major inspiration until now! but let me know what you thought! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24 @stixnstripesworld @fandom-princess-forevermore @quanticobae @mischiefandi @kellyashcroft @lauren-novak

Steve Harrington Taglist: none yet!

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @stilinskiparker.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on June 3, 2022

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington #stranger things #joe keery x reader #joe keery x y/n #joe keery smut #steve harrington x henderson!reader

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gardenofnoah · 9 days

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note: for my dearly beloved @bunnions now that it’s been read and we are Emotionally Processing. Bunny I LOVE you and I am so grateful that you wanted to read more of my silly little words. <3

wc: 8.2k tags: Bakugou x Bunny (bakubun supremacy), childhood friends to strangers to lovers, SOME angst (happy ending), minor injury (is just a little scrape on the playground, it’s okay), light smut, redemption/making amends

-Today-

Bakugou Katuski was born to fight. Blessed with his mother’s quick tongue and quicker anger, it was never in his nature to shy away from what writhed, violent and hard, inside of him–to brandish it like a weapon, no matter the target. As an adult, Katuski finds he’s turned the weapon on himself and it’s different. This fight is one that does not seem to have an end, and while it’s not in his nature to quit–he’s sure as hell thought about it.

On the precipice of 30, just about everything is a fight if he’s honest with himself. But with that also comes some pride–he is a kicked dog reformed, and he hasn’t lost yet. That’s what he tells himself every morning, when the sunlight cuts through the window and pulls him from somewhere else–somewhere softer and a little kinder. When he opens his eyes despite the sting, it is another reminder of his own grit–of the ways he has fought to win another groggy morning.

There is a mechanical efficiency to this ritual that he’s gotten down to a science by now–the way he pulls himself from his sheets, the four minute shower that tells his brain it’s time to wake up, the coffee that he’s never liked (but now it’s either a bitter taste in his mouth or a splitting headache–the former feels like the easier route, and he feels he’s owed at least one of those), the 10 minutes of stretching before the 30 minute jog through familiar neighborhoods. Sometimes he’ll stall and make it an hour, doubling back to over the same sidewalks with a new perspective. Or at least he tries to–to him, it’s the same damn street any way you look at it.

He does all of these things with a commitment he’d expected to earn back by now–like there would be some karmic gift to taking care of himself that would magically fix him. And truthfully he has benefitted from consistency, but there is still an empty space somewhere inside him. To be meticulous in planning his days has not fulfilled him the way he wanted it to–he makes his breakfast and he pushes his body to its limit and he calls his mother as often as he can manage and he still thinks of you.

Katsuki has stability, and that is a new and welcome thing. Hard won and much deserved, he’s worked for it– and the people around him evidently agree, if Kirishima’s heavy arm around his shoulders and weepy compliments of how far he’s come anytime they’re out for drinks is an indication of that. Katsuki can see it, too–the fact that he only thinks about knocking Eijiro out a little bit when the big moron is yowling in his ear like that is progress in and of itself. That Katuski now has a whole horde of friends that regularly and willingly gather around with and for him is more than he ever imagined he’d have, and he’s grateful for it.

It was effort, of course–the years it took for him to make those long-overdue amends weigh heavily on him still, and it took even longer for that burden to feel anything but crushing. To let anyone near his underbelly was uncomfortable at best, but to be alone was worse, and Katsuki has never been a quitter. Except for when it comes to you.

Katsuki can’t admit to himself that he has given up, but he also can’t get himself to do anything about this silence that trails after him like a ghost. It’s infuriating because it’s just you, and he knows that that's exactly the reason he’s stuck in this constant game of will-he-or-won’t-he with himself, though he already knows the outcome. It’s just not one he can accept, so he tortures himself instead– he sees the concern on his friends’ faces over the way he tears himself apart and takes it as a personal failing, because it’s just you, and all he has to do is tell you he’s sorry.

Except he can’t do that. Because if he told you he was sorry, he’d have to tell you why–and then he’d have to tell you everything. Katsuki has never been a liar and knows that it might be the truth of it all that still holds him together (if there was ever a lamer excuse for holding out for something as silly as hope like this, he’s not aware of it). But his fingers bled with all of that stitching himself back together. It feels counterintuitive at best to unravel himself all over again for you.

You’d been the needle, and the thread. Another truth he could never bear to tell you.

-Six-

Katsuki doesn’t know what to do when he finds you curled in on yourself inside the fluorescent orange tunnel. The echoes of palms and knees moving through the plastic above his head reverberate through his body, but he can’t focus on any of it–his eyes are glued instead to the injury you’re crouched over–a scraped elbow, red and angry.

“Bunny?”

You sniff, and it raises goosebumps on his arms. “Pushed m–me.”

Your voice is tinny and distorted inside the tunnel. He’s suddenly filled with more anger than his six year old brain can wrap itself around. He puffs up his cheeks and turns from you, stomping his way out of the plastic that he’s not even tall enough to touch the top of.

He finds them easily enough–two of them, older than him by at least three years, targeting some other poor little kid. They’re circled around him like sharks. Katsuki only sees the shorter one step forward–arms extended, grinning as if his cruelty is a game–and then he blinks, and everything is different.

He blinks, and their target is gone–the two older ones are at his feet, the taller one barely holding back tears as he crouches over a bloody knee.

“Katsuki Bakugou–what the hell are you doing?”

He’s already fighting his mother before she has a full grip on his elbow, dragging him off the playground. He’s not listening–he just wants to go see if you’re okay.

“Oi–stop, you can’t just throw people down like that–”

“They pushed her!”

It’s nearly a screech and the first words he’s said since he parted from you. Startled, his mother lets him go–he doesn’t spare her a second glance, off like a shot toward your tunnel. He feels the heat of the sun-baked plastic, too hot on his palms, but it barely registers as he crawls in next to you.

“S’okay,” he says quietly, trying to coax you out of the pretzel you've contorted yourself into. He reaches the pocket of his superhero shorts and fishes out a singular bandaid, crinkled up and a little dirty and too small for the wound on your arm. He waits for you to peer up at him before he unwraps it, and presses it to your scrape. You wince.

“I’ll fix it,” he says, tongue poking out of the gap between his teeth as he smooths the bandage over your skin, “s’okay.”

-Today-

Katsuki isn’t necessarily a glutton for punishment–it just feels like the most effective form of conditioning.

His lungs burn–breath hitching with every stride he takes down the sidewalk. He pushes himself to go a little longer, to run a little faster, and the exhilaration that comes with the way his body listens to him thrills him enough to keep him moving.

Later his joints will be sore–when he stays at the gym far too long and strains himself to fatigue, his body will revolt in the ways that are familiar to him. A natural consequence to crossing a boundary. But for now it’ll hold out–it’ll hold up to the beating he forces it to take, all for his own improvement. For something else, too.

Physical strength is something he understands. He gets back what he puts into it–he lifts a heavy thing to lift something heavier. He feels the feverish drum of his heart as he pushes himself through another mile and knows that he will be stronger for it. There is the promise of longevity there–a clear reason to continue to work hard.

Emotional stuff is not in Katuski’s wheelhouse. He runs through every action he’s ever taken ad nauseam and nothing changes–he still feels as stagnant and frustrated as he ever did, and he’s no closer to reaching out to you than he was years ago. He can tell himself to just do it but there is no amount of repetition or discipline that will train his brain into allowing himself to pick up the phone and dial the number he still knows by heart. He doesn’t know what else to do, and he hates that, so he defaults to what he knows–to push his body further, with the hope that his brain may one day follow suit.

On autopilot, he rounds the corner across from the bodega with the Spanish rice that Sero won’t stop talking about, and nearly takes an elderly woman off her feet. He skids to a stop, out of breath as he asks nearly a hundred times if she’s alright.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she says with a chuckle, swatting him playfully with a gloved hand, “You just gave an old girl a fright, is all.”

“Y’sure?” he says, pointedly eyeing the cane that shakes under her fingers.

She tuts, rolling her eyes like he’s being ridiculous. “Yes, yes. Don’t let me keep you!”

Katuski nods, helping her back inside the shop she’d been walking toward. He knows her, he realizes. Not in any significant way, but he's certain he's blown past her cotton white mass of hair on his jogs down the sidewalk. “Sorry about that, granny.”

She waves him off and this time he lets her, thinking a little too hard about how easy it might be to take him off his feet when he reaches that age. He picks up the jog at an albeit slower pace. He gets a good five strides ahead before he’s stopped again in his tracks.

This time, by you.

He feels like he’s seeing a ghost, and probably looks like it too, stopped in the middle of the sidewalk like this. There’s no force on earth that could get him to move–not away from you, and certainly not toward you.

So he’s stuck where he is, watching you cross the street–the damn sun personified, smiling to every stranger that breezes past you–with a heavy moving box in your arms. Hair tied back at the nape of your neck, there’s nothing obstructing his view from the way each grin stretches into your cheeks and suddenly he feels a little sick. You pass in front of him, carrying too much and unaware of his lingering, 20 feet to your right. Then you’re inside and out of his view.

Someone brushes past him, startling the breath back into his lungs. It’s a gasping thing, and he can only focus on the expansion of his lungs in his chest to get him back on this plane of existence. He feels outside of himself–like seeing you has drop kicked him out of his body. He has no control of his feet that carry him toward the building you slipped into, despite all the screaming his mind subjects him to. There’s a war inside him and yet, he walks the half step to the door and pushes it open.

“Welcome in–oh.”

And then you’re looking at him with eyes that haven’t changed and he feels very sick–so much so that he can’t say anything. He just stands there, sweating and out of breath and damn terrified of the other half of his heart, staring back at him for the first time in years.

“Katsuki?”

And god, does he wish he’d turned around when he had the chance, because how unfair it is to have to hear you say his name like that. To see you look at him with only mild confusion and none of the disdain that he would’ve expected. Elbows propped on the counter in front of you, you show none of the tension he so palpably feels in every muscle of his body.

He swallows around the lump in his throat, and it’s painful. It’s all he can do to move his mouth around the words.

“Hey, Bunny.”

You give him the same splitting grin that you always did and it nearly knocks him on his ass. “What are you doing here?”

That’s a great question–he’s not looked around until now, and he has no idea where he is. There are framed art prints all over the dark walls, and dried flowers take up the spaces between them. There are some books, some knick knack looking things–his brain can’t process any of it.

“Uh–” trying to get his bearings, trying to come up with an answer that’s not I followed you in here after watching you on the street–

“You want a tour?” you ask him with a knowing smile, and he can only nod. You round the counter and then you’re next to him, and he feels your proximity like you hold a match to his skin. He has to fight to focus on your words–he wishes he would’ve clicked on any one of those “train your brain with this one trick” ads as he hears every third word and fights to connect the dots. Gallery, book vendors, display window. Something about a delivery schedule.

“These are all by a local artist,” you say, gesturing to a fourth of the wall in front of you, “I try to cycle them out as much as I can.”

He clings on to the last bit. “This is your place?”

Your eyes shift back to him, and you smile. It’s one of pride. “It is.”

He puts a pin in that–wholly interested in whatever could’ve led you here, but the latter part of that is a blinking neon sign in his brain.

“That mean you live around here?” He hates himself for sounding so hopeful–because what right does he have to that?

“Yeah, actually, I live down on our old street.” You say it like it doesn’t tilt his whole world on its axis. Like he can picture anything but running down a snow covered, lamp lit side street with your gloved hand in his. “You know that building next to the Thai place?”

He nods, and it’s all he can do. Of course he does. He remembers the old woman that lived in the first floor apartment–she’d yell down the street at the two of you to take some of the cookies she’d made to your mothers. He wonders if you keep plants in that front window, too.

You hum, choosing to move on–turning on your heel and pointing out the built-in shelves that curve over the arch of the front door.

He has the sudden and overwhelming urge to get the hell out of here.

“I, uh–” he says, clearing his throat a little too loud, “got something to do.”

“Oh,” you say, your smile faltering only a little. He wants to punch himself square in the face. “Of course. It was nice to see you, Katsuki.”

The nod is terse and automatic–all his brain power dedicated to timing his steps so that he doesn’t sprint out of your shop.

He walks–straight past the gym, where he meant to go–and doesn’t stop until his feet carry him through the threshold of his apartment. He ends up flat on his back in his tiny living room, staring at the ceiling and thinking of the way your canine tooth still pokes at your bottom lip the way it did when you were smaller and learning to ride a bike. He drags a hand down his face–some vain attempt of scrubbing the memory from his brain.

If nothing else, he knows what parts of the city to avoid now.

-Thirteen-

Katsuki feels weird. It’s not a new feeling–but it’s wholly unwelcome and an inconvenience at best. His body feels weird, too–he finds hair in places it wasn’t before and his voice does that god awful thing that embarrasses the hell out of him and he’s also been…having dreams.

You tend to be the star of them–which isn’t atypical, but usually in his dreams, he’s building a snow fort with you or reliving that time you accidentally swallowed a bug when you were 5. But now, his dreams make him acutely and uncomfortably aware of the changes in your body–the way your hips curve where they hadn’t before, the new swell of your chest, the way you smell a little different than you did before, how you’re often a full body, deep shade of red around him now–

He wakes up sticky and embarrassed more often than not.

It makes him want to avoid you–really, he'd do anything to stop the dreams and the feeling under his skin when you’re too close to him (or not close enough)–but he can’t. Not fully, anyway. He’s drawn to you like a magnet. He feels frustrated, and the only way he knows how to cope with that frustration right now is to get angry about it.

He takes out his anger on the younger and weaker–by now he’s forgotten the way those boys looked when they pushed you down at the park. The meaner he gets, the more revered he is by his peers, and that feels good. He doesn’t remember the way your tears beaded fat and fell down your cheeks in the way that the targets of his bullying shed them now. He slams a locker that someone has just opened and earns hoots and hollers from the boys around him, and to Katsuki, any praise is good praise.

He starts picking fights with his mother and antagonizing his teachers. He spends most afternoons in the principal’s office and he gets tired of the disapproval–of the disappointment that so palpably radiates from everyone around him. He does things he wouldn’t have considered before–skipping class and staying out past curfew (even if it’s just to loiter on the sidewalk of the next block over). He feeds off the energy of the group around him–someone makes a poor decision, and the rest follow. It feels good, to not feel any sense of inhibition. Everything else is fucked up and weird, but this is what he can control.

His one hang up is you.

Other students begin to avoid him in the halls-especially when he is flanked by one or two others. It feeds into his own sense of superiority–makes him puff out his chest and carry his head high on his shoulders. So high that he walks right past you.

“Hey!”

Your shout startles him out of his bravado. He turns and instantly deflates–one of his friends leers above you, holding your bookbag above your head, out of your reach.

He’s immediately filled with an anger that feels so familiar but he can’t place it. His vision dulls around the peripheral–focused in on you and the furrow of your eyebrows. Feeling, for the first time in a long while, some sense of injustice for what is happening around him.

Before he knows it, his fist connects with the soft remnant of baby fat that still exists under his friend’s ribcage. He drops, and so does your bookbag–Katsuki reaches over his writhing body to grab it and hand it back to you. He looks at you then–and is startled by what he sees on your face.

It’s a mix of shock and fear, and something else. Something like sadness, or what he'd later come to know as grief.

“Thanks, Katsuki.”

You sound quieter than he’s used to, and you don’t look at him when you take your bag from him. You sling it over your shoulder and turn on your heel, not bothering to say goodbye to him. He watches you go.

“Dude,” a cough from below him, “what the fuck–”

Katsuki looks down at the huddle of limbs below him with all of the disdain that he can muster. “Leave her alone,” he says. He walks away too, leaving his friend behind—not for the last time.

-Today-

Despite all of Katsuki’s attempts to avoid you, he sees you everywhere.

Except he can’t even really call them attempts. He supposes it’d be the opposite, because now he’s picked a new jogging route–which happens to be down the street you both grew up on. The one you’ve now made a home on.

He’s also managed to time it at exactly the time you head out to go to work. He nearly comes out of his skin the first time you call out to him. Like he wasn't expecting you to.

“Good morning,” you beam at him, having caught him right as he passed you on the sidewalk. He feels like you’ve trapped him there–which is odd, because he could just turn and continue his jog.

He doesn’t care to think too hard about why can’t physically get himself to do that.

“You want to come up?” you ask him, completely unaware of the agony inside him right now, “I just put on coffee–”

“No.” It’s gruff and too quick, and he sees you startle a bit. “I–uh. Have some shit to do this morning.”

You relax–and appear to be fighting off something like a grin, something a little too knowing for his comfort.

“Next time, then,” you tell him, pulling the door to your building shut behind you. “Have a good day, Katsuki.”

Next time comes very soon.

He did it to himself, really–there could only be so many times he meets you at your stoop at the exact moment you open the door before it stops being excused as a coincidence.

It's embarrassing at the very least and borderline obsessive behavior at its worst, but you don't bring it up–he's grateful for that, but also a little skeptical. You just invite him in again, and this time, he follows you through the door.

He's not sure what he was expecting. Really, it was silly to think that you'd have decorated your space according to your taste when you were seventeen, but he's surprised to find little bits of the person he knew you to be back then, scattered around your apartment. There's no mistaking the way your style has grown with you, though. It shouldn't be shocking to him that your home looks like a fully fleshed out, adult space, but it does. Weird.

"Offer's still there for coffee, if you want any."

You're watching him survey the place, hip leaned up against the entryway to the kitchen. The morning sun streams in through a window behind you, backlighting you in a warm glow.

Right. Why would it not?

Katsuki pulls himself together to nod at you, all the rigidity he'd tried to rid himself of still fully there. You smile and turn on your heel like you hadn't noticed.

Alone for the moment, he keeps looking. It feels a little invasive, but he can't stop. He needs to know about you, about the ways that you changed without him. He finds himself searching for the songs you like, the movies you watch, the hobbies you have. Who were you this whole time?

He walks slowly past a small, wooden shelf holding novels he's never heard of. The top cover is nondescript and gives him no hints as to what it could be about, but the spine is so worn that he knows you've read it more than once. He logs the title for...later. He's not actually sure why he's so fixated on it, but it freaks him out. He moves on.

There are frames all over the walls–art and dried flowers and a napkin with a note on it and in the middle of it all, a picture from a time he remembers. You and your kid sister in your matching pink overalls that used to embarrass you, but mostly because people mistook you for the younger sibling in them the most. Your face is painted like a tiger, and your front tooth is missing. He remembers this exact day, actually, because he's next to you in this picture.

"She never wants to match with me anymore."

He nearly jumps out of his skin. You pay him no mind, smiling softly at the picture. He tries to recover. "How is she–I, uh–"

"Doing? The same. Quiet still. My favorite person in the world."

He feels it in his chest and knows that it's true. He finds himself grateful that you've been loved this whole time. He also finds himself a little too aware of his own loneliness in a way that makes him want to leave. But you stand in his way now, coffee held out to him in your hands. He takes it and feels intensely grateful your fingers don't brush.

"You run every morning?"

The coffee burns his tongue and he fights the flinch, covering it with an affirming grunt.

"That's admirable. I think I'd have a hard time with a routine like that."

You don't mean anything by it. You couldn't mean anything by it, and yet he is reminded of the reason he has this routine. He is reminded of the person he was without this routine. And he needs to go right now.

He makes another excuse of having something he needs to do, and he doesn't look at your face when he leaves.

-Today-

You find yourself back in the old neighborhood bar on a Friday night, with none other than Kirishima Eijiro.

Eijiro has always been kind. When you ran into him on the sidewalk (literally, the wall of a man that he is), it was an easy yes when he'd asked you to catch up. You're not at all surprised to hear about his marriage, nor his baby on the way. It's fitting, you think. He'll be a great father, a great husband.

He asks about you, and you tell him about the gift shop. You tell him about moving away and it not feeling right–about the way it felt to be away from your sister. You tell him about your writing, and about the way your life is quiet and beautiful and your own.

There's just one thing that's bothering you.

“Tell me something,” you whisper lowly to the redhead, who leans in to listen. “What on earth is wrong with Katsuki?”

There’s a flash of something across his face, and then he’s back to feigning nonchalance. “Ah, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

You level him with a look. “Eijiro.”

He sighs, sitting back in his seat. “Alright, alright. I do know what you’re talking about, but it’s not my business to tell.”

You cross your arms across your chest, eyebrow raised. He only laughs.

“Jeez, you’re scary. All I can say is he feels guilty about how he left things between you.”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack, lady. He’s been holding onto it for a while.”

“Why?”

He only shrugs, taking another sip from the drink in front of him. You think it might be yours, but you don’t have it in you to tell him–whatever gets you an answer. “He’s worked really hard. I’m proud of him. He just,” he gestures into the empty space with the glass like it holds the words he’s looking for, “didn’t know how to reach out, I think.”

“That’s stupid.”

The redhead laughs, warm and open like he always was. It feels nostalgic, in a way. You’d never had much opportunity to spend time with Eijiro, and you feel a little sad about that. He’s good. You were glad that, in the time you’d been absent from his life, Katsuki had been able to find a friend like him.

“As tough as he seems, I think it tears him up to know that someone he cares about is upset with him.”

You gape at him. “He thinks I’m mad at him?”

Eijiro grins at you over the rim of the glass. With the most emphasized discretion and a wink, he slides his phone to you, screen-side up. Katsuki's contact. “Yep. He’s a baby.”

-Seventeen-

At seventeen, Katsuki understands what it means to regret something for the first time. You sit in front of him in tears, and he feels that regret so deeply that he thinks he might be sick.

“You’re so mean, Katsuki.”

Your voice is so uncharacteristically quiet he almost has to strain to hear it. You don’t look at him–and he panics, because he’s never known you to be near him and not looking at him.

“You’re a crybaby,” he says, and he means it lightly–he expects you to laugh, and to make a jab at him back–but the crease between your eyebrows gets deeper and your chin wobbles and suddenly the walls are closing in around him.

“Bunny, I–”

“I have to go.” And then you’re gone.

Your footsteps ricochet off the walls and inside his head until his teeth ache with it. He doesn’t understand what the hell just happened–or why he can’t ever seem to stop his mouth from running out in front of him, just out of his reach.

There’s nothing else to do but go home. For the first time since he’d learned to drive, his passenger seat sits empty.

“Morning!”

You sound chipper when you sit down next to him, which confuses the hell out of him until he looks up at you and sees the way your smile is brief, and strained at best.

The shame crawls up his throat and clamps down on any attempt at reciprocation. It’s all he can do to force out a grunt of acknowledgement. You don’t say anything else.

Class ends, and he doesn’t wait for you. He is up and out of the room before you even stand from your seat.

There is something very cowardly that lives in Katsuki. He hadn’t known about it until now–and now he feels settled into it. Like it’s known him all his life.

He’s ignoring you. That’s what it is, no matter how many other ways his mind tries to spin it. It’s been 3 months since he made you cry and now it feels too late–like any attempt at speaking to you would just be inappropriate–so he doesn’t. He knows he’s a coward and he can see that it hurts you. Your texts start dwindling–where you used to chat with him throughout the day (often to his chagrin), your name comes across his phone once every few weeks, and then not at all. He reads every message, and he replies to none.

But then he gets busy–preparation for graduation and moving out and on and making something of himself–and a year passes. You still say hello to him when you see him. You’re still kind to him, which that in itself he cannot understand. There’s an obvious rift, though. You don’t seek him out anymore. And he can’t blame you.

He knows you’re alright, though, if your social media posts are anything to go by. You’ve made other friends, and every picture of the corners of your mouth drawn back in that familiar grin feels like a wound. He feels guilty about that, too–about the ways in which he grieves a spot in your life that he is no longer entitled to.

-Today-

He doesn’t touch a single step on the way up to your place–he’s not even sure he’s opened the door so much as kicked the fucking thing down just to get to you. You in danger–you hurt and needing him and–

Standing there. Whole and unharmed, fingers stained red only with the strawberry you have halfway to your mouth. Hip propped against the counter, you look relaxed–certainly not in any peril–

His exhale is sharp–forced, as the relief bleeds into irritation. “What the fuck, Bunny–”

“No, you, what the fuck,” you say, hands on your hips. His eyes have no choice but to follow them, and he realizes you have his sweatpants on. “What is wrong with you?”

They’d be floods on him now, but they fit you in a way that would make him believe they were yours if he didn’t know any better. Worn in, like you’d been wearing them this whole time. A relic from some sport he played way back when–where you wearing them felt inconsequential then, it feels monumental now, after how he treated you. He can’t wrap his mind around the way there could still be any possibility of a space carved out for himself in your life.

“Why did y’act like you were fuckin’ dying’?”

“Would you have come otherwise?”

That gives him pause–because he’s not sure what answer you’re looking for. “I–”

“You,” you cut him off with a step closer to him–he takes one back, toward the still open door. “Have been avoiding me. What did I do?”

“It’s not–you didn’t do anything–”

“So what is it?”

It’s quiet, then–and somehow the weight of his absence is more crushing than it’s ever been. He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly–trying to slow the locomotive beat of his heart.

“M’sorry,” he mutters, looking down at a spot on the floor. He hates himself for not being able to look at you. He hates that after all of these years, this is the extent of his bravery.

“What are you sorry for?”

“Was shitty to you,” he drags a hand down his face and forces himself to look at you. Forces himself to keep your eyes for at least three seconds before the panic rears up and he has to look away again. “When we were kids.”

But now he’s frustrated–because that can’t be all he has to offer you. Years, and sorry I was an asshole is all he has to say? At this point in his life, after all of the work he has put in, it feels unacceptable to him.

He just can’t think of another thing to say.

But you’re patient. You always have been. You tilt your head and wait.

“I was…mean to you,” he hears your words to him so clearly he has to remind himself that you hadn’t just said them to him, standing here in front of him. “And then I left.”

“You did,” you murmur gently, but there’s no detectable bitterness in your tone. You look at him with all of the fondness you always did.

“Wasn’t right,” he gruffs, throat feeling tight, “‘n I should’ve apologized and then it was too late. And now…”

You hum, an almost sympathetic thing. You take a step closer to him, and he has to fight to stay where he is. A large part of him wants to bolt out the door–another smaller and seemingly insane part wants to be closer to you.

“I missed you, you know.”

His eyes snap to yours then–searching for the punchline. Waiting for you to tell him that you were only fucking with him. It doesn’t come. You seem to hear the question he can’t get himself to ask.

“I was never upset with you, Kat. I only ever missed you.”

“But I–” he can’t think of one good reason to try to argue with you right now, and yet he can’t stop his mouth from moving. “You cried–”

And that makes you laugh. “Katsuki, I was sixteen. Someone could have breathed the wrong way and I’d cry.”

He can’t get his brain to catch up. You take another step toward him–he feels your proximity buzz on his skin.

“I knew you,” you murmur, and it feels like a secret he does not deserve to hear, “and you’re different now. But I’d like to think I know you still.”

He feels your fingers wrap around the wrist that’s glued to his side. He eyes you, not completely confident that he’s not hallucinating right now. He lets the tension bleed from that particular spot of his body–lets you thread your fingers through his. It feels like you’ve set him on fire and he’s acutely aware in this moment that he will never let you go. Not ever again.

“I’m still here,” you tell him, speaking directly to his heart now. You take one more step and wrap your arms around his middle, ear to his heart. If he was anywhere close to his right mind, he’d be embarrassed by how it races in his chest. “I still need you like I did then.”

You’ve rendered him speechless and immobile. It’s another several, long seconds before you break the silence.

“Okay Kat this is going to be really embarrassing if you don’t hug me back–”

“Sorry,” he murmurs, thawed. He wraps both arms around your shoulders, a cage around your head that holds you to him. “Sorry.”

You laugh a little, muffled by his sweatshirt, and he feels warm. It’s quiet then, but not in a way that’s oppressive–not in a way that pins him to the floor or to his grief.

“Stay here tonight,” you tell him–you don’t ask.

He wants to say no–he has no change of clothes and he has his routine that keeps him afloat and he’s not sure what’ll happen if he strays from that–but to be with you like this feels good. It would be stupid to stave that off for even one more night.

Now that he's comfortable enough to really look, there are pieces of you around your apartment that he never thought he’d see again.

In the throw pillows you’ve picked, the way you arrange things (and not just the pictures and frames but other things that he didn't see before, ornate and odd and out of place if anywhere but here. He thinks they're weird and just like you to have) on your walls. He’s no idea when he got so damn sentimental, but he can’t help it (and would rather die than ask you about any of it, so he observes quietly when you’re not looking).

You ask him if he's hungry, and for the first time in a while, he's not nauseous around you and finds that he could eat. No sooner than you start cooking does he bat you away and take over completely. You put up what he knows is a weak attempt at a fight before you take a seat next to him on the counter to watch. It’s all he can do to pay attention to the downswing of his knife on the cutting board, rather than the way his sweatpants hug your hips from this angle.

God, is he fucking thirteen again?

He feels it–knows he’s red in the face the entire time you’re next to him. You seem oblivious–chatting with him about the shop and the book you’re reading and your sister, and everything else he’s missed in the last however long. It sobers him a bit–because there is so much that he has missed.

“Hey,” you swing your leg out to poke him in the gut with your toes. “I’m right here.”

He catches you by the foot and holds you there–fights to keep himself from brushing over the instep of it with his thumb. “Keep y'r gross feet to yourself.”

You hum. “You gonna let go of my gross foot then?”

He releases you immediately, red and grumbling about you being a damn brat when you chuckle. He busies himself with finishing dinner, pointedly choosing not to look at you to protect his own sanity.

He supposes it makes sense–he’d cut off his feelings for you years ago like he’d bent a hose in half. To be around you again has loosened his grip on the thing–and here they are again, flooding his system with far more pressure than before. It’s a heavy thing, the weight of his love and the burden of what he’d done. It doesn’t matter if you aren’t upset with him–he feels the need to atone all the same.

Over dinner, he feels bold enough to let you in, at least a little bit. He keeps his eyes on his plate as he details chronologically–graduating, the loneliness, the need to be connected and to make amends. In not so many words, he tells you about his regret. He wants to tell you of his deepest one–walking away from you–but he stops just short of it.

You’re thoughtful beside him, chewing on each piece of the puzzle as he shares it. After a moment, he starts to sweat.

“Never knew you could be so quiet.”

You huff, mouth pulling up at the corners. “And I never knew you could talk so much.”

Before he can get embarrassed, you reach for him again–fingers wrapping around his forearm. “You’re different now.”

It’s the second time you’ve said it and the wave of insecurity threatens to displace his dinner. The word comes out before he can stop it. “Bad?”

You shake your head, smile growing wider. “No. Not bad.”

He supposes he can live with that. You keep your grip on him, literal and otherwise.

“Don’t remember you bein’ so touchy.” It’s half-hearted at best–he curses himself for looking a gift horse in the mouth, but the confusion somehow beats out the unfettered need to have your attention on him.

He turns his arm over, palm up, and you smooth your thumb over the tendon in his wrist. You smile again, but it’s subdued this time. It doesn’t quite meet your eyes in the way he knows you meant it to. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

“M’ sorry, Bunny.”

You shake your head, eyes trained on each freckle on his arm as you smooth over it with your thumb. “You were a child. There’s nothing you need to be sorry for.”

He huffs, grabbing a hold of your hand. “Yeah, well, ’m a grown ass man now and I’m still sorry.”

You snort, weaving your fingers together again. Your smile comes easier.

“I love you,” you murmur, eyes never leaving where you are linked with him.

The silence turns deafening. Katsuki is certain he’s just had a fucking stroke.

“I–you–”

“Oh my god,” you breathe, looking mortified as you snatch your hand away from him–

He snatches it back just as quickly. “Fuckin’–hold on–”

You look like you’re ready to chew his arm off to get out of his grasp–and it makes him laugh. Really laugh, deep in his chest–you look at him like he’s lost his mind.

“I’ve been–fuckin’,” he says, still giggly, still giddy if he could ever be that, “dreamin’ of hearing you say that for nearly two damn decades and that’s how you do it?”

He’s still laughing as he watches the gears turn in your head–you relax a little in your seat and he releases you, only when he’s sure you won’t dart off. You suck in a breath, long and controlled.

“Oh,” you exhale, and he watches it click for you. “You–oh.”

He feels bolder than he ever has–every nerve ending in his body on fire and needing you. He's up and next to you before he knows it, and you look up at him with eyes that look right through him. For the first time, he hopes you see it all. He wants you to see everything.

Whatever you see has you up out of your seat, your hands reaching for him and settling on his chest like you'd known the feeling of him beneath your palms all of your life. You tilt your chin, and he follows you down.

Katsuki's got the whole world in his hands; he chooses to handle it–you–with fragility that he wasn’t sure he was capable of until now. He rushes nothing–the soft give of your hips under his hands is nearly dizzying and he can’t stop himself from pulling you closer, if you ever could be. You don’t seem to mind–reaching and grabbing and needing him like you are. To know that the unbridled want he feels is mutual burns him from the inside out–but it’s more than that, and he can feel it down to his bones–he loves you. So deeply and for so long that he hardly knows what to do with himself now that he has you in his lap. He only knows, as innately as breathing or the blood flowing through his veins, to pull you closer–fingertips touching at your spine and pulling you closer still, expanding with your ribcage at every breath that grows deeper against his lips.

“Katsuki,” and you whisper it but you may as well have shouted for the way it lights up every synapse in his brain, “want more of you–”

“Let me feel ya a little longer,” he presses a kiss to your jaw and he feels like he’s pleading. He’s not too proud to do it. “Just a little longer, yeah?”

You blink, processing what he’s asked, and a small, sweet smile splits your face as you lean your forehead to his temple, nodding softly. And god, does it feel like a prize, like a gift he’s surely never deserved but you are so good and you care little for how deserving he might be. He’s never known anything like you–never knew he could have something like this. Your body bows toward his like gravity or the universe or a god called you to do it, and there’s no force on earth or otherwise that could keep him from meeting you halfway.

His fingers follow the spaces between your ribs and trail up to the hollow of your throat–he feels the rapid flutter of your heart through the thin skin and the knowledge that you are as affected as he is proves to be too much for his own heart–

“Katsuki–”

You’re pleading now, and when he meets your hooded gaze he understands. His hands fall to your hips again, and press down gently–he can look nowhere but your face that goes slack as you shudder through the pleasure that he feels lick up his spine. He’s as intentional and methodical as he’s ever been, and he knows that if he’d ever been born for anything, it has to be this–to use his body for this–for you–

“Oh,” your arms loop around his neck and pull him back to you, and he chases the soft press of your lips to his–the feeling of your sweet sounds that fill his mouth, “it’s so good. You feel so good.”

Your praise gnaws at the edges of his skull and makes everything fuzzy. He’s mindless as he holds you there–rutting against you slowly, just as animal as anything but only with the goal of keeping you in his arms, kissing him like you are. Every plush glide of your mouth against his pulls him deeper into this thing–

He nearly comes out of his skin when your hand covers where he is hard and aching and squeezes. “I want to feel you,” you say, and he comes back to himself, if only a little bit, to pull your hand into his and bring it to his lips.

“Later”, he murmurs against your wrist, letting his words smear across your skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. He presses a kiss to the inside of your elbow and raises it over his head to join the other. “Need you t’feel good.”

It’s the most honest thing he’s ever said and the weight of it presses you back into your sheets, open and looking up at him like an angel. He knows to treat you gentler still–he resists the urge to bite down–to consume, to bring you into him–and replaces it with the press of his mouth to your jawline, and the wet drag of his tongue across the skin of your stomach.

“So beautiful,” he breathes against your skin, warm and soft between your hip bones, “Y’re so fucking beautiful–”

He knows he’s never tasted a thing like you when you flood his tongue, and that he will never again–knows that he’ll never hear anything like the cry you let out as you let him have this part of you. The way you say his name, the way you don't seem to know whether to pull him in or push him away–now that he has you, he knows he can never go without.

He loves you. He loves you.

You slip over that edge with the ease of water from a glass and he nearly follows you. He presses his temple into the soft give of your thigh and feels delighted at the feeling of the flutter of your heartbeat. He'd stay there forever if he could, but your grip on his hair pulls him back up to you, and he can't stop the laugh that leaves him.

You kiss him and the arousal knocks around his stomach so hard it makes him dizzy. He pulls away just to ground himself–he leans his temple to yours and relishes in the feeling of your fingertips up his arms, over his shoulders, into his hair.

"Katsuki," you whisper, pulling him closer. He knows it could never be closer enough.

"'m here, Bunny," he kisses every inch of skin he can reach, "I'm here."

#coms <3 #I would say coms are open but this took literal months so like. proceed at your own risk #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fic #mha fic #bnha fic #bakugou fluff #bakugou hurt comfort #BAKUBUN <3

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historicallyaccuratecheese · 4 months

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Well, I guess I’m continuing to make these now! Here’s the next part of my thoughts on every Magnus Archives episode! Now, last time I said that I was planning to write about episodes 21-40 in the next post, but as it turns out, the hyperfixation has set in and my thoughts are a LOT longer (so buckle up if you want to read this), and I also reached the tag limit. So, I’m only going to be covering episodes 21-30 here, and then I’ll write about episodes 31-40, and this 10 episode trend will probably continue for the rest of the posts, but that just means I’ll be able to put them out faster.

Also, unlike my first post, where I wrote all of my thoughts after finishing episode 20, all of these ones were written right after I finished the specific episode I talked about, so my thoughts are a lot more clearly documented. Finally, there’s a link to my masterpost, which will contain all the post’s detailing my thoughts on every episode before and after these ones.

Once again, no spoilers for future episodes please, and for anyone who hasn’t watched up to episode 30, spoilers are under the cut, so I recommend turning away until you’ve caught up. :)

- Episode 21, Freefall 🪂

Statement of Moira Kelly, regarding the disappearance of her son Robert.

WHAT THE FUCK??!! MARTIN??!! DAMN, I guess the horrors did get to him! Well, it’s nice to finally meet him, even if his first line was dropping shit on the ground. Either way, I get the vibe I’m in for a wild ride for this second half. ….What was I talking about? Oh yeah, the actual statement. Anyways this one upset me. Not only did it bring out my fear of heights pretty well, but the portrayal of a grieving mother who can’t comprehend what happened to her son was really heartbreaking. The line “The sky ate him” was kind of comedic at first, especially with Jon’s following reaction (love this guy btw, he’s such a loser), but then it became really horrific when I realized how it was just Moira desperately trying to make sense of the impossible horrors she just witnessed. The plot thread set up with Simon and Harriet Fairchild is also very interesting, and the whole sky thing kind of reminded me of Dominic’s visions in Ep. 4. Overall another one of many fantastic episodes, but HOLY SHIT I’M SCARED.

- Episode 22, Colony 🔦

Statement of Martin Blackwood, archival assistant at the Magnus Institute, London, regarding a close encounter with something he believes to have once been Jane Prentiss. Statement taken direct from subject.

….aaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! Ok let’s start from the top. Firstly, I’m really happy we finally got to meet Martin in this episode, and he’s great! Honestly he comes off as more dorky than stupid, and just comes off as a real sweetheart, so Jon’s distaste for him (outside of very different personalities), gets more mysterious. Though all things considered, after what he experienced, I don’t think that the bullying is his biggest worry anymore… Alexander J. Newall does a fantastic delivery, as much as I love Jon’s readings, you can really feel how terrified Martin is here (also “Blackwood” is a sick as fuck last name, and I related to him trailing off about spiders…) Outside of Martin himself, we have Jane Prentiss (or what remains of her) and…well, let’s just say that I don’t find the sex worms nearly as funny anymore. Jane and the worms inside her are absolutely terrifying, and while I would say I’m excited to learn more about her, I wouldn’t be complaining if the institute staff never had to deal with her again. Also the text episode made me, if you’ll excuse my language…squirm. Honestly, this might just be my favorite episode so far. The way that the plot threads from previous episodes connected here was extremely satisfying, and needless to say, I’m very excited and horrified to see where the show goes from here.

- Episode 23, Schwartzwald 🇩🇪

Statement of Albrecht von Closen, regarding a discovered tomb near his estate in the Black Forest.

Worst episode ever because Jon didn’t do a German accent, smh. Ok but in all seriousness, I really liked this one! It wasn’t the strongest in terms of complex themes in my opinion, but it had a great vibe, and was still very interesting, entertaining, and decently creepy. Having a “statement” written before the archives was founded is a really cool idea that’s executed perfectly here, and while we didn’t learn that much about Jonah Magnus, I still found it cool to get a first glimpse of the archives’ history. (Also, given the eye imagery that appears both in here and in other episodes, I can’t help but feel like Albrecht’s wording of Jonah having “good eyes” or something like that is a little weird…) And…now that we have the instance of something that isn’t a statement, but is important being in the archives, I absolutely agree with the idea that Gertrude Robinson organized these poorly on purpose, so that Jon would get the knowledge he needed to have. Regardless, this whole episode had the vibes of a classic ghost story, which while not as weird and off-putting as some of the other horror here, was still a nice change of pace overall. The descriptions of The Schwartzwald were really well done and added to the atmosphere, and I just like the fact that we have another historical episode, that’s also set outside of The UK. Also, the way that they played with the time period at the end was amazing, I already had my suspicions due to the eye imagery, but the reveal of Mary Keay (and therefore Gerard Wa- I mean Keay) being a descendant of Albrecht was still really cool. I also do wonder if the Arabic book was eventually found by Jurgen Leitner in the future…eh, food for thought. Lastly, I loved Martin jumping in out of nowhere, it was both funny, and a grim reminder about how fucked the archives supposedly are, yippee!

Wow, these are a lot longer than my previous thoughts. This, my sweet children, is a phenomenon called “brain rot”.

- Episode 24, Strange Music 🪆

Statement of Leanne Denikin, regarding an antique calliope organ she possessed briefly in August 2004.

Jon, honey, are we not going to elaborate on the fact that one of ✨the horrors✨is literally inside the institute? Like, HELLO? That��s not terrifying at all! Anwyays, this episode continues the trend of making me scared of things I’m not initially scared of, yippee! It had great vibes as well, the weird shit in the attic was made to be as creepy as possible. Initially, I didn’t find this one to be too scary, and figured it was going to go in the direction of “music makes people feel kind of weird”. AND THEN JOSHUA GETS KILLED AND TURNED INTO A DOLL HELLO??!!! Like, I know he was kind of a toxic boyfriend, but DAMN, whatever was behind the calliope and the dolls did NOT have to go that far. (Also until the end I thought he might be Joshua Gillepsie, and like, I don’t care how toxic he is, but you do not dump a guy who bested an evil coffin with his freezer.) Outside of that, It was really cool to meet Sasha! I like her voice, and the introduction was quite funny. (Also, even as someone who has lived in England for over two years, and has a family that is 90% British, nothing hurt more that Jon’s “Americans”.) Lastly, I have a theory, which I like to call “Ringmaster? More like cult leader.” Because I’M SORRY, but you cannot convince me that a CIRCUS, called THE CIRCUS OF THE OTHER, which possessed a HAUNTED CALLIOPE ORGAN, is anything but a cult. (Watch me when I’m inevitably wrong lmao.)

I guess now is a better time than any to say that I’m kind of wondering if there’s an in-universe reason for the music in the background? I mean, considering that the whole framing device is Jon recording these statements, I have to wonder if there’s a reason for the noise we hear, especially with the worms in Ep. 22 and the music in Ep. 24.

- Episode 25, Growing Dark ⛪️

Statement of Mark Bilham, regarding events culminating in his visit to Hither Green Chapel.

HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! I LOVE BEING RIGHT!!! I saw the episode title and immediately assumed this would continue the lore of Episode 9, and I WAS SO RIGHT!!! (Also, I now just noticed that the PCOTDH’s symbol is a closed eye, while The Keay Family’s symbol is an open eye…my cult theory thickens…) Anyways, this was another very enjoyable episode! Firstly, even though it’s far from the first piece of media to do so, I though the way they portrayed a cult brainwashing someone when they’re most vulnerable was very well handled and pretty depressing. I also really enjoyed how the episode isn’t the most weird and paranormal on it’s own, but the knowledge of the connections to Ep. 9 makes us know that it DEFINITELY is, even when the characters in the story don’t. The episode was certainly very spooky, the description of the spinach and the dark church definitely got me. (Also my mom came into my room briefly and when she left she accidentally turned off the light and I nearly screamed.) There were also some really interesting plot threads set up here, like the chanting of the northern most human settlement in the world, the mention of “three hundred years waiting”, and I also wonder if “Mr. Pitch” is an alias for “Detective Rayner.” then…the ending. Holy shit. You know, maybe I DON’T need to know what happened to Gertrude….

Episode 26, A Distortion ☕️

Statement of Sasha James, assistant archivist at the Magnus Institute, London, regarding a series of paranormal sightings. Statement taken direct from subject.

I…what…I don’t even…we are so fucked. Ok, there’s a LOT going on here, but I’ll try my best to formulate my thoughts as clearly as possible. Firstly, this episode easily scared me the most so far, I agree with Jon when he says that the horrors being somewhat friendly is scarier than them being antagonistic, like HOLY SHIT this one was unnerving. But with that out of the way…uh…let’s talk about Sasha! She’s really cool, I like how her character gives us a lot more insight into what working in the archives is like for a fairly regular person (i say this because Jon is weird as fuck and Martin is too nice to be normal, and I mean that as kindly as possible). But…while I don’t necessarily doubt her status as the most level-headed person in the archives, I don’t think that’s saying much. Like, she saw a creepy guy with weird-ass hands who spoke in riddles and knew too much about her and her coworkers, and followed him into a dilapidated building, also she works at the council of ghost stories despite not liking horror. Like, no offense, I’m sure she’s overall an intelligent person, as are most people in the archives, but none of them are beating Joshua Gillepsie anytime soon (yes I’m still thinking about him.) But mentioning the guy with fucked up hands, WHO OR WHAT EVEN WAS THAT??!! I have very little ideas as to how this “Micheal” even connects to the greater picture. I know some people connected him to the mentions of the man with bones in his hands in Episode 8, but that honestly reminds me more of the Leitner in Episode 17. Outside of that, his name is quite interesting, I initially thought that he might be Micheal Crew, but given that Sasha doubts it being his real name, I have my suspicions (although it would give us a connection between this, the words in Episode 8, and The Boneturner’s Tale….hm….) However, I could absolutely see him being Micheal Keay, as he gives off enough ghost vibes to pass as him (and I’m assuming that if Gerard’s dead, Micheal is as well.) Also he is not described as having a Lichtenburg figure on him so…yeah. Lastly, we have the return of THE SEX WORMS. And as happy(?) as I am to see that The Magnus Archives, a podcast developed by RustyQuill.com, that is also licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License, is continuing it’s message of staying abstinent, all things considered, that was absolutely terrifying. I just LOVE the knowledge that the worms are a hive-mind and that Jane might not be the source, I LOVE THAT SO MUCH. In conclusion, I am probably going to sleep with a fire extinguisher tonight, and I am very scared for what the next 14 episodes have in store for me.

Also I guess I’ll mention Tim (the archival assistant, not the dead guy) here because why not. So far I’m getting major bastard energy from people’s descriptions of him, which means I will either love or hate him. Also I found it very funny but also kind of sad that Jon said he only trusts Tim to not prank him in Episode 11, and then he pulled a prank shortly before this statement took place.

- Episode 27, A Sturdy Lock 🔑

Statement of Paul McKenzie, regarding repeated nocturnal intrusions into his home.

Ok, after everything that happened in the last episode, it was nice to get a short and sweet one here. Well, as sweet as an episode of a horror podcast can be. Overall, this one isn’t my favorite, I thought it was a little bit under the standards of creativity for the show as a whole, but that’s obviously not saying much, as it was still pretty damn good in its own right. I think it was definitely very effective with its storytelling, and credit where credit is due, it certainly brought out my fear of weird noises in the middle of the night. And even if I can’t personally resonate with this aspect of it, I do really appreciate how it tackled the idea of mental illness at old age, and while I’d be surprised if the statement wasn’t real, considering where the show seems to be going, it did a very good job at planting seeds of doubt in my mind. But still, it was genuinely pretty crushing how Paul had no proof throughout the entire thing, along with how the cops treated him. It really did make me thing about what would have happened if he hadn’t washed the blood off his hands. It still had a creepy atmosphere, and the reveals at the end were pretty interesting, I hope they show us Marcus’ statement soon enough. Also, the aspect of loneliness in this one did remind me a lot of what happened in Episode 13, so I wonder if there’s some connection there. (Also, I love how I’m 27 episodes in and Jon is STILL roasting Gertrude’s organizational skills.) So while this one isn’t the most interesting for me, I still enjoyed it, and it was nice to have a slightly lighter one after Episode 26. I hope Sasha had a good few days off, she deserves it.

- Episode 28, Skintight 📷

Statement of Melanie King, regarding events at the abandoned Cambridge Military Hospital during filming in January 2015. Statement taken direct from subject.

WHOA THAT WAS SO GOOD!!! Ok, I feel like I should start off with my thoughts on the basic premise, as while those episode is certainly…not the most humorous in its execution, the premise itself kind of is. I don’t know why, but I just thought the idea of there being an in-universe competitor was a really fun concept that was executed perfectly here. It kind of reminds me of something like Hatchetfield and Clivesdale (I don’t know how many people reading this will understand that, but there seems to be overlap between TMA fans and Hatchetfield fans, and also like, shut up, let me indulge in my hyperfixations.) The bickering between Melanie and Jon was great, as was Melanie herself, I’d love to see her again as I think she oddly brought a lot to the world of the series. Although I will say that, while it doesn’t make me like him any less, Jon’s reluctance to buy into statements is a lot more frustrating when there’s another person in the room. I also absolutely love the fact that there’s an in-universe spooky podcast mentioned by name, like, come one, that’s genuinely hilarious. But comedic value aside, this one was definitely pretty creepy. In a similar vain to what Episode 23 was doing, the whole “young people enter creepy abandoned building to film stuff and then get genuinely scared” concept felt evocative of other classic horror stories, and the way they spun it into the context of the show was great. The atmosphere was definitely very creepy as well, as I have mentioned, hospitals creep me the fuck out. And lastly…oh my god, THE CONNECTIONS. So, I’ll start off by saying that all of the skin shit reminded me of what happened in Episode 18 (which I hope is true because I think some connections to other things would make me like that episode more). But that pales in comparison to the fact that we have stuff on THE ANGLERFISH, HOLY FUCK THE ANGLERFISH. I’m SO glad that they didn’t throw it away just because it was in the pilot episode. In retrospect, I think that the story of Episode 1 isn’t quite my favorite. It doesn’t really have to be, as I think the main draw of the episode is getting a first look at the framing device and general vibe of the entire podcast, but the stories didn’t really grab me until Episode 2, which is still one of my favorites. But MAN, this episode really made me appreciate the setup at the beginning so much more, and the knowledge that the people who walked into the alley didn’t necessarily die, meaning that all of those names could potentially come back, is SO exciting to me. In fact, when you consider that Sarah was kind of going through what looked like a possession, I wonder if The Anglerfish is a figure of worship in a cult, if that theory is to be true. (Also I have relatives that live in the same area as Sarah so…maybe I should tell them to watch out for their neighbor lmao.) So yeah, this…this show is just really freaking good.

Note: I have discovered the Leitner rant, and therefore I have achieved true enlightenment.

- Episode 29, Cheating Death ♟️

Statement of Nathaniel Thorp, regarding his own mortality.

I should start off by saying that I love the episode title for this, like, it’s not even metaphorical, the guy literally cheated in a game against death. Well, anyways, the main thing that caught me about the episode was how it absolutely blindsided me. While I was right about the soldier being the same as the statement giver, which I think was supposed to be obvious, everything else in those last six or so minutes left me with a wide-open jaw. (Also, can I just say that I love how poetic this guy just…decided to be? Like, I just love it when the statements really show of personalities with the way they’re written, and it comes with a cool framing device.) Regardless, I initially assumed that it was going in a very traditional line. Nathaniel cheats death, becomes immortal, and regrets it in modern day because he’s lived longer that he really should have. That, combined with the fact that “Death” didn’t seem like the one of the more creative horror monsters in the show so far, had me so prepared to just write this one off as one of my least favorites (once again, not like that’s saying much.) And then the twist comes and HOLY SHIT I WAS WRONG. The idea of there basically being multiple grim reapers at the hands of some unknowable power, who have to gain successors to finally die themselves is absolutely terrifying and extremely clever. I tip my hat to you Rusty Quill, you did a great job at fooling me. Kind of funny considering how this is a story about being punished for your hubris (which seems to be a recurring theme???) I have a few other small thoughts as well. Firstly, I can’t help but shake the feeling that Nathaniel Thorp was an actual revolutionary war soldier, but I can’t find anything online other than the character from this episode. Also, the fact that his fate remains unknown makes me think he’ll show up again, as it seems weird to NOT end the story with confirmation of his death, given the themes. Secondly, a lot of the…less than pleasant imagery here definitely reminded me of Piecemeal and The Boneturner’s Tale. I don’t remember the story inside that Leitner very well, but I might check just in case there’s any parallels between it and this statement. (Update: Not really.) And finally, I was just a little bit intrigued by the fact that we learn no one who was working at the institute in 1972 works there anymore. It’s probably nothing, but given the mysteries surrounding Gertrude’s death, I’m just a little suspicious, both in general, and of Elias because he’s still around. Overall this episode went hard, I’m still kind of stunned by what it pulled off.

Jane Prentiss statement…save me…save me Jane Prentiss statement…

- Episode 30, Killing Floor 🍖

Statement of David Laylow, regarding his time working at an industrial abattoir near Dalton.

You know what, Jon is right, there’s a lot of meat in this show. Not that I’m complaining, I mean, it does fuel my obsession with connecting the dots between statements. Regardless, while this isn’t among my favorite episodes so far, I still had a good time with it. The reason it’s not one of my favorites is purely personal, as I don’t do too well with animal violence. Like, as much as I do really appreciate how viscerally Jonny Sims can describe the statements, I will admit that the opening minutes describing the slaughter house made me more uneasy than the actual horror, and not in a particularly fun way, but it was overall fine. Speaking of the actual horror, that was actually pretty good. The endless hallways lined with doors that lead to precarious situations also kind of tapped into a personal fear of mine, but in a more fun and digestible way. And while the idea of “imagine humans being slaughtered like animals” is something I’ve seen many a time before, it was still much more well executed than many other interpretations of the idea (*cough cough*, peta) and there were also plenty of other interesting themes and ideas, like how the episode touched on the inherent horror of working in a job as gruesome as the killing floor, being enslaved to said job, and the idea that maybe we’re all just walking sacks of meat in the end, and nothing more. As for some other thoughts, I was definitely creeped out by Tom Han, I’m not sure whether or not he’s someone who spreads ✨the horrors✨or someone affected by ✨the horrors✨, and his sudden disappearance was certainly…odd. On top of that, it’s admittedly haunting to know that there’s still creepy stuff going on at the slaughter house, and that this isn’t something that happened to David, and only David. Overall, a pretty good episode, I don’t have much to say about it, but it was a fun time overall.

Tim…save me…save me Tim…

Well, if you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading! Genuinely means the world to me when there are people willing to listen to me ramble about my horrible (affectionate) interests lmao. I should have my thoughts on the final episodes of Season 1 out in due time, and while I’m sure it’s obvious, I’m absolutely hooked on this podcast. It absolutely has the potential to become one of my favorite things ever if the overarching plot becomes more involved and this is coming from someone who up until now, wasn’t all that gripped by podcasts. While I’m a little sad that I’m as late to the party as I am, then I remembered “oh yeah, I was in elementary school when this horrifying series came out”, and I’m also hopeful that I’ll be able to be around for The Magnus Protocol while it’s airing (I know it premieres in like a week but still.) Anyways, thanks for reading and hopefully you’ll be around for my thoughts on the next batch :)

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britswriting · 10 months

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Fallen For You |H.S AU

Fallen For You | Masterlist (I'll try and put them all under the #fallenforyoubybrit tag)

Read on Wattpad

Cover + edit made by me. Instagram watermark is my Demi Lovato edit account - I might open a Harry account but that's TBD right now

Description:

"Welcome to Fallen Ranch!" "Oh, I thought it was fall in. Like fallin' a part" Harry Styles was Boston Creek's must have rancher. He was hard to come by, hard to accommodate to, and a pain in everyone's ass; but he did a damn good job, which made him become very desirable. Everyone wanted him, and if you had him, you had to make sure you could afford to keep him. Not only was his pay out of this world, but he also requested room & board, including meals, a truck to get to town and at least one day off a week. If you wanted your chance at Harry Styles being your Rancher, there was absolutely no wiggle room for discussion. Delaney knew how much of a pain in the ass Harry Styles was. She grew up hearing the stories ever since he moved into town. "He's disrespectful", "He thinks his way is the right way" and the worst of them all? He didn't like dogs; but even with all of the bad mouthing the town has said about him, she couldn't help but notice his dreamy eyes and glistening muscles as he worked in the sun. The moment she found out her father had landed the Harry Styles, she was terrified. Her family couldn't afford her to make a fool of herself. If she wanted to keep Harry and everything that came with him, she needed to seal her heart up and throw away the key... right?

This is my warnings from my Welcome page on Wattpad before you read; the casting + their photos need to be viewed through Wattpad due to me passing Tumblr's photo limit per post.

Hello! Welcome to my new Harry Styles fanfic! - this is my first time writing a Harry fanfic since 2016, so honestly wish us all luck lol

This story will contain smut! - if you're uncomfortable with that, there will be warnings at the start of each chapter.

I'm pretty warning heavy if needed, so if anything comes up that I'm aware of being triggering, I will put a disclaimer - if you find anything that I missed that should be a warning, feel free to comment! - I won't put a warning for "fat" comments due to they're not meant to come across has harmful or hateful - Delaney is plus sized and she is aware of that. Jokes get made, insecurities are shown but none of it is supposed to come across in a negative way. If those things are triggering, it should be very sparse due to I'm trying to write a confident plus sized character!

Comment's Harry makes are never intended to be hurtful! He comes from a good place, it just all comes out wrong! <3

For those who came from the dadrry tag - it isn't immediate, but it's there!

This story contains lbgtqia characters, POC characters & plus sized characters - hate speech is not allowed, your comments will be deleted and you will be blocked. This story is a safe + loving environment for all!

This story contains swearing! (I can't help myself I'm sorry lol)

Last prewarning, I write slow burn! - they will not be dating immediately nor having sex right away! I like writing the build up and edging in my writing, if that is something that bothers you, this book probably isn't for you! - Because it is forced proximity, they are always together and it doesn't take a million years lol they just won't be together by the 5th chapter unlike other books.

Tropes:

Rancher!Harryxplussized!OC ??

Grumpyxsunshine

dadrry/grandparry 👀 - Harry is only 28/29! You'll understand later lol

Forced Proximity

She falls first x he falls harder

The most important for anyone who doesn't want to see the full cast, is our MC (Main Character)

Here is Delaney! Also known as "Lane/Laney" by close friends + family

Chapter One

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animeangelriku · 1 year

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Slash Ships to Get to Know Me

Thank you to the delightful @davidbowielovesyou for tagging me in this!!

Rules: Name at least five (but no upper limit) slash (M/M) ships you love. Each from a different fandom.

Damn, right now I’m thinking I can’t quite possibly get to five ships, but let’s see how we do!

1. Puzzleshipping (Yugi Mutou/Atem (Yami Yugi) from Yu-Gi-Oh!)

Look. I know it doesn’t look like it makes any sense, but I promise you it does. And even if that’s my biased brain talking, that’s fine. These two were my first ship, more than fifteen years ago, at this point, and I legitimately and literally owe them my life. They will always hold a very special and very dear place in my heart.

2. The Ineffable Husbands (Aziraphale/Crowley from Good Omens)

I read the book like half a year before the show aired and thought there was a lot of potential there, but told myself not to get my hopes up. Then the show came out and fucking blew me out of the water, and now I have these two dumbass idiots tattooed on my arm. The pining! The yearning!!! YOU GO TOO FAST FOR ME, CROWLEY!!! Excuse me while I go cry. Also, “ineffable husbands” is just a cute af title, don’t @ me.

3. Linus Baker/Arthur Parnassus (from The House in the Cerulean Sea)

I read this book last year and it took over my life. Linus just called to me as a character, and I related so hard to him from the very first chapters, and it was just an absolute delight to follow him on his journey to finding the love and family he wants. The way these two love each other just does things to me, man, I’m only human!

4. Achilles/Patroclus (specifically from Hades)

Listen. LISTEN. I was obsessed with Greek mythology as a teen, so when Hades came out, I bought it only after I found out that there was a side-quest for reuniting Achilles and Patroclus in the afterlife. Their devotion to each other has pushed me to tears on occasion. Besides, I’m of the mind that old gay men deserve to be happy and to make out as much as they want to.

EDIT: I COMPLETELY MISSED THE PART WHERE IT SAID M/M SHIPS, WHY AM I SO BLIND DKBFKJBFADSKLFBKD

5. Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor (from Red, White & Royal Blue)

I have become OBSESSED with this book and with this couple specifically. They fall into bed before they fall in love, but when they fall in love? It is WILD, and INTENSE, and it honestly made me so fucking happy because I’ve rarely read the kind of love story they have, and the fact that it’s a queer love story just watered my crops and (temporarily) cured my depression. I have spent my free time reading fanfics for these two for like the past three weeks. A month? Time is unreal, but you get the idea.

Tagging (but please only if you want to) @sodiumazideandothertoxins, @cassieoh, @hkblack, @kamikazeworld, @thegreyscalerainbow, and anyone else who wants to do this!!

#tag you're it #tagged you're it #puzzleshipping #ineffable husbands #linus baker/arthur parnassus #patrochilles #alex claremont diaz/henry fox

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sapphicwhxre · 3 years

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ASTERIA'S 2.5K FOLLOWER FIC REC LIST

i read fics just as much as i write them so here are some of my favourites. tysmsm for this milestone, i love you all <3 quick note: i didn't re-tag anyone if i recommended more than one of your works because of the tag limit.

───────── girls ─────────

hermione granger

tuesdays - @stupxfy

probably one of my all time favs for hermione. it's just so well written and adorable and fluffy and yes.

if i could tell her - @hellounicorn

pining, pining, PINING. the way these emotions and hermione's described is just... art. perfection. there's a happy ending and it is so worth the build up.

darling dearest - @dracolvr

fluffy goodness. read to be hopelessly in love with hermione ─ which, let's be real, we all are.

november rain - @pansydaisy

uhm i love this one sm. it's so simple but amazing ─ everyone has their days like this and having hermione to cure them? it's what everyone needs.

i need more - @15-dogs

i sobbed the first time i read this. it'll break your heart but it's so amazingly written that it's worth the sadness. actual gut wrenching / mindblowing writing.

how the potter girls react to you in lingerie - @pottersanime

the title. need i say more?

honeyed eyes - @minty-malfoy

HEAVEN. being hermione's first kiss as friend? but both of you idiots liking each other? oh my god, sign me up.

hugging her from behind - @pastanest

again, the title. read to feel 🥺💙

grey days - @pepperimps01

PANSMIONE 😌😌 it's angsty with a happy ending and i love it sm. this does such a perfect job of capturing pansy and hermione's relationship growing and having its ups and downs with just a few paragraphs. honestly so good

grenade - @hellounicorn

another one that'll make your heart shatter. but in the best way. these are the fics i live for where the you can't help but feel like it's really happening to you and hermione and god it's so fucking powerful. underrated writing right here in general. and also pansmione is the loml so it hurts in that way.

honeybees - @pansydaisy

fluffy aesthetic heaven.

lead the way - @teacup-tai

more pansmione but this is pure filthy thinking and satisfies all the sexual tension dreams pansmione shippers have.

two queens in a king sized bed - @shysneeze

domestic christmas morning with hermione and it's angelic.

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

one of those blurbs i never imagined i'd read or love so much. not to mention it's spot on and adorable.

pansy parkinson

right and wrong - @starrkidmalfoy

a first kiss and the overdone trope that i will never get sick of, the bitch who's soft only for you. the descriptions in this are perfection and the writing is beautiful <3

messed up - @writseo

toxic, messed up love fics will be the death of me. insane how well you captured it all and i just yes damn fucking props.

pansy parkinson imagine - @moonlight-imagines

*screams* THE BEST FRIEND BANTER + THE ENDING OH MY GOD OH MY GOD ─ I SCREAMED WHEN I FIRST READ THIS. I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE IT.

dating pansy would include - @lotsoffandomimagines

ABSOLUTE POWER COUPLE SHIT and to this day, pansy saying "jealous much?" when being scolded for pda remains iconic.

grey days - @pepperimps01

as i said before: PANSMIONE 😌😌 it's angsty with a happy ending and i love it sm. this does such a perfect job of capturing pansy and hermione's relationship growing and having its ups and downs with just a few paragraphs. honestly so good

new rules - @silversslytherin

excuse me this is immaculate ─ pansy is the best friend and the second you see that she's also the best s/o, you're done for. perfection.

study "dates" - @turning-dreams-into-chaos

the title is self explanatory and this whole thing is fluffy heaven <3

how the potter girls react to you in lingerie - @pottersanime

read the title, thank me later.

lead the way - @teacup-tai

more pansmione but this is pure filthy thinking and satisfies all the sexual tension dreams pansmione shippers have.

traitor - @hufflepuff-writings

a masterpiece where pansy chooses the wrong side in the battle of hogwarts. this ties up so well and the writing is so powerful.

back alley love potions - @a-simple-imagine

this actually hurts but in a beautiful way. watching pansy give draco a love potion is such a fucking concept and this is executed incredibly.

my little bunny - @emmamarie7708

pansy making you do this is so dirty yet she's slightly sweet and i am a sucker for it. god is a woman and her name is pansy fucking parkinson.

pansy parkinson imagine - @moonlight-imagines

i'll let pansy beat people up for me all day. they put me in madame pomfrey's, feel my girlfriend's wrath.

ginny weasley

blissful - @enyastasia

fluffy ginny goodness. the friends to lovers? the amazing kiss? 🥺🥺🥺💞💞 this fic lives in my heart <3

bubble pop electric - @hunnypot-imagines

this is hotter than a lot of actual smut and the chemistry is so... wow. ginny weasley owns me.

dear ginny - @alyssamalfoy

how does this short ass letter manage to make me feel so much. it's sorcery but i don't even care, it's beautiful.

wildflower - @pansydaisy

will i ever get tired of cheeky i love yous? not when loves like ginny weasley and ayli's so so pretty writing exist.

all i want - @hellounicorn

ouch. fuck you harry :) quite possibly the best ginny fic i have ever read. insanely talented writing, i genuinely feel every touch of emotion you put down and you need to know how amazing that is. keep breaking my heart.

linny hcs - @bluebirdlinginthenest

who doesn't need good linny content in their life?

how the potter girls react to you in lingerie - @pottersanime

sexy bitch, fuck me up.

willow - @padmeamiala

ginny is the loml. her brothers can cry about it.

bellatrix lestrange

attempting to bake with bellatrix - @carters-coffee

MY FAVOURITE BELLA FIC ─ there's not enough bellatrix fluff out there but this makes up for the lack of. heaven.

bellatrix prompt - @carters-coffee

this gives me chills. she knows she's a bad bitch and that's what we love about her.

change of plans - @dumb-sbian

why THE FUCK have i not had a rainy morning with bellatrix? she can sleep and mumble something just like this and i'm still head over heels for her.

being tortured as bellatrix's girlfriend - @writings-of-a-british-fangirl

definitely a concept BUT this makes me feel some type of way and i recommend giving it a minute of your time 😌

bellatrix finding out you're a muggleborn - @carters-coffee

the beauty, the nuance omg. this is art.

bellatrix prompt - @carters-coffee

yep jealous bella. trust me, im all yours mommy <3

sex with bellatrix would include - @onegayastronaut

so short but... sign. me. up.

luna lovegood

never leave - @/deactivated

luna smut is hard asf to come by and this is my favourite. it's so luna and the pain over her not knowing, not getting that closure about how you feel until this is an amazing rollercoaster.

she - @hunnypot-imagines

the beauty of falling in love with luna, through this majorly talented writing. ten out of fucking ten. i will not elaborate but there's also majorly good association in this imo.

silver berries and flickering fireflies - @duskgrangers

i love this fic so much. she's so herself and that is why we ✨ simp ✨ and the scene set just sounds so prettyy

how the potter girls react to you in lingerie - @pottersanime

luna + this title? yes please, ma'am i am simping.

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

put me in your pocket luna. im begging you.

dancing in the rain with luna - @/deactivated

only luna would get you a dress to go dancing in the rain and this is the stuff of blissful, fluffy dreams.

hugging her from behind - @pastanest

short and cute, do me a favour and read it :)

dating luna lovegood would go like - @glossymalfoy

life is NOT worth it if you don't read these cute little headcanons and imagine dating ravenclaw's baddest bitch.

linny hc - @bluebirdlinginthenest

like i said, who doesn't need good linny content?

cho chang

strawberry kisses - @pansydaisy

the only cho fic i've been able to find and it's SO WORTH IT. the cutest, it flows so well, and i absolutely love it. i need this with cho tbh.

fleur delacour

toutes les etoiles - @coffee--writes

im in love with fleur and this amazing writing. and for the first time since i started high school, my three years of taking french feel good for something.

being best friends with fleur would include - @harrypotter-imaginess

not romantic but actually so sweet pls. i want this friendship in my life so bad.

nymphadora tonks

dating nymphadora tonks would include - @imaginesforgirls

dating her + that warm little feeling of bliss that only HCs can give you

taking care of her after the war - @random-imagines-blog

this kind of hurts in that good ass way and i lovee it. they're simple hcs but i feel for tonks so much and then there's that warm lil feeling when you're the one to put her back together aand now my primary life goal is to help this woman heal.

───────── boys ─────────

harry potter

phosphenes - @minty-malfoy

ok shakespeare, the fuck?? this fic will never not get me right in the heart. the angst, holy fuck. and for once, the reader doesn't hurt harry and let draco walk all over them and it's just done so well. the transition from a toxic relationship to a sweet, loving one PLEASE. it's beautiful.

happy memories - @15-dogs

how does this manage to be so. smutty and fluffy at the same time? this is one of those short ones that has lived in my head, rent-free since i read it. and tbh any fic that includes expecto patronum is guaranteed to be good.

come back to me - @wondernimbus

right from the beginning, it's a mess of emotions both good and bad. that kind of good ass writing that hits you in the heart <3

making out with harry potter would include - @badfvith

read this title. done? now thank me later.

harry prompt - @thoseofgreatambition

harry x a sarcastic swooning bitch is an elite trope idc. short and sweet, i'm marrying this fic.

keep your eyes on the prize - @rowema-ravenclaw

first of all, showing harry up and second, pure fluff (and a little steam) right after. i also love how she writes harry in general because he's totally safe/in love with the relationship but still has that awkward lovable shyness and i just... *sighs*

always - @pansydaisy

uhm i will always love him and always reread this a thousand times so its a fit title + a good read.

late night studying - @lumosandnoxwriting

fuck studying, let his hand stay in my shirt. once again recommending fluffy bliss in the form of a short read that makes me feel things <3

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

he's so stupid. but he still loves you + this is from our resident perfectly talented writer so its a win.

cuddling after a rough quidditch practice - @badfvith

harry james potter is : b a b y

gryffindor's victory - @rowema-ravenclaw

make me gryffindors fucking cheerleader because HOT HOT HOT HOT HOT. AND THE WRITING IS IMMACULATE PLEASE. just read it, you won't regret it.

draco malfoy

silent treatment - @slytherinwh0re

andy's mad talented and this is just... insert a cheesy chefs kiss. unbelievably adorable but so fucking hot and an actually good smut plot (which is rare lmfao). remind me to give draco the silent treatment every time im upset.

rewards - @malfoysstilinski

so hot PLS. hype him up for the match and get your reward, bye. so good.

reading between the lines - @minty-malfoy

i've said this a thousand times but that's what happens when you've got a mad talented mutual BLESSING everyone with beauty like this. butterflies and warm feelings all around when i read this 💓

point of view - @draconisxcaput

its angst for hermione and fluff for you but overall ethereal writing. i am never going to recover from the pure talent that this is.

im not kidding im dying - @malfoysmatrioshka

i hate being sick with a passion but this... this would make it worth it.

hogwarts express - @/deactivated

draco fucking you because he knows harry's watching. the shit of legends and god is it hot.

draco laughing at you because you can't walk after sex - @glossymalfoy

*motions to the title* fluff with this loser 😌

the cheeseburger - @slytherinwh0re

really short read but this is one of those things i just. didn't know i needed. you're missing out and haven't even realised it if you haven't read about introducing him to cheeseburgers. and that ending is so funny/in character to me i fucking love it.

four am - @malfoysstilinski

domestic draco 🥺 but also sad draco 🥺 and then fluffy draco 🥺

hugging him from behind - @pastanest

real short and it'll brighten your day <3

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

how is it that this is so stupidly adorable. i love it 💘

ron weasley

heather - @hellounicorn

always making me cry with your fics i swearrr. this is a must-read. having someone but them not really being yours is a beautiful trope and this fic absolutely does it wonderful, poetic justice. your angst is addicting.

apple pie - @pregnant-piggy

ABSOLUTE DOMESTIC BLISS I AM IN LOVE. i don't even like kids or baking that much but this made me so soft. the whole cozy, heavenly vibes from this fic yes yes yes.

jealousy - @writeroutoftime

cliché jealousy turns friends to lovers and i am a sucker for it all over again <3

shaking and trembling - @ronsbadidea

if ron doesn't finger fuck me and then make a cheeky comment about it in class later then WHAT IS THE POINT :(

mixed signals - @iamthecabbage

i've always figured ron is this awkward idiot cutie with a crush and yea, this is it.

fred and george weasley

i love you, but you don't - @george-fabian-weasley

fred's a character i really don't read for often but goddamn. it's the saddest, most beautiful mix of rejection and pain and fred desperately caring but not in the way you want him to ─ an angsty masterpiece.

cockwarming george - @roonilwazlibimagines

because of this filthy gem, i one hundred thousand percent believe that he could make me cum without even fucking me and this is just... it's a good fucking read.

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

their responses are so wonderfully chaotic and adorable and GOD you're missing out if you haven't read these lil blurbs.

─

#harry potter x reader #hermione granger x reader #pansy parkinson x reader #luna lovegood x reader #ginny weasley x reader #draco malfoy x reader #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #cho chang x reader #nymphadora tonks x reader #bellatrix lestrange x reader #ron weasley x reader #fleur delacour x reader #harry potter #fic recs #masterlist #smut #fluff #angst

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inkyblinders · 3 years

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Dancing with the Devil: Part II

Part 1

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

Author’s note: This was so embarrassing to write not because of smut...but because I’m crushing hard on Adrien Brody right now. And I can’t even share this obsession with anyone because… he’s kinda niche? Someone please reassure me that I’m just going through a phase because dear God why can’t I stop watching Darjeeling Limited just to see him ahhh.

The story picks up right after the end of Part 1, so I recommend reading that first. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think!

Summary: Following your meeting with Luca Changretta, you face the Shelby family and Tommy's reaction. (2.6k words)

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing

Tag: Let me know if you would like to be added or removed

@anythingwriter, @rrtxcmt, @shut-chan

_____________________________________________________________

You barely make it into your bedroom before he is all over you. The buttons of his crisp, tailored shirt fall like marbles. He moans when you nip the skin of his neck, right over his tattoo of the black cross, legs tangled together like a depraved waltz.

When he grinds into you, you shudder deliciously at the hardness that meets between your bare thighs.

How easy would it be for him to kill you after he fucks you, leaving your corpse twisted in the bedsheets. You know Tommy would find it when he eventually remembers that he has not seen you for days.

“Signorita, you know I come to you with the most honorable of intentions.” He murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts.

“You're not a very honorable man then.” A laugh that turns into a gasp as he trails his hand lower and strokes between your legs. No, not very honorable at all. And pretty soon all thoughts of honor are forgotten as he coaxes a moan from your throat.

His fingers are magic. The cold outline of his onyx rings scald your skin each time he crooks a finger inside you. Knowing exactly what you need, seeking your depths, swirling, rising to rub the clit, all the while exploring the flushed expanse of your body with his other hand.

Shoulder to breasts to hips and back again.

Without meaning to, you’ve let this stranger take control of your entire being. But God, do you crave this pure ecstasy.

It’s as if he wants to know precisely how much you can take before you're undone. So when you clench around his hand and feel the familiar ache he is right there, helping you ride the wave of pleasure, never breaking the rhythm of his thrusting fingers even as you curse, rake your nails down his back.

You almost cry out his name when you come. But you bite into his shoulder instead.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna have to hear you next time.” He growls.

His words barely register as you come down from the high. Aftershocks spark like tiny flames. Now you are wearing his scent as much as he is wearing yours.

“Be inside me,” You whimper, tugging at his soft hair, urging him for more.

He rasps an empty warning, “What's my name, sweetheart?”

Of course. All this time you've never acknowledged you know of his identity. There was no use in trying to hide it now.

“Luca,” you breathe. And his eyes gleam with approval.

With a snap of his hips, he plunges into silky warmth. The fullness stretches you to your limit, head thrown back. It’s good, so good. Every withdrawal of his thrust is a blessing because you know what follows next. It’s him inside you again, wrapping you with his touch and the scent of tobacco and roses.

“Does your Tommy fuck you like this? Like the way I do?”

“He’s not mine.” You choke out, punishing Luca with a bite on the neck that elicits a chuckle rather than a yelp of pain.

He kisses you, your foreheads pressed together. “A damn shame for him.” Soon he starts to quicken his pace, going faster, more erratic, his breathing heavy upon your ears.

Yes, you urge him, come on, now.

And this is your chance. In a flash you roll on top of him, pinning down his shoulders with your hands. He tries to arch up but you stop him with a knee.

“How many men did you bring, Changretta?” You ask, making your voice rough to mask the lust, pressing your hands around his jugular.

It's a pleasure to see him like this. Shocked at your actions, maybe even scared. Naked with want but unable to do anything to relieve it. Unless he tells the truth.

“Fifteen. Why baby, am I not enough for you?” He laughs breathlessly, hands trailing goosebumps along your hips, tracing the contour of your breasts. The jib doesn't hurt you. After all, men have said worse. He tries to surge into you again, and his hot member pulses on your thighs.

“Do you swear on your honor? That you’re telling the truth?” You insist, squeezing him harder. The touch brands his skin as much as it brands yours.

In a voice full of self-mockery he says, “Yes I swear on my honor. Now let me in, clever Isabel.”

You take him in you, the sensations amplify a thousandfold. You try teasing him, going slowly in and out, but soon you are caught up in the sensation of him completely at your mercy and you ride him, faster, until you keen his name, until he too is undone.

****

Through the haze of dawn, he stumbles out of bed and gets dressed. Before he dons his hat once more, Luca leans down to whisper in your ear, as soft as sin.

“You tell Tommy Shelby he may expect a visitor in the night. I'm coming for him as the angel of death. The vendetta has begun…” He kisses your hair.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

The door clicks shut. You rise from your pillow, and a small, hard lump rolls next to your hand.

It is a signet ring of onyx and gold.

****

“So we all get a death letter from the mafia, but Izzy gets jewelry?” Ada huffs as the family filters into the betting shop. As usual, Tommy holds court at the front of the table, brooding over a glass of whiskey. You roll your eyes as Arthur and John try to cover their snort of laughter with a cough.

“If you want it, you can have it, Ada. He’s probably planning on killing me too.”

“Doubt it. You’re not a Shelby, and we’re the ones who killed his father. Well, someone did, to be precise.” She shoots a bitter look at Tommy, who doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Despite Ada’s matter-of-fact tone, the words cut to your heart. Not a Shelby.

It’s not her fault. No one knows you’ve been sleeping with Tommy, not even your dearest friend. It’s a lonely secret to keep, but at least you can look at the family square in the eye and not have to worry about the things they say behind your back. Or worse, pity you.

You can handle the violence and moral ambiguity of Tommy’s business. But to lose the love and respect of the Shelbys would break your heart.

“What was the mafia man like, Izzy?” Finn asks eagerly. It’s obvious the boy is thinking of the dashing, gun-wielding gangsters he’s seen in the pictures.

“He was a wrinkly old brute. Kind of like your arsehole brother Tommy.” A smile to take the edge off the insult. But Tommy only looks off into space. As if he hasn't paid attention to this entire conversation.

Arthur clears his throat. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. It was me who pulled the trigger on his dad, so the blame falls on me.” He pats Linda’s hand even as his voice is heavy with guilt.

“No one’s blaming you Arthur, you weren’t the brains behind the operation, no offense.” Ada says. He is about to say something when Polly cuts in.

“Stop squabbling like children. We’ve all voted for truce, despite everything Tommy’s done to us—” The words nearly having us hanged hover pointedly in the air. “—So let’s focus on the matter at hand." She fixes Tommy with a sharp look.

“What’s the news from Camden Town? Will Solomons help us?”

“No.” He says tiredly. And all of a sudden you feel sorry for teasing him. He look gaunt. There are shadows under his eyes, even more so than usual. Without you to remind him to eat, you can imagine his diet for the past few days consisted more of alcohol and cigarettes than anything substantial.

“Spent three hours on a fucking tour of his bakery and another pretending to drink his piss-poor rum. I think he was trying to get me sloshed so I’d forget what I came for.” Tommy rubs his head.

“He’s refusing to send his men to help. Said he’s not going to go after another oppressed people.”

“Did you tell him the Italians are rounding up Jews in their country as we speak?” Polly asks incredulously.

“Wouldn’t make a difference to Alfie. Besides, that’s just an excuse. He’s really just a fucking coward.”

Polly looks troubled at this, as does the rest of the family. Everyone had been counting on Alfie’s friendship with Tommy, however peculiar, to help them with the vendetta. What they hadn’t expected was his extreme sense of self-perseverance. How are they going to protect themselves now?

“Before everyone panics, I’d like to say something.” Tommy clears his throat, setting down the whisky.

“As you may all know, two nights ago our Izzy encountered Mr. Changretta in the Garrison. He bought her a drink and asked her to deliver an official beginning of the vendetta.” He chooses this time to finally look at you. You hold his gaze until he looks shiftily away.

“We can also assume that he has been scoping out Small Heath, looking for any weaknesses on our turf. Now, Izzy has something to share with you all.”

You stand up uncertainly. The last time a woman other than Polly tried to speak her mind at the table it had been Esme, who still refuses to come to the betting shop unless Tommy is not here.

“While Mr. Changretta was, er, indisposed at the Garrison, I found some items in his coat that I think could be useful.” You fish out a passport and a stack of papers from your skirt pockets.

“Good job, Izzy! Oh, I knew we could count on you more than my idiot brother.” Ada beams.

“Becoming a right little spy, eh?” John ruffles your hair good-naturedly. As everyone gathers around, Polly gives a low whistle.

“Goodness, if this is your definition of an ugly brute, I wonder who’ll really catch your fancy, darling.”

You flush. The documents were obtained shortly after Luca had fallen asleep. It was an exercise in agility, trying to extricate yourself from his tangle of limbs, especially when you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, encased in his warmth.

To your own credit, the papers were highly useful indeed. Some were maps of Birmingham, circles drawn in places where the Shelbys are known to frequent. The Garrison. Charlie’s Yard. The Arrow House. There was also stationary from The Stanton, a hotel just outside of the city.

There had been another piece of paper in the stack, a letter. But you kept that for yourself.

“We all have Izzy to thank for bringing us this valuable information.” Tommy’s voice rises above the chatter. “I will be personally examining all the documents and think of a plan. In the meantime, everyone stay alert, stay armed, and stay together.”

“Now if no one has any further questions, I need to have a private word with her. Alone.”

*****

You twirl the onyx ring around your finger as everyone filters out. It’s much too big but you still wear it anyways. The thick band of gold is comforting in its own way. And despite what you told Ada earlier, you don’t want to give it to anyone else.

Tommy’s curt voice snaps you from your reverie.

“Was it good, then?”

A small muscle tics on the underside of his jaw. His previously blank expression is now cold. The coward in you compels you to feign ignorance.

“What do you mean, Tommy?” You ask lightly.

“Did it feel good to have that fucking wop inside you?”

You burst out laughing. “Christ, Tommy. Did you pick up that word from Alfie? You sound bloody ridiculous when you’re trying to be crass, you know.”

“Don’t fucking change the subject, Isabel.” Tommy snaps.

“Oh, so I’m Isabel, now? You only call me that when you’re trying to get me in bed. Is that what you want? A bit early in the evening if you ask me.”

“What I want for you is to tell me how it felt having that man inside you, inside---”

You blaze with anger. “My sex life is none of your business, even if you are an occasional participant. I did what you would have wanted, and now I’ve got intel on the Changrettas that could save your arse!”

“Do you know how dangerous it could have been? Fraternizing with the enemy is exactly what got us into trouble with the Changrettas!”

“And fraternizing with them again has given us an advantage. We know how many associates he’s brought with him, and where they are staying. Good God,” Your eyes widen as you see the mutinous look on Tommy’s face. “Are you jealous?”

The silence of the room presses in until it's almost palpable. Finally he rubs a hand over his eyes, looking utterly defeated.

“I have no right to.” He says, pained. “But I am, just the same.”

The admission of his feelings would have made your heart soar a few days ago, before you met a man who enchanted you in the Garrison. You only laugh bitterly.

“What makes this different from all those other times you made me seduce the men you wanted to spy on?”

He says nothing. But what else is there to say? The past is in the past, and so many hurts have been caused by the both of you, it would be impossible to untangle it all.

You soften your voice, laying a hand on Tommy's arm.

“Let me continue seeing him. He wants me, and we can use that. You know it will be help, you know it might save us all.”

A breath flutters in your chest as you wait for his decision. If Tommy allows it, you’ll do it in a heartbeat. The Shelbys are your family, whether you're one in name or not.

But if he refuses, then perhaps… Perhaps he might actually care for you, deeper than jealousy, deeper than he admits.

“Very well.” Tommy says finally, and something in your heart shatters. The corners of your mouth curve up in a wobbly smile.

“Thank you for trusting me, Tommy. I won’t let you down.”

“You would never let me down, no matter what you do. Just…Be careful, Izzy.”

He closes the distance between you and enfolds you in a hug. You enjoy this quiet warmth, as fragile as spider's silk. With a small laugh, you pull away, patting his arm before turning to the door.

You don't look back to see if he follows.

#luca changretta #luca changretta smut #luca changretta x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby

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tendousthoughts · 3 years

Text

HQ Boys Thinking Their S/O Left Them Pt. 3

Character(s) included: Oikawa & Kyoutani

Requested by: @chibiiichann

Warning(s): Cursing, Mention of bullying [Oikawa], Mention of flinching [Kyoutani], Hints towards readers tough past [Kyoutani]

Song of the day: Trees II by McCfferty

A/N: First off thanks for 200- I know I said it a lot but I’m just so glad! Next, many of you haven’t seen but I have updated a few things. One of the biggest being my name I go by. At the moment I’m trying out Xic. I also noted my pronouns and stuff. Which you can all find on my announcements post. Now back to some more ‘important’ things [though this is important, this is not why you came here!]. Sorry about the long wait for part three! Please read through the warnings again to make sure everything is okay. Thank you for everything. Bye!

Where to find all the parts!

Where to find all my content!

Tag(s): @chibiiichann & @corporeal-terrestrial

Oikawa

He was at it again. Working late nights and shit. You were happy for him. You were. Of course you were. He was back doing what he loved. He was back playing volleyball. With that happiness also came fear and worry. You knew how he was. Everyone who ever met him, knew how he was. He over worked himself. He always did and scared you. No matter how hard he tried not to. He pushed himself past his limits. Even after the doctor already told him, if he didn’t ease up on the practice, his knee would get even worse. But he was Oikawa Tōru. Determined and intelligent.

It was ten thirty and he already missed your date. Which you expected to happen, but it still kind of hurt. You tried calling for the fifth time that night, but you were met with the same thing. After a few rings it went to voicemail.

“Hey! You’ve reached the voicemail of Oikawa Tōru, thank you for calling! At the moment I’m busy but I promise after I’m done I’ll call you back. If you want, leave me a message and I’ll get back to you. Byeee!”

You waited all night for him to come home around twelve thirty. He looked tired. Extremely tired and to be honest that pissed you off more. Not only did he not respond but he over worked himself again, and when he woke up the next night sore, you were the one who would have to take care of him.

Instead of bringing it up you waited for the morning. Not wanting to have this conversation while he was tired. It would feel like you were talking to yourself, and he wouldn’t understand. So you went to bed with him and by the morning he was already up before you.

You went to the kitchen to find him shuffling through your medication bin. “Are you sore?” You ask, looking at him.

“I’ll be fine, I just need breakfast and some medicine,” he muttered. He couldn’t have cared less. At least that’s what it looked like. He didn’t even spare you a glance.

“Maybe you should listen. You know, lay off volleyball practice for a day or something. Try to lesson the hours and stuff..” You looked back at him for his reaction.

“Can’t. If I ease up I’ll never be able to catch up.” He finally looked to you now, finding the medicine.

“I mean I think you will be fine. It is taking over your whole life and stuff so I just don’t want it to be a bigger issue. Like you know.. with your knees and stuff.” Your eyes are pinned on him.

“I told you not to worry about my knee, and it’s not taking up my life okay? It has and will always be my life. It’s the only thing I’m good at. So no, I'm not going to take a break.” He snapped at you. Which caught you off guard.

“It is… It is taking up your life,” you replied which made his face change.

“You don’t understand how it is like me. You don’t! I understand you don’t have anything you're good at and shit. But you have to understand that I actually have goals in life okay? You have to understand that my fucking life won’t revolve around you and how you feel when I do something. It won’t and never will. You and I are together because I feel like having you around. Because you know what, volleyball is the only thing that distracts me from leaving. Volleyball is the only thing I can do to escape you!” He screamed.

It takes a few seconds for the weight of his words to sink into your skin. But here’s the thing. You knew what you were up against when you started dating him. He just lit a fuse in you. A spark that made an explosion of feelings hit you. When it did you couldn’t control your words. “After all that practice I wondered why you never made it to nationals. I mean seriously. You need a distraction from me, right? Your always doing it, and get you can’t even fucking get to nationals. Not only that but I can see why your last girlfriend left you. You're a dick. You can’t remember a fucking date. A fucking date we have been planning for weeks. Oh wait, let me correct that, a date I’ve been planning for weeks. Not only that but I took my fucking time to work around your schedule. For you not to even send a message.” You spat out. You looked down at him, “I wonder sometimes if everyone was right. You and me. Never belonged. I’m just a distraction from such a ‘handsome’ and ‘kind’ person.”

He looked hurt at first, but then again he started it and intended to finish it. “I can see why your whole family doesn’t talk to you. You always think you're the best or something. Maybe I remembered the date. Have you ever thought of that? Maybe I didn’t wanna hangout with you. Maybe I didn’t want to hear you nagging me every fucking second. You know what? I can see why people fucking hate you. Bully you and shit. Your such a fucking selfish freak.”

“What..?” You looked at him. You told him you were bullied, because you thought of him as your safe space. You thought of him as the only person who understood you. You felt safe when he was around you. You felt understood. To use that against you. To say you deserved it. To say you deserved to get hurt. To get shamed. To get everything that happened to you… it was your fault?

“What are you too dumb to understand?” He laughed at you. Hatred and venom spilling from his lips. “Awe.. look at the baby. You should be grateful I didn't break up with you. You should be thankful because I’m the only reason you're even someone.”

Tears filled your eyes. “God fucking damn it.” You muttered softly. You weren’t going to allow him to take you down. You were stronger then he would ever understand. “You really think anyone wants to hang out with you..? Do you fucking think anyone find you a good person..? Your just a fucking pretty face, okay? Your nothing compared to anyone else on your team. You might not realize it but to be honest sometimes I do want to be set free. Set free from this shitty relationship okay? That’s the truth. Sometimes I get sick of having to take care of you. When your fucking sore before you over works your self again. I am the only one trying to keep you okay. I’m the only one who actually thinks about the long run. No matter how hard you practice in the end you won’t even be able to walk. Let alone play volleyball and shit. You know what sometimes I get sick of being the only fucking one trying to keep us together.”

“Then maybe you should give up okay. Maybe we should finally go our separate ways. I mean after all, you're too easy.” He was hurt. He just blurted out whatever he thought would hurt you the most. Which fucking worked. Before you had said anything more he had left the room, leaving you stunned.

It took a moment but before you knew it you were out of the house, crying and walking the farthest away from your shared house as you could. “Fuck..” you whisper. Did he really not want to be with you..? You should have known. This relationship wasn’t a relationship. You barely talked. You felt alone. So fucking alone.

It took an hour for him to fully cool down. When he walked out of the room he was expecting you to be waiting for him. He was expecting everything to be okay. When he was met with the emptiness. The emptiness of you being actually gone. He was met with the realization that his words were taken just how he thought he wanted them to be.

You on the other hand we’re at the park blasting music in your ears. Forcing the thoughts to be pushed deep down. Forcing you to forget everything. Everything that hurts you. Maybe it would be best if you guys did go your separate ways..? You knew this wasn’t good for your mental health. But fuck that. This was the only thing that made you feel grounded. Made you feel okay. When he wasn’t with you or practicing he was out with friends, drinking and partying. You couldn’t continue to live like this. So maybe it would be best to let go. To give up on everything and everything you loved… your everything was him. You always argued and at this point you felt sick. Thinking about it just broke you. You had no more tears to cry, with your tear stained cheeks you decided to go back. To your home. It was over. Everything you had built up was coming crashing down.

On his side he was freaking out. He knew he was in the wrong. He knew there was no excuse for what he did to you, but what could he say? You were gone already. It took a bit for him to get to the nerve to call you. To his surprise he heard the sound of your ringing phone. So you left it. Maybe you were going to come back. Maybe you will and then everything will be okay again. Maybe everything would be perfect. It was a small chance but that's all he could hold on to.

When you walked in it was quiet, but there were soft whimpers and cries coming from your shared room. Gently you knocked on the door and waited for a response. You were surprised when you immediately heard a stumble and then were met with a hug. Your shoulder almost immediately feels wet to the touch. “Ba.. Oikawa..?” You muttered.

“Please don’t call me that.. please..” He muttered softly. His face buried deep into your clothes.

You kinda ignored his response. “I came back to get my stuff. I took into consideration what you said and I realized that you don’t deserve to be distracted by me all the time..” You whispered softly. “So like you said earlier.. I think it is best if we stop seeing each other.. entirely because I don’t know if I could let you go otherwise..”

His arms tightened around you, “C..can we please talk about it first.. please..” his nightmare was coming true, and maybe it was dumb but he didn’t realize how much he needed you.

“There’s nothing to talk about.. I don’t understand why you want to make it harder on me. I gave you what you wanted okay..? You can practice your heart out and hangout with your friends and stuff okay? You can finally find someone who will fit all your needs. You and I both know that I will never be what you want. So maybe it would be best if we just let go..”

“No… please no.. that’s not what I want.. I want to make it up to you and be there for you and I want to make you happy and I want everything to be perfect. I know I messed up okay? I don’t deserve you and I don’t know what came over me today because you're everything I’ve ever wanted. I know I don’t deserve it and there’s no excuse for what I said or did… I know I should let you find someone better but I love you. I love you so fucking much. I know I’ve been lacking and I want to make up for it. I want to be someone you want to be around again.. I love you so fucking much okay? I should have been there. I shouldn’t have said the things I did. I know I don’t deserve a second chance but please.. just one more.. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He didn’t want to let go of everything.

“I’m sorry too.. you didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry for everything and that’s why I want to let you go. To find someone who will not hurt you like I hurt you.. You and I both know that I can't resist it. I don’t know why you do this to me.. pull me back.. you have one more chance… Please don’t make me regret it. I really love you but this.. this isn’t going to work if we do what we are doing now okay? We will just tear each other more and more apart..” you whispered gently, kissing his head. Your arms finally meet his back as you hold him. “I’m sorry.. but I’ve got you now baby. I love you so fucking much..”

Kyoutani

Kyoutani was the type of person most people would never understand. Not because they were “difficult” or anything.. they just never took the time too. Well other than you. You were different. You understood his outburst and such. But at the same time you were human. There was only so much you could take. There was only so much you would take.

When he came into the locker room you were already waiting for him. He had been thrown out of the game for fighting with a few people. You knew he was frustrated. You could hear the crowd from a mile away shouting to kick him off. It was harsh. Even for ‘mad dog’ which he hated to be called. He hated to be tied to an animal.. and always being an angry reck. Anybody would. But of course nobody understood other than you. When he sat on the bench you immediately rushed over.

“Baby.. I’m sorry.. You didn’t deserve that.. just ignore them, please. I know it’s hard but their not important okay..?” You we’re just trying to comfort him. But there were times when Kyoutani couldn’t control himself. Like any other person when they get looked down at every fucking moment of their lives. When they are ridiculed and laughed at all the time. When they are nothing more than an angry person.. Sometimes there is nothing more to do than be the person everyone so desperately makes you out to be.

“Not important? Not important! I just got fucking kicked from the game because of them chanting to kick me. They didn’t even fucking have the decency to call me by my name. So don’t tell me it’s okay and that their opinion on me doesn’t matter. Because quite frankly their opinion is the only one that matters it seems.” He lashed out.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just that.. it wasn’t entirely their fault. You were arguing with the other team members.” You muttered. It wasn’t meant to do any harm, just for him to keep in mind.

“Are you serious right now.? Nobody else got kicked. Nobody. If they can’t handle a little trash talking, maybe they shouldn’t play a sport. I mean seriously there’s no need for them to tell the referees to kick me.” He started raising his voice when he spoke.

“I know it’s just that.. maybe you should try and not trash talk you know?” You whispered softly, retreating a bit.

“What?” He looked annoyed. “God ducking damn it. How can you be so cute but so fucking annoying. I mean seriously how can someone with such a face be so fucking dumb and so annoying?” His hands were balled into fist

“I..I don’t understand, can you tell me why you act so sweet..? Then so cold the next moment..? You don’t mean it right..? Please say you don’t mean it.” You were worried you loved him but god it was hard. It was hard to respond when your friends asked about your relationship. It was hard when they flaunted their perfect relationship and then asked about yours. Its was so fucking hard.

“Do you think I would say it otherwise..?” He looked at you. He laughed at you as he saw your pitiful expression. God it was almost sickening how much he saw that expression. That expression that nobody else had ever shown him. The one of worry but at the same time already knowing it was coming. He loved it. He loved everything about you. But most of the time you pissed him off. This relationship wasn’t healthy. But for god sake you already started counseling. But fuck this was a bad idea.

Silence. Nothing could come out. You wanted to scream. You wanted to forget this. You wanted it to stop. Everything to stop.

“Answer me.” He punched the wall next to you. Fear spreading all over your face. Fuck. Fuck. Not here. Please no. He gripped your warm face making it so cold in seconds. Forcing you to look at him he laughed at your crying face. But when you didn’t stop for a minute he immediately backed away. He fucked up. He knew he fucked up. “Wait I’m sorry baby..” he muttered.

“Please stop. Please. I won’t do it again.” Flashbacks we’re pulling you way too far out. You were drowning. No one was around to save you. He was laughing as you begged to be saved, pushing you deeper into your own pool of your own thoughts. You were so cold. The next second you were able to move back to the surface.

Realization hit as he stepped back. “I..I am sorry..” he muttered softly as he left the room without another word leaving his mouth. Words were banging on his lips but he knew if he spilled them out everything out it would just hurt you ten times more.

You got up five minutes later, finally pulled back to reality and decided to get up. Grabbing your stuff you walked back into the stadium. Waving a small wave to the rest of his team before exiting. Confusion was read all over as they saw your tear stained face. To be honest, all that was running through your mind was that you didn’t want Kyoutani to break up with you. You didn’t want to be alone, again. You didn’t want to be just another one of his ex’s. So for the better of both of you it would be best to leave him be. To let him cool off.. for him to feel better.

He was freaking out. He fucked up. You. You were his everything, not only that but you were more than just that. You were like a fucking rainbow at the end of a rainy day. You were his partner in crime. You made him feel normal, you made him feel safe, and loved. He couldn’t believe he just put that all in danger. He just put everything on the line because of some stupid game. He hit the wall hard, “fuck me. I’m sorry y/n..” he muttered as he sank to the floor and balled up. Tears burning through his eyes. He did the one thing he promised you that he would protect you from. You became the one thing he was always scared of becoming. He loved you so much, he love you so fucking much.

You left and got into your car. Sinking into your seat you locked the doors, and hit the steering wheel. Taking a deep breath salty tears rolled down your already stained face. Placing the key in and turning it the car started. Next thing you knew you had left wherever you could go. You loved him. So fucking much. But it was hard to be okay when he acted so fucking rough with you. It was hard to stay calm and not imagine your past relationship in this one. You tried. You really did but god it was hard to feel okay, feel okay about everything happening around you. It was too much. So fucking much. It made your head hurt.

When the game ended Kyoutani was still freaking out, now moved back into the lockers. He didn’t know what he was expecting but he knew he hoped you would still be there. God damn it. He fucked up. You had left. You were gone. Tears brimming his eyes as he teammates walked in. Now mentioning it to his teammates their faces seemed to change. More salty fucking tears left his eyes, as he heard about what type of pain you looked like you were in.

You headed back to your shared place. Unsure where else to go. You weren’t close with your family anymore. You had no friends. You had no work buddies. You had nobody but Kyoutani and in turn, now you were left alone with the thought of everything being gone. Ripped right out of your hands as you're forced to watch your whole world come crumbling down on you. You placed your stuff down on the side and laid on the bed. It smelled just like safety. Just like Kyoutani. You just wanted to be held. You just wanted everything to be perfect, again. To be okay at least. You needed him more than anything.

After a night out he finally made it back to your shared place. He didn’t want to be back without you, but you weren’t answering and he didn’t know what else to do. When he walked into the apartment he slowly walked into your shared room. There he saw you. Laying in bed cuddled up in the blankets. Slowly and carefully he walked up. Not wanting to cause you any more hurt. He missed you. Even for a few hours he had felt like he hadn’t seen you in years. But maybe that was because he thought that’s what might have happened. Maybe he thought you had left for good. Maybe he thought he would never have the chance to apologize. Never have the chance to hold you again. When he reached the bed he noticed that you were awake. “Hey y/n..” he muttered softly. The silence was killing him. “I’m so sorry. I know I fucked up. I promised to make you feel safe and protected around me. I made a promise to keep you safe and protected. I broke both of those. I fucked up. I know I did. I lashed out again. I did exactly what everyone says I do. I just get so fucking heated for no reason and I know I shouldn’t and I know I should just relax. But I feel like if I do the worlds would burn though my throat and then it would just explode.. and I know it’s stupid and I know I end up hurting you more. I know that there is no good reason to do that. But I just.. I don’t know. You're the only one that makes me feel normal okay..? I know it’s not fair. I know it’s not. You just make me feel like whenever I’m with you that I’m floating. I just want everything to be okay again. I want everything to be back to normal. I know I should give you space but I missed you so much. I don’t want you to leave, please don’t leave..” he was crying again. He barely had any tears left to cry. He wanted to hold you but he knew it was a stupid idea. “I’m sorry for being so selfish.. but please..”

You never really heard him or saw him crack. But fuck. It hurts you so much. To see him beg for you to stay with him. What were you supposed to do..? Leave him now? That was never even the plan. You didn’t have a plan to be honest. You sat up biting your lip before you gently held him. “Hey baby it will be okay.. calm down I’ve got you.. I’m not going anywhere now. I promise you I’m not going anywhere.” You muttered softly. He melted into your touch. He knew he didn’t deserve it but he felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Shush… I’ve got you.. take a deep breath..” you mumbled softly kissing his head as he took deep breaths. Soon enough he was relaxed in your arms again. “You know and I know that I love you so much. But there’s a line between where I can take it and I can’t. I understand you get frustrated but I don’t deserve to be treated like that. I don’t deserve to be scared of being hit.. and I know we both know that. I try to be understanding but you need to try to be too okay..? I love you so much.. more than you might believe but Kyoutani I can’t handle being in a relationship with you if you're constantly annoyed or angry with me. I think we deserve to be happy.. and if that means needing to take a break then we would have to okay? You need to work on communicating. I know it can be hard.. but please..” you whispered. Tears flowing down your soft skin again. It was getting a lot. So it would be best if you told him… you needed him to understand.

He gently shook his head. He understood. He knew he was in the wrong. He knew he was lucky for you to be holding him.. for him to even still be in a relationship with you let alone it be still a romantic one. He loved you and he knew you didn’t deserve anything that he put you through. In the end all that mattered was you in his eyes. He was going to change.. he was. “I promise.. thank you y/n..” he whispered softly. Gently he wrapped his arms around you. “I love you so much..” he muttered. Everything would be okay.. he knew it was going to be now. All that mattered was that you were safe. That you were happy.. that you were in his arms again.

Follows and likes are appreciated! Please reblog if you enjoyed it, so more people can find my work! Thank you all for your support! Stay safe, and have a good rest of your day!

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atelliernana · 2 years

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Steve Aoki ft. BTS

Reposting because it ain’t showing in the tags 😩

Again, the Atelier gifts this potion to @osamusriceballs and @134340am to celebrate its opening.

————————————————————————————

“Why not?”

“Hm?”

“Why won’t you date me?”

“Should there be a reason? Shouldn’t me saying no be enough reason?”

“Well of course your no is enough. Just a little bit’s enough”

“What the-?”

“Just give me a reason by Pink featuring someone with a foreign name i can’t pronounce nor remember. You like listening to English songs, that’s how you learn to speak it.”

“How did you know that?”

“You mentioned it when you tutored me for our English final”

“But that was a year ago”

“Yeah and i like you”

“Ughh Miyaaa!”

“What?! I thought we were stating facts.”

Taking in the astonished (and blushing!) look of his female companion, Miya Atsumu sported his infamous smirk. ‘Ohhh yeah! Atsumu -1, y/n-0”

“Listen y/n, I value and respect your decision to reject me but i just wanna understand why. I don’t wanna go on in life wondering why you rejected me, especially if the reason is something i can control.”

“Then let me return the question on you, why do you like me?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m leaving”

“Wait! Wait! Jeez, you’re not very patient are you? It might be your smile. Or your kindness that knows no limits. The very same kindness that should make you a pushover but your wittiness and sassiness also knows no bounds. Maybe its the way you randomly space off and just stares into oblivion. Or the way your eyes shine bright and you get really excited when your reading those books you like. Or the way you hum and sing the lyrics of random songs in the middle of an exam. I don’t know y/n. I really don’t know. Somehow I got sat next to you in class and the next thing I know, i’m thinking about you and all the stupid little things you do.”

“They’re not that stupid.”

“They are a little bit. Stop pouting and answer my question please. Why won’t you date me?”

This time the usually witty student took their time to respond. The blond setter just poured his heart out and gave them what they believe to be a very sincere answer. Its only right that they gave him a proper a similarly sincere response. With a sigh, they begin

“Miya, you’re a great guy. You’re focused and you’re unbothered. You’re also hard working and not to mention great, if not the best, in your sports. I know anyone would be very happy to be in the receiving end of your feelings”

“But?”

“But romantic relationships are not on the top of my list right now. Call it bullshit or whatever but its just a waste of time, i mean we’re in high school how long can love last at this stage?”

“Waste it on me”

“Huh?”

“If love is nothing more than just a waste of your time, waste it on me”

‘Cute pikachu meme face. Another score for Miya’

“Was that-?”

“Waste it on me by Steve Aoki featuring BTS? Why yes it is. Its the song you’ve been humming to on last week’s chem quiz. Took me a while to find it but i did. Its a cute song, video was funny too. If me researching the songs you sing and hum to while learning about all the damn books you read is not enough testament of how serious I am then maybe 2 tickets to the BTS fanmeet on Osaka will be enough. So how about it, sugar?”

“Are you bribing me to date you?”

“Desperate times calls for desperate measure”

“No.”

“Oh come on!”

“I won’t be bribed with BTS tickets but you can take me out tomorrow for lunch. You don’t have practice during weekends, right?”

“Whhhaa??? Really??!”

“You had me on the waste it on me reference. Very clever and not to mention such a quick retort. Color me impressed”

“Hah! Knew it. You can’t resist my charms”

“Whatever Miya. Pick me up by 11:30”

“Roger that, Captain!”

Turning back and walking away, the setter almost missed the blush and smile on his classmate’s face. Almost. ‘What a cutie’

Extra:

Later that night, the younger grey-haired Miya decided to move to their guest room as he idiotic brother has not stop playing music despite his protests of trying to sleep.

“Shut it Samu, tonight we will repay BTS for their blessings!”

Atsumu is a freaking idiot, he thinks.

#miya atsumu fluff #miya atsumu scenarios #miya atsumu #miya twins #atsumu x you #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu x you #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #hq fluff #hq scenarios #hq #hq writing #my blog sweat and tears #please work #atsumu fluff

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navalcriminalimagines · 3 years

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Taken & Found - 1

Request 1: Hey there! I'd really like to see a comforting Gibbs after the reader was kidnapped?

Request 2: Could ya do something with the reader being kidnapped and tortured in captivity for a long time and after she was rescued and came back Gibbs tries to get her to talk about what happened to her so he can figure out how to help/comfort her?

Request 3: May I request something with Gibbs and scared reader? Maybe they’re like trapped somewhere or she’s going under for a surgery? You can decide reader’s fate!

This is a two-part fic. This part is basically full angst, focused on Gibbs and the comforting, healing focus on Reader will come in the second part. I wanted to separate both.

Pairing: Gibbs x Reader

TW: angst, kidnapping, mention of suicide, depression, slight alcoholism

Words count: 3k

Tags: @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @madamsnape921 @specialagentastra @ncisfan @zetasaturno99

She was supposed to be thirty-five years old today.

And it was one of those very rare days Gibbs didn’t want to get out of bed.

He spent the night working on his boat in the basement, thinking about what his life would be if anything had happened. But he would never know, would he? No matter how bad he wished Shannon and Kelly weren’t dead, how bad he wished you were here with him… all of this happened. And he found himself alone in his basement.

Well, not entirely alone. He had a bottle of bourbon to keep him company, and Fraser, an old black labrador. Your old black lab. Your furry baby, as you used to say.

You rescued it when it was just a puppy, a couple of years before you joined NCIS. So, Gibbs has always known you with this loving thing. At some point, you would even take him to the office and Fraser’s favorite spot was under Gibbs’s desk.

Gibbs never wanted to get attached to the dog. Fraser wasn’t his, it was yours and he respected that. But somehow, you both made your way to his heart.

But only Fraser was still here.

Taking a sip of bourbon directly out of the bottle, his eyes landed on your pet, curled up in the armchair Gibbs put here years ago after you made a remark. “You know, you should put something down here. An armchair or something for people who visit.” You said, while caressing the wood with your fingertips. God did he wish he was the boat at this very moment.

“People who visit never stick around.” He answered, sternly.

“I stick around,” you grinned.

Indeed, you did stick around. A lot. Probably too much.

Would’ve saved him the heartbreak if you didn’t.

A week later, an armchair was down his basement.

With the bottle still in his hand, Gibbs sat next to Fraser and started to toy the blankie. Well, technically, it was not a blankie. It was a tee-shirt. One of yours. The one you left at his house, two years ago.

The top, representing one of your favorite bands, was destroyed now. Fraser chewed it, curled against it nonstop for two years, it was now just some cotton with dog’s hair on it. It didn’t have your smell anymore, it had Fraser’s, but Gibbs never had the strength to take it away from the dog to wash it.

He never had the strength to do much after you disappeared.

When it was clear to the team that you had been taken, kidnapped, abducted or whatever, Gibbs searched for you for weeks, probably mouths. He still does, to be honest, just not 24/7 anymore.

The first weeks, he asked - or actually, ordered - Abby to take care of Fraser. Gibbs was spending all of his time away, looking for you, he couldn’t take care of someone - well, a living thing. The lab tech happily obliged, but Fraser’s health quickly deteriorated. The dog wasn’t eating, or drinking. All he did was lay on the floor, waiting for his mum to come back.

“What, Abby? I don’t—“ not a welcoming way to answer the phone but she didn’t hold it against him.

“I know you’re busy, Gibbs, but I’m taking Fraser to the vet. He’s not okay at all.”

Abby heard her boss taking a deep breath. “Which vet? I’ll be here as soon as I can.”

The dog was clearly letting himself die. Without you, he didn’t see the point of living and Gibbs understood that. If he told anyone what he did after he got Fraser from the vet, they would think he was crazy. Maybe he was, but he didn’t care at this point. He didn’t care about anything, anymore.

Fraser was depressed and there was nothing the vet could do about it. So, they let Gibbs take him home.

And he took him home. His real home; your apartment. Fraser immediately lay on your bed and cried. “You’re reading my mind, Fra.” Gibbs muttered to himself, while preparing a bowl for the pet.

Gibbs had been in your room a few times, but he never paid attention to your stuff. All his attention was on you and your body when it happened. But as he was sitting on the floor, his back against your bed, he allowed himself to take a look around. It was very much you. Minimalist with your touch. He saw your guitar, your messy wardrobe, candles and some Polaroid pictures of people you love. Gibbs never paid attention to those pictures until this moment and one grabbed his attention.

A picture of him. You could see him from afar, aiming to throw a ball. He remembered that night but he never knew you took a picture.

Ziva had invited him to throw a few balls on a baseball field. It was a nice summer night and they had just saved many people from getting blown up. It was also the first night you kissed him. In his basement, you teased him like you always did and ended up with your lips on his. He wasn’t ready for it at that moment, and when he realised what had happened, you were already gone.

Gibbs held the picture in his hand and before sitting back exactly where he was, he went to the kitchen, grabbed what he had prepared and came back.

Fraser was still laying on your bed, his face on your pillow. Gibbs carried him in his arms, the labrador didn’t even fight back or anything. He put him in front of the bowl and Gibbs sat across. “You wanna die, Fra, huh?” The dog looked at him with horrifying sadness in his eyes. “You and me both, buddy. So let’s do this.”

Gibbs put the picture next to the bowl and grabbed his gun and the bottle of whiskey. “I know you know that salmon. Eat it, choke, and when you take your last breath, I’ll pull the trigger.” He said, pressing the gun against his temple.

Fraser is deadly allergic to salmon. When he was a few months old, you fed him some and the reaction was almost instantaneous. Luckily, you took him to the vet right on time for them to save him. “Salmon is banned from the house.” you said on the ride home.

The dog didn’t move one bit. With his face still resting on the floor, he kept looking at the man. Gibbs swore he saw tears in the damn dog’s eyes. “So? Whatcha waiting for? Eat it. It’s good salmon, trust me.” He said, drinking the brown liquor.

If Fraser could talk, he would’ve told him; ‘I may let myself die, but you’re damn crazy.’ Which would’ve been fair.

Gibbs was going crazy. It was the last straw. The last punch in the guts he could take. He had reached his limit.

He was finally letting himself love again and get loved in return. And someone took that away from him. All over again.

He got it, the universe hates him for some reasons. Why would he keep pushing it then?

Gibbs stayed up all night, drinking and waiting for Fraser to eat the fish and die. So he could pull the trigger and end this once and for all.

But Fra never did. Instead, around 5am, the dog went to grab something from the bathroom and put it on Gibbs’ lap. It was one of his hoodies. A hoodie you stole from him. Gibbs buried his nose in it and he could smell you. For the first time in many years, he let himself cry. He cried like a fucking baby, under the watch of your fucking dog.

At some point, he felt that Fraser was trying to nudge his nose in the hoodie too. “We’ll find her, Fra. We have to.”

If Gibbs had killed himself, along with Fraser, it would’ve meant you were gone forever. Because eventually, people would’ve stopped looking for you. They would’ve stopped thinking about you and just pretended you’re dead.

But Gibbs knew you weren’t dead. He knew it deep inside him. Because if you were dead, Fraser would’ve eaten the salmon and he would’ve pulled the trigger.

Laying in his bed, Gibbs turned on his side and found himself face to face with Fraser. The dog was sleeping and snoring. That’s what he does most of his time. Fra was still depressed, but he didn’t let himself die anymore. He eats and drinks the bare minimum. He doesn’t play anymore though. He used to be a happy, playful and loving dog. Now he’s just laying around, waiting for you to come back.

Just like Gibbs.

They both lost weight. Gibbs didn’t even bother to look at himself in the mirror anymore. He hadn’t been to the hairdresser in a while. His hair was longer than it has never been, and his beard was prominent now. You would probably freak out if you saw him like this. You would order him to shave and get his marine haircut back. You would feed him - and Fraser - until they are full. He just wished you were here.

He reached for Fraser’s head and pet him for a moment. “The boat is done and I can’t even offer it to her.” He sadly whispered. It’s been his plan a long time before you were gone. Building a boat after and for you. Now it was your thirty-fifth birthday, the boat was fucking done but he coudn’t teach you how to operate it like he promised.

For the next two weeks, Gibbs would stay in the basement, and stare at the finished product. There was nothing left to do on it, so he just sat behind the wheel, files on his lap and bourdon in one hand. His use of alcohol has never been higher than it is now. You’d scold him if you knew.

Maybe he’s self-destructing, hoping you’d show up and make everything right again. It was stupid, since you didn’t leave on your own. You were taken. Someone took you, and god knows what they were doing to you. This awoke a rage he never knew he had. He’d kill that - or those - person with his bare hands if he ever has a chance.

A month after your birthday, Gibbs was basically falling asleep in his boat, relatively drunk. Fraser was on his lap - he doesn’t realise he’s not a puppy anymore - when the dog shot his head up. “Easy, that’s just Fornell.” Gibbs mumbled, recognizing his friend’s footsteps.

“My two favorite depressed boys.” Tobias greeted them. He gently patted Fraser’s head and looked at his friend. “I need you to sober up, Gibbs. We need to talk about something important.”

“Just say whatever you have to say. I’m not that drunk.”

“Yeah, right.” Tobias grabbed the bottle from Gibbs’s hand and checked how empty it was. But Tobias knew only one thing would make him react, so he went straight to the point. “It’s about Y/N, Gibbs. Get your ass—“

Before the FBI agent could finish his sentence, Gibbs had practically thrown Fraser away. The poor dog looked at him with hurt in his eyes. It was only then that Gibbs saw the file his friend was holding against his chest. He didn’t think twice and tore it out of his grip. Tobias let him.

There wasn’t much in the file, just a picture.

A picture of you.

You looked different, thinner, your hair was shorter and in a completely different color. You looked like a homeless woman.

Gibbs’s jaw dropped. His head was spinning so fast, he needed to sit again. He touched the picture with his fingertips so softly, hoping it was like touching you. A lot of things were going through his mind at this moment, he actually drew a blank. “It was taken two days ago. In Wyoming.”

Gibbs didn’t need more.

Tobias had everything planned before he showed up at Gibbs’s place. One of the FBI private planes was waiting for them, in order to take them off to Wyoming. He had asked Emily if she could dogsit Fraser for a few days, and he even called Vance to let him know he was taking Gibbs with him.

In the plane, he told Gibbs how he came across this picture and all of the info he had, which wasn’t much to be honest. As far as they knew, you were in one city of Wyoming two days ago. Maybe you were gone by now.

But all Gibbs could focus on was that picture. He didn’t take his eyes off it since he opened the file. This was you. You were alive. Whatever happened, whatever the reasons you found yourself here, you were fucking alive.

Tobias looked at his friend. He’ll spend the rest of his life pretending he didn’t see the tear rolling down his cheek. “How you feeling?” He tentatively asked.

“I—I don’t know. It’s a lot.”

“She’s alive. We know it. We’ll find her.”

“I’ve always known she was alive.”

No doubt he did.

It was hard for Tobias to tame Gibbs after they landed. The agent was already barking orders at everybody and anybody, he was ready to organize a fucking manhunt to find you. But the first place they went was where the picture was taken. Gibbs spent hours in the area, while Tobias went to see the local cops. When he tried to check on Gibbs, the man never answered.

In the picture, you were looking at the surveillance camera. You knew you were being watched. You did it on purpose, Gibbs was sure of it. You must have left a clue somewhere around.

You looked scared, someone must have been following you. But he knew from what Tobias said; there wasn’t much more on the video. You were briefly seen and then disappeared, again. “Talk to me, Y/N.” Gibbs thought to himself while looking around.

It was only around noon that it hit him. He finally saw it.

Right there on the graffiti wall.

“Born to lose, live to win.”

Your handwriting. This sentence. Your tattoo.

You must have written this to let him know he should look at this wall. So he did. He studied those graffitis for a long moment, until he saw what he needed to see.

Numbers. GPS coordinates.

He called McGee, not paying attention to the missed calls he had. He gave him the coordinates and Tim gave him an address.

Was that it? The nightmare was finally over? He would go to this address, find you and take you home. Finally.

Fucking finally.

He felt dizzy while running to the address. It wasn’t that far away, and there was no way he’d wait for Fornell or a cab. So, he jogged to this fucking house. When he was standing in front of it, his heart was beating so fast, he thought it would stop.

But he couldn’t die now. He would die after he found you but not now.

He didn’t care about procedures or anything. He grabbed his gun, and let himself in the house by knocking out the door. A man was sitting there, on the couch.

The house was pure filth. The man seemed to be a bit younger than him, and he looked like a psychopath. Which he is, considering he took you.

The man was standing in his living room, his hands up as Gibbs pointed the gun at him. In a flash, Gibbs was standing right in front of the man, the gun pressed against his throat. The man looked scared, he didn’t even try to fight. “What the hell, man? Who are you? What do—“

“Shut your mouth. Where is she?” Gibbs asked, suppressing the urge to beat the man to death right now. That would come later. He needed to find you first.

“Who? There’s no—“

Gibbs’s knee hit him right in his crotch and that bastard fell on the floor. “You’re living the final hour of your life, you better tell me where the hell is Y/N, before I watch life leaving your fucking eyes.”

“I—I—“

Seeing his hesitation, Gibbs punched him. “Where?!” He yelled, but the man stayed silent. “Fine.”

Gibbs grabbed the guy by his collar to put him back up. He was physically impressive, but the adrenaline running through Gibbs’s veins gave him incredible strength. He threw him on the first chair he saw and immediately cuffed him to it. He punched him once more, harder this time.

His nose and lips were bloody, but of course it wasn’t enough. Gibbs fought a lot in his life. To defend himself or to arrest someone, but never, had he been filled with that much rage and anger. He didn’t think twice before his boot hit the man directly in his face, knocking him unconscious. He stared as the man fell on the floor along with the chair he was cuffed to.

He needed to find you. Right now.

No need to be a federal agent to know a psychopath would hold you captive somewhere private.

So he immediately looked for a basement, which he quickly found and he saw the door.

A reinforced door with quite a few locks. Keys. He needed keys that he found in the man’s pocket. Although he was still laying on the floor, fighting to regain consciousness, Gibbs kicked him again, in the stomach this time. He wasn’t holding back his strength one bit. He will kill him anyway.

As he was unlocking the door, his hands were shaking like they never did before. His heart was still pounding in his chest. He still felt dizzy.

He was sure his heart actually stopped when he spotted you on the one-person bed. You were holding your knees against your chest. It was dark, but it was you. You were there, a few feet in front of him. He didn’t even know what to do.

But you did.

When you realised who was standing in front of you, you weakly jumped off the bed and rushed into his arms.

The only thing that kept you alive all this time; knowing that he would find you.

You felt even smaller than you already were. With your arms wrapped around his waist, your face buried in his chest, Gibbs felt you crying.

He slowly wrapped his arms around you, afraid it wasn’t real. Afraid he may hurt you. Afraid you would disappear again. “You found me.” he heard you whispering.

That he did.

#jethro gibbs imagine #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs x reader #agent gibbs #jethro gibbs #gibbs x reader #gibbs #ncis fiction #ncis fanfic #ncis fanfiction #ncis

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criminalmindzjunkie · 4 years

Text

The Reward of Suffering

next chapter

Summary: A retelling of the events of season 12 episode 13.

Gif credit to the wonderful and talented @imagining-in-the-margins

A/N: After several months of contemplation, I have finally decided to post part one of my first ever fic on Tumblr! This fic will follow the event of Spencer’s prison arc, so needless to say there will be SPOILERS. This first part is super long, but I felt that it needed to be in order to set up the plot. I hope you all enjoy reading! If you would like to be tagged on future updates, let me know!

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem! Reader

Warnings: no smut (yet), mentions of past frug use, cursing, typical CM case talk

Word count: 12.1k

“Reid is in jail.”

I felt the color immediately drain from my face and an intense feeling of dread began to wash through my body. I sat up in my chair, back ramrod straight. I briefly looked towards the faces of my teammates, Luke and JJ to my left and Penelope to my right. Their faces were all contorted, displaying varying degrees of shock and confusion. It was hard for any of us to process what we were hearing. The idea of Spencer Reid, the same Spencer who wore a mask to the office on Halloween and put on elaborate magic shows for everyone’s children, doing anything that would warrant being put behind bars was preposterous.

Surely, this is all just a big misunderstanding.

“Jail?” Penelope squeaked out. My eyes flitted to her, taking note of the way her eyebrows were drawn together in disbelief. She was thinking the same thing I’m sure we all were; that there was no way Spencer Reid had engaged in any illegal activity. Spencer was a well-educated, highly regarded FBI agent, for Christ sake. He knew the laws of the land better than any of us.

“In Mexico.”

My attention focused solely on Emily. In the few weeks since I had come to know her, I had begun to look at her not only as a sort of fearless leader, but also as a kind of fiercely loyal friend that I was incredibly lucky to have. Emily somehow managed to find the perfect balance between being accommodating and stern. She was the kind of boss you could have a drink and cut up with after a long day, but she also carried herself in a way that demanded the utmost respect in the workplace. Emily Prentiss’s bravery was unmatched, and I admired her for that.

It shook me to my core when her eyes met mine and I saw the pure, unbridled fear in them. If Emily was scared, then this must be leagues worse than we could have ever imagined.

“What the hell is he doing down there?” JJ asked, crossing her arms and shuffling from one foot to the other.

“I don’t know. I didn’t talk to him. The call came in to Cruz from their lead investigator.”

Luke was the next to chime in. “What’s he being held for?”

“Drug possession,” Rossi said, before taking on, “with intent to distribute.”

For the second time that day, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. Images of Spencer sitting across from me in a dimly lit coffee shop, tripping over his words as he confided in me, spilling his deepest and darkest secrets in a voice barely above a whisper. His voice had grown stronger as he neared the end of his story and he had dug deep in his satchel, producing a small golden coin. We both had tears in our eyes as we looked at the writing engraved into the coin; unity, service recovery. Spencer Reid was ten years sober, and the pride on his face was as clear as day.

There was no way he would throw all of that away.

“What type of drugs?”

“Cocaine and heroin,” Rossi said, his voice shaky.

Rossi and Spencer had always had a good relationship. Spencer had admired his work long before he met him, having read and reread every book he had ever published. It had delighted Spencer that he and Rossi had managed to develop rapport so quickly. Rossi was the only one talented enough at the game of chess to even think of giving Spencer a run for his money, though many of us had tried. In one of many hushed conversations shared on the jet, he had once told me that he had begun to think of Rossi as somewhat of a father figure; he didn’t quite fill the role in the same way Gideon had, but Spencer was thankful just the same. One look at Rossi’s troubled expression was enough to tell me that the feelings were definitely mutual.

“Oh my God. This can’t be happening.” JJ was positively crestfallen, clutching a hand against her own chest in an attempt to ground herself. Her other hand came up to her face as she absentmindedly pushed her hair away.

“We need Lewis and Walker here, ASAP,” Emily directed her order and Penelope, who was quick to comply.

Everyone sprang into action, but I found myself unable to move, weighed down by the deeply unsettling circumstance. It felt as if I was no longer in my own body, like I was watching everything unfold from an outsider’s perspective. Maybe I am, I thought. Maybe this is all just some horrible nightmare. Any second now, my alarm will go off and this will all be over.

I waited and waited for my alarm to sound, but that never happened. Instead, Emily crouched down in front of me, grasping my arm firmly in her right hand.

“I know how devastated you must be. Trust me, I do,” she sympathized, her deep brown eyes boring into my own. “But Reid’s going to need you now more than ever. You’re his best friend and you know him better than anyone. Did he ever mention to you that he was going to Mexico?”

I shook my head numbly, my motions feeling alien and stilted.

“Never. He told me the same thing he told you; that he was going to Houston for a few days to meet with his mother’s doctor,” I whispered. I feared that if I raised my voice any higher, tears would begin to fall. Maintaining my composure was becoming harder with every passing second, and I wasn’t exactly privy to breaking down in front of my boss. “I guess I don’t know him as well as I thought.”

Emily sighed, letting go of my arm before straightening up.

“Apparently, none of us did. But I know damn well that this has to be a mistake. We’ll get him out of this.”

The apprehension in her voice told me that even she wasn’t sure we could pull this one off.

“This has got to be Scratch,” Tara stated, her voice wafting through the speakers of Luke’s laptop. Emily, Rossi, Luke and I were currently in the jet, on our way to the jail where Spencer was being held. All of us were huddled close together around the computer, listening on with eager ears. “He was laying low, and now we know why.”

“Crossing the border as a fugitive is a huge risk,” Luke pointed out.

“The reward is even greater. He’s been punishing the team, and now his target is Reid.” Emily’s voice was full of frustration and contempt.

“Peter Lewis dropped off the map after attacking Tara’s family,” Stephen chimed in. Not even his deep baritone voice could do anything to calm my frazzled nerves. “Maybe he’s been hiding in Mexico this whole time.”

“We also have to consider that it isn’t related to him,” I murmured. Several pairs of eyes locked on me, shocked. I had been uncharacteristically quiet since this whole ordeal began, limiting my responses to one word replies and hums of acknowledgement. On a normal day, I’d be throwing in my two cents any time I saw fit. Today, I was struggling just to keep breathing.

“Who else would it be?” Rossi asked.

“Drug cartels. Could’ve threatened Reid and used him as a mule.” Saying his name was painful, because it reminded me that we weren’t just talking about a victim with whom we had no personal ties; we were talking about our colleague and beloved friend.

“Agreed,” Rossi nodded. “This could simply be a case of bad luck. Reid was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Spencer’s mom is okay.” JJ’s announcement was like music to my ears. I let out an audible sigh of relief. “The home nurse he hired said all is stable.”

“How long did he tell the nurse he’d be gone?”

“Three days.”

“That sounds reasonable. After the Palm Springs case, Reid said he had to get back to Houston to talk to his mom’s doctor,” Emily interjected. I nodded along in agreement. He’d told me the same thing when I talked to him the night before last.

The fatigue in his voice had alerted me to the fact that things hadn’t been going so well with his mother. Her condition had been rapidly deteriorating in the recent months, prompting Spencer to make the tough decision to remove her from the assisted living facility she was at and into his own apartment. His main argument had been that no one could possibly take better care of his mother that him; that he was familiar with her condition and how best to respond when she had an episode. When I had asked him how he was handling it all, he was quick to reassure me that it was not anything he couldn’t handle.

Spencer’s loyalty ran deep; so deep that I knew he would do anything in his power to take care of Diana, but I’d never imagined that it would land him in fucking jail.

“Well, Houston is only a five-hour drive from the border,” Tara mused. “The question is, why did he go down there?”

“And why does he have narcotics?” Rossi was the first to speak on what was at the forefront of everyone’s mind.

“Yeah, exactly. He wouldn’t… He wouldn’t do that. Those drugs were planted on him,” Penelope insisted.

“Absolutely, but there’s something bigger in play. That’s why he crossed the border and kept it a secret. There’s something he didn’t want to share with any of you.”

I cringed at Stephen’s choice of wording. Spencer and I were as close as two people could be, and there was nothing I withheld from him. He knew everything about me, every dark and embarrassing thought that had ever crossed my mind; yet, he accepted me just the same. I had always assumed that it went both ways, that he was just as honest and forthcoming with me as I was with him. It hurt to know that there were things he kept from me, secrets that he felt he couldn’t trust me with.

But most of all, it absolutely gutted me to think that he was dealing with something so horrible that it landed him in jail, and he that he had to do it all alone.

“Okay, so what would make him risk everything?” Emily pondered aloud.

“His mom.” My answer was instantaneous.

A ping sounded from the other end of the video call, and we all leaning in, our interest piqued.

“Cruz just sent me the arresting report,” Penelope announced, clicking away at her computer before continuing. “It says here that Reid was involved in a high-speed chase.”

“What?” I choked out, my voice coming out several pitches higher than usual. “Spencer hardly ever drives.” I could feel my stomach begin to churn, bile threatening to force its way up my esophagus. This isn’t right, I wanted to scream. Our Spencer would never get himself involved in something that would put himself or others at risk.

“None of this sounds like him,” Penelope whispered, her thoughts mimicking my own. “It says he was wearing jeans and a baseball cap and that he was really confused. According to the arresting officer, he was really high on something.”

Unity, service, respect; ten years sober. All down the fucking drain.

I shot up from my seat, bolting down the walkway and into the bathroom. I immediately fell to my knees, barely managing to push my hair out of the way before retching into the toilet bowl. I continued like this for several minutes, only pausing momentarily when I felt large, soothing hands running up and down my back. Soft murmurings of reassurance alerted me to the fact that it was Luke who was sitting with me. I let out a strained ‘thank you’ before another wave of nausea hit me, rendering me speechless. Luke held my hair back, never once leaving my side.

When I had thrown up the entirety of my breakfast and all I could do was dry heave, I slumped back against the wall, relishing in how cool it felt against my flushed skin. A stretch of silence passed before he decided to break it.

“That was an extreme reaction,” Luke pointed out, still sitting in the floor with his legs crisscrossed. I noticed how closely he was watching me, his eyes focused on reading my expressions. He was profiling me, that much was obvious. It was an unspoken rule between us all that we would never profile one another, but any fight I had left in me had long since dissipated.

“He worked so hard to get clean, Luke. I wasn’t around when it happened, but he told me about it. He was so proud of himself,” I whispered. My throat was now raw and my voice came out more than a little bit hoarse.

Luke’s eyebrows came together, confusion clear on his face.

“Get clean? What are you talking about?”

I let out a shuddery breath. It felt wrong to divulge information on Spencer’s personal life; like I was betraying his trust. Given the circumstance, I supposed he wouldn’t mind, but it still felt treacherous and left a bad taste in my mouth. Sorry, Spence.

“Ten years ago, Reid was kidnapped by an unsub with DID. He kept him in a remote cabin for several days, alternating between beating him senseless and shooting him full of so much hydromorphone that he couldn’t remember his own name. At one point, he even,” I trailed off, hot tears spilling out of my eyes and running down my cheeks. Luke took my hand in his in an act of reassurance, his way of telling me not to rush. Luke hadn’t been with us for long, and our interactions thus far hadn’t gone much farther than conversations about work. Seeing the way he was offering himself up to me as a confidant and shoulder to cry on made me feel guilty for ever having written him off.

Thank God for Luke Alvez.

After a long pause, I managed to continue. “Spencer ended up having a seizure and he died for several minutes. The unsub’s more benevolent personality, Tobias, was able to resuscitate him. Eventually Spencer was able to take him down, but the trauma mixed with the exposure to such a highly addictive drug led to him developing a dependence on it.”

Luke swore and ran a hand through his hair.

“I never would’ve guessed it. The kid carries himself so well.”

A small, fond smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

“He’s amazing, really. He detoxed all by himself and started going to NA meetings. This past October marked ten years. We celebrated by going to one of those really fancy museums he likes and he insisted on taking the guided tour so that he could see how many errors the guide would make,” I let out a light laugh at the memory. “Every time they’d get something wrong, he’d lean down whisper the correct information so that only I could hear it. I don’t think I’d ever seen him that happy,” I reminisced, allowing myself to forget about the current situation for the tiniest of moments. I wondered if I’d ever get to experience a day like that with Spencer ever again.

“You two are close, I take it?”

I nodded. Luke had fit in with the group so seamlessly that I had forgotten that he had only been with us for a short time. He didn’t really know the dynamics of everything yet.

“He’s my best friend.”

Luke hummed, and I could feel his eyes looking at me inquisitively.

“And that boyfriend of yours, he doesn’t mind?” Okay, maybe Luke was a little bit more perceptive than he let on.

Gavin and I had begun dating at the end of my first year with the BAU. He and I had meet in the most cliché of ways; bumping into each other in the cereal aisle at the grocery store. Gavin was more than a little bit handsome, but what had reeled me in had been the way he taken one look at the box of cereal in my cart and immediately scrunched his nose up in disgust.

“Plain Cheerios? Are you some sort of masochist, or something?” he had asked, a playful lilt to his voice. Normally, if a strange man had approached me in public, I would’ve been quick to express my disinterest. If my job had taught me anything, it was that a woman being approached by a strange man was a recipe for trouble. But something about him seemed wholly unthreatening, and I couldn’t help but laugh at his forwardness, raising an eyebrow at him.

“As if your choice is any better. Lucky Charms? What are you, six?”

“Don’t even go there. Lucky Charms are magically delicious, thank you very much,” he sniffed, feigning superiority. “And if we’re touching on the subject of age, the only person I know that eats plain Cheerios is my eighty-six-year-old grandmother. You look a bit young to be worrying about heart health, and I refuse to believe that you actually enjoy the taste, so what gives?”

“First of all, I find it concerning that you are so familiar with cereal slogans,” I breezed, leaning against my shopping cart. “Second, I am curious; do you make it a habit to harass people about their cereal preferences?”

“Only if they’re cute.”

And that had been that. Several dates later he had asked me to be his girlfriend over a dinner he had attempted to make himself. I said yes and he kissed me, nearly knocking over his plate of burnt chicken parmesan in the process.

“We, uh, have an understanding. He knows that Spencer and I are just good friends.”

Gavin and I did have an understanding, but it wasn’t a very solid one. In fact, I was sure that he damn near despised Spencer’s very existence. He had done a good job at hiding it for a while, but after coming home one night from an impromptu movie night with Spencer, he had revealed to me that he had a jealous streak a mile long. I reassured him that there was absolutely nothing that he needed to worry about, but I could tell he didn’t believe a word of it. Gavin had out flat demanded that I cut all ties with Spencer, and I had laughed in his face.

“I’m not the kind of girl that likes to be told what to do. Either you learn to live with him being a part of my life, or you can find someone else to boss around, because I can tell you right now, that won’t fly with me.”

My threat had proven to be effective, and he had apologized, and that had been the end of that. He still wasn’t fond of the idea that Spencer and I were such close friends, but he hadn’t tried to proposition me with any more ridiculous ultimatums.

“That’s good to hear,” Luke hummed, squeezing my hand before rising to his feet. I could tell that he didn’t necessarily buy into what I was saying, but I was thankful that he didn’t press it any further. “What do you say we go back out there. We’ve got to be getting close by now.”

I nodded and he helped me to my feet. I bent down to the faucet, swishing some water in my mouth before spitting it out.

When Luke and I returned to our seats, I was immediately aware of the way Rossi and Emily were eyeing me; like I was a delicate thing that needed to be handled with kid gloves.

I absolutely hated it.

“Sorry about that. It won’t happen again,” I said, before turning my attention back to the video call and saying, “so, what did we miss?”

The police station was surprisingly small. The hallways were narrow and the light bulbs above me gave off an almost green tint, casting an eerie glow on the place. The sounds of disgruntled detainees calling out drifted through the hallways, sounding akin to the moaning of a ghost. My eyes darted around constantly as we walked, the uneasy feeling in my stomach growing with every step we took towards the heart of the precinct.

“Thank you for calling us.” Emily’s words were directed at the police officer, Chief Castenada, who was leading us down the hall. He was a short man with graying hair and a seemingly permanent frown etched into his face. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that he wasn’t happy that four federal agents were in his jail.

“A U.S. fed in our custody isn’t something we see every day,” the man said, his tone entirely unfriendly. I grimaced.

“Have you gotten any of his tox screen panels back yet?” I prodded, quickening the pace of my strides until I was walking alongside him. He looked down at me like I was a pesky gnat that he wanted to bat away.

“No.”

Color me unsurprised.

“You’ll need to expedite that. We have cause to believe that Doctor Reid was drugged.”

“He was definitely high and driving like a bat out of Hell. Not to mention he had $20,000 worth of heroin in his possession,” he sneered, ceasing to walk and staring down at me with distaste. “Both of which put my officers at risk. You’re in our jurisdiction. Don’t forget that. The rules are different here.”

I opened my mouth, ready to fire back with some smart-assery of my own, but a hand at my elbow stopped me. I turned and saw that it was Luke, who nodded his head to the left of us. I looked in the direction he was referring to, and I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces.

Just up ahead was a holding cell with several poorly constructed benches in the center of it. On the very first row of seats sat Spencer, who had seemingly retreated in to himself. He was hunched over, his arms wrapped pitifully around himself, much like you’d imagine a child might do to keep warm. Spencer’s clothes were tattered and dirty and a bandage adorned his right hand. His usually beautiful chestnut curls were flying around his head in a mess of tangles and dirt. Despite the fact that Spencer towered over most of us, I couldn’t help but notice how incredibly small he looked.

Even as awful as he looked in his current state, a direct contradiction of the way he usually presented himself, I’d never been happier to lay my eyes on someone in my life.

My feet carried me forward before my brain had time to catch up. I closed the distance between me and the cell, pausing and taking a good, long look at him before allowing myself to speak. He hadn’t noticed me standing there yet. His gaze was instead trained on something at the other end of the room, his eyes red rimmed and glassy and his face completely slack.

“Spence?” I called out, the nickname falling from my lips like a prayer. In a way I suppose it was; a prayer that he was alright, that the horrible things Penelope had told us about were nothing but a horrible lie. At first, I was worried that he hadn’t heard me or that he was too out of his mind to even register the sound of my voice. Just when I opened my mouth to speak again, he turned his head in way that I would have described as comically slow if the situation hadn’t been so serious. The spacey look in his eyes told me that my prayers wouldn’t be answered.

Spencer’s eyes locked with mine, but his face remained completely blank, devoid of all expression. I stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, until it hit me like a ton of bricks; he had no clue who I was.

I wanted to be mad. I wanted to scream at him, to ask him how could he forget me, of all people. My anger was irrational and unfair, but I couldn’t help it. While I understood that it was no fault of his own, that the drugs coursing through his veins were to blame, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

I swallowed down the emotions that threatened to spill out, pushing them down into the depths of my being. I couldn’t let my emotional attachment hinder my judgment. I needed to be as vigilant as ever, no, more vigilant. The fate of my favorite person in the whole world depended on it.

“It’s me, Y/N,” I explained, keeping my voice as steady as I could manage. “It’s good to see you, Spencer. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

He watched me for a moment before standing and making his way to where I was leaning against the bars.

“Y/N,” Spencer murmured when he reached me, as if testing my name out to see how it rolled off of his tongue. His stare was still vacant, but having him in front of me after worrying about his wellbeing for the last five hours was more than enough for now. I’d take him however I could have him. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, we came,” I murmured, my eyes raking over every inch of his body for any signs of distress. Other than the bandage on his hand, he seemed to be in one piece.

Rossi was quick to join me, coming to a stop at my left.

“We’re going to get you out of here, kid,” he reassured, his tone more serious than I’d ever heard it.

“We need to work out some details with the locals, okay?” Emily said, waiting for a response but getting none.

“Who was your contact down here?” Luke asked.

Spencer was quicker to respond this time.

“Rosa,” he mumbled as he grabbed his shirt sleeve and pulled it up. On his inner arm, the name Rosa Medina was written in what was undoubtably his own handwriting. Spencer was notorious around the office for having the worst handwriting. I like to blame it on the fact that he was a doctor, which always elicited a laugh from him. “I think she’s a doctor.”

Luke pulled his phone out from his pocket, snapping a picture of the name.

“Where did you meet her?”

Spencer shook his head and a frown pulled down at the corner of his lips.

“I… I don’t remember.”

“If you saw her, would you remember her?”

Spencer nodded in affirmation.

“You’re missing time, aren’t you?” I asked, causing him to look at me once more. His brows furrowed together and he was nodding again, slightly surer of himself this time.

“It’s peeking out. It’s coming in flashes.”

“And you’ve been drugged?”

I didn’t know it was possible for his face to fall any more, but the look of shame that manifested itself when he registered my words was absolutely heartbreaking.

“Yeah, but I didn’t take it myself,” he insisted, a spark of life burning bright in the depths of his eyes. Somewhere in there, under the haze of narcotics, was the same Spencer that had fought tooth and nail for his sobriety all those years ago. My heart broke for him.

“Of course, you didn’t, Spence. We know that,” I said, almost reaching out to touch him before thinking better of it. “We’re thinking it might be Scratch.”

Just like before, when I had first spoken to him, absolutely no sign of recognition showed itself on his face.

“Scratch,” he muttered detachedly, much the same as before.

Luke’s phone rang then and he excused himself for a moment before stepping away. I looked to Rossi and Emily, who seemed to also be at a loss for words. The silence that filled the room was excruciating, and I once again started to feel like the walls were closing in on me. I wanted nothing more than to scream, to cry out in frustration. The whole situation was unfair in a way that I didn’t think was possible. I was a big believer in karma; put good in and get good out, or something like that. But now, standing outside of a holding cell that looked more like a dungeon than anything, I was ready to throw away that belief entirely.

Of all the people that I know, Spencer was the least deserving of something like this.

Just when I began to consider ducking outside for a breath of fresh air, Luke returned.

“Hey, the team sent this. Is this the doctor you met?” he asked, pointing to a picture of a woman he had pulled up on his phone. The woman was of Mexican descent, with short, choppy gray hair. She appeared to be middle aged, from what I could guess.

Spencer stared at the picture before nodding.

“Her alias is Rosa Medina and her real name is Nadi Ramos. Garcia tracked her to a motel just outside of town. Does that sound familiar?”

Spencer’s brows furrowed and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll need to take Castenada and his officers with us,” Emily announced, before turning and heading towards the door.

“Do you want company here?” Rossi asked.

Spencer seemed to take a moment to process before answering with an almost imperceptible nod. He turned his head and focused his gaze on me.

“Can… Can you stay?”

Rossi turned to face me too, raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘are you okay with this?’ I gave him what I hoped was a convincing smile. Honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure that I could handle this; the this that I am referring to being a nearly catatonic Spencer Reid. I was used to the Spencer who regaled me with interesting tidbits of information whenever there was a lull in conversation. The Spencer that stood before me now was a shell of his former self, and that terrified me.

“I’ll be fine here. Let me know if you guys find anything,” I told Rossi. He nodded once to me before enveloping me in a tight hug.

“Resta forte mia piccolo colomba,” Rossi murmured in my ear. I hadn’t a clue what the phrase meant, but the words draped over me like a warm blanket. Suddenly the weight of the current situation didn’t seem so heavy, and I felt immensely thankful that a man like David Rossi was in my life.

Rossi pressed his lips to the top of my head before releasing me. He gave one last, despairing look to Spencer before hurrying off after Luke and Emily. It could’ve been the light playing tricks on me, or maybe the exhaustion, but when Rossi turned away from us, I swear I saw tears welling in his eyes.

And then there were two.

I took glance at my watch for the first time all day, cringing when I saw the time to be 8:17PM. Quantico was an hour ahead, meaning Gavin was probably losing his shit wondering where I was. I sighed, fishing my phone out of my back pocket and turning it on.

“Spence, I’m going to make a phone call really quick,” I murmured. He offered no reply, just as I had come to expect. He was watching me, standing stock still in the same place he had been the entire time. I moved to stand in the doorway, hopefully far enough away that he couldn’t hear me anymore.

As soon as my phone booted up, a plethora of notifications came through. Seventeen missed calls and twenty-four unread text messages, to be exact. I decided to forgo reading the messages, instead pressing the return call button and tapping my foot anxiously against the floor. Gavin didn’t keep me waiting long, picking up on the very first ring.

“About time you answer your goddamn phone,” he hissed out. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? I even called your office phone and no one would answer that, either. What the fuck is going on? Where are you?”

“I’m… In Mexico.”

A long pause followed and I held my breath, waiting for the onslaught to begin.

“You left the country without even bothering to tell me?” Gavin asked, his voice raising in volume. I could picture him now; probably sitting on our sofa, fists balled together and jaw clenched. “Would you like to enlighten me as to why you’re in Mexico?”

I closed my eyes, frustration bubbling deep inside me. Today was arguably the shittiest day of my entire life, and I certainly didn’t need Gavin harping on about how I hadn’t been in touch. Honestly, informing him of my whereabouts had been the furthest thing from my mind.

“It’s Spencer,” I began, trying to think of the proper way to word it all. “He got into some… trouble. We think he’s being framed by Scratch.”

“Isn’t that the guy that just went after Tara’s family?”

“Yeah, it is. He’s been laying low for the past few months, and I guess he was just building up to all of this. It’s really bad, Gav,” I whispered the last bit, hoping that Spencer couldn’t hear me. If he did, he made no move that indicated it. “He’s high out of his mind and can’t remember anything.”

“How long will you guys be there?” Gavin asked, completely ignoring the fact that I mentioned Spencer at all. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from saying something I might regret. I understand that he doesn’t like the guy, but he could show some common decency and at least pretend.

“I’m not entirely sure. Rossi, Emily, and Luke just headed out to go check on a lead. I don’t know how long that’ll take.”

“Wait, so, where are you?”

“I’m at the jail with Spencer, why?” I inquired, running my hand through my hair and absentmindedly combing out the knots that had formed. I was sure that I looked a right mess, but I couldn’t be too bothered to care.

“Let me get this straight. They left you alone with a guy who is wasted on God knows what, not knowing how he’ll react to it?” A bitter laugh flowed through the phone speaker. “Sounds like you don’t exactly work with the smartest bunch. What if he tries to attack you or something?”

I let his words hang in the air for a moment, unable to formulate a reply that wasn’t something like you’re being an absolute fucking dick bag right now. No, I was a grown woman and I was going to communicate like one, despite the fact that his ignorant reply was making me shake with rage.

“The first thing I’m going to address is the fact that this is not some guy. We’re talking about my best friend and teammate, and his name is Spencer. Use it,” I said through gritted teeth. “The second thing is that he’s not some wild animal. He’s not going to try to come through the bars and pounce on me. What he’s going through right now is traumatic, and he doesn’t need to be left alone right now. Show some compassion.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m sorry,” Gavin muttered. It was the most unapologetic apology I’d ever heard in my life, prompting me to roll my eyes. I don’t understand how I can love someone and want to throttle them simultaneously. “I’m just worried about you, is all. How are you holding up?”

“I’m as good as can be expected,” I sighed, bringing my free hand up to rub at my eyes. “I’m just tired of watching this guy terrorize all of my friends. First, he takes Hotch from us, then he nearly kills Tara’s brother, and now this. I’m beginning to think we’ll never catch a break.”

“I know you’re tired, baby. Just try to hang on a little bit longer. As much as I question some of their decisions, your team is good at what they do. You guys will catch him. I have faith in you.”

There it is. That’s the Gavin that I fell in love with.

“Thank you,” I murmured. “It’s been a long day and I needed to hear that.” I cast a glance back at Spencer, who was now staring down at his bandaged hand, an indiscernible expression on his face. He looked so lost, standing all alone in the grimy holding cell. The lights cast shadows on his face, making his already angular face look gaunt. The Spencer I knew was the human embodiment of light; filling up every room he was in with his delightfully idiosyncratic presence. The Spencer in the cell was so shrouded in darkness that the room seemed to be swallowing him whole, taking his brilliance and crushing it into smithereens.

“Gav, I think I need to get back in there.”

“Yeah, alright. Just keep me in the loop this time, please. I don’t like not knowing where my girlfriend is.”

“I’ll make sure to check in whenever I can,” I promised, before tacking on a, “love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I pocketed my phone with hands that shook, no longer from rage but from apprehension. I liked to think that I was good at my job. I had done well at the academy; not well enough to have graduated at the top of my class, but I did manage to be in the top ten. After lucking into the job of a lifetime, I had fully committed myself to learning to be the best profiler I could possibly be. Two years of piecing together the innerworkings of criminal minds had taught me more than I ever could have imagined about the human psyche. I had talked many a deranged psychopath down from the ledge, and I had saved more than a few lives along the way. Unfortunately, not all cases can end favorably. Those are the ones that taught me the most.

For all that I learned, nothing could’ve prepared me to deal with the shell of a man that stood before me.

I was standing in front of him now, fiddling nervously with my hands. When Spencer had originally told me about his battle with addiction, I had taken it upon myself to do some research of my own. I wanted to be able to identify the signs, God forbid he ever relapse. While conducting my research, I had read somewhere that the best way to support someone during a come down is by remaining positive and creating a calm, safe environment.

I was currently the antithesis of calm, but for Spencer’s sake, I was going to do my best.

I took a step forward and offered him a small smile.

“I’ve never seen you in jeans and boots before,” I said. I was proud of myself when the words came out sounding relatively casual. “It’s a good look on you, but I have to admit I prefer the academic look. I suppose it’s the sapiosexual in me.”

He gave no response, but the tinniest tug at the corner of his mouth told me that he found my comment amusing.

I let my eyes drag over him again and I fixated on the bandage on his right hand, frowning.

“Do you remember what happened to your hand?”

Spencer raised his hand up, absentmindedly flipping it over and inspecting it.

“I don’t know,” he murmured. Spencer’s usually high pitched voice came out gravely, no doubt a byproduct of dehydration related to the drugs. My eyes skimmed across the holding cell and I frowned when I saw no water fountain in sight.

“M’ gonna go get you some water, okay?” I turned away and pivoted on my heel, taking one step before a hand wrapped around my upper arm. I spun around so fast I nearly caught whiplash.

Spencer’s eyes were wide and full of panic, conveying more emotion than he’d had since we’d arrived. His eyebrows were drawn together as well, contorting his face into a pitiful expression.

“Don’t go,” he rasped, his hand still firmly grasping my arm. “Please.”

The hopelessness in his voice was like a dagger through my heart. I nodded fervently and placed my hand over his, prompting him to loosen his grip. He did, and I took his hand in both of mine. I rubbed my thumbs over his skin, haphazardly tracing patterns in an attempt to calm him.

“Yeah, okay. I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” I soothed, bringing his hand up to my mouth and placing a chaste kiss to the skin. “I’ve got you, Spence. It’s all going to be okay.”

The look of panic slowly washed away the longer we stood there. He held onto my hands like I was a lifeline, the only thing tethering him to the ground. While I longed for nothing more than to really embrace him, to pull all of him into my arms and hold on for dear life, the bars that separated us inhibited me from doing so. So instead I just relished in the feel of his hand intertwined with my own.

It would have to be enough for now.

Nadi Ramos was dead.

I didn’t have to ask Emily to know that the situation had gone from bad to absolutely fucking terrible. We knew Scratch was a horrendous individual; that much had been proved by his preferred modus operandi. We also knew that he had become fixated on taking down each of us one by one. He’d tried twice with Hotch, even going as far as to target his son, resulting in the two of them joining WITSEC for their own safety. The next blow had come when he had set his sights on Tara, or, more specifically, her brother. We’d gotten lucky with that one, having located and freed her brother just in the nick of time. After the incident with Tara’s brother, we all expected the next attack to come in quick succession. When several months passed with no sign of Scratch, we all became terribly on edge. No one was saying it, but we all were waiting to see which one of us would be next, crossing our fingers and hoping it wouldn’t be us.

I knew that none of us were exempt from Scratch’s wrath, but for some reason, I’d never imagined him targeting Spencer.

And target him he fucking did.

“We know you didn’t do this,” Emily spoke for the group, knowing good and well that we were all on the same page.

“How did it happen?” Spencer’s back was to us. His shoulders were slumped and his face downturned.

“She was stabbed multiple times. It looked personal,” Luke answered, his voice low and careful. It was obvious to us all that he was being extra careful with his wording, making sure to broach the subject carefully. We all knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Spencer was innocent; but that didn’t mean that Spencer did.

Chief Castenada trudged into the holding cell, the portrait of all things cranky and unpleasant. His presence acted as a proverbial storm cloud on an already shitty day.

“We got the results of your blood work. There’s cocaine and heroin in your system.”

“What else?” Emily asked, causing Castenada to give her a confused look.

“He was in possession of cocaine and heroin when he was arrested. I found what I needed.”

I felt myself bristle and before I knew it, my mouth was open and I was spouting out pure venom.

“Thanks so much for doing the bare minimum, but we’re going to need a full tox screen panel. We’re looking for scopolamine.”

Emily’s eyes cut over to me and if I hadn’t been fighting on Spencer’s behalf, I would’ve withered under the weight of the shut the fuck up look she gave me. Instead, I continued on, silently praying I’d still have a job after today.

“It’ll take longer, but we need it,” I explained in what I hoped was a slightly more accommodating tone. Castenada gave a curt nod in reply before exiting the room, grumbling something in Spanish that had Luke and Emily shooting daggers at his retreating figure.

“Do I want to know?”

Luke shook his head, shooting a small smile in my direction.

“Let’s just say he’s not your biggest fan, and we’ll leave it at that,” he offered, before straightening out his expression and turning back to Spencer. “You were given a speed ball. The opiates block the dopamine in your brain. That’s why things go from clear to hazy. The combination of the drugs causes a dissociative state and explains the memory loss. Are you coming down now?”

“I think so,” Spencer said. His cadence wasn’t as slow as it had been earlier, which was a relief.

“Do you think you could do a cognitive interview?” Emily’s voice was hopeful, and if Spencer was one thing, it was a people pleaser. It was obvious that he was overwhelmed; I had taken note of the fact that he was displaying one of his nervous ticks. Spencer was touching the pad of his thumb on the tips of his other fingers in rapid succession. Despite his obvious discomfort, he nodded his head in agreeance.

“I’ll try.”

Rossi took the lull in conversation as an opportunity to hold up the plastic bag in his hand. I narrowed my eyes at it inquisitively. There were five vials of a murky, dark brown liquid in the bag.

“There were five of these in your bag at the motel. Do you recognize them?”

Spencer’s eyes zeroed in on the bag and its contents, his brows furrowing. It wasn’t long until a look of partial recognition flashed across his face. It was so faint that if he hadn’t been in a room of profilers, it would’ve gone unnoticed.

“What is it?” I asked from my place at his side. He’d been somewhat clingy since the incident that had transpired while everyone was at the motel, gravitating towards me as soon as we all had been granted entrance to the holding cell. I knew that he needed familiarity right now; he was in a very vulnerable state and he needed something that made him feel safe and secure.

Butterflies erupted in my stomach when I had realized what he was doing, that I was that thing that made him feel safe and secure.

Spencer opened his mouth once before closing it, as if trying to put his thoughts into words was difficult. He did this a few more times before settling on,

“Whatever’s in those vials, I was giving it to my mom,” he said, his eyes darting around the room as he spoke. “That’s the only thing I’m sure of.”

“I’ll have them run it through the lab,” Rossi said, before leaving and heading towards the direction in which Castenada had retreated.

Emily and Luke were quick to hop into a rushed conversation, leaving only Spencer and I still in the cell. I looked up at him, at the way his forehead creased as he bit his lip in quiet contemplation.

“Are you sure you’re ready for a cognitive? I know the effects may be wearing off, but you’re gonna be cloudy for a while. If you don’t want to do it now, all you have to do is say the word,” I murmured, keeping my voice low so that only he could hear it. “I can tell that you’re a bit overwhelmed, and that’s okay.”

Spencer’s response came in the form of a shrug of his shoulders.

“I want to try, because I know it’s important. I just don’t know that it will be of much help,” he replied, casting his eyes down to me.

“Yes, it is important, but don’t put too much pressure on yourself. We’ll figure this out even if you can’t remember it all right now.”

Spencer nodded once before running his tongue across his chapped bottom lip.

“I don’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill her,” he whispered, barely audible. Even though his words were quiet, I could hear the desperation in them; almost as if he was begging me to believe them, begging himself to believe them.

I made the irrational decision then to throw professionalism aside and wrap both of my arms around his torso, my grip tight and assured. Spencer’s aversion to touch was common knowledge amongst us all, but for some reason that never seemed to apply to me, and I could see in his eyes that the way we were all treating him like he was fragile was wounding him more than he would ever admit. I hoped to remedy that with my embrace, and the speed in which he reciprocated was so fast that I was certain he was thankful. He wrapped his injured hand around my waist, the other finding purchase in my hair. I felt his chest move as he let out a shuddering breath.

“I know you didn’t, Spence. Everyone on the team knows you didn’t,” I reassured him, my words muffled as my face was pressed against his chest. “And we’re not going to stop until everyone else knows it, too.”

I was well aware that our embrace had garnered the attention of our teammates, but Spencer’s hold on me hadn’t faltered in the slightest, so I didn’t let mine either. Instead, I gripped the fabric of his flannel shirt tighter in my hands.

When Emily exited the room in which they had conducted the cognitive interview, the look on her face was grim. I visibly cringed at the sight as I felt the sliver of hope that I had left die a miserable death.

We are so beyond fucked.

“How’s he doing?” Rossi asked, obviously taking note of the distress on Emily’s face.

“He’s made some breakthroughs, but I’m not sure how helpful they’ll be,” she sighed, running a hand through her jet-black hair. When none of us spoke, Emily’s eyes flitted around, finally noticing that our expressions were a direct reflection of her own. “What is it?”

“They just charged Reid with the murder of Nadi Ramos.”

Hearing it said aloud wasn’t any easier the second time.

While the rest of us had taken it upon ourselves to lean against the cement walls, Luke had begun pacing down the short hallway. After about ten minutes of unbearable silence, he decided he’d had enough.

“We can’t get him out of here, can we?” he finally spoke, his voice a mix of anger and desperation.

“I don’t know how.”

“He didn’t kill her,” I reiterated, speaking more to myself than the three of them.

“If all I had to go on was the evidence, I would swear he did,” Rossi sighed. I knew he was right; Spencer’s personal belongings were all over the hotel room, which was about as incriminating as you could get. “But knowing Reid, hearing the cognitive…”

“Yes, he said there was another person in that motel room, but,” Emily pressed play on the audio recording, and her voice proceeded to flow through the speakers.

“Who has the knife? Who is stabbing Rosa?”

“I don’t know. It’s in my hand.”

Emily pressed the power button and the screen went black.

“Right now, this is just more evidence against him.”

“So, what do we do now? Do we just sit and twiddle our thumbs until the consulate agrees to the extradition?” I asked. “There’s got to be more we can do. We can’t let them take him to jail, he won’t survive in there.”

“I called in some help from IRT. Clara Seger and Matt Simmons will be arriving at any moment,” Emily said, checking her phone after hearing it ping. “In fact, that would be them. They’re here.”

I breathed a sigh of relief as we all fell into step beside Emily. Having people from other areas of expertise that are willing to help is a good thing. Maybe they’ll be able to see something that we didn’t.

“We come bearing good news,” I announced, leading the group as we all entered the holding cell. Spencer was quick to turn around and the corners of his lips pulled upwards as he set his sights on all of us. “Back up is here.”

“Hey Spencer,” Matt greeted, offering up a small smile before crossing his arms across his chest.

“Hey,” Spencer replied, moving to stand up from his spot on the bench. He was still a little wobbly on his feet, but he was doing much better than he was when we had arrived. “Thank you for coming.”

“Yeah, of course. Jack and me are finishing up a case in Costa Rica, so we hopped on a commercial plane to get here,” Clara explained.

“We’re trying to stop you transfer to El Diablo.”

Spencer’s eyes darted over to me and he swallowed hard before speaking.

“Do you think it’s possible?” Hearing the hope in his voice tugged at my heart strings. The way that he could manage to stay optimistic at time like this was a true testament to his character.

“Yes,” Clara began. “Lab reports on the vials came back and some of what was in there hasn’t been approved by the FDA, but there aren’t any illegal substances.”

“That’s great news,” I sighed, letting out the breath that I didn’t know I had been holding.

“Is there anything else you remember about your time here?”

“I remember what happened to the vials at home. My mom threw most of them out.”

“So, that’s why you were here. To get more,” Clara said in an attempt to clarify.

“It must be,” Spencer murmured, shuffling anxiously from one foot to the other.

“Well, you’re off the hook for that. There’s no contraband involved,” Matt announced. Okay, this is good. One less thing to worry about.

“Yeah, but we’re still looking at the planted drug and the murder charges, which could keep you here for a long time.”

“Can we do anything to delay the transfer?” I wondered aloud. Clara took into account what I said and sighed, before turning towards Spencer once again.

“You said that you met Nadi, who calls herself Rosa, in Houston. Why didn’t she just give you the vials in the U.S.?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer said, running his uninjured hand through his hair. “I don’t know, but she helped us and I trusted her. I was right to. I still believe that.”

“Well, she convinced you to cross the border multiple times. She had you risk your life,” Matt argued.

“Because she must have something to lose, too,” I mumbled, eliciting a series of fervent nods from Clara. “Family, maybe?”

“We need to know more about her,” Clara said.

And then, something glorious happened. It was like a switch had flipped inside of Spencer’s head, and all of the sudden the lights were back on. I could tell that he had been struck with an idea, and it was a wonderous sight to behold.

“What was in those vials?” Spencer asked, only solidifying my observation.

Matt produced a paper with the lab results and began reading off the results.

“There are so nootropic compounds like Ampalex, uh, but also some more natural stuff; coral calcium, jimson weed, coconut oil, a variety of vitamins. B12, D3-”

“Where are we right now?” Spencer interjected.

“Matamoros, Northern Mexico.”

“Jimson weed, otherwise known as the Devil’s Snare, originated in Mexico but its natural growing region is further north or south of the border,” Spencer said, his words flowing out rapidly. I felt my heart soar and I didn’t even try to suppress the smile that fought its way to my face.

“Boy Genius is back,” I announced, and for just a moment, the mood in the room lightened for the first time all day.

“So, if it isn’t from here, then were did she get it?” Clara asked.

“Let me get Garcia on,” Emily murmured, dialing the number and tapping her foot as it rang. On the third ring, Penelope’s bright and cheerful voice filled the room, a sunbeam shining through on a cloudy day.

“Please tell me you’re calling to tell me some good news.”

“Garcia, I have some questions for you.”

“Hey, Penelope,” Matt greeted, earning a pleasantly surprised gasp from the woman on the other end.

“Oh my God, it’s the dulcet tones of Matt Simmons,” Penelope gushed. “Are you there to save the day?”

“I’m trying. Clara’s here, too.” A relieved sigh floated through the speakers.

“Knowing we have you guys as backup is providing me some much-needed hope, and I work better this way.”

“Hey, lady,” Clara greeted. “We’re trying to catch up on a few things. Where is Nadi Ramos from?” Before Clara even managed to finish her sentence, the sound of Garcia’s acrylic nails tapping away at her keyboard could be heard.

“Mm she lives with her family just north of Matamoros.”

“That must be where she got the jimson weed,” Emily pointed out.

“What’s weird in she crosses the border, like, a lot.”

“Why?”

“Well, she works in Houston at that clinic, but she also helps at a low-income healthcare center. I can’t find a visa on her, which is double weird. And, in finishing the weird trifecta, there’s a social security number on her W2 form.”

“Social security? She’s an American citizen?” I asked. Matt confirmed my suspicions with a nod of his head.

“Yeah, she had dual citizenship. She was born in Houston, and her family had to move back to Mexico. She lives with them and she works in the U.S.”

“This changes everything. We need to talk to the consulate,” Emily stated.

Just as things were beginning to look up, Chief Castenada decided to grace us with his presence once more; and this time, he had an entourage.

“It’s time for his transfer,” Castenada announced, looking pointedly in my direction.

“We’ve had a break in the case,” Emily argued, shaking her head at him. “The victim was also American, and that calls for extradition.”

Castenada merely shrugged before walking past us all.

“I’ve got orders, sorry,” he muttered, making Gavin’s apology from earlier in the day sound heartfelt in comparison. Castenada wasted no time in beginning to place handcuffs on Spencer, locking them in place with a definitive click. Spencer and I shared a look of panic before both of us looked towards Emily in a silent plea.

One of the men roughly grabbed Spencer by the arm and led him from the room. I watched in horror as they led him away, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. I barely registered the fact that Emily was now on the phone. I just stood there, staring blankly at the entrance to the cell.

“With the victim having dual citizenship, we now have concurrent jurisdiction. It was my understanding that the official order to extradite SSA Spencer Reid would be evaluated,” Emily damn near snarled into the phone. She paused for a moment, listening to the voice on the other line, before a look of relief washed over her face. “I understand, thank you.” She promptly hung up the phone before turning to face Luke. “They’re taking it to their brass. Go get him.”

Luke took off in a rush, not needing to be told twice.

I only wished I could be there to see the look on Castenada’s face.

“We’re working on all channels here. Matt Cruz is on with the consulate right now. We could get an immediate extradition, but it’s just the beginning,” Emily explained, her voice stern.

Spencer regarded her with a weary expression. The drug induced haze had finally lifted, leaving him painfully aware of how dire the situation was.

“I really screwed up and I’m so sorry,” he choked out, resulting in a crack forming in Emily’s hard exterior. I couldn’t blame her; it wasn’t easy to stay mad at Spencer Reid. Spencer’s eyes were like kryptonite to most; big and brown and full of emotion. I’m sure if you searched ‘puppy dog eyes’ in the dictionary, a picture of Spencer Reid would be found in example.

“It was for the right reason.”

“I can’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill anyone.” It was obvious in the way that he kept repeating the words that he was desperate for us to believe him. No amount of calm reassurance from us could quell the voice in his head that was surely telling him that we thought him guilty.

“We do, too.”

Clara was first to enter the cell, immediately followed by Matt.

“Hey, they approved the extradition,” Clara announced, smiling brightly at the three of us.

“Effective immediately,” Matt added on.

We all exchanged relieved smiles before Matt and Clara led Spencer from the cell. Emily and I were quick to follow, right on Matt’s heels when we were stopped by Castenada.

“I must point out that I feel like justice isn’t exactly being served with this move.”

I pursed my lips together. In the short time we had been in Mexico, my feelings towards the man had grown from distaste to almost a full-blown hatred. That being said, I couldn’t help but understand where he was coming from. If Spencer hadn’t been a federal agent, he wouldn’t be granted the privilege of the extradition. Nor would he be allowed to fly home with us. I hated to admit it, but Castenada made a valid point.

“I understand, but I can assure you that this has gone to the highest ranks and there will be a full investigation,” Emily reassured him.

“Thank you for working with us,” I offered in an attempt to smooth over the rift I had created earlier. Now that my judgement wasn’t so clouded by my need to defend Spencer, I could see the error of my ways. I hadn’t been the most professional.

Castenada nodded once in my direction before turning his attention back to Emily.

“For our reports, I would like to have the recording of that cognitive interview.”

I felt my blood run cold. That interview would just add to the list of things that could be used against Spencer in court. He had openly admitted to holding the murder weapon in his own hands, an admission that would surely earn him twenty to life.

We cannot give him that recording.

Emily seemed to be on the same page as I was.

“I didn’t record it.”

Castenada’s face contorted into an ugly frown.

“But that was our agreement,” he squawked angrily.

“I determined he was still under the influence. Anything he said wouldn’t have clarified matters.”

Castenada’s gaze never faltered, eyeing Emily in an attempt to discern if she was giving him the run around. Luckily, Castenada was unable to find a hint of dishonesty on Emily’s face, and he nodded in resignation.

Years of profiling will teach you how to control your micro expressions.

“You’re committed agents. And I’ve worked with the IRT before. I trust you know what you’re doing.”

“We do. I promise,” I stated, my voice giving off more confidence than I felt. Yes, I thought to myself, there’s no doubt that we’re good at what we do.

But so is Scratch.

All was quiet on the jet, the steady thrum of the engine being the only sound that could be heard. Rossi had been the only one able to fall asleep, something that I would be sure to tease him about later. Next to Rossi sat Emily, who had busied herself with flipping through Spencer’s arresting report. Clara and Matt sat across from them, engulfed in their own hushed conversation.

Spencer had opted to sit on the couch, but he didn’t allow himself to sprawl out like he normally would have done. He was visibly exhausted, wiping at his eyes frequently in an attempt to keep the fatigue at bay. It was almost like he was punishing himself; like he didn’t feel he deserved the solace that sleep would bring.

“You should go talk to him. See if you can’t get him to lay down,” Luke whispered encouragingly from his seat beside mine.

“I have no idea what to say to him,” I confessed. I tore my gaze away from Spencer and turned my attention to Luke. “There’s nothing I can say that will make this any better.”

“You’re not wrong about that, but maybe just letting him know you’re here for him will help. Just go and sit with him, I’m sure he could use a friend right now.”

Luke was right. I let out a dramatic sigh before shooting Luke a pointed look.

“Since when did you get so insightful?”

A grin stretched its way across his face.

“Always have been, sweetness. It’s part of my charm. I’m more than just a pretty face, you know.”

“And on that note, I’ll be going,” I announced, standing up from my seat and walking the short distance to the couch. Luke’s chuckles sounded off behind me and I couldn’t help but smile; note to self, make more of an effort to get to know Luke Alvez.

I approached slowly, hoping not to startle him as he seemed to be lost in his own world. He didn’t notice me until I came to a stop in front of the couch. Spencer’s head shot up suddenly, the worry on his face melting away to form a small smile.

“Hi,” I greeted, returning his smile tenfold. “You looked like you could use some company. Do you mind if I sit?”

Spencer gave me a soft smile and scooted over, patting at the space next to him. I lowered myself onto the couch, angling my body so it was facing him.

“You’re tired,” I observed, leaning back into the soft cushions. Spencer shrugged in reply, opening his mouth to argue, only for a yawn to slip out. I let out a light laugh. “Don’t even try to argue. There’s no telling how long you’ve been up. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”

Spencer’s eyes reluctantly met mine and I felt almost paralyzed when I saw the sheer vulnerability in them.

“Researchers from the University of Cardiff conducted a two-part study looking at whether people’s daily frustration or fulfilment of their psychological needs, such as feeling autonomous or competent, affects their dreams. The results from the first study showed that people who were frustrated with their daily situation tended to have recurring dreams in which they were falling, failing or being attacked,” he rasped out, his words jumbling together as they fell from his mouth in rapid succession. “The lead author on the study concluded that negative dream emotions may directly result from distressing dream events, and might represent the psyche’s attempt to process and make sense of particularly psychologically challenging waking experiences.”

“And you’re worried your dreams will reflect what happened today.”

Spencer bit the inside of his cheek before nodding in affirmation.

“I can’t promise you that you won’t dream about those things,” I began, my voice coming out soft. “But I can tell you that sleep deprivation can cause lots of very unfortunate symptoms like impaired memory, reduced physical strength, and inability to concentrate. Do you know how I know those things?”

A light flush dusted over the tops of his cheeks.

“Probably because I’ve made it a habit to bore you with my information dumps.”

I shook my head adamantly, reaching a hand up and ruffling up his hair. He batted my hand away, ducking his head to try and hide the smile tugging at his lips.

“Never a bore, Spence. But yes, I know those things because of you and that remarkable brain of yours. And we’re going to need that remarkable brain in tip top shape if we want to get you out of this mess, understood?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he relented.

I patted a hand on my lap, an invitation for him to use me as a pillow. He seemed hesitant, eyes flitting from my face before going back down to my lap.

“Don’t act shy around me, Pretty Boy. I know better than anyone that you’re a secret cuddle bug,” I teased, earning a snort from the man next to me.

“Am not,” he harrumphed, before deciding to take me up on my offer. He laid his head down on my lap before stretching his legs out across the expanse of the couch. My heart lurched pitifully when he nuzzled his head into my leg before letting out a loud sigh.

“Thank you,” Spencer whispered, voice thick with emotion. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, casting tiny shadows on his face. I smiled at the sight and began carding my hands through his hair.

“No need to thank me,” I murmured, raking my nails against his scalp and eliciting a pleased hum from him. “Don’t you worry about a thing, okay? We’re going to get you out of this. I know we will. And don’t worry about your mom, either; I’m going to check on your mom every day, I promise.”

Spencer’s breathing stuttered at the mention of Diana, and I worried I had crossed a line. He stayed silent for a moment, before moving his hand up and squeezing my knee.

“You’re entirely too good to me.”

“Yeah, well, you’d do the same for me. That’s what friends are for.”

No more words were exchanged, and within five minutes Spencer’s breathing evened out and he was asleep.

Several hours later, we were all filing out of the elevator and into the bullpen. I shivered slightly as the cool air hit my bare arms, but I tried not to show my discomfort. I’d shrugged off my sweater and offered it to Spencer the moment we stepped off the jet, draping it across his cuffed hands in an attempt to conceal them. Spencer had thanked me with a pitiful smile and I returned the sentiment, blinking several times to try and stifle the tears pooling in my eyes.

JJ was the first to greet him, with Stephen, Tara and Penelope following closely behind. I watched on for a moment before my attention was pulled elsewhere. Stephen’s phone had rung, prompting him to slip away from the group and retreat further down the hall. I furrowed my brow at this, taking advantage of my colleagues’ distraction as I wandered towards Stephen. I strained to hear his whispered words, but just as soon as I neared, he ended the call.

“What was that about?” I asked quietly. The look on his face told me that the news couldn’t be good, and I didn’t want to ruin the reunion going on just down the hall. They all deserved a few moments of relief.

Stephen let out a long sigh and ran his hand through his hair before speaking.

“I, uh, just got a call. Reid isn’t eligible for the bureau’s legal assistance.”

Stephen’s words sent a jolt of white-hot dread through me. “How is that even possible?” “Spencer went without being briefed, and he wasn’t in Mexico on government business. They refuse to represent him.”

I let my wary eyes drift down the hall, towards the group of wonderful misfits that I had grown to think of as family;

Penelope, whose optimism never wavered, even in the face of the absolute worst that the world had to offer.

JJ, a devoted mother with a heart of gold and a fierceness that inspired me every single day.

Tara, one of the most intelligent and caring women I had ever had the privilege to know.

Rossi, a father figure to all with enough wisdom to create a legacy that would inspire generations of profilers to be.

Emily, a fearless leader whom I trusted with my life and would follow into battle without question.

Luke, a newcomer who took special care to comfort me when I was at my worst.

Spencer, a man too remarkable to even try to describe with words. A man that anyone of us would defend until our very last breath.

That undeniable truth gave birth to the tiny sliver of hope growing inside of me. Spencer Reid was innocent, and we are all hellbent on proving it.

I nodded once in affirmation, more to myself than to Stephen, before allowing myself to meet his gaze.

“We’re on our own.”

And if anyone could pull this off, it was this team. My team.

There is a point when facing the unknown stops being a longed-for adventure and becomes a terrifying reality.

-Storm Constantine

#spencer reid smut #spencer x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds self insert #prison spencer #prison!reid

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literaryfic · 3 years

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Chapters: 3/? Fandom: 빈센조 | Vincenzo (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong/Hong Cha Young Characters: Hong Cha Young, Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, vincenzo leaves, set five years after he left sk, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, vincenzo and cha-young are exes, they were in a relationship before, Fake/Pretend Relationship, jealous!vincenzo, Jealousy

THANK YOU SO MUCH TO @trynatalktou FOR BEING THE BEST BETA I COULD’VE ASKED FOR. THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO HER!

Summary: Time stops, or so it seems. Vincenzo is petrified, beautiful statue of a man turned into stone. Her eyes follow the high bridge of his nose, the sharp angle of his jaw and the curves of his slender hands gripping the coffee mug. Ah, she thinks. This is how Pygmalion fell in love with Galatea.

listen to this spotify playlist while reading if you want to suffer

Cha-young doesn’t dream that night; she barely sleeps 5 hours before she finds herself knocking on Vincenzo’s door at 6 am. She can’t help it, being in a room just underneath his, so close after all those years apart. Yet, she doesn’t want to show him mercy. She’s here to torment him, the way his absence had tormented her for years. Maybe she wasn’t thinking clearly, maybe she probably shouldn’t seek him out first, or at all.

In reality, Cha-young knows damn well that she’s trying to find an excuse to be with him, not that she would ever admit it to anyone.

So there she is, pounding on his door at 6 in the morning. He stands there, wearing one of his expensive pyjama sets, dark circles sitting under his eyes. She can’t quite tell if she’d woken him up or if he hadn’t slept yet.

“Did you even love me?”, she greets him. Good morning is overrated anyway.

He sighs, letting her through. “You know that.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t know anything anymore, Vincenzo.”

She stops in her tracks, the world suddenly spinning around her. He’s standing behind her, a mere arm length away. She’s stuck in his gravitational pull, a planet orbiting around its sun. The sharp sensation of her nails digging into her palms is enough to get her moving. She sits on the couch, the same one she’d sat in just a few hours ago.

“I did. I do.” He clears his throat, looking away. “Love you, I mean.”

She nibbles on her lower lip, trying (and failing miserably) to ignore his use of the present tense. He loves her, still. She shakes her head.

“Well, you seemed to be living well without me.”, her expression turns sour. Was it love to hope he’d grieved her loss as much as she had grieved his?

Vincenzo finally settles in the chair facing her, running a hand through his hair. “There was a point where I wasn’t sure… I wasn’t sure if I would make it.” He winces. “During that time, my only salvation was knowing each day brought me closer to death.” He looks at her, gaze so intense it pierces right through her heart.

She scoffs, “And I’m the dramatic one, huh?”

That gets a laugh out of him, and suddenly they’re back where they first started, complicit smiles and knowing looks - them against the world.

“Coffee?” he asks, eager to keep up the pleasant atmosphere. There’s still a lot that needs to be said, but she relaxes her shoulders, welcoming the lighter turn their conversation is taking.

“Yes, please.”

He busies himself with the instant coffee, that same yellow brand he’d gotten hooked up on while they worked together. “So what have you been up to, exactly?”

“Jipuragi Law Firm just opened a new office in Busan, things are going well. It’s nice, we get to help people who need it. Probably not as exciting as being in a mafia war or whatever.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he gives her a cup of coffee and sits down next to her on the couch. There’s a safe distance between them, but there’s no point trying to shush the deafening beat of her heart. “Your father would be proud of you, Cha-young-ah.”

“You think?”, she sips on her coffee. She looks up from her mug, only to find him examining her face. His lips curl in a soft grin, and Cha-young thinks that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad if she kissed it.

The loud ringtone startles her out of the daydream, and she’s not sure if she’s supposed to be annoyed or thankful. She picks up the phone. “Mmh. Okay. See you soon,” she drags out the last word, using the endearing tone she reserved for those closest to her. Mr. Kwon, her assistant, was asking her to eat breakfast with the team.

“I have to go.”, she tells him, getting up from the couch.

He takes her mug from her, “I didn’t realise you were here with someone.”

She hears it loud and clear, in the way he fakes nonchalance and keeps his voice cautious. He’s asking her if she’s with someone and part of her wants to reassure him that No. There is no one else beside you. But then she thinks of the countless times where she’d cried herself to sleep, memories of them echoing into her mind and his absence carving a hole into her heart, and she can’t help herself. He had wounded her fatally and it was her turn to injure him.

“Mmh.”, she’s not lying, technically. She’s there with someone, with people actually, just not in the way he means.

Time stops, or so it seems.Vincenzo is petrified, beautiful statue of a man turned into stone. Her eyes follow the high bridge of his nose, the sharp angle of his jaw and the curves of his slender hands gripping the coffee mug. Ah, she thinks. This is how Pygmalion fell in love with Galatea.

The empty mug drops to the ground and the spell is broken. Brought back to life, Vincenzo collects the shattered pieces of the cup, and of his heart, too. “Is he a good person?”. Unlike me, he means.

Cha-young has to remind herself that he deserves this, that this is his fault. “Mmh”, she repeats. “He is.”

He’s back to the coffee station, his back to her. “I’m happy for you.”, his voice is tight.

“Thank you.”, she’s almost at the door when she stops. “Maybe...Maybe we could be friends.”

He turns around, finally facing her. The distance between them, from one side of the room to the other, feels insurmountable.

“Perhaps. If that’s okay with you.”, he answers.

She doesn’t know what to say, so she stays silent. Is it possible for them to be anything else other than a tragic ending?

“Perhaps. If that’s okay with you.”, he answers.

She doesn’t know what to say, so she stays silent for a while. Would it ever be possible for them to be anything other than a tragic ending?

She finally settles on a simple, “See you around.” An open ending, then.

She’s cursing herself out the moment she leaves the room. What was she thinking? Cha-young had just lied to Vincenzo about being on holiday with her imaginary boyfriend. No, she corrects herself, she had simply misled him and he should’ve known better.

She could picture it already; his aggravating smirk, raised eyebrows and insufferable “Oh, is that so?”, after she’d have to inevitably come clean. If only she hadn’t been so impulsive. Vincenzo would figure out her motivations the moment she’d admit to the lie; she wanted to see him jealous, to make him think she was doing better without him, that she was over him. He would see through the façade she had worked hard to maintain.

Flushing at the thought of the colossal humiliation she would suffer, Cha-young scolds herself. Focus. This was a war that she needed to win. Like a general preparing for battle, she squares her shoulders and summons her most loyal soldier.

“Hey, it’s me. I have a favour to ask. Can you be my boyfriend for the next two weeks?”

At 37 years old, Kwon Ji-hwan considered himself to be a resilient man with a good head on his shoulders. In the four years he has been working for Ms. Hong, carrying out tasks outside of his job description was far from rare. Those included, but were certainly not limited to: picking her up after she’d drunk too much, infiltrating a yoga class to seduce a corrupt official’s wife, impersonating a law enforcement officer and hijacking an ambulance. In Ms. Hong’s vocabulary, a “favour” almost always meant something illegal. Despite her… methods, Ji-hwan enjoyed working for her greatly. The hours might have been long but the satisfaction of winning against the odds of powerful corporations made up for it. Also, the pay was really good. Still, as used to her antics as he was, he would’ve never expected her to ask something so absurd of him.

Sitting there, in Ms. Hong’s hotel room (which, by the way, was way nicer than the regular ones she’d gotten for her employees), Ji-hwan cannot believe what he’s hearing.

“Let me get this right,” he says, adjusting his glasses with his index finger. “You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend in front of your ex, who you’re obviously still in love with even though it’s been FIVE years—”

“Yah!”

“—because you want to make him jealous. Did I miss anything?”

“That pretty much covers it.”, his boss replies, not even bothering to look ashamed. He looks at her, shaking his head. “So, will you do it?”

He sighs, “What did this guy do to you for you to be so hung up on him after all this time?”

He was not expecting the sorrow on her face as she answered, “He was there for me during the worst times of my life. We went through hell and back for each other. And then, one day, he left without saying anything.”

“Wait, just like that? He didn’t even break up with you?” Ji-hwan raises his eyebrows.

“Nope”, she accentuates the ‘P’. “He simply wrote ‘Live well.’ on a napkin and I never heard of him again. Until now.”

He scratches the top of his head, “What a fucking jerk.” She laughs, it’s rare to hear Ji-hwan swear. Finally, he rolls his eyes. “Fine, I’m in.”

“Yes, I knew you wouldn’t let me down. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She’s doing her little victory dance now, shaking her hips in the least graceful way possible. Like every time his boss convinces him to blur the line of what is morally acceptable, Ji-hwan is regretting this already.

“If I said no, you would have threatened to fire me anyway.”

“You know it.”

#vincenzo #chayenzo #chayenzo fic #my fic

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pfreadsandwrites · 3 years

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I would love to request smth for your 100 follower celebration 🥰 It’s so hard to decide which prompt to choose but since I’m a sucker for some good ol‘ fluff: 77: “ Are you jealous? ” and 54: “ I can’t stand the thought of loosing you. ”. I don’t know if two prompts make it easier or harder to write smth, I hope this is ok 😅

100 follower celebration

Yet again, I am super sorry for the delay in this. Just, the weird cold i’ve had the past few days, the last one I did hardly being read, creativity, writer’s block, etc but I really hope you enjoy this @praisingkuroosbedhead !! Thank you so much for the support you’ve shown me up until now and i just realised your icon is Bisuke... I love... Also yeah i struggled a little a lot, just because I don’t think Kakashi would show his jealousy in a very obvious way, the second prompt would usually come after something kinda serious like an argument, so Kakashi having a moment of actually showing anger in his jealousy (which is what would realistically lead into the second prompt)... So i had like 3 or 4 different outlines that were way too complicated so i found this very difficult. It was nothing to do with your request though, my brain is just... empty... . I still don’t know if this one’s any good though, think i thought about it too much which made for worse writing but i still hope you enjoy!

warnings: jealousy (duh), slight arguments, and resolution, fluff, reader being a dumbdumb, Kakashi being a dumbdumb too i guess but he’s mostly just grumpy this time, not proofread cuz my brain has gone on strike, 2.5k

taglist: @madaras-housewife @datblobbyfish @praisingkuroosbedhead @allthingskakashi @enchantedpendant @ibukiirisha @cinam00n @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @tachibrii @drunkenfists

sidenote: if anyone on my taglist could confirm they got the notification for this that would be interesting to know, but then it’s not like i can do anything about it lol.it would be cool if this showed in tumblr’s tags but i’m not holding out much hope.

77. “Are you jealous?” / 54. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

It’d only lasted a second, but you could have sworn you’d seen it.

No. Though you had no proof before you, you knew you’d seen it. You saw his fist clench - just for a moment - then his strong fingers uncurled, as if regaining composure. His eyebrows knitted to a point, furrowing nicely in that way you always found so attractive, but even that was quickly replaced with that familiar, relaxed gaze you were also charmed by. Even if you were a little disappointed to see it so soon.

But when you looked again, Kakashi had disappeared from the spot he’d occupied most of the night - leaning back with one foot against the wall, arms crossed as he pretended to read that stupid book of his.

Could he have straight up teleported out of there, sick of this party, your shenanigans or both? You had to admit, you didn’t put it past him. But before you had the opportunity to explore your suspicions, a louder, less familiar voice reclaimed your thoughts.

So, reluctantly, you shifted your attention back to the drink you’d been working on and the man in front of you. You hadn’t led him on - unless repeatedly mentioning your complete lack of availability fell under that category - but Kakashi didn’t know that. And though his apparent inability to take a hint was beginning to grate on you, you had to admit that it served nicely for something else. Nothing noble - namely, eliciting a damn reaction out of your frustratingly stoic boyfriend - but it seemed effective nonetheless.

Not that it had stopped the pang of guilt creeping up from the pit of your stomach to your pounding chest. Though you were willing to deny your principles, even if only slightly, you really hadn’t meant to upset him.

But you were no fool, either.

You knew exactly what you were doing tonight.

You knew why you had come out, why you had chosen this dress, and why you had asked that Kakashi come along tonight.

At first, he had refused dismissively. Like he tended to do these days. But when he saw that you were set on going, with or without him, dressed like that - he suddenly decided that he ‘would tag along for a bit if you absolutely insisted’. You had smirked, amused at how he feigned like you were forcing him, but didn’t challenge him.

You knew just how immature you were being. You were sure Kakashi did too, but it was very nice of him to let himself be swayed despite that, just this once.

But it was the best you could do, considering the circumstances. Every date he had to cancel, every night he came back after you went to bed and every morning he was gone before you woke up - you were at your limit.

You were willing to get his attention in any way you could.

The fact that he was currently out of sight was a mild dampener on your plan, but no matter - surely it was a sign that you’d succeeded, albeit a small one.

It was big enough for you to decide to find him, anyway. Maybe, if you were lucky, you’d even manage to actually talk to him about everything bothering you. Imagine that, an honest-to-God conversation! You didn’t think you were being too optimistic.

You made to slip away from the stranger attempting to retain monopoly on your attention as politely as possible. Unfortunately, his alcohol-fuelled indignation appeared to have got the best of him, and he grabbed your wrist, holding you firmly in place. You tensed, but your pleasant smile barely had the chance to transform before you felt another hand on you. On your shoulder, this time, but it was familiar.

“Hey Y/N.”

Kakashi’s nonchalant voice alone quelled that surge of anger and fear that had been bubbling beneath you. When you looked up at him, your shoulders relaxed involuntarily. Not that you had needed him exactly. You could handle an overzealous drunk at the very least, but he had that knack for allowing you to just breathe. “Hi.”

Your nuisance’s confidence dissipated just as quickly as it gathered. Evidently, he hadn’t expected to encounter the Kakashi Hatake tonight, especially not alongside you of all people. Kakashi hadn’t sounded threatening, not obviously anyway, but he didn’t need to. His reputation preceded him, and he counted on that fact - and sure enough, the other man let go of you immediately.

“Is there a problem here?” Kakashi wondered. Only the gruff tone at the end of his question belied his (potentially) aggressive implications, but it was all he needed.

“No! No problem at all!,” the other man assured, and moved back, suddenly very careful to observe his distance.

It was amusing to see the change yourself, the intimidating effect Kakashi had on others without even trying. If you didn’t know him better, you’d have felt too scared to try and mess with him in the first place.

“Glad to hear it! Now, if you’ll excuse us…,” his voice trailed off. He didn’t bother explaining himself further, or giving you time to argue, before pulling you away and through the crowd of people.

You almost stumbled, struggling to keep up with him in your heels. As much as you were happy to get the alone time you wanted, his hasty actions unnerved you a little. You noticed that his eyes were narrowed, the furrowed brow from before back with a vengeance. Was he actually angry? “Kakashi, wait! where are we -”

“Let’s just get some air.”

You couldn’t deny that sounded nice, and the peace and quiet on the rooftop was a welcome change from the raucous energy of the party beneath it. But Kakashi didn’t say anything else. He only adopted a similar position to the one he’d had inside, leaning against the roof door with his arms folded and eyes closed.

The air was suddenly… dense. This was uncomfortable. You sighed, and he peered an eye open to look at you. Still saying nothing, but at least it was acknowledgement. Taking your cue to approach him, you attempted to make sense of your current situation.

“Are you jealous?”

You asked it before you knew what you were saying. In hindsight, it was a stupid question. You knew that. Even if there were any inkling of truth behind it (and you suspected there was), Kakashi would vehemently deny it. No. He was above that - obviously. He wouldn’t allow himself to be manipulated by your obvious behaviour, by an an emotion as petty and irrational as mere jealousy.

Even as his actions belied his words, as they so typically did, as he had placed that large hand on your shoulder and led you away from your latest admirer, in that powerful but completely lackadaisical way that only he was capable of. Never realising how imposing he could be until you were up close, but never betraying that control either. God forbid he ever show that you were capable of bothering him.

When you glanced back at him, though, Kakashi was frowning again. His mask wasn’t the amazing obstacle he thought it was; you’d become quite adept at reading his expression through his eyes alone where others couldn’t.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said flatly. The subtle growl that accompanied his final syllable contrasted with the joviality your question, and it caught you off-guard. You had been cheerful enough, even teasing, but his stern glare and suddenly intimidating stature (he was so good at hiding it) cut through the levity you’d tried to bring to the situation. Suddenly, you were confronted with every implication of your actions tonight.

But you could only think of one acceptable way to shroud your nascent insecurity. Indignation and feigned confidence. “Why is it ridiculous?! Why did you pull me away like that if you weren’t?”

“Well, it seemed like he wasn’t getting it,” Kakashi shrugged. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No! But I could have handled it,” you sighed, but you didn’t have much faith in your words. You were sure you could have, probably, but you both knew you didn’t exactly hate the idea of him - specifically him - helping you like that. Even if you didn’t always like to admit it.

He hummed, amused, and you felt like he might have been smirking under his stupid mask. “Well, that’s probably true. But you were too busy playing games to notice what was going on.”

“I wasn’t playing games,” you hissed. Yet again, your words felt empty. But you hated being so transparent.

“If you say so. Care to enlighten me on what you were doing then?”

That scar that cut through his left eye, that was so engraved into his skin did an excellent job at cutting through your defences too. He was so good at seeing through you, you were surprised at the prospect of having to explain yourself. You had the inkling he just wanted you to admit it, the asshole, regardless of what it would do to your dignity. “Well, I-I don’t know.”

Kakashi folded his arms, as unimpressed by your response as you were taken aback. “Well, by all means, go back to him and figure it out.”

That was it. How willing he was to dismiss you, again. His tone sparked your own anger, and you were suddenly hit with the frustration of not just tonight, but of everything up until now.

“Why are you being such a jerk about it? Don’t you understand that tonight is the most emotion I’ve had out of you in weeks? I’ve tried so hard to be patient, and now I’m trying to be more obvious, and maybe this wasn’t the best way of handling it, but you don’t make it easy! You barely pay attention, then you act as if another man paying attention is meaningless, and then - Don’t you understand that I just miss you, but you don’t…,” your voice trailed off, and that dumbfounded wide-eyed stare Kakashi was giving you was the final straw. You were overwhelmed. You were exhausted. You were annoyed. How could he have the gall to look shocked while you bore your (admittedly, slightly nonsensical) soul to him? Your breath eventually caught up with your words, and the embarrassment at your rare tears and even rarer outburst lagged behind. You turned away.

“Y/N, I didn’t mean to - I just. Hey. Don’t cry.” It was Kakashi’s turn to stumble over his words. His breath hitched. “I miss you too. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t say anything, though you couldn’t exactly grant his request. How were you supposed to stop crying, when this was the first time he’d shown any regret, any realisation, over your feelings tonight? Had he honestly no idea? On second thought, you didn’t doubt that after all. The concern in his voice was genuine, and you knew he was even worse at working through his feelings than you were.

“I can’t stand the thought of losing you,” Kakashi whispered, just loud enough for you to hear. You turned back, something in that gravelly timbre of his voice pulling at your heartstrings. When you met his sincere gaze, he quickly closed the gap between you. When his thumbs moved to still your tears, your hands travelled to meet his. This was the closest you’d been in weeks.

“You have a funny way of showing that,” you admitted with a sniff.

He hesitated. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t figure out how to fix it. So with work, I let myself get distracted. I didn’t know what to do about… any of it”

His words and intent eyes render you touched, but ultimately, confused. You struggled to assuage both you and himself. “You’re the one that pulled away. Don’t you get that I don’t like the thought of losing you either? But at least I was doing something about it.”

“You think that was doing something about it?” His tone was a little too accusatory, and he knew it, relenting with a sigh before you had a chance to argue your case again. “Right. You were. It wasn’t very effective, or sensible - I know, I know - but it was more than what I was doing.”

You remained silent, ruminating on his words. It was nice to hear, affirming to have some admission that you weren’t the only one, that you were justified in your feelings. But you knew you weren’t guiltless either. “But I’m sorry. It was stupid to make you jealous. I should have just talked to you.”

“Yes, it was, and yes, you should have,” he agreed, a little too readily. You rolled your eyes, but he leant in close, as if in response, completely aware of the fact that he made your cheeks flare up. He leant down, lips dangerously close to your ear now, and went on in that huskier whisper that sent a shiver up your spine. “But it did work. It drove me crazy. Seeing them all look at you like that. Seeing him look at you like that. Watching him trying to get close to you. When he tried to touch you. ”

Wait? Did Kakashi just say it worked? Did you finally get him to admit that he was jealous? You allowed yourself an internal cheer of triumph. “I knew it!” An external one, too.

Never one to let you revel in your victories, least of all the petty ones, Kakashi stood up straight and went on. “Anyway. I’m sorry for being as distant as I was. I’m the one who put you in that position. I suppose I should have just talked to you too.”

“You suppose?”

Kakashi chuckled, tugging his mask down. You saw a glimpse of that genuine, handsome, smile - and you realised how long it’s been since you’ve really seen it. You were still pondering it when he kissed you. It was soft, sweet, apologetic - but much too short, and he was pulling his mask up before you could protest. “It’s nice to be gracious, Y/N. You were right. For the most part. Can’t we leave it at that?”

You gave an obnoxious sigh before grinning at him. “I suppose.”

“Thank you. Now, can we please go home already?”

You giggled, forgetting your self-consciousness for the moment, and placed a kiss on the masked part of his cheek. “Sure. Hey, make me a promise, though?”

He looked at you expectantly, even a bit apprehensive.

You reached up, your lips just as dangerously close to the shell of his ear as his had been to yours, and whispered. “Do you promise to make up for the distance, if I promise to make up for driving you crazy?”

Kakashi didn’t say anything, but you got the feeling that he didn’t have a problem with your terms. Something in the way he led you out, just as he had led you away from that nuisance. Something in the way he’d picked you up and carried you to bed that night, and in the way he held you close afterwards, his grip unrelenting. Something in that smile that you had missed so much, that was only for you.

It only lasted for a second, but you could have sworn you’d seen it.

#kakashi x reader #kakashi #kakashi hatake #hatake kakashi #naruto #kakashi fanfic #pfwrites #a lot of words but a lot of nothing #i feel like this is a fluffy nothing #enchantedpendant yours is next!! i'm scared/excited to start yours #so i can write an angsty nothing

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danny-chase · 3 years

Note

Big Brother instinct, Dick and either Cass, Gar, Danny Chase, Steph, Kara, Rose, or anyone else u want

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Batgirl (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dick Grayson & Cassandra Cain, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne Characters: Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Dick grayson centric, Fire, Burns, hair styling, Ice Cream, Hurt/Comfort, Late Nights, Fluff and Angst, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Missions Gone Wrong, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain is bad at feelings, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings Series: Part 11 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Summary:

Dick talks with Cass after a mission doesn't go as planned.

Fic under cut

“Argh!” Dick snaps back to attention as Bruce’s angry grunt rattles through the cave. The few bats still in for the night stir, their wings rustling in the distance. An avalanche of papers fly off of Bruce’s desk, and his grizzled form slumps forward, hands firmly planted on the table. His shoulders sag under some unknown strain; as if he’s carrying the weight of the sky.

“Hmm.” Dick blinks back another wave of exhaustion, he’s not working on a case – but Bruce is – and company always makes working more fun. Besides, Bruce is on a time limit and Alfred can’t stop him from escaping his room. So. Here he is. He took an oath - it’s his job to help.

Dick’s eleven and Bruce’s a pillar of reassurance – a precariously stacked pile of rocks constantly on the verge of crumbling. He has no idea how to pick up the pieces. No idea how to seal the cracks. “Bruce?” He mumbles, swinging his legs off his spinny chair. Bruce doesn’t look up, his mouth drawn in a tight line. The ghost of tears well in his eyes. Not good.

Dick scoots off the chair, lightheaded for a moment. He shakes the stars out of his eyes, nodding back and forth, up and down, like Bruce does when he’s sleepy. It’s late. He has school tomorrow. Not that it matters. Bruce will let him skip if he asks the right way. He jogs in place for a few seconds, readying himself, warming up his muscles.

There’s not much he can do to help, but he can at least put on a little show. He runs forward launching into a cartwheel, picking up the papers as he goes – Bruce likes his tricks, sometimes they even make him laugh, sometimes –

Bruce snags his ankle out of the air, his quick reflexes saving Dick from crashing into the edge of a counter. He finds himself hanging, the world stuck upside down as his hands dangle inches from the floor. “Thanks.” He looks up at Bruce’s weary face.

A yawn escapes his lips, and the corners of Bruce’s mouth twitch. “I’m going to have to child-proof the cave at this rate.” He tries for humor but it falls flat, his hearts not in it all.

He stares up, sticking his tongue out. Bruce’s frown doesn’t fade. “Are you okay?” He asks. Bruce’s hands fumble, and Dick swings dangerously low to the floor before he’s recovered. Not willing to take the chance again, he curls up, grabbing Bruce’s forearms and pulls himself up through his arms, settling himself on sturdy shoulders.

Bruce drops his feet. “I’m fine. Why would ask that?” He sounds almost hurt and Dick’s too tired to figure out why.

He slides down easily, Bruce gently deposits him on the floor. “You looked sad.” A yawn leaves his mouth without permission, he stumbles slightly, and a hand clamps down on his shoulder. He reaches back up, and Bruce throws him up against his shoulder, wrapping him in a hug.

Dick yawns contently, his eyelids fluttering without his permission, as Bruce starts walking towards the stairs. “I’m sorry��” The arm around his back pulls him a bit tighter. “I’m just not enough.” A shaking hand combs through his hair and Dick squeezes back because he doesn’t know what to say.

Bruce grunts as he takes a step up the stairs. “Sleep on it?” Dick suggests, resting his eyes for just a moment.

“Mmhmm. It’s bedtime.” Dick’s half asleep by the time they reach the top. He’s not sure he hears Bruce whisper, “You’re a great kid, chum.”

It took Dick years before he really understood the feeling. And even more years before he made the connection that that was how Bruce had felt on late nights spent scouring for clues that just didn’t seem to exist, having worked for days straight on three hours of sleep, and watching Gotham send all of it up in flames setting you back months on an investigation.

He’s learned there’s nights it’s impossible to save everyone – hell, he’s seen Clark get his ass kicked, and Clark’s damn near close to god. Dick would know – the Titans have fought their namesake. But the Titans have fought humans and lost despite half their members being godlike, and besides that most days now he’s alone. It doesn’t matter how hard he tries, how much he plans, how prepared he is; sometimes things just go to hell and a handbasket and there’s nothing he can physically do to prevent it.

Most of the time, he’s fine with that. It’s fine he has limits. Logically, he knows he can’t be expected to everything. Logically, he knows it’s a waste of time to worry about it. Logically, he knows it’s okay to take a night off, watch a nature documentary, invite a friend over, stay in and spend the night simply existing.

But it feels like he could be doing more – should be doing more. He feels that restlessness overtake him, and springs to his feet “Bruce I-”

Bruce gives him his patented bat-glare from where he’s sitting, looking up from a familiar pile of papers. Once it would have intimidated him into sitting back down. Now he just returns it with a patented one of his own. “-I think I’ll suit up and head out for the night, Tim could probably use some back up with-”

“Dick.” There’s this exasperated tone that Bruce can only ever seem to muster when saying his name. He pauses for a just a second, his eyes flickering down to Bruce’s clenched fists and tight shoulders. “Let me handle it.” It comes out as an order, but reading between the lines, it’s a plea.

Bruce would never admit it out loud, worry practically bleeds out of the man. Guilt gnaws on the inside of his chest, though, he’s not sure what it’s even from; the guilt of making Bruce worry or the guilt of being a useless sack of broken and bruised ribs while people need Nightwing’s help. Being benched sucks, but he knows enough to compromise. “Let me run the comms? Babs could use a night off.” She sleeps less than him and Bruce knows it.

The gray streaks in Bruce’s hair stand out all the more as he lets out a bone deep sigh. Dick rolls his eyes – he doesn’t get to do this right now. “You literally let me go out last night I don’t understand why-”

“Last night was an emergency. I didn’t have a choice.” His frown widens, his face etched in an eternal look of pain, mixed with disproval. “Two nights ago… you almost…” His mouth seals itself shut, unspoken words hanging in the air between them. It’s Bruce that breaks the gaze first. “Run the comms, don’t overexert yourself. It should be a quiet night…” He stands, hesitates before walking off “And get to bed early.”

Dick bites back a laugh, Bruce hasn’t talked to him like that since he was thirteen. “Alright.” He resists the urge to poke fun, and follows Bruce through the passage behind the grandfather clock.

“So Ives was talking about the Pirates of the Caribbean movie with me the other day, and we might go see it this weekend if I have the time. Gee- I can’t remember the last time I saw movie in theaters or even really hung out with him.” Tim’s endless chatter helps him stay awake in the dimly lit cave. His throbbing ribs help too, maybe he shouldn’t have tried doing push-ups. “Dad and Dana want to drop me off, but Ives has a car now, though dad’s still worried cuz of the time some wacko tried to stop us at a traffic light.”

Dick hums, a smile creeping its way up his face. “I can drop you off if it’s an issue.”

“Really?! That’d be awesome, you could stay for the movie if you wanted to, but I don’t know if you’d like it, I mean are pirates really your thing? I always figured you’d be more into Vikings or probably aliens actually, or something like-” A red light flashes on the screen, and Dick snaps to attention.

“Hold that thought.” Tim’s chatter ceases immediately as Dick furiously types on the terminal. He punches into the main line. “Batgirl how fast can you get to the corner of 16th and Murphy’s Ave, there’s a building on fire and you’re the only one anywhere near the Upper East Side.” A 911 operator calms down a hysterical woman in his left ear, Cass asking direction in the right.

He pulls up a map. “I-I can’t find a way out!” The woman shrieks. “I don’t know what happened, I was sleeping and-” she breaks off into raspy hacks.

“Go straight, turn right after three blocks down.” Dick winces, as the lady continues chocking on smoke. “C’mon Cass. Get there.” He mutters off the line. He eyes his cycle sitting idly in the bay – he’s twenty minutes out; Cass needs backup. He opens up another line. “Batman I need you to follow Batgirl, what’s your eta?”

Bruce grunts back, he hears thudding over the line. “Fifteen minutes.” The woman screams in his other ear, he yanks the earbud out as a massive bang nearly blows out his eardrum. Picking it back up, he can’t hear the woman anymore, only the roar of flames and falling debris.

“Shit.” He pulls up video from a street camera. “Shit.” The building’s collapsing in on itself. “Permission to call the league?” He clicks through to their line of communications, his finger hovering over the button.

“Here.” Cass scrambles into view, bursting through a window. Shit.

Bruce learned his limits long ago. Dick’s finally settling into his. Cass? They simply don’t register on her radar. The buildings coming down in mere minutes; she’s going to get killed.

“What’s the situation?” Bruce yells in his ear.

“Batgirl get out of there!” He screams at Cass. She’s going to die – the building’s not stable, and he’s the one that sent her there. “Make it five minutes – the building’s coming down.” He yells to Bruce. “Batgirl!” He watches a few windows blow out. A firetruck careens down the street.

“Permission granted.” Bruce huffs and Dick can’t click the button fast enough.

A couple more windows blow out, and the building seems to lean to the side. Finally he sees Cass climb back out a window, holding a couple kids in her arms as she leaps to the ground. “BATGIRL GET THEM CLEAR!” His heart pounds in his throat as she runs forwards, the building groaning behind her, crumbling to the side. Chaos erupts, chunks of flaming debris cascading from the top of the building, as the second floor merges with the first.

Dick blinks, his mouth dry. “There’s more people-” he can’t hear Cass over the ensuing cacophony as he watches the building topple to the ground. “NO!” He faintly hears her scream as the screen erupts in static.

Dick slams his fists on the desk. His chest constricts painfully. “Nightwing. Report.” Bruce’s steady voice reminds him to breathe. His chest spasms. Shit. “Nightwing!” Bruce demands as he tries to catch his breath.

“Building collapsed.” He manages to get out. “One sec.” He takes a few deep breaths, leaning back in the chair for support. “Batgirl report.” He’s greeted with silence. “Batgirl, please, if you’re there I need you to respond.”

“I…” Cass trials off. Dick sighs in relief. “I’m sorry.” The line cuts off. Well. Shit.

“Nightwing! I’m headed to the location.” Bruce squawks. Dick sighs.

“It’s going to be a long night. Search and rescue, I’ll call in backup.” Shit. So much for an early bedtime.

“Hey.” Someone shakes his shoulder. He makes a grab for their wrist and misses, his mind processing where the hell he is. He blinks a few times.

“Cass?” Her hair’s plastered to the side of her head and she’s covered in soot. Nicks, rips, and tears decorate her costume. Dick wipes his eyes as the ashy smell of smoke overwhelms his senses. Cass takes a few steps back, heading towards the locker room. “Wait.” He had something to say to her, his mind racing to catch up.

She hops up onto a counter. His mind shuffles through the events earlier in the night. “Bruce sent you back?” Cass nods glumly. The rescue efforts weren’t going well when he dozed off. The JLA sent in everyone they could spare; there’s nothing they can do anymore. Not that Bruce won’t try.

Cass’s lips are sealed. There’s a haunting expression in her eyes, her shoulders slump forward, her hands firmly plant themselves on the counter for support.

And his friends think he’s too much like Bruce.

“Hey.” He starts. She gives him a weary look, tears welling in her eyes. Well, maybe not exactly like Bruce. “Look, I’m sorry I put you in that position.” Cass shakes her head. “Sometimes things like this happen. I should have-”

“Stop.” Cass pulls her feet up on the counter, getting dust everywhere. “I should have been faster.” She swallows, refusing to let the tears spill over. “My fault.”

Dick watches as she glides off the counter, yanking off her gloves and dropping them on the floor. Burn marks dot her hands and the edges of her hair are singed. “You did everything you could.” She hesitates, before taking a step towards the showers.

“Not enough.” She mutters before storming off, leaving a trail of soot in her wake.

He stands up. “Cass.” The lock snaps shut with a click as she slips into the bathroom. Leaving Dick in an empty cave once more.

By the time he returns downstairs, Cass is already out of the shower, looking displeased. “You took my clothes.” She notes unhappily, a pale pink towel tucked tightly around her shoulders.

Dick watches water drip down from her hair, pattering on the floor. The trail leading back to the bathroom is now mixed with water and soot. Alfred’s going to be pissed. “I took your costume.” He clarifies. “And I brought you clothes.” He gestures towards the open door.

Cass scowls, planting her feet defiantly. “I’m going out.” She reaches out a hand. Dick shrugs – there’s no way she can find where he hid her filthy suit before they get a chance to wash it.

It’s all too familiar, reading the lines across her brow, watching her shoulders slump when she stills, and scanning red rimmed eyes. “What are you going to do like that?” He points out, Cass angrily storming towards him. “You’re tired, you’ll just end up being in the way.” He dodges left as a fist flies past his face. “You would have hit if I wasn’t right.” She’s faster than him on his best days.

She glares at him with pursed lips, staring before turning on her heel and storming off towards the bathroom. The door slams behind her, triggering the rustling of far away wings.

Dick sighs – he hopes he wasn’t this temperamental when he lived with Bruce. “Come up to the kitchen when you’re done, I need your help with something.” The lie rolls easily off his tongue, though he feels a twinge of guilt as Cass groans behind closed doors.

Cass’s eyes widen as she enters the room. Dick offers a smile as she edges closer to the table. He tosses a spoon, she snags it out of the air. “Dig in.” There’s a carton of chocolate ice cream – double chocolate chunk brownie sundae with hot fudge and chocolate sprinkles to be precise – and tons of candy. It’s not stuff Bruce keeps around, but Dick’s has a stash at Tim’s house reserved for movie nights. He’ll restock later.

Cass vigorously stabs the ice cream with her spoon, a smile dancing across her face as she takes a few bites. She pauses, sticking the spoon back in the cartoon, looking up with a confused expression. “Why?” She’s wearing fluffy pajama bottoms, fuzzy socks, and an old worn college sweatshirt that’s frayed at the hems. Dick can almost pretend he’s back, talking to Donna after she broke up with Roy their sophomore year of high school.

She’s watching Dick carefully. He hums casually. “You had a rough night.” This is what the Titans always did. She shrugs.

“Things happen.” She shovels a few more bites into her mouth. “I want to go out.” It’s hard for Dick to find her tough and grizzled when she’s guzzling gummi worms, kicking her feet back and forth on the stool.

“Consider this a reason to stay in.” She gives him a sideways glance. “You did as much as you can, that’s enough.” Cass looks pointedly at her ice cream, not hesitating before diving back into it.

“Spar with me?” She licks a skittle before sticking it in her mouth.

Dick snorts. “If I don’t have a heart attack, I think Bruce would.” She snaps up to attention, grabbing his wrist and quickly finding his pulse point. “I’m fine, Cass.” Her hands are freezing. He places one of his on top of hers. “If you weren’t there I wouldn’t have been.” He says quietly, catching her eye. “Thank you.” She pulls back as if burned, quickly busying herself with the candy. He waits a moment before adding, “I think those kids you saved are grateful too.”

Cass throws a bag of M&M’s at him, he’s a second too slow and it pelts him in the face. “Noted.” He grins. “Uh, also, I’m going to have to do something with your hair.”

“What.”

“Cass, hold still.” She immediately stops squirming under his hands. “Thanks.” She hums back, tucked under an old blanket that never seems to leave the back of the couch. Bruce still isn’t here, but Tim checked in after his stakeout, and headed home a half an hour ago. He snips away another lock of burnt hair, tossing it into a trash can next to him.

He rests his forearms on the back of the sofa, contemplating which section of her hair to start with next. “You find one you like yet?” He asks, peeking over her shoulder at the images of hairstyles.

“Uhh.” She scrolls a bit more. “I don’t care.” She tosses the phone up to the top of the couch.

“Mmm.” He didn’t expect much else. Donna texted him a picture earlier to copy – something easy to pull back but still stylish. He attacks the next section, carefully brushing out the tangles, starting bottom to the top. He’s oddly grateful for all those times he did Donna and Kory’s hair.

‘Practice for when Bruce finally adopts a girl.’ They used to tease. ‘You’ll have a real sister, and if his track record holds she’ll have black hair and blue eyes.’ He’s never lived the irony down. Though, Cass’s eyes are a beautiful warm brown, so Donna and Kory can take that.

“You know.” He keeps his tone light. “Most hairdressers and their clients talk.” Cass remains set in stony silence. “Though I guess most people go to a salon to get their hair cut.” He just visits Joey. “Some people say it’s like free therapy.”

“You talk a lot.” Cass notes. He pulls up doodle jump on his phone and passes it back to her. She plays a couple rounds before the phone’s placed back beside him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He already knows the answer, but still asks all the same.

“No.” Bruce never wanted to either. Barbara used to talk to him… before he left for the Titans and took years to look back. Though he likes to dream otherwise, he knows there’ll come a day when Tim won’t want to talk to him anymore either.

It doesn’t get any easier being shut out. “That’s alright. If you change your mind I’m here.” He grabs the shears, snipping away another dead end.

“Thanks.”

“Dick.” A hiss awakes him, light following soon after. He squints, turning away to bury his face in a cushion. “Where’s Cassandra?”

He turns, eyes snapping open as he quickly scans the sofa. The blanket hangs off the edge, Cass nowhere to be seen. One of her custom batarangs sticks out of his armchair’s armrest, a few inches from his hand. “She must have found her costume.” He notes, glancing towards the pajamas crumpled in the doorway. His eyes meet Bruce’s as he lets out a tired sigh.

His hair’s dripping, fresh from a shower, and it’s singed at the edges. Dick nods towards the sheers on the coffee table. “Tomorrow.” Bruce decides, crossing the room, picking up the blanket as he goes. Dick pushes down the footrest, slowly rising to his feet. His ribs twinge at every move, in hindsight, falling asleep hanging off the side of an armchair wasn’t his best idea. Bruce hovers closer than normal, watching carefully, worry lines set in concern. “Bed.”

Dick’s too tired to argue. “Bed.” He agrees. And though Bruce doesn’t carry him, he accompanies him up the stairs.

#bad things happen bingo #dick grayson #cassandra cain #batfam #batfamily #nightwing #batgirl #my writing #sorry i've had this request for like 2 months but you know what we made it eventually 💀😅#thanks for the request anon!#i couldn't resist doing Cass but shout out to you remembering Danny Chase exists like dang iconic

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scullydubois · 3 years

Text

Only the Light Ch. 18

Scully, Mulder, and Missy travel to California to meet Emily and wrestle with the future.

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

The echo of Scully’s heels against the linoleum is almost enough to drown out her racing heart. Mulder’s thumping steps and her sister’s daintier ones help too, but their collective power does nothing to ease Scully’s awareness that the Earth circles the sun at a thousand miles per hour. Today, she’s feeling every bit of it.

The three of them round a corner, and a broad-shouldered man and tiny-waisted woman come into view. Agent Feniston and the lawyer, this must be. Outside of conference room C--as planned.

Straightening every disc in her spine, Scully extends a hand and exchanges a firm shake with each of them. Mulder and Melissa hang back.

“Dana Scully,” she declares. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“That decision rested with the foster parents,” the male agent insists. “As does any from this point forward.”

“Yes, and I’ll be sure to thank them as well,” Scully acquiesces.

“Hello, Ms. Scully.” The lawyer uncrosses her ankles. “I’m Tanya Joyce, you can call me Tanya. As a representative of the state of California, my priority is guarding the child’s wellbeing and ensuring that any choice made is what’s best for her.”

“Of course,” Scully murmurs. “Thank you for being here.”

Tanya thumbs toward the closed door of the conference room. “Brian and Cecily are eager to meet you. The foster system has extremely limited information on little Emily. Your testimony will help us all fill in some blanks.”

Scully nods. “Me as well...this is as much a surprise for me as all of you.”

“Are we to understand that you were not aware you bore a child, Ms. Scully?” Agent Feniston asks.

“Yes, sir. I know it’s quite hard to believe, I feel the same. I was missing for a period of time last year and was comatose when I returned.”

“Yes, and how long was that period of time, Ms. Scully?”

The edges of her lips fall. “Approximately five weeks.”

“So is it safe to assume that though the child shares your DNA, you did not carry her?”

“No sir, not that I know of. I believe that my eggs were harvested, and she was...well, she comes from one of those.”

The agent hums a note of acknowledgement. “As I told you over the phone, the federal database contained no viable DNA match of a father.”

Scully nods. “Yes sir, and I have no knowledge of what sperm may have been used.”

“Noted.” He rubs his neck. “We were lucky, we only found you because you were in the missing persons database.”

“I had no idea I was still listed there,” Scully says. “I’ve asked the FBI to remove it.”

“Well, it was a stroke of luck for us,” the agent tells her. “This little girl’s foster parents encouraged the state to pursue child abandonment charges against whoever left her. She was found outside a local care center at two weeks old, as I’ve told you.”

“Yes.” Scully purses her lips. She imagines a baby with her eyes, nose, toes, chromosomes crying on a nondescript doorstep...she and Mulder did not know what they were doing when they said they wanted the truth.

“We’ve already confirmed your story with the FBI,” Feniston continues, “and we have proof that you were working on cases in the east at the time of Emily’s delivery to the foster center, so you are free of any child abandonment charges.”

“Wonderful,” Scully replies, but really, those were the least of her concerns. “May I see my daughter now?”

That’s the first time she’s ever said that sentence, and she didn’t expect terror to shoot up her spine. Is this what it is, having an extension of your life outside your body?

The lawyer steps forward. “I’ll introduce you to Brian and Cecily, they’d like to speak with you first.”

Scully does not like the way that sits in the air. Still, she musters a smile. “It would be my pleasure.”

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

Mulder and Melissa make themselves at home on a pair of leather chairs outside the conference room. They have been the pall-bearers keeping Scully aloft as her crushed dreams reinvent themselves as high hopes. They don’t understand how it happened any more than Scully herself: one phone call turned into multiple consultations with Agent Feniston, then Tanya and California Social Services and finally, DC social workers who performed background checks and prepared forms so that Scully could come here today to meet her baby and, God-willing, bring her home.

It doesn’t happen this fast, it never does--different voices said these same words to them a dozen times. And yet, barely two weeks after Agent Feniston’s fated voicemail, here they are. On All Hallow’s Eve, no less. Just in time for Emily to complete her first rotation around the sun.

They both play contrasting yet crucial roles in Operation Miracle Baby, as Mulder dubbed it. Dana has sobbed into Missy’s shoulder every night for the past two weeks; happy tears (her baby! she has a baby!), sad tears (she has a baby…and she didn’t even know...), scared tears (a baby! a baby, Missy! probably already walking, and maybe even talking if she’s exceptional...). The situation--and its implications--are impossible to reconcile in such a short time, if at all. Scully’s petite frame could not physically contain it.

Mulder’s the comic relief, the distraction, the reminder that nothing can be so grave if there's still breath left in your body. He bought a CD of nursery rhymes and stuck in it his beat-up office radio, playing it through the day while Scully labored over this form or that and he pretended to alphabetize the case file drawer. Now, he hums himself to sleep every night with one of those rhymes; he’s hoping this new skill will come in handy.

He would’ve bought toys and baby clothes too, but Melissa made him swear not to in case the adoption falls through. And she’s right, he can’t bear to imagine the pain Scully would feel packing those away. For sale: baby shoes, never worn hits you no matter who you are. Still, he has a stuffed UFO and a Build-a-Bear fox (yes, he went in and filled it himself) hidden in his closet, and he hopes they won’t go to waste.

Operation Miracle Baby has been as covert as anything Mulder’s ever been involved in. He, Melissa, and Mrs. Scully are the only ones in his partner’s circle with any knowledge of what’s going on. No one else, in Scully’s words, matters. Trinity too has received a full briefing from Missy and is ecstatic about her girlfriend potentially becoming an auntie. Skinner was told it was a family emergency--and well, it is--though surely he’s suspicious about both of his agents requesting time off. Bill Jr. has no idea they’re in San Diego, though they may seek “refuge” (the air quotes are Missy’s) at his place if the proceedings drag on.

This is a triumph or failure to be shared only with those most beloved, that’s what Scully said to them the night before they boarded the plane. Mulder has never been included in anyone’s most beloved before. It feels pretty damn good.

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

The perky lawyer raps on the conference room door, opening it in response to a voice on the other side. Scully’s breath catches….a strawberry-haired infant rests in her mother’s arms (Scully hates to think it, but surely this woman is more Emily’s mother than she is), pulling at a lock of the woman’s blonde hair.

The woman turns her way, and Scully gets her first glimpse at Emily’s face. Emily. Her baby. She wondered the whole flight here whether she would feel a connection….a sense of recognition...upon laying eyes on her daughter. And my god, it’s like some chained section of her heart has burst open, flooded with all the good feelings of the world. Icy blue eyes and cherub cheeks...that’s her baby. That’s her baby.

She watches as her baby is passed to a woman in a CA Social Services button-up who slides past Scully in the doorway like she’s not even there. Scully has a split-second to notice the dimples on her daughter’s cheeks, but that’s it. Emily’s gaze misses her entirely.

Tanya strides toward the couple in the room, Scully following behind.

“Mr. and Mrs. Lace, this is Dana Scully, Emily’s biological mother.”

“We’re so glad to meet you,” the man says, shaking Scully’s hand with a firm grip. “I’m Brian, and this is my wife Cecily.”

“Thank you for speaking with me,” Scully tells them, shaking Cecily’s hand in kind. “I understand you’ve cared for Emily since shortly after she arrived at social services.”

“Yes,” Cecily confirms. “She came to us when she was a month old. Raising her has been an absolute joy.”

Brian nods. “She’s the second infant we’ve fostered. We adopted our first one, Andrew, when he was a year and a half.”

“I didn’t realize you had another child,” Scully converses, feeling out of her depth. “It must have been quite a transition, taking Emily in.”

“It sure was, but she’s an angel, truly,” Brian says. “We couldn't fathom that someone could abandon her and get away with it, that’s why we contacted Agent Feniston.”

Cecily chimes in--”We were told the chances of finding a DNA match in the federal database was slim. We didn’t expect to learn that you were unaware of Emily’s existence!”

“Yes, I’m still coming to terms with it all,” Scully replies. “I’m grateful that you’ve given me the opportunity to see her, at the very least.”

“When we heard your story, we knew it would be heinous of us to say no,” Cecily says, offering a sympathetic smile.

“You’re an FBI agent, did we hear that right?” Brain asks.

“Yes sir, I’ve been with the Bureau five years now.”

“You live in DC?”

Scully nods. “Around the corner from the National Mall.”

“That’s exciting!” Cecily pipes up. “How did you find yourself having Emily in San Diego?”

“I actually have no idea, Mrs. Lace,” Scully murmurs. “My family lived here when I was young, but I haven’t been back since. Coincidentally, my brother lives not too far off.”

“Wow,” Cecily gasps. “They weren’t kidding about you being a missing person.”

“No ma’am.” She went from a missing person to missing a person. No wonder she’s spent the past year feeling so empty.

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

Mulder and Melissa get only the slightest moment to catch their breath before a child that is unmistakably the progeny of Dana Scully is carried into the lobby. Her hair curls around her ears in a cute mushroom top, her tongue dancing in her mouth like it has a mind of its own. They stare; they know better, but fuck it, if any baby is worth staring at, it’s this one.

“Is that--?” Mulder whispers.

“Yeah,” Missy breathes.

They’ve both seen the pictures, they are well aware that it’s her. They say these things for the awe of it.

“She’s…” Mulder’s eyes are wide. “She’s bigger than I thought she would be. Not fat, I mean. Just...a whole tiny human.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Melissa smiles at her niece, who is now seated on her caretaker’s lap across the hallway. Emily’s big eyes blink at her, containing silent judgements. How like her mother she is.

Missy elbows Mulder. “I bet she orders mushroom pizza and then picks the mushrooms off because apparently ‘the cheese tastes better than on the regular cheese pizza,’” she muses, naming one of her sister’s quirks.

Mulder likes this game. “I bet she vehemently denies the existence of extraterrestrials only to secretly believe that her dashing partner is right,” he offers.

Missy smirks. “I bet she would find this game very stupid if she understood it.”

“I’m all in on that one.” Mulder mimes pushing a pile of poker chips into the center of a table.

Missy laughs, looks toward her seat partner with soft eyes. “She’s gonna be a great mom, isn’t she? Dana, I mean?”

“Oh yeah.” Mulder clasps his hands in his lap. “We should be so lucky to have a little Scully in the world.”

“Mm-hm.” Missy focuses on his face, watching for the slightest move that might give his thoughts away. “And she’ll be able to do it alone, do you think?”

“Well, I’m sure she’ll need some help from Mrs. Scully, and you, and…” he trails off before adding his own name, but Missy’s mind fills it in reflexively. “She’ll need help,” Mulder finishes, “but yeah, she’ll be incredible.”

The details have already been parsed out. As a single mother, Scully is required to list a guardian who would take custody of Emily if something were to happen to her. She listed her mother as the primary one--the social worker told her it’s best if it’s someone who has child-rearing experience--and Missy as the secondary guardian. She would, after all, already live in the child’s household.

Then there was the matter of the job--its extensive time requirements, travelling, and danger level were all of concern to the agency. This came as no surprise to Scully; a single female FBI agent does not make the ideal adoption candidate. And though she hasn’t yet spoken to the Bureau, Mulder has promised her they’ll work something out. It can be like your leave of absence, he assured her. You tackle the paper trail and I’ll focus on following the suspect’s trail. Easy-peasy.

That’s what he says to her, though he’s terrified of losing her as his partner...Of her being reassigned to something simpler or leaving the Bureau entirely. She could teach at Quantico, that schedule would be a hell of a lot easier than running on Mulder time. Agent Scully can pack for hastily-booked flights at midnight then catch them at 7am, but Emily’s mother couldn’t. He will have to reckon with this if all the pieces fall into their graceful place. He’ll have to figure out how to rearrange their partnership for her, or even worse, how to live without her as his partner. Or maybe even at all.

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

Scully glances at her shoes, then summons the courage to meet Mrs. Lace’s hazel eyes. “I hope you will consider my request. I know it’s not up to you entirely--the court will have the final say--but my abduction experience has left me unable to have a biological child, so learning of Emily was truly a miracle of the highest order.”

Her voice clips as she takes a breath. “I understand that it would be a huge sacrifice on the part of your family, and that you’ve developed a bond with Emily over the past eleven months. I just ask you both to please...think about it.” Tears twinkle in her eyes. She made it, thank god, she made it without breaking down! She’s rehearsed that speech ten times over.

Cecily lays a hand on her husband’s arm. “Of course, Dana. It would be a painful sacrifice to us, you’re correct, but we understand that you’ve flown across the country to be here, and that you’ve brought witnesses to testify to your character, so your commitment is clear. We’ll listen and make as compassionate a decision as possible.”

Scully’s lips creep into a smile. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” She steps back, the weight of imminent sobs settling over her chest.

“Ms. Scully has already undergone most of the requirements needed for adoption,” the lawyer tells Mr. and Mrs. Lace. “Medical clearance, psychiatric clearance, criminal background check, and home study. In the spirit of her unique circumstances, California and the District of Columbia have agreed to cooperate to make the process as smooth and expedient as possible, if you should choose to surrender Emily to her. I don’t mean to sway your decision in any way, just to give you all the available information.”

The couple nods. “Thank you, Tanya,” Cecily answers. “We’d like to speak with the first witness now.”

Scully balks. She expected more questions, a barrage of them, as intense and prying as if she were testifying in front of Congress. And she was ready for that--she was prepared to do whatever they asked of her, to show that there are no lengths she wouldn’t go for Emily. She’s already documented every detail of her life for social services and given over the necessary specimens to prove that no, she’s not a drug user, and yes, her thyroid is hyperactive, but she takes medication for that and her doctor will confirm that it’s under control.

And if they wanted to know more, she’d tell them. She’d tell it all. Her deepest, darkest secret (telling Daniel that yes, he should leave his wife & kids...all for her, to be with her), the most petty thing that haunts her (stolen cigarettes, smoked on the family porch at 1am), what she wants to say most but can’t (I love you)...a part of her was taken to create Emily. She would give the rest away to keep her.

There was a moment, in one of the drab little interrogation rooms at DC social services, where Scully was met with a question that lunged toward her like a time-bomb. Pull the fuse, pull the fuse it taunted her. See what happens. Instead, she played it off. Pretended she didn’t hear its doomed tick. Feigned none the wiser. No, she isn’t aware of any potential medical condition that would inhibit her life expectancy or ability to care for a child, she told the nice woman. Thank god they got the chip out of her neck before it showed up on any x-rays.

She snaps back to reality, watching as the conference door opens, and her sister enters the room.

“Thank you, Dana,” Tanya says, and she assumes that’s the lawyer’s way of telling her to get out, so she does. Outside the room, she settles next to Mulder in a seat that’s still warm.

“How’d it go in there, champ?” he chatters. “You need some water or anything?”

Scully’s not listening. Her eyes are trained on the baby girl across the way with hair too auburn to be brunette that’ll require a smattering of box dye every two weeks to qualify her as a soulless ginger.

Emily’s eyes land on the woman she does not know is her mother, studying this new face with an infant’s usual curiosity. Mulder has realized by now that the little girl is of much more interest to his partner than he is, and he watches as mother and daughter wave to each other.

Scully lets out a laugh so strangled that for a moment Mulder thinks it’s a cry and jumps to comfort her. He relaxes back into his seat once he sees the joy on her face.

“She’s a sweetheart, huh?” Mulder wisecracks as the young girl jams her fingers into her mouth.

Scully beams. “She’s a baby, that’s her way of learning the world!”

“Hey, I’m not knocking it. That’s my personal preference as well,” he says with a lop-sided smile.

“Yeah, well, she’s not licking evidence,” Scully quips.

Mulder shrugs. “A man can’t help his oral fixation. Haven’t you ever heard of Freud…?” he lets it slide off his tongue.

Scully rolls her eyes. His inability to maintain an appropriate manner is nothing if not inspiring.

She gestures toward Emily. “You’re already encouraging bad behavior. Tsk-tsk,” she teases.

“That’s my job as--hey, wait. What’s she gonna call me?” If you get custody, of course passes silently between them.

“I don’t know, Mulder,” Scully says, watching her daughter out of the corner of her eye. “I hadn’t really thought about it.” That’s a lie. She’s sat up during the night trying to decipher Mulder’s relation to Emily. He would certainly be the male authority in her life, but that doesn’t make him a father figure. Right?

Scully adored her father because he was the head of the family, and he embraced the responsibility, always making sure they had what they needed. While her mother was often the one doing the grunt work of caring for them, her father provided for them. His long deployments with the Navy protected them. Scully understood his sacrifice and loved him for it

That’s not how it would go with Emily. If she were so lucky as to get the child, Scully would be the caretaker and the provider. A two-in-one deal with a high price. What would that mean, for Emily? Scully could do it, she believes that. Not that it would be anything less than utterly exhausting, but with a little help from her mother and her sister, she could make do, and they say it takes a village to raise a child anyway, so what’s so bad about that?

Since she’s filling those roles herself, that leaves...well, Mulder could be the fun uncle, that fits him. Bill Jr. isn’t gonna cut it, and neither is Charlie, considering that he’s god knows where. Besides, it’s unlikely that Mulder will get a chance to know a biological niece or nephew. He and Emily could fill missing pieces in each other’s lives.

Scully’s eyes trace the contours of her partner’s face. “Do you have a preference about what she calls you?”

“I was hoping for His Royal Highness Fox Mulder of Martha’s Vineyard--is that too much?”

Scully lets a strand of hair fall over her face. “It might take her awhile to get her tongue around that.”

“Or it’ll speed up her speech acquisition,” Mulder replies.

“Oh, you’re a child-rearing connoisseur now?”

Mulder twiddles his thumbs. “It is my goal to raise the first kid to transcribe canine language into English.”

“Really? I wasn’t aware of that,” Scully tells him, a smile flitting on her lips. It’s this kind of banter that keeps her sane. A few minutes out here with him, and she’s forgotten that what happens in that conference room will dictate the rest of her life.

Across the hallway, Emily giggles at the air, and it fits, doesn’t it? Here she is, already laughing at Mulder’s jokes like the Scully girl she is.

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

It feels like a prisoner exchange when witness number one in their civil-that-sure-feels-like-a-criminal case joins Scully back in the hallway, and Mulder is called forward “to the stand.” He swears he found a penny in the parking lot this morning & promises to bring back good news. Scully’s pretty sure he made that story up, but she’s no less hopeful that it’ll come true.

Returned from her brief stint in captivity, Missy dives right into a discussion of her niece: “Look at her, Dana, she looks just like you!”

“Well, she does have fifty percent of my DNA,” Scully concedes with an admiring glance at the little girl.

“Have you gone over to see her?”

Scully shakes her head. “I didn’t think that would be proper.”

“Are you kidding me?” Missy retorts. “First of all, Brian and Cecily are very nice people, and I’m not supposed to say this, but I think there’s a chance that Emily will be yours. Secondly, this could be your only opportunity to interact with your daughter and you’re not gonna take it?”

Scully bites her lip. Her sister knows how to craft an argument. “Alright, but you have to back me up.”

“Trust me, I wanna see her just as badly as you.”

Scully steels herself, then approaches the woman in the polo shirt. “Hello.” She does a polite half-wave, which she’s never done before and which makes her feel ridiculous. “I’m the potential adoptee, and I was wondering if I could say hello to this precious little girl.” It all feels completely out of character, like she’s reading lines from a script. But this is it, this is her reality.

The woman’s face offers little in the way of recognition. “You can have a supervised visit with her, yes,” she recites, as rehearsed as Scully.

“Great.” Scully claps her hands together. “May I take her to my sister right over there?”

The woman nods. Scully lays her hands on Emily’s waist and lifts the girl gently from the woman’s lap. She is heavier than Scully imagined, or maybe just heavier than she hoped. Every ounce is a reminder of unseen existence and unwitnessed growth.

Emily does not balk, just stares up at her mother with those probing eyes.

“Hi baby girl,” Scully coos to her daughter as she settles her against her hip. “Can you say hi? Have you got that one yet?”

The girl blinks. “Ma-ma.”

Scully crooks her neck, tries to reign in her racing imagination. All babies do this at this age, don’t they? Calling every woman mama and every man dada. Emily’s no exception. And yet...for that to be the first word her daughter has ever said to her. God winked at her, and she’s glad to have caught it.

The pair makes it to Missy, who blows a kiss in Emily’s direction. “Hey there little one.” She extends her index finger, and the girl latches onto it.

Scully cradles her baby’s head, Emily’s fine hair soft beneath her fingers.

“She’s even-keeled for a baby,” Missy remarks, wiggling her finger and watching Emily crack a smile.

“Yes,” Scully gurgles out of the sheer joy. She settles into her chair with Emily in her lap. “Do you know what she said to me?”

Missy looks up. “What?”

“Mama.” Scully dons a triumphant grin. “She called me mama.”

“Oh, no way!” Missy squeals. It’s a bit too loud and sudden, making Emily jump. The ladies laugh, and Scully pulls her daughter in closer, kissing the crown of her head. She still has that baby smell; the freshness of new life and all its purity. Scully sighs. It must have been even stronger when she was born.

Scully closes her eyes. If she had one chance to pause life somewhere along the way, to linger in a perfect moment longer, she would do it right now and she would never regret it.

“My baby…” she breathes into Emily’s ear, hoping it will stick. That one day she’ll remember and find her way home, should she need to.

A warm tear slides down Scully’s cheek and lands in Emily’s lap, a dark drop on the girl’s corduroy pants. “Mama loves you, Emily.” She tightens her embrace. “That’s me,” she sniffs. “I love you, Emily.”

Observing this, Missy feels that she is an interloper and slips off to the bathroom, leaving mother and baby to have their moment.

Scully strokes the girl’s tiny palm with her thumb. She has missed so much already, and my god, she could miss so much more. What is love, if not sacrifice? Hadn’t that been the takeaway from each week of Sunday school?

The conference door opens, and Scully finds herself irritated that life has failed to pause. Oh, what wouldn’t she do to take the reins from God, even for a moment? She looks up at Mulder, doe-eyed as he processes the optical illusion that is Emily and her mother. Said mother sees the tenderness on Mulder’s face as he comes to terms with this sight, and something in both of them breaks, and something else opens.

Mulder approaches quietly, apprehensive about ruining the moment. Little does he know, he’s not ruining it; he’s completing it.

“Hey,” Scully swoons. “How was it?”

He’s too earnest to crack a joke right now. “Less nerve-wracking than I expected,” he murmurs. “Brain and Cecily are good people.”

Scully can’t help but wonder if they’re hammering this point about Brian and Cecily to make her feel better when the gavel falls in their direction. Mulder directs her train of thought away from this when he kneels in front of Emily. His eyes are as soupy as ever, Scully notices; she could sink right into them.

“May I?”

Scully chuckles under her breath, like a stranger has just asked if they could pet her dog. “Of course, Mulder. Say hi.”

Over the past weeks, Mulder spent considerable time anticipating this initial interaction. First impressions are important, after all, and there is no one he has wanted to impress more than this sweet girl. Ultimately, he decided that he didn’t care what their meeting was, as long as it would be. And now that he’s here, knelt in front of his two favorite girls, he’s ready to make a promise.

He envelops Emily’s closed fist with one hand and uses the other to caress Scully’s palm. “I want you to know,” he begins, shifting his gaze between mother and daughter, “that I’ll always be here for you.”

He looks to Scully, realizing that Emily is unable to comprehend what he is saying. “Regardless of Brian and Cecily’s choice, I am prepared to make every sacrifice so that you two can be a family. The family you deserve to be. I know what it’s like to not have that, and christ, Scully, I’m not letting you go through that. You’ve had enough for one lifetime.”

Scully’s face puckers. She is moved on a dimension that transcends the spiritual, if such a thing is possible. She closes her eyes, lets the tears slip out, then softens her focus on him.

“Thank you, Mulder...Fox,” she effuses, needing to heighten the intimacy. “Emily and I…” she kisses her daughter’s temple again. “Well, you know. You already know.” Her voice is somber almost, reminiscent of a wedding vow’s binding utterance.

Mulder smiles up at them, pats Scully’s hand. “I know. Me too.”

There are many phrases that could fill her blank, but he chose his favorite, and he’s got an inkling that he’s right.

Scully sucks in a breath, and it’s the first one that has ever counted. Earth is new to her, again.

The door opens a second time, and the lawyer approaches with Brian and Cecily behind her.

“Mr. and Mrs. Lace would like to take some time to think about their decision,” Tanya announces. “You will understand, they hope…?”

Scully nods, swallowing back a lump in her throat. She would like to break into a tantrum, throwing chairs and screeching every obscenity she knows. Begging please, please, don’t let me miss another heartbeat. Let me live in this Heaven I’ve found. But no answer is better than an immediate rejection, so she screws her lips into a smile and gives away two more handshakes.

“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Lace. I’m grateful for this opportunity.”

#you guysss i have been excited for this chapter since day one!!!#it only gets more emotional from here ahhhh #hope you enjoy <3 #i am hugging anyone who reads this #only the light fic #missy and scully fic #the x-files #txf fic #txf #fox mulder #dana scully #melissa scully #mine

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