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peachesofteal · 3 months

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Prologue: The Moirai

An Ichor Veil (of Flower Kings) masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 1.5k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: modern setting retelling of Hades and Persephone A strange dream, a strange visit.

For months, you’ve had the same dream.

You’re wandering a valley, your valley, a lush, green collection of rolling peaks, sweet grass and clover nearly velvet beneath your bare feet. The sun, high in the sky, does not moisten your brow, or cause you distress. You do not thirst. You do not tire.

You only meander, feeding the earth snippets of power, growing flowers and vines, a plethora of life, amusing yourself, as you do every night.

You roam this meadow, until your eyes open at dawn, bullfrogs and crickets and the raw chirp of birds tapping against the windowpane, brightening you to the morning better than any alarm clock ever could.

But tonight, the dream is different.

You’ve never seen so much Narcissus. It paints an idyllic picture, bright petals sparkling far and wide, blanketing the hills until they swoop low in the soft belly of the dream. They draw you in, pulling you down until you’re seated amongst a mass of blooms, Asphodelus scattered throughout, honeysuckle vine curling through the grasses, more fragrant than sea spray, filling the air with an intoxicating sweetness that you can taste, crystal like dew dripping with jasmine and vanilla.

It's beautiful.

A creek babbles nearby, crooning in its own language, rushing trickle drowning out your thoughts and feelings, twisting and tugging until it’s hard to remember you’re in a dream at all.

Is this not your meadow?

Is this not your own?

The Asphodelus shivers, rocking back and forth in a cool wind, the kind that chills your skin, whips around your shoulders and tousles the thin fabric of your shirt.

“Hello.” The greeting startles you, twists your torso in the waist deep flora. Rise. Instinct booms, like your mother’s chide ringing a shrill bell for you to obey.

A figure stands in the meadow behind you, tall beside the sun, rays of golden light casting long shadow across their features. You squint, but it’s of no use. You cannot make them out.

“Hello.” You mirror, palms forward, heels digging into the grass. There’s a sharp prick, a sting that bleeds, and you curse, lifting your hand for inspection. “Acantha.” You hiss at the goddess, as if she has anything to do with your dreams.

Gold runs from the wound like the creek, slicking your palm, coating your skin in ichor, your own lifeblood.

The lifeblood of the Golden ones.

Lest you forget.

The figure kneels in the grass before you, their head bowed, black gloved hands reaching, tugging your palm upwards, dragging a thumb through the mess of ethereal life.

“I’m fine, just a prick.” You assure in the silence. There is so much light, and yet none, nothing to illuminate the face or the features of whomever it is that occupies your dream.

A fragment of your mind, perhaps. A trick of your mother’s.

Or an interloper.

“You’re hurt.” The dark pitch of the figure’s voice is startling. It’s fathomless, beautiful like the coast of the Aegean, guttural like the shout of death. Raw ruby, not quite plucked from its sanctuary, not quite finished or ready to be seen, a secret gem, only for you. The meadow rustles, thousands of faces in the little flowers leering, scowling, blue sky dimming into grey. Thunder shatters the tranquility, clapping in the distance, a garish boom sending electric shocks through the clouds, all manner of rumbles rolling over the hill.

Rot. It fills your soul in a flood, current wrapping around your ankles and tugging, like a thousand Oceanids lay at your feet, crying. Screaming.

But your hand is warm. Your hand is warm and it is held, for a moment, a moment in which you feel dramatically unlike yourself, unlike the fledging goddess you claim to be, unlike the unloved one you’re known as, and then-

it is cold. Your hand. Your heart. You. The being, the figure, is gone.

And you are alone.

The Greenhouse is quiet. An easy peace, so easily disturbed by comings and goings, friends and patrons, all manner of beings and others, stopping in and out.

They say hello. They ask for help, advice, favor. Some things you cannot give, even to some visitors who you hold close. Dearly.

These moments alone, moments of solitude in the Greenhouse, and some that you love the most. Moments when you're alone with yourself, your power, your connection to the earth. When you can feel it the most, the worms in the dirt, the roots desperate for water, the blooms aching to flourish. You are all these things, when you're alone. A power unto yourself. A goddess of life, of fertility, of Spring. The essential reawakening. The circle of seasons.

The secret weighs heavily.

But a goddess of Spring, is no mere goddess of Spring, your mother's voice echoes. A goddess of life, may as well wear a target on her back.

This morning, when the dew still refracts the light of the sun and birds are singing, no one comes. You sit alone, pruning, detangling, taming a pothos, encouraging its lovely green vine to live on its own. It protests, and you huff at it, conjuring slivers of magic, feeding it kernels as if you care for a child, trying to encourage it to eat.

“You must try, you know.” It curls around the back of your hand, lovely silver-white speckled leaves shimmering in the morning’s light. “You’re not staying here. The Greenhouse is full. I don’t have any more room.” The overcrowded shelves and carts agree, saplings and ivy and atropa belladonna all singing in unison, quivering voices rising in protest of the pothos’ weak effort. “See? You’ll make everyone unhappy.”

“You have a habit of talking to all your plants?” A musical voice chimes from the front door, and you jump from the stool, a book on your right clattering to the concrete.

“No, I…” Your voice fails, the woman in the doorway steps closer, allowing her mortal appearance to fall away, removing her Cloak and revealing her true identity.

The Moirai.

The Three who are One.

She turns her head to the east, a flash of the Maiden surveying your workbench, and then the Crone shines through, all faces eventually melding into one.

The Mother.

“Daughter of Demeter.” She inclines her head in greeting, and you blink rapidly.

“You...” What are they… is she, doing here? “You shouldn’t be here.” You swallow the fear that races in a cold rush under your skin. A frozen river runs in your bones, frigid rapids roaring, trapped beneath a thin sheet of ice, churning your power into a weapon of terror, an uncontrollable force that tries to build beneath the swell.

“Your mother is preoccupied.” She waves her hand; unease props the hair up on the back of your neck.

“What do you want?”

“To see you.” She strolls, careful, casual steps echoing off glass. “Finally, in the flesh.” The sh sound hisses, and your power pulses, pushing forward in preparation. “You are truly as lovely as they say, little Spring Goddess.”

“I’m not the Goddess of Spring.” You rebuke, and the resounding chuckle is dry wine, a tatter of bubbles that on her tongue that sours your stomach.

“You are not.” She nods. “No. You’re so much more now. You will be.” She steps closer, red lips perfectly lined and plump, pursed as she stares you down. “I’m satisfied.” She murmurs, and even though she looks right at you, it’s as if you’re not in the room.

Rain drops patter on glass panels.

“Pity.” She frowns, and then winks as a young woman, as an old one too, vanishing from sight with each step she takes to the door.

The clock ticks too loudly, and it feels like doom. Like a shattered mirror, shattered reflection, shattered life.

The Moirai have never visited you.

Why now?

Outside, a screech owl hoots, startling you backwards, a hand rocking down to the work bench in an effort to steady your trembling legs.

“Ouch!” you shriek, flipping your palm over, a pair of pruning shears dug into your skin, golden blood leaking out around their cool metallic points. “Fuck.” Your lips cover the puncture, tongue flicking against the rivulet of ichor.

The screech owl screams.

The throne room is silent. Darkness ebbs, inky webs slithering across the floor, shadowing the blood red stone that spills from the mouth of the dais, two identical, straight back chairs sitting proudly in the middle of the hall, dwarfed by columns stretching so tall Johnny swears they surpass the boundary of this realm. Their onyx marble shrouds Simon, who stands maskless, his hands clasped behind his back, peering into the pitch-black pool of liquid vibrating inside a silver bowl.

“Who is she?” There is a woman in the seeing glass. Beautiful, bright, an overflowing bouquet of narcissus, an endless melody of spring, the promise of early death. The greenhouse breathes in her presence, all nature of blooms and blossoms straining closer, desperate to be within fingertips reach. “A goddess?” He looks closer, and Simon’s amber laden eyes affix his, broad palm tenderly cupping Johnny’s cheek. His answer is a whisper, something unearthly and severe as they are: two Kings of the Underworld, two souls twisted together, two macabre fates made one. His words are a looming promise, a vow so ruinous Johnny knows the Moirai howl and the Lethe trembles.

“Our wife.”

#peaches writes #AIV(OFK)#ghoap x reader #hades ghoap #persephone reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghost x soap x reader #Simon Riley #john soap mactavish

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sukiipjs · 3 months

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❧ SHOWER

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

↳ chris sturniolo x fem reader

↳ words - 1276

↳ summary - chris can’t stop staring at your ass, you just took a shower but might need another after this. (i’ll be honest i kinda hate/love this)

↳ contains - smut, fluff ish, sex, spanking, oral, swearing, praise, idkk

↳ song - anaconda by nicki minaj

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

°:. *₊ ° . ☆

chris should be coming over soon, i’m taking a quick shower before to get comfortable. i step out of the shower, grabbing my towel and drying off mostly, then putting on my underwear and bra. it’s only chris so i’ll just where that, plus it’s been so sooo hot lately, i’m literally sweating my ass off.

i hear the door open and chris shouts out, “baby! i’m here!” i smile as i continue with my skincare, “bathroom! come in!” i yell back as i hear the bathroom door creek open, chris coming in and his eyes immediately going to my ass, barley covered with just my underwear on, and the water droplets dropping down my curves perfectly.

“hey baby,” he smiles, shooting his eyes back up so i don’t catch his staring. he wraps his arms around my waist, rubbing my ass on his pants slightly. “you look so pretty,” i smile as he leans his head to kiss my cheek, i giggle a little, “what do you want to do tonight?”

“i don’t know, kinda tired from all the filming,” i finish up my skincare and start putting my products away, “i’m kinda hungry, how about we order food and watch something?” i turn around to look at him, smiling up, “that’s great baby,” he leans down a little sealing our lips together.

we decide to order taco bell, getting one of those boxes. we sit on the couch, my head on his shoulder looking over at his phone as we scroll on tiktok waiting for the food to get here, his eyes looking over at my ass every other second, his hand rests on my side, i can tell he’s trying to hold back from grabbing my ass. i laugh a little to myself.

eventually the food arrives, quicker than usual, we get up and he gets the food from the door, setting it on the counter in the kitchen. i get out two pepsis handing one to chris as i open mine, him getting out all the food.

i ‘accidentally’ push over one of the tacos onto the floor making me bend over to pick it up, right by chris, and my ass sticking up. he stares at me then i stand back up, “sorry,” i set it back on the table, chris puts his hand on my lower back then kissing my cheek, “don’t worry about it,” i can see his pants bulge. we move to the couch and setting our food on the table in front of us as we put on some movie.

we finish up eating, watching the movie and me on his lap as we cuddle under a blanket. his length still hard below me, i shift a little, my ass rubbing on the bulge, “fuck,” i hear chris gasp a little as he brings his hands to my waist, “you teasing me?” he whispers in my ear as i laugh a little, “you’re so obvious, i’ve seen you staring. just giving you what you want,” i smile and turn myself to face him as i sit on his lap still, i throw my arms around his neck, resting them on his shoulders, still grinding my ass on him slightly as i tilt my head, looking at his eyes.

his hands move to my ass, grabbing and kneading it as i move on his bulge. his breath starts to hitch and get heavy as he moves a hand to the back of my bra, undoing it and throwing it aside, he leans forward and kisses at my neck, going down to my tits, sucking on them as he moves my hips to grind on his bulge more.

“please..” he mumbles his breath heavy as i smirk, getting off his lap, pulling down my underwear and kicking it aside then kneeling down between his legs as i smile up at him. i undo his belt then i take off his pants, throwing them to the side and resting my hand on the bulge in his boxers, rubbing on it as chris’ breath becomes faster, staring down at me.

“oh fuck,” he mumbles, i pull down his boxers, his dick springing out as chris bites his lip softly, his hands on his thighs as i move my hand to grip his dick, moving my mouth closer as i start spitting on it, then licking around the head. chris let’s out soft moans as he moves one of his hands to rest on my head.

i move my hand off his dick and both my hands move to his lower thighs as i start sucking his dick good, making his hand on my head grip on my hair, his breath heavier and his moans louder.

“fuck.. i’m so close baby,” he goes back to biting his lip as moans slip out, his hand gently pushing my head down a little more and his hips bucking up as he finishes in my mouth. he moves his hand off my head and i lift my head up as i catch my breath, swallowing and smiling up at him as he also catches his breath.

he stands up in front of me as i look up at him, “get up,” i do and he pulls me in to get rid of the gap between our lips, his hand on my cheek and the other on my ass as he kisses me, more and more.

he pulls away and smiles a little, “lemme see that ass baby,” i start smiling too, i get on the couch, my knees bending as my back arches and my head resting on a pillow. chris gets on the couch behind me as his hands grab my ass, kneading it then he leans down to kiss it too, my head turns a little as i try to look at him.

he leans back up then giving my ass a slap, making me jump a little as he laughs. his hand moves to his dick, guiding it on my folds then pushing it inside, i bite my lip as i let out a moan, “fuuck baby, you were made for me,” his hands on my waist, guiding his thrusts as i moan, digging my nails into the couch.

“oh fuck you’re so good,” his thrusts getting more rough as i shut my eyes, letting out more and more moans, “fuck chris!” my walls clench around him as i get close, him too.

“i’m- im close.. fuck..” my voice hoarse as i moan out, finishing on his dick. he stops and pulls my hips toward him, making himself as deep as he can, “oh fuck.” he quickly pulling out and releasing himself on my back. i flatten out as i lay on my stomach, chris then laying himself by me, both of us catching our breaths. “that ass does something to me baby, you’re so fucking hot,” he moves my hair out of the way, kissing at my neck, i laugh a little, “might need another shower after this,”

he smiles then goes back to kissing me, “you’re so pretty baby,” he mumbles, i move myself to my side, looking at chris, pulling him in for a kiss, “let’s go clean up?” my smile soft as he gets up and leads me to the bathroom.

we take a shower, cleaning up then get back in our clothes and go back to the movie we were watching. cuddling under the blanket, my head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around me, “i love you baby,” he whispers, i move my head to look at him a little, “i love you too chris,”

☆ °:. *₊ ° . °

taglist : @slutforchriss @mattsleftnipple03 @mattsdinosweater @ccolleenn @mixvchelle @leah-loves-lilies @sturn-wrld

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo x reader #sukiipjs #𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐢𝐩𝐣𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝜗𝜚⋆#𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐢𝐩𝐣𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝜗𝜚⋆

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serpentandlily · 6 months

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Butterfly Fly Away

Butterfly Fly Away - Platonic!Reader x BatBoys

Summary: You’ve been bestfriends with Rhys, Cassian and Azriel since childhood but with the new additions to your Inner Circle, it's starting to feel like you are being replaced. When confronted, your three friends brush off your concerns, leading you to believe it’s time to move on and start a life of your own. But once you’re gone, the three brothers begin to realize just how much they need you in their lives.

Based on this request.

Warnings: A mix of angst and fluff.

❀⊱♡⊰❀

Butterfly Fly Away

❀⊱♡⊰❀

You let out a long shaky breath, sitting on the edge of your bed, looking around your now empty room in the Townhouse. You had packed up everything. Your clothes, your trinkets, the parchments full of scribbles from Nyx, the painting Feyre had gifted you of the whole family together. All of it.

Your chest felt hollow. The silence and emptiness was deafening. So many memories were made in this room, down these halls, in this city. The thought of leaving that all behind made your heart ache but the thought of staying here hurt worse.

You had met Rhysand, Azriel and Cassian during your youth and struck a friendship with them. A friendship that had grown and grown into what felt like an impenetrable bond between the three of you.

And they had always stressed how much importance you had within the family. The peacemaker, the mediator, the one who could end fights between them before they even began. Your magic was able to read the emotions of others, making you adept at talking others through their own feelings—of helping them understand why they felt the way they did.

It was really the only thing you were good for. You weren’t a skilled fighter, or strategist, or politician. All weakness you hated considering your family was made of the most powerful fae.

But when it came to matters of the heart? Well, you were an expert. For everyone else anyways, considering yours was currently being torn apart.

You had been there for each of them during the best and worst of days. Through the war, through Rhysand losing his family, through the forty-nine years without him. The four of you with Mor and Amren included had built a small family together.

A family that was no longer around because they had all found another. And you had been left with none.

Slowly but surely they had completely erased your spot in the family with the Archeron sisters. It wasn’t even that you didn’t like the three sisters. Each of them had a special place in your heart. But they changed the dynamic of the group so drastically.

And you no longer felt like you belonged.

Mor had felt it too, which was why she was more than happy to be sent to the continent to work on alliances there. Amren had found herself a lover and seemed content with keeping him all to herself.

But you…you had nothing without them. Or at least, that’s what it felt like.

You had tried to bring it up with them, had tried to hint that you felt a bit left out and neglected. But they had brushed you off, telling you it was time you “found a life of your own like they had.” You thought you did have a life of your own already. Here. But apparently that was not the case.

You let out another sigh as you stared at the last three things you had to pack. You picked up the first one, a smooth rock—a red creek jasper. You still remembered the day Azriel had given it to you when you both were only eleven.

❀⊱♡⊰❀

“You can do it, Az!” you shouted.

You were standing underneath a very large boulder, holding a hand over your eyes as the sun shone down on you and Rhys. Cassian and Azriel were both on top of the boulder, wings spread wide as Cassian tried to direct Azriel on how to fly.

Azriel’s face was nearly white and you could tell even from where you were standing that his hands were shaking. You took a few steps closer to the rock, holding your little arms out.

“I’ll catch you if you fall,” you yelled up to him. “I promise!”

It was at that moment that Cassian decided he was over waiting for Azriel to jump and pushed the boy off the rock instead. Azriel shrieked, a sound he had never made before, and frantically tried to pump his wings but it was no use. He crashed right into you, sending you both sprawling on the ground.

“Y/n,” he gasped, rolling off of you. “Are you okay?”

His eyes were wide with both shock and concern. They only widen more when you burst out laughing, clutching your stomach. It hurt, a lot. You were both eleven but Azriel was already bigger than you.

“I told you I’d catch you!” The look on his normally unreadable face sent you into another fit of giggles.

Later that day, Azriel had gone to the nearby creek and dug around for hours looking for the perfect rock to give you, knowing you liked collecting the cool ones you found. He had apologized numerous times, even though it had been Cassian’s fault, but he still felt guilty. He finally stumbled on a tiny, smooth rock that was a mixture of dark orange and red swirls.

When he came home that night and offered it to you as another apology, Cassian and Rhys had laughed themselves nearly sick but you had just smiled at the shy boy and squeezed the rock in your hand, holding against your chest.

❀⊱♡⊰❀

It was the first gift Azriel had given you and it had stayed with you all these years.

You wrapped it back in the silk handkerchief you kept it in and placed it in your bag.

Your eyes moved to the next item. A scarf made from various scraps of fabric. Definitely not fashionable, but it had been a special gift from Rhysand.

❀⊱♡⊰❀

“Why do you carry that old blanket around with you still?” The thirteen year-old Rhys was peering at the dirty blanket in your hand with a sneer. “We’re not babies anymore, y/n. You should get rid of it.”

You pulled the blanket closer to you—a blanket made up of random scraps of fabric, the only thing your mother could afford at the time. It was ratty, falling apart at the seams, but it was special to you.

“It’s the only thing I have left of her,” you said, quietly, blinking away the tears that started forming in your eyes.

Your mother had passed away years ago and your father, who had never loved her in the first place, had tossed out all her belongings. You had only managed to get your hands on the blanket before it was taken away.

Rhys had said nothing else about it until winter solstice came around that year. You hadn’t noticed that he had snuck into your room and taken the blanket—bringing it to his mother to make into something a little better for you to carry around with you.

❀⊱♡⊰❀

He had given you the scarf that night and every single snowfall, it was the first one you pulled out. You packed it away with a heavy heart. You were moving to the Day Court, something you had already discussed with the Inner Circle, and you would hardly have use for it there.

The last item sat on your dresser, a white, stuffed pegasus toy—a gift from Cassian.

❀⊱♡⊰❀

A knock sounded on your door but you ignored it, rolling over in your bed and wiping your tears.

Another knock.

“Y/n! Open up! I know you’re in there,” Cassian shouted through the door.

“Go away, Cass,” you managed to croak out through your tears. “I’m not in the mood.”

There was a pause before he shouted through the door again.

“What’s wrong, y/n? I can tell you’re crying!”

“Nothing, just go away!”

The door burst open and you shot up in your bed, cursing at yourself for not making sure it was locked. Cassian walked into your room, his eyes widening as he took in your appearance.

“Y/n?” He asked, quietly, shutting the door behind him. “Why are you crying? What happened?”

A tiny sob broke through your lips and Cassian was at your side instantly, wrapping an arm around you. You both were only sixteen, but Cassian was already starting to look more like a male than a boy with how big he was getting.

“Cyrus b-broke up with me,” you choked out.

“Oh thank the gods!”

You glared up at Cassian, shoving him away from you.

“Get out if you’re going to be like that.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, y/n, I just mean… Well, we all think you’re too good for him, you know. He’s an asshole.”

More tears poured from your eyes and Cassian pulled you to his chest again. “I am really sorry, y/n. I know how much you liked him.”

Cassian had stayed with you that night, holding you until you cried yourself to sleep. When you woke up the next day, a tiny stuffed Pegasus was waiting on your nightstand with a note attached to it.

‘I hope this little guy helps you feel better. But if you need to let off some steam, come find me in the training ring—Cassian.’

❀⊱♡⊰❀

You hugged the pegasus to your chest for a moment before dropping it into your bag with the last of your stuff.

You were supposed to leave in the morning after a goodbye breakfast with the whole family, but the trip down memory lane had you feeling too upset.

You didn’t know if you could handle seeing them all, especially when they seemed to have no qualms about you leaving.

Cassian didn’t need a secondary sparring partner to Azriel anymore now that he had Nesta. Rhys didn’t need help reading through correspondence now that he had Feyre. And those serene walks through the woods with Azriel? Well, those went to Elain now.

You pulled out the copy of keys you had for the Townhouse and River House and set them down on the dresser in the room. You took one last look around, your heart breaking in your chest, before finally winnowing away.

❀⊱♡⊰❀

“This alliance with Vallahan could go two ways,” Rhys said, stroking his jaw. “They fight with us against Koschei and end this whole thing before it becomes a full blown war. Or they’re faking their support and have already sided with Koschei.”

“If they are, the results of that will be devastating,” Mor said with a frown. “Our armies are still so depleted and even with the help of the other courts minus Autumn, Koschei has triple our numbers if Vallahan has already sided with him.”

Cassian let out a low whistle as he stared over the battle plans. “We’d be fucked. Utterly fucked.”

“We can’t win in that scenario,” Azriel piped up from next to Cassian.

“We can’t win without their help either,” Feyre said. “This decision is everything. Everything relies on this decision. You really couldn’t get a read on them, Mor?”

Mor shook her head. “They were careful with their wording and vague. They were certainly speaking the truth, but it meant little.”

“Their mental defenses were too strong to get through without force. But if they are being honest and I break into their minds, we might as well kiss the alliance goodbye,” Rhys sighed. “If only there was another way to get a read on them. I hate going into this blind with only our own faith.”

The room was silent as they all pondered what this meant for the battle against Koschei.

“There is…someone who could help.”

Everyone’s head whipped towards Cassian. Rhysand waved a hand at him to continue. Cassian swallowed audibly.

“Y/n.”

That name had everyone sitting up straight. Rhysand raised an eyebrow at him, not understanding. Not until it clicked in his head.

“She can read people’s emotions,” he breathed out. “I… I never thought about her using it this way. I just thought it was good for—well, you know.”

“Just meddling?”

Rhys nodded, feeling a bit ashamed. The room went quiet again, everyone soaking in what Cassian was suggesting.

“Would she even help? You all basically ran her out of this court,” Mor huffed, causing tensions to rise.

“Not this again,” Cassian groaned.

Mor stood from her seat, bristling at Cassian’s words. “I’m being serious. She has been your guys’ friend since you were kids. And you all left her in the dust even after she tried to tell you guys how she felt!”

When Mor had returned from the continent and learned of you leaving the court, she had been beyond angry at the three males for their treatment of you. She had written you several letters apologizing and you had welcomed her back into your life.

But she was the only one you still talked to.

The room was dead quiet. Each of the three males shared looks of guilt and embarrassment because Mor was right. They had completely taken you for granted and cast you aside once the sisters started having bigger roles in their life. And they had let you go without even trying to convince you to stay.

“I miss her.”

Azriel’s voice was so quiet, like he hadn’t even meant to say those words out loud.

Cassian let out a long sigh. “I miss her too.”

Mor glanced around at the other members of the Inner Circle before gesturing towards the door. “I think the boys need to discuss this amongst themselves.”

Once the door shut behind Feyre, Rhys leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “I hadn’t realized how much of an impact she had. Things haven’t felt right here without her.”

“No, they haven’t,” Cassian agreed. “We really did kind of… forget about her. Not intentionally but still.”

“Have you talked to her?” Azriel asked, looking at his High Lord.

“Have you?”

Azriel looked away in answer, feeling a bit of guilt.

“Do you think she’s still in the Day Court?” Cassian asked.

Rhys nodded. “Yes, Helion is quite fond of her it seems.”

Cassian snickered while a ghost of a grin crossed Azriel’s face. It wasn’t hard to imagine you in Day. You had always been a beacon of light for the group and they knew how easily you made friends wherever you went. It came naturally to you as an empath.

“Do you think…” Cassian trailed off, sounding a bit insecure. “Do you think she’d come home? If we asked?”

“She didn’t even say goodbye before she left,” Azriel murmured.

“We can try but I think we should be honest with her about our feelings,” Rhys said. “I’d hate for her to think we’re just asking her back so she can help us with this.”

“She’s going to know how we’re feeling anyways,” Cassian laughed. “Remember?”

Rhys grinned, thinking of all the times you had caught them in blatant lies because of your abilities, all the times you meddled with their love lives and friendships too.

There really was a you-shaped hole in the group now. The three shared a look of guilt. It was a shame it took this long for them to realize it.

❀⊱♡⊰❀

Three knocks against the door of your small cottage woke you up. You groaned, sitting up and blinking the sleep from your eyes. You had gone to one of Helion’s illustrious parties last night and had not been expecting to be woken up this early.

You shrugged on a silk robe over your nightgown and made your way to your front door.

Your eyes widened in shock as soon as you opened it, staring at the three males you hadn’t seen in a little over a year. You stepped aside, wordlessly, letting them into your new home. The distance had not made the bond between the four of you shrink, even after all this time, it seemed.

They greeted you in their own ways. Azriel with a soft smile, Cassian with a booming hello and hug, and Rhys was a feline grin and pat on the shoulder. You strode to the kitchen as they took a seat in your living room.

“I need coffee,” you announced. “Anyone else?”

“Long night?” Cassian teased.

“Don’t even ask,” you joked back, pulling out four mugs as they all said yes to your offer.

It was silent while the coffee brewed, and their emotions were all over the place. Nervousness, guilt, hope and regret. Your eyebrows furrowed as you grabbed the mugs and set them on the coffee table, taking a seat on an armchair.

“No offense,” you started. “But why are you guys here? I haven’t spoken to any of you in over a year.”

“That’s kind of what we’re here about,” Rhys replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

You raised an eyebrow at them, taking a sip of your coffee.

“I’ll get straight to the point,” he continued. “We…We want you to come home.”

You nearly spit your coffee out. That was not what you were expecting him to say. After all, they didn’t seem very upset when you told them you were leaving the Night Court in the first place.

“Why?” you managed to choke out.

“I’ll be honest. We’re dealing with a situation back home and it made us realize how much of an importance you played, not just in our court but in our lives. We miss you, y/n. We regret how we treated you the past few years.”

“We all just got so caught up in our own problems, we didn’t even realize how much we were neglecting you,” Cassian added with a sincere frown. “You were such a constant in our lives and I guess we sort of took that for granted, assuming you’d always be there.”

“I tried to tell you how I felt,” you murmured, hiding half your face behind your coffee mug.

“I’m sorry for brushing you off,” Azriel said, quietly. “Truly. A lot was happening and like Cassian said, I just figured once we got through it all, things could resume as normal.”

“So why have none of you written to me in the year I’ve been gone?”

“After you left, Mor kind of chewed us out,” Cassian said, sheepishly. “We all just assumed you were mad at us and left because you needed space. I know it’s not a good excuse but well, you know more than anyone that we’ve never been great at communicating.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. That was the reason you meddled so much. To get them to talk about their feelings, express themselves. It was hard staying quiet when you knew how a person truly felt.

“We miss you and we need you, y/n,” Rhys cut in. “Things haven’t been the same since you left. I’m sorry it took so long for us to realize and I’m sorry for how we treated you. You’re our best friend, our sister. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“Me either.” Both Azriel and Cassian interjected.

You thought about it, thought of the year you spent without them. While you had started anew, made new friends, had lovers, you did miss them dearly. It made you realize something about the bond you all shared, about your friendship in general. Life changes and sometimes people get preoccupied with other things but that bond you felt hadn’t shrunk, hadn’t grown any weaker. It was still the same as it had been the day you left.

They would always be your best friends, your brothers by name.

And their feelings were genuine. You of all people would know.

“Please come home,” Cassian begged. “I need you--we all need you.”

This house was not a home without the people you cared about. As much as you loved the Day Court, it wasn’t the same. Not without all the memories tied to it. And perhaps this had just made your friendship with them stronger, made you all realize how much you needed each other despite now having more priorities in your lives. You couldn’t fault them for finding love, for building families.

The three of them were nearly holding their breath with anticipation, waiting for your answer. A smile broke out on your face and their shoulders dropped.

“Okay,” you finally said. “I’ll come home. But I’m keeping this as my vacation house and you all owe me a years’ worth of mooncakes when we get home.”

Laughter filled the tiny cottage as they eagerly agreed to your terms. A new warmth spread in your chest. You were finally going home back to your true family.

❀⊱♡⊰❀

#platonic reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel #acotar x reader #acotar x you #fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #rhysand #cassian #azriel x reader #cassian x reader #rhysand x reader #family

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bettyfrommars · 3 months

Text

Dirty Metal Summer

a Dirty Dancing au

masterlist playlist

Part 2: The Hideout

You follow Robin over the resort property line to a place where guests are forbidden and get a glimpse of what goes on behind the scenes.

word count: 3.6k

My blog is 18+ONLY, mature themes, violence, alcohol consumption, eventual smut, fighting, mention of blood, reader is called Bird as a nickname, reader plays the cello. Reader is 21, Eddie is late 20's.

Songs for this chapter: Animal (fuck like a beast)//W.A.S.P. No one like you//Scorpions Mental Health (bang your head)//Quiet Riot Wasted Years//Iron Maiden

a/n: it has been so much fun to pull this out of the rubble and jump back into this world for a rewrite, I hope you enjoy. To my I'm on Fire peeps, there will be a scene in this chapter that feels very similar to something that happened in IOF, and that's because I originally stole it from this fic, thinking I'd never post it, lmao. Thought about changing it, but it's just too perfect. Plus, there will always be a hint of biker Eddie in all of my Eddies.

Sticking close behind Robin, you crossed the arc of a walking bridge over a creek and disappeared on a worn path through the trees. It was only then that you could finally make out the building where the loud music was coming from.

It had corrugated metal sides and roof, like a structure you might see on a farm that housed large equipment. There was a picnic table out front where a few people were seated, and the shell of a vintage automobile with bullet holes in it sat in the weeds.

A little more than a city block away was a modest cabin made from actual logs with an old truck, a van, and a motorcycle parked out front.

“Who lives there?” You nudged Robin.

She stopped to see where you were looking first, and then, “oh yeah, that’s Wayne’s place. The head maintenance guy. This is his too,” she gestured to the metal building where the music and shouts were coming from. “Both him and his nephew Eddie. Have you met Eddie?”

You absolutely knew who he was, but didn’t want to come off as a stalker, so you shook your head.

The large sliding door entrance to the building was open about a foot, letting out wafts of smoke and a hazy, golden light. From over Robin’s shoulder, you could see quite a few bodies moving around in there, and just then came the sound of a glass breaking.

“Ready?” She smiled back at you, struggling to hold everything in her arms as she reached for the handle to slide the door open the rest of the way.

“Let me?” You lurched forward.

“I got it,” she insisted, fumbling one of the guitars before catching it again with a gasp of relief.

You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting to see when she eased the door open the rest of the way, but a topless woman dancing on a table top was not one of them.

Her hair was bleached blonde, frizzy and teased around her face. She was tan with a prominent bikini line over her pert breasts, and it looked like she’d just pulled the top of her leopard print spandex dress down to give a little show.

The song Animal (Fuck like a beast) by W.A.S.P. was blaring and the guys around the table cheered while the woman flipped her hair and worked her hips in a circle. You were sure you recognized her as one of the waitresses from earlier that night.

Metalheads of all kinds were crowded together, mingling, and you feared that you stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb. Some were in leather; some wore jean vests with pins and patches all over them. A handful had long hair that they must’ve tied back or wore under hats while they worked at the resort, but a few of them, like Steve, kept theirs short and tidy, for the most part. Overhead string lights swayed from high wooden beams, and a chandelier that looked like it was made out of wrenches. An old, pea green Kelvinator refrigerator and a small kitchenette was to your left, as if someone had lived there at one point, and two couches sat against the wall that were mismatched and worn.

Most of the crowd of people seemed to be lingering together in the middle, standing there as if waiting for something. Taking shots, smoking blunts, and making out with each other, blocking you from seeing beyond them.

Robin signaled to follow her, and you were hesitant to start moving through the masses, holding the guitar case flush to your body, feeling like it was something to hide behind. You noticed posters on the walls for bands like Judas Priest and Metallica, and on the concrete floor you saw smudges from white chalk markings, dark splotches the color of dried blood, but that was ridiculous.

You pushed between a girl with a blue mohawk and a guy with a shaved head that was covered in tattoos in a hurry to keep up with your escort, and the two shot you a hard glare. When you could finally see the far wall, there was an oval, threadbare carpet in the corner with a drum kit set up, three microphones, two amps, and some other equipment that suggested live music would soon be happening.

“This is where they practice!” Robin shouted over the music, directing you where to put Eddie guitar down. “We call it The Hideout.”

“'Where who practices?’ You set Eddie’s baby near the wall where she told you to.

“Eddie and Chrissy’s band,” she motioned for you to stand over at the wall with her.

“Oh,” you turned to look at the instruments again, heart flopping a little at the idea he would show up at any moment. “They're playing tonight?”

There was a commotion up ahead and you both turned to look. "Later maybe! The fights are tonight,” again, yelling over the growl of the music. Now the song was No One Like You by Scorpions, and it sounded like people were cheering at someone who’d just come through the door.

“Fights?” You leaned in to get more information when everyone started pushing back to make room for whatever was about to happen. You remembered that one of the guys on the porch earlier that day with Chrissy and Steve had a black eye, and you’d noticed another worker at the resort who had a busted lip, but you hadn’t paused to think that maybe they were somehow connected.

It was then that you saw Eddie appear from out of the sea of bodies, and took a sharp intake of breath, holding it in, afraid to let it out for fear you might whimper.

He was so beautiful, it made you dizzy. You stood up straight, adjusting yourself, covertly checking to make sure you weren’t perspiring too badly.

He was wearing the tux he’d had on for the show earlier, but the tie and cummerbund were both gone, and his white shirt was unbuttoned almost to his stomach. You caught a glimpse of tattoos on his chest, and a necklace of some sort. Someone handed him a beer and he threw back a generous gulp.

“There’s going to be boxing? Here? Tonight?” You were trying to act casual and not stare at him the whole time, but it was hard to tear your attention away.

“Nothing professional,” she scoffed, folding her arms over her chest, putting her shoulder blades against the wall. “Just your average bare knuckle street fighting, basically. The guys were doing it to blow off steam, but then some others got involved and people started placing bets, so a whole thing started.”

Eddie unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and took it off, passing it to someone in the crowd. Your mouth went dry at the sight of his lean muscles under the scattered ink. He kept his hair tied back and started wrapping white tape around one of his hands while Steve said something in his ear.

“How do they choose who fights who?” You were invested now, wringing Robin out for any information she had.

“I don’t know how they figure it out, but the new guys usually fight each other, and then a winner challenges Eddie or Steve or Alex,” she pushed off the wall to get a better look at the center of the room. “But it looks like Eddie is up first.” And then with a smirk she added, “all of the new hotshots at the resort think they can beat Eddie.”

“Can they?” Your voice cracked, eyes locked on the scene. A guy shorter than Eddie but muscular in a football player type of way, was also shirtless in the circle now, with taped hands and wearing a pair of sweats with the name of a university down the leg. The guy was hopping from foot to foot to keep himself hyped up, punching the air in front of him.

“No one beats Eddie,” there was pride in her voice. “Looks like the guy he’s fighting tonight is Lance, one of the new ski instructors. Totally full of himself.”

Steve was wearing a white wife beater and jeans, and he raked a hand through his mop of hair just before pointing in your direction. Eddie’s gaze followed the line of his finger directly to your stunned face, and then it lingered there.

He seemed to contemplate, wetting his lips, and then he nodded to Steve and was on his way over.

He didn’t have to push people out of the way because they were all quick to part to make room for him. It wasn’t long before he was standing right in front of you. You tried not to let your gaze linger on the full curve of his slightly chapped lips, or the way his wavy bangs framed his cherrywood eyes. On closer inspection, you could see that the necklace he wore was a ball chain with a guitar pick hanging from it.

Robin opened her mouth to say something, possibly introduce you, but Eddie cut her off.

“What the hell are you doing here, Princess?” His voice was low with an edge of irritation. He pulled the chunky metal rings off his fingers one by one as he spoke.

Robin cleared her throat, stepping forward. “She’s with me,” she stuttered a bit nervously, knowing full well she shouldn’t have brought you there. “She came with me, she’s cool.”

Eddie collected all of the rings in his fist and kept staring at you as if he wanted to hear it from your mouth, not Robin’s.

Your brain short-circuited for a second and you forgot how to form words when he was so close you could see the detail of the dragon tattoo on his chest. But then, finally, it came to you:

“I-I carried your baby.”

The second it slipped out, you knew how stupid it sounded.

Unblinking, he gave his rings to Robin, and then he was gone.

You stared at the space where he no longer stood, flushed with embarrassment.

“I carried your baby?” You repeated in a whisper, covering your face with your hands.

Someone turned the music down so that Steve’s voice could be heard, and he waved his arms in the air to get everyone’s attention.

“I don’t have to explain the rules to you, because there are none,” his announcement was met with screams and cheers. Robin tugged at your arm, signaling for the two of you to get a bit closer to the action. “First one to hit the ground for whatever reason is the loser. Just fists, no blades or other stupid tricks.”

At one side of the circle of bodies, Lance the ski instructor was practicing some tight punches, and at the other end, Eddie rolled his neck while Chrissy finished taping the knuckles of his other hand. It was then that the chalk and the stains on the concrete you saw earlier made sense.

“You two ready?” Steve put his arm up between them, waiting for their nods, and then, at their signal, he chopped his hand down between them as if he were slicing the air.

Lance was hopping from foot to foot, trying his best to look like some fancy footwork he saw in a Rocky movie, while Eddie walked casually, giving the guy a hooded, bored stare.

Eddie could read Lance like a book. A fight was a lot more than just a mindless throwing of hands, there was a mental prowess and skill needed that a lot of the punks busing in from suburbia did not have. Street smarts was one thing, and Eddie surely had that, but he’d been fighting bullies off since he was a kid, and Wayne taught him to fight like it was a game of chess.

Eddie could tell where Lance was going to go a second before he made the move. He saw the guy was amped up, letting his emotions fight for him, and that was only one of his first mistakes.

Lance charged at him and swung, but Eddie was already steps away; relaxed and agile, holding his guard up. The ski instructor came at him aggressively, again and again, until Eddie pushed him, making his opponent stumble back.

Keeping his form, Eddie caught you standing there out of the corner of his eye.

…what were you doing there at the Hideout?

He let himself ponder that question for too long and Lance was on him again, aiming a left jab to his ribs, and Eddie absorbed the blow with a grunt, arching to the side.

You were not supposed to be there. What was Robin thinking?

Mostly, Brenner and Joyce stayed out of their business, as long as whatever they did was off resort property, but if they found out one of the guests was somehow involved, there would be hell to pay.

Lance charged again and Eddie dodged, angry at himself for not being able to focus .

“C’mon Lance, stomp that freak,” someone yelled from the crowd.

And that was all it took

For Eddie to get tired of dragging it out for betting purposes.

Lance charged forward with a cry and Eddie socked an uppercut into his unsuspecting jaw.

The surfer boy went down

Hard.

Saliva and blood flew from his mouth as he flailed back, arms going ragdoll.

It felt like it happened in slow motion but soon enough, Lance was splayed out like a starfish on the concrete floor.

“Goodnight sweet prince,” Steve said sarcastically as he collected bets over the ski instructor’s limp body.

Robin cheered with her hands over her head, and you gave a few slow claps, your brain barely able to register where you were or what you were seeing.

“You want a beer?” She asked as you watched Lance numbly get to his feet with the help of two friends and attempt to shake it off.

Robin motioned for you to follow her around to the refrigerator which was stocked from top to bottom with nothing but beer cans. She handed you one and then went to lean against the side of the appliance, cracking open the tab with a hiss.

With your back to the crowd, you prepared to follow suit, listening to Steve introduce two more fighters.

But then there was someone at your side,

“Not like that,” a voice said.

Eddie had come up behind you, wearing his white shirt unbuttoned, skin still glistening with sweat. Mental Health (Bang Your Head) by Quiet Riot came over the speakers, eliciting a wave of yelps and screams from the group.

“Wait,” he put his hand on top of yours to keep you from opening your beer while he motioned for another guy to toss him one. You turned to seek comfort or guidance from Robin, but she was absorbed in conversation with a girl in a platinum pixie cut who’d just walked up.

“Like this,” he brushed his bangs to the side, and winked as he fished a ring of keys out of his pocket. He used the serrated metal edge of one to punch a hole at the bottom of the can.

It was the wink that made your skin flush hot, and then your jaw went slack as you watched him wrap his lips around the newly made hole in the can. He made eye contact with you one more time before tipping his head back, and cracking the tab of the beer open with his thumb so that the liquid when squirting down his throat.

The muscles in his throat jerked as he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing.

It wasn’t three seconds before he lowered his head and crushed the can in his hand to show it was empty. He let out a refreshing, “ahhhh,” and darted his tongue out to lick a droplet from his chin.

You were still holding your unopened beer, waiting for him, mouth dry. “I-I’m not sure I—”

Yes, you knew what shotgunning a beer was, you’d seen it done plenty of times at college parties and in movies, but had never been tempted to try it yourself.

Ignoring your hesitation, Eddie motioned with the crook of his finger for you to come closer. You shuffled to be within reach of him as if your knees were locked in place.

With a gentle touch, fingers brushing yours, he took your beer from you, wiped it off with his shirt, and then proceeded to make the same hole with his key in the aluminum. Some of the beer sprayed up and misted your face.

“Here we go,” he tipped your chin with his finger and butterflies swarmed in your stomach as his eyes searched yours. “Just let it shoot into the back of your throat.”

You swallowed nervously to make sure your throat was working, and then wrapped your lips around the can at his instruction.

“Easy, just like that, hold it there,” Eddie was so close now that your elbow was touching his bare chest. He put a hand on the back of your head. “When I say, tip your head back all the way, and I’ll flip the tab for you.”

You swiped your tongue over the hole in the can, thinking about how embarrassing it would be if you messed it up and beer went shooting out of your nose.

Robin offered a few words of encouragement and you noticed a tendril of hair clinging to the sweat on Eddie’s neck, right over the heartbeat in his throat.

“You ready?”

You weren’t but—-

“Okay, now.”

You closed your eyes, slammed your head back, and prayed, even though you weren’t at all religious. Some lukewarm beer leaked onto your tongue, and then Eddie pulled the tab, keeping one hand over yours to hold the can steady.

The gush of liquid hissed and exploded down your throat, and for a second you thought you would choke, but then your swallowing reflex bolted into action and it was over so fast.

You gasped and swiped beer from your chin when you pulled away to look at the empty can, amazed.

Eddie cupped his warm hand around the back of your neck, and you felt him shift closer until his mouth was at your ear.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

An actual chill ran down your spine.

Robin put up her hand and you gave you a high five. “Not bad for a first timer,” she joked. “Now crush it on your forehead and grunt.”

“Ha. Ha.”

You turned to Eddie, “that was fun maybe he should—”

You were about to say the two of you should do another one,

but he was gone.

—----

The next night, Eddie couldn’t sleep, so he decided to head to the property to finish up some work at the pool house.

The place he shared with Wayne was close enough to walk to the Hawkins Landing property, but that night, he drove. He wanted to roll the window down on the van and blast Wasted Years by Iron Maiden and belt out the lyrics.

He slipped into the parking lot for visitors and employees, turning the music down so that it wouldn’t be heard by any of the nearby cabins. There were two street lamps on, but a third one he noticed was out, and made a mental note that he’d have to get Jamie to fix it tomorrow. The sidewalks along the manicured lawn were also lined with lights that came out of the ground like little mushrooms, and the boat dock far off to his left was lit, but other than that, he was in the dark.

Grabbing his red toolbox from the passenger seat, he put a flashlight in his tool belt holster, and the van door creaked on its hinges just before it banged shut. His ribs still ached from the punch he took the night before, but he only allowed himself to cringe and curse in private. Luckily, his only companions at that moment were the crickets and the lapping of the water against the bank.

It wasn’t until he was a few yards down the sidewalk, head down, lost in thought, that the din of classical music made him halt in his tracks.

It was definitely strings, possibly a violin? No, it was too deep.

He looked up at the main house, but the sound was much too close to be coming from way up there.

He cut to the right and up the grass.

Then he saw the attic light on in cabin #11.

He told himself not to bother, but as the passion of the playing increased, curiosity got the better of him.

He came right up to your driveway, staying half obscured by a tree trunk, and watched you.

The cello, of course that’s what you were playing. He was no expert on the classics, but he’d always learned music by ear and had a unique sense for identifying instruments.

You weren’t reading from sheet music, you were just playing while you stared out at the sky.

Playing something by heart, or making it up as you went along, he wasn’t sure.

In his mind, you were so far out of league, it was criminal.

Your attention broke when a sudden movement down on the road startled you.

The bow zipped clumsily across the strings one last time, and you stood up to get closer to the open window.

But, your eyes must’ve been playing tricks on you.

There was no one there.

-----

Hi hello! thank you so much for reading! For those wondering, this fic will still be centered around music, not boxing, but the little fight club they have has a lot to do with the spin of the plot soon.

thank you all so much for the suppport! we are getting to the juicy parts now! give me those hungry eyes. comments and reblogs are cherished!! like, I live for them.

-------

taglist: @tlclick73@micheledawn1975@kurdtbean@katethetank@elvendria@spookysqaush86@somethingvicked@stylesxmunson@laurenlokirby@sapphire4082 @kellsck @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @justdamnpeachy @dashingdeb16 @corrodedcoffincumslut @bexreadstoomuch

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson series #Dirty Metal Summer #Eddie Munson fic #dirty dancing au #eddie munson x reader

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gremlingottoosilly · 7 months

Text

Cabin in the woods (yan!slasher!Konig x fem!Reader x yan!slasher!Horangi) part 3

Little birdie got caught. Konig is simply too excited to let you go. Chapter 1 Chapter 2 AO3

TW for the chapter: Light blood and gore, dead bodies, mentions of drugs, spanking, kidnapping

— Those fucking bastards killed Karen! Don’t you care?!

Shouting at your friends was never your forte, but you expected that it would come out at some point in your unwilling journey, You never knew it would because of the psycho killers on the loose, wanting nothing more but to make a nice set of decorations from your bones and eat your liver.

You try to scream some senses into Chad’s tough skull but, just like his name suggests, this is a useless endeavor and you would be far better off running for your life, abandoning your friends, and hoping that killers would be satisfied without your sacrifice. But, you’re too nice. But, you have a bleeding heart and a death wish – and you feel guilty over not feeling guilty that Karen is dead. This is a new, overwhelming feeling for you, the one that almost revamps your whole essence. There are changes occurring, and you would rather die than acknowledge those changes.

— Listen to me, goddamnit! We’re all going to die!

You must be looking horrible – mouth covered in blood like you just ate a bunch of raw meat, smelling of dirt and fresh guts, hands shaking and your face resembling the horror mixed with anger – even Marty is surprised to see the resident mouse behave like this. God, even you are surprised to see just how horrified you look, screaming at them in the hope of saving at least someone.

Marty drops a hand over your shoulders, pulling you to the side. You try to resist, but his clanky figure is surprisingly grippy and strong – you are being pulled to the nearest tree branches, just out of the range of the group. You spend the previous few hours trying to find them and yell some senses into their heads – and the only thing that they advised is that you should stop drinking for today and that stealing pills from Marty’s stash isn’t very nice even if he kinda doesn’t care where his junk goes. Still, you are fucking trembling.

Marty pushes you to the tree, whispering in your ear – you feel his hot, deranged breath on the side of your face, making you wince. Even compared to the killer’s smell of sweat and blood, they still were nicer to be around than Stale-Beer-And-Cheap-Weed-Breath Marty.

— Hey. Heeeeey, doll, what was happening back there?

— Karen is…

— Nah-nah-nah, this is where you should shut up, yeah? Karen isn’t dead. I mean, I’m glad you think she is, it means my prank is fucking awesome.

Prank? Her fucking head was chopped off and then tossed over to the nearest creek when the shorter killer decided that he wants you to perform a blowjob on his knife, making sure that you are licking all the blood away. You don’t think that there are ways to fake this – and if there are, then your friends and their hired goons are no better than actual killer psychos anyway and you’d still want out.

— I saw her!

— Sure you did, hon. Listen, I’m really glad you were the first to notice and everything, but keep it down for now, yeah? I have this sick mask and I was actually planning to prank the group later at night, but if you found it first…

— Prank?! There are two actual killers on the loose, this is the worst time to do pranks! — God, you’re annoying. This is why I fucking asked Jenny not to invite you. There are no killers, alright? Karen agreed to partake in the prank, so she is hiding somewhere in the forest until I’d pull out that sick knife and fucking scare everyone shitless. You were probably hallucinating from booze.

— I saw her severed head!

— Sure you did. Listen – you can help me, yeah? Just rile everyone up a little, then you will come back and say that…hmmmm…that Marty was taken! Everyone panicking, screaming, crying, and then I show up with this big-ass knife and…

You never heard the last of his amazing, perfect, simply brilliant idea – because before he could finish it, his head was impaled with…oh, no. No-no-no, you can’t do this anymore, not so soon after Karen is dead, not when you are still shaking and can barely think straight not when you are far away from others because Marty fucking led you to another secured place just to get his stupid head impaled with a fucking crossbow bolt – something that you only saw in video games or historical dramas.

This was completely silent – the quiet music of the bolt flying through the air, a small grunt that escaped Marty’s lips before he fell to the ground beneath your feet. You didn’t even manage to see from what direction this thing came from, too disoriented to observe the world around you properly. You feel the adrenaline running up again, probably breaking the record for you in the whole year – you jump from the body on the ground, tears dwelling in your eyes. You can’t do it, you can’t do it, you won’t do it, you were never a fighter, the freeze-fight-flight instinct always coming up to curling down in a small ball and sucking on your thumb.

Some people are simply not built for survival – this is a natural order, something that Darwin was talking about. Soft, weak humans are meant to die, meant to be the food for stronger predators, for monsters dwelling in the shadows. Some creatures are never meant to exist – fleshy cute creatures, the ones that melt at the slightest touch, someone like you – when your first answer to a threat is to roll on your back and show your belly to a mountain lion, you just knew that evolution never meant for you to live past the crib. And yet, civilisation allowed you to survive. To thrive even, before you were put in this fucking forest.

You run before everything else can kick in – at least some of your instincts are working properly, adrenaline running through your veins as you are leaving Marty behind, not even bothering to check if he is still breathing or not. The man was never thinking with his head – not the upper one anyway – but you doubt that he would survive a bolt shot perfectly between his eyes, separating his brain in two perfect halves. Like a fucking apple.

You ran

‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ and you ran ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ and you ran some more

And you ran right into his chest.

Wall of muscles, no less – you aren’t even sure if this is a human’s body, too sturdy and hard and perfect to belong to something less of a Roman statue. You feel tears running down your face, panic not even bothering to settle in – you know you would be dead in the next few moments, brain tragically easy saying goodbye to being intact. A pathetic sob escapes your throat as you are caught for the second time in this night – lady luck might be smiling upon you the first time, but you doubt you can be her favorite for long.

— I thought the rule of escaping was to run away from danger.

This is the tall killer – low voice, secured by the mask, making it almost unrecognizable. You shake as a big, glowed hand goes on your back, laying there heavily. Even more pathetic sounds are produced from your lips, and you are almost ready to beg him for a quick, painless death – his hand is big enough to cover your head and you don’t want to think of the implications that he might crush your skull with just his fingers.

König listens to your sobs, doing nothing but keeping a firm hand on your back, securing you in place. You sob and whine and tremble in his hold – and he was never more hard in his life. What an adorable, pathetic little creature you are. Helpless in his hold – even squirrels can fight, scratching and biting. You were sobbing in his hold like the perfect kleine prey you are, and he could almost pretend this was a hug.

— Tshhh, Hase, don’t cry. I won’t be able to let you go if you’d proceed with those sweet noises, ja?

His revelation only makes you squirm more. You finally try to get out of his bear-like hug – only to realize that all of your little movements and struggles fit perfectly with the enormous, pulsating bulge in his pants that can probably be considered a murder weapon on its own and shouldn’t be concealed since this is an obvious threat to…ah, on second thought, running around from a serial killer who has his monstrous dick hanging out would be worse. Much, much worse.

— Let me go!

You squirm one of your hands, punching his chest. Feels like punching a marble statue – the only thing you are hurting is your own hands. You try to resolve to a different form, jerking up your knee to land a blow on his crotch.

He fucking moans.

— Never knew you were such a fighter, Schatz. But I warned you, aren’t I?

You don’t understand what he is talking about before he suddenly lifts you in his hands, dropping you on his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. You are crying, trying to get away, [unching him with your legs and your hands, all the adrenaline in your veins working solely for the purpose of inflicting as much pain on this enormous figure as possible.

You tug on this weird hood he is wearing – if you are going to die, at least you would die exhausting all possible options, not feeling like you gave up without a fight. This is still a journey of self-respect and deep insight searches for the mysteriously hidden backbone of your body – maybe, yoga classes would be more effective and less dangerous but, unfortunately, you’re not a rich white housewife in her thirties, so not like you have money for a guru who would spend hours trying to convince your ovaries to stop dying on the inside.

— Let!

You punch him on the back, a multitude of well-served punches right into his back. He laughs, spreading his shoulders, cocking his chest forward like you were giving him a massage. With a groan, you made a very deliberate punch right in the middle of his back – and he moans from satisfaction, probably releasing some pent-up tension that he got from killing grandmas and destroying hotels.

— Me!

You tried to kick him in the chest, your legs working overtime as you cosplayed a rabid rabbit – only for him to laugh even more, his arm securing you holstered across his shoulder like your punches meant nothing. They probably didn’t – he is literally still holding a fucking crossbow in his other hand, managing to secure it on his side while moving towards…you only assume it to be a murder cabin because of course those freaks would have a murder cabin, why the hell not – probably with some cool classy furniture made out of bones.

— Go! You finally manage to secure hold on the edge of his hood, yanking it upwards in hopes of actually revealing who the fuck is he – a dirty businessman who doesn’t like those damn kids and their dog to ruin his plans for burning down the forest to create a shopping mall? A nice old man who showed you the road when you were lost, but he is actually on a spree to get revenge on all young people for killing his pet chicken in 1997? One of those creepy guys at the corner store who was weirdly obsessive over you, talked like a serial killer, and was constantly and also came in pair with the guy whose height and manner perfectly resembled a pair of killers that are after you now?

Probably the grandpa.

You yank the mask up and…

Ah.

Of course, he is wearing a freaking balaclava. The only thing that you managed to see were his eyes – blue, icy, pretty, filled with anger as he pulled the hood down, concealing his features again, without you even managing to take a closer look. You gulp loudly, preparing to die.

He smacks your ass with a power that would be enough to break a bone – your only saving grace is that the flesh of your butt provided some cushion, instead leaving a nasty bruise and inability to sit for at least a few days. That is if you would even survive long enough to have problems sitting on your backside. You won’t have such problems if you’re dead, right?

— Quiet, Schatz. I already breaking the rule for taking you too early.

— Br…breaking a rule? Do you have a freaking hunting pact?

— I promised Tiger that we’d let you roam around a little. Make things interesting.

Ah, yes, because letting you go the first time was such a brilliant idea on their behalf. The only reasons you didn’t go straight to the police is because A) You don’t speak rural Austrian German, B) Your phone can’t connect to anything, and C) You don’t even know in what part of the forest you are. Also because you’re scared that the police are going to turn out treacherous people, just like in horror movies, and that it would fucking destroy your trust.

— I can roam around. I can roam around just fucking perfect, ass…

Another loud smack on your ass makes you feel like a misbehaving kitten. He grips your ass through your jeans and you whimper a little bit, starting to cry again as his hand goes straight for the bottom, gripping your cunt through the tough layer of denim. You thank every god you know for making you wear ugly, but protective and thick jeans. Every time his hand goes to cup your most intimate parts, the fabric of your jeans protects it – you don’t even feel too violated when he pushes his fingers even more, desperately trying to get a reaction out of you.

— Language, Hase. Don’t make me discipline you, ja? — Fuck you! — Very gut then. That’s what you will do very soon.

Oh, but the rough material grinding over your delicate, thin panties and the sensitivity of your cunt really makes you feel…something. You won’t want to admit it, he smells like blood and sweat(still better than Marty, but you shut down that thought before it was born because fuck the new abortion laws), and he spanks your ass only to grope your pussy right after – and he also has masterful fingers that are working at the hem of your jeans, making the fabric press even more against the sensitive skin and…

You try to think of something – anything.

Dead bodies, dead bodies, a lot of dead bodies, and there are some dead puppies too and everything is gross and smelly and…ah, it’s not working.

König touches your lower parts with a wide grin under his hood – you’re fucking perfect, a nice addition to their house. You bite when he needs a little fight and you shut up when he touches you – perfect birdie, adorable birdie, Horangi will probably be bitching about spoiling the fun since you’d be stuck with them without a proper chase like he wanted, but the tiger would come around once he’d emptied himself on your warm body just once.

You squirm under his touch, moan and cry and tremble and he can’t stop imagining you in millions of different positions. Stuck in the basement of their house, on your knees like a good girl you are, maybe with some branding or a collar – it’s more of a Horangi’s thing, even though König hopes he won’t have to break you too much until you’d call him daddy – pushing you to their shared bed, making sure that you’re nice and stuck in some open positions, allowing them to take you without much repercussions.

— Let me go.

— Nein.

— Please?

— I like your begging, Spatz.

— It means you’d let me go?

— Nein. You will tell your little friends, and then you will run to the police, ruining our fun. You are not going anywhere.

— But, um…your culprit will be mad, no?

As cunning as you can, you’re trying to seal the seeds of destruction among them. You’re trying your damn best not to act too charming or too fake, just so he won’t fall in love with you for real and would try murder-suicide you, but also with enough charisma checks so you’d actually convince him.

But, it’s not really working – maybe, you aren’t as good at spreading havoc as you thought you were.

— He’d live. We would get to hold you in your house, little one. It’s enough to make him understand my reasons.

It’s definitely enough to make you want to puke. He is fast, not even bothering to check on the body of your friend as he goes past it – he just marks it with something that resembles a piece of torn fabric and pushes some leaves and sticks on the body, probably signalling to his friend to come and get rid of the body – and then he changed your position a little bit, securing a hand on your ass he goes deeper into the forest.

You’re trying to remember the location, maybe counting the trees and every bush that seems like a good mark – but you, a city girl raised on a cocktail of Google Maps and a constant internet connection, have already grown tired of trying to remember everything. Every tree is the fucking same, every turn feels like the one before and, at some point, you were sure that he is actually going in circles to make you understand the location even less. Your blurry vision obstructs the goal even more – you cried so much, it feels like your very eyes gave out. With a sigh of defeat, you metaphorically roll over to your back and present your belly to the predators.

After a hike that felt like hours, but was probably like 10 minutes long – this guy has long legs and the determination of a dog dragging a really cool stick home and, before you know it, you’re standing in front of a…house. Nice house. Expensive house, a big house, something less of a mansion, but more of a shed that you thought he was going to live in because he is literally a serial killer.

Even serial killers made good property investments in the respective years – and you were too busy with useless stuff, like learning how to walk or trying not to choke yourself on a piece of carrot.

— Welcome home, Schatz.

He gently lets you down from his shoulder, allowing you to take a closer look at your surroundings. Normal living room – literally nothing weird. Maybe a bit too much hunting trophies, maybe a lot of guns lying around, some overly manly decorations, and very questionable art pieces but if you’d see that house advertised on the property website, you wouldn’t even consider it too weird. You were expecting…something. Blood on the walls, furniture made out of human flesh and skin, a devilish feast for imps and every like them…

You saw nothing as König punched the back of your head, putting you to sleep.

You fucking hate forest trips.

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chocsra · 8 months

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"I Can't Hear You, Speak Up!"

15! Chuuya x fem! reader

content: you stain your skirt and a certain mafioso comes to help you, swearing, periods/blood, fluff, pre-relationship, mutual pining, teenage romance

Reader is fem! mention of periods

based off a reddit story 😭

Please give some more ideas and characters for fanfiction, I love teen skk btw

12:13

It's been about 8 minutes since you left an important mafia meeting, excusing yourself to Boss to go to the washroom.

Yet now you stare at your bloodstained skirt and underwear, sighing to yourself in defeat. "No pads either.." You mutter, digging your palms into the luxurious marble sink in thought. Theoretically, you could tell Boss that something happened and you taught an underling a lesson while you were out, or you could be frank about your period; which was something really embarrassing considering you'd have to stop the meeting infront of a bunch of grown criminal men for hygiene products.

So you hid behind the ajar white bathroom door, calling out 'hello?'s and 'is someone there?'s everytime a gust of wind made the slightest creek. "11 minutes.." You leaned your head on the steel door, trying your best to cover your skirt.

Then you heard it.

A quiet murmuring coming from the hallway outside the bathroom, you sighed in relief and poked a leg out of the door; the shadows covering half of your face. There he was, Chuuya Nakahara walking around the hallways like there wasn't a highly significant meeting going on; he had a scowl on his face and his fists clenched like something had happened, muttering about 'killing that bastard'.

"Ahem." You cleared your throat, peeking out to the ginger boy, he spun around in mutliple possible directions the noise could have come from. "Huh?!" the short boy shouted, before locking his blue eyes with yours. "The hell? Aren't you supposed to be in the meeting?" He cocks a brow, folding his arms over his chest. Chuuya seemed to be all dressed up for the day, wearing his signature fedora, choker, white dress shirt and black slacks; but a new large raven overcoat that reached his ankles was loosely thrown over his shoulders, even a new silver hat chain.

"I need something from here, that's why." You purse your lips into a pout, crossing your arms behind the door. "Why are you here anyway?" You ask curiously, slowly easing into the topic, the stylish boy only scoffs with irritation. "Got kicked out, all cause of that fuckin' mackerel." Chuuya rolled his tongue across his inner cheek in annoyance, of course you knew who he was talking about; Dazai, his only friend, you think? You did see them attempting to act serious as they kicked each others leg under the table, maybe he deserved it.

"So then where's Dazai?" You question, tapping your shoe against the marble floor. "He got to stay because he was important, or some bullshit!!" Chuuya shouted again, gritting his teeth harshly. "Woah, calm down." You motion before pausing, "Can you just get a girl, please? Like Kouyou or something.. I don't know." you ask politely, a light blush tinting your cheeks; the redhead's eyes only furrow at your request. "I told you already, I got kicked out, Kouyou's inside. What do you need anyway? I'll just get it for you." He feigns a sigh, shoving his hands in his slacks pockets.

You inhale in annoyance, before stepping further into the washroom, "Nevermind, forget it." you dismiss, causing Chuuya to clench his fists even more. "Just tell me, damn it." He scowls in annoyance, before noticing the blush creeping on your cheeks, and the fact that you did not turn around once from facing him. It all clicked together. "Oh, uh-" The boy paused, red tinting his ears and nose. "You want that thing?" Chuuya asks, causing your eyes to light up at seemingly the only boy who knows what hygiene products are. "Yeah, that!"

He then fishes out something from his pocket and hands it to you, you were a little confused as to why he'd keep pads in his pocket, until he placed a silver safety pin in the palm of your hand. "What is this?" You ask with a blank, despairing face; Chuuya only blushes more at your reaction. "Your.. your skirt ripped, right?" He stammers, making you internally facepalm. "No, no.. pads." You whisper the last part awfully quiet, making Chuuya lean his ear closer to your face, his hands still in his pockets.

"What?" He asks, knitting his brows. "Pads, tampons.." You repeat again, motioning with your hands. "What the hell? Speak up!" The boy scowled, leaning even closer to your face, you almost wanted to push him from inching so close to the girl's bathroom; and the close proximity of his breath tickling your lips.

"Pads!"

You shout in his ear with a frown, Chuuya stepped back at the loud noise, now blushing profusely. "Oh shit, my bad- I just thought your skirt-" You cut him off, crossing your arms. "It's fine! Just please get them, damn.." You brush off with a scowl, seeing the boy scurry off to the hallway.

And after a few minutes of agonising silence, you hear loud shouting coming from Mori's office.

"You can't just go thru Rintarou's stuff!!" A high-pitched girl yelled.

Chuuya quickly hushed her, the loud sound of rummaging through drawers audible. "Shh, shh! He's gonna hear us, shit!"

"I don't care if he hears us! Just let me colour!!" Elise then countered, throwing what you assumed was a crayon at him.

The boy soon rushed to the bathroom with multiple types of pads in his hands; night, day, winged, super. "What the hell is winged?! Does it fly to you or somethin'?!" Chuuya yelled, making you laugh. "Did you really fight Elise for this?!" You laughed, taking them all from his hands. "Shut up!"

And as you finished thanking and mocking him, about to spin around and leave to a stall, he tapped your shoulder.

"Here, uhm.." The redhead took off his overcoat and draped it over your shoulders to cover the stain. A pink blush spread on his cheeks, you only did the same. "Thanks.." You grasp onto the coat, walking inside the stall.

And even as he waited for you to come out of the bathroom, walked you back to the meeting room, and parted ways with a meek wave and blush; you walk into the room with a big smile on your face, only seeing that the meeting was already empty and done.

Fuck.

Even so, it wasn't all that bad; even if the incident happened weeks ago, there would always be a certain redhead giving you a casual nod or wave if he saw you wandering the mafia's hallways or available in meetings.

It made you want to make him steal pads from Mori's office and give you his coat all over again.

Double fuck.

#Spotify #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd chuuya #15 chuuya #bsd x reader #chuuya nakahara #15 light novel bsd #chuuya x reader #fem!reader

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soanliawriter · 5 months

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Stress Reliever (Levi Ackerman)

( // NSFW WARNING // ) ( Oneshot )

Context: pwp (p*rn without plot), penetration, lewd language, blowjobs, creampie, sucking and fingering pussy

Summary: Your boyfriend is a firefighter, Levi's libido would often activate when he needs some sexual stress relief.

"F*ck baby" Levi groans and whimpers when you started giving him a blowjob, you both stayed in his sleeping quarters, trying his absolute best to keep in his moans, it's hard for him when you're sucking him off good.

"I love it when you suck my tip like that baby-- f*ck!"

You hummed in response as you fondled with his smooth balls and taking him in whole, licking his tip the way he likes it.

Pussy was throbbing bad hearing his suppressed sounds, later the sounds of you sucking him is heard, good thing Levi's sleeping quarters is just for him, meaning he has no roommate.

"Let me eat you baby" he said tiredly as you got off his cock with a satisfying pop as he lightly pushes you down on his bed, making it creek a little from the impact.

He kisses you roughly opening your mouth using his tongue, you gladly accept his invitation for him to explore your cavern, tongues kissing each other, pulling away with another satisfying pop, string of saliva connecting you both.

"Hurry baby" you moaned out as he kissed your sweet spot on your neck, your turn trying to suppress your moans, biting on your bottom lip and finger, he trails down lifting your shirt up removing it, seeing you were wearing a sports bra with a zipper in front.

He unzips it, seeing your boobs jiggle a bit, he fondled with it and pinch your erect nipples sucking on them delicately, your back arched as you tugged on his raven hair.

"Love it when I pleasure your sensitive nipples?"

He hums as he sucks them again, lightly bitting your nipples, tugging on it a bit before pulling away, his kisses trails down your ribs and stomach, finally reaching your throbbing wet pussy.

He inhales your scent down there, his cock twitched at how aroused you are.

"Try not to make a sound, if you do I stop"

You huffed out a moan looking down at him as he kisses the pussy folds before thrusting in in middle and ring finger, sliding it in no problem.

"F*ck Levi!"

He chuckles, teasingly licking and kissing your sensitive clitoris, as he heard your muffled moans, he went it and fully sucking and licking your clitoris.

The pleasure was sending your to orbit, stars was showing on the sides of your vision, mouth agape but no moans came out, only muffled whimpers.

Gripping on his bedsheets hard as you start to feel a knot coming in close.

"I'm gonna cum Levi! F*ck!"

"Cum, cum, cum, cum"

He's thrusting his fingers in great speed that made your whole body move back and forth at how strong his thrust the his fingers are being.

The bed was surprisingly not creeking.

He chuckles as he did a quick few flicks of his tongue on your throbbing clit before finally cumming all over his face, he used his other hand to catch the rest, making sure it doesn't go to his bed.

Levi licked and sucked on his fingers and hand clean as he kisses your pussy that made you jolt and huff out a moan before he trails up to you.

Kissing your forehead before you felt his tip teasing your entrance, going up and down your clit a couple of times before finally thrusting it whole inside you.

"Levi!"

You whisper shouted at him as you gripped his muscular biceps, nails digging into them as he groans, "f*ck baby, so wet, warm and tight for me" his moans shuddering as he finally thrusts in and out of you in a steady pace.

"Oh f*ck!" He moans out as he fels your legs wrapping around his hips pulling him closer, you were a moaning mess, trying not to suppress your sounds anymore.

A sinful sound of skin to skin contact and the wet sounds of your pussy was echoing his sleeping quarters, turning him on so much.

Levi's thrusting started getting faster, "like that baby? Huh? Oh f*ck yeah!" His thrusts was so powerful that your body couldn't help but be filled with so much pleasure running through your veins.

Arms lazily hanging off his shoulders, fingers tiredly intertwined together, legs loosing strength cause of pleasure.

"F*ck I'm cumming baby, want it inside?"

"Yes please Levi, please~"

You breathlessly say as he speeds up his thrusting, it was animalistic and it was perfect witnessing it, he grabs your arms and pinned them above your head, finger intertwining together, he kisses and sucks your neck as he kisses his wrists and licking it up.

"I'm cumming!"

"Inside, inside baby~"

After a few hard thrusts you both finally cummed together, feeling the warm juices filing you up, moaning softly body twitching from the intense pleasure, pussy was uncontrollably twitching so much, Levi pulled out to see he made you have a creampie.

He smirks and used his index finger rubbing your pussy up and down, swirling the cum, he lifts his finger, licked and sucked on it clean.

"Round 2 in my shower?" Levi asked as you smirked, lifting you off his bed and carrying you bridal style, finally reaching the showers, immediately starting round 2.

( // a/n: cheeky gander of the shower sex you and Levi will have, let your imaginations run wild loves 🥴🤭😏 // )

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emotionallyunstableduck · 8 months

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Sweet Slumber

Pairings: Geto Suguru x Reader

Warnings: angst with no comfort.

Summary: Geto was your light at the end of the tunnel. Unfortunately, it ran out of fuel way too soon.

a/n: God, I choked up towards the end. Something about suguru's downfall deeply resonates with me, and i can't help but cry about it on a weekly basis.

When you first met your senior Geto Suguru, all you could think about was how your world seemed to stop. To say his sharp features were ethereal would be an understatement.

When Y/N Y/L/N first arrived at jujutsu tech, she didn't know what she would tangle herself into.

"Good morning I am Yu Haibara" the dark haired kid greeted you cheerfully which you politely returned. "I'm so excited to have another first year" Yu continued "we have another classmate. His name is Nanami Kento. He is on the grumpier side but I just know we will be a great trio". His contagious smile is doing wonders on you right now. Both you and Yu went to your classroom where you noticed the lanky blonde who you noted to be Nanami. The two of you indulge Yu in a conversation as your teacher entered along with three other students.

That is when you saw him in all his glory. The love your life, The cause of your death.

Soon they introduced themselves and so did you people. The white haired loud one was Gojo Satoru and His raven haired friend, the object of your immediate attraction Geto Suguru and The short haired brunette Shoko Ieiri whom you could see yourself hanging out with. The day melted away with your seniors' shenanigans and nanami's irritable attitude doubling over gojo.

That night you tried to shake your head as thoughts of your senior filled your head and it seems it wasn't exactly one sided.

Over the next 3 months your life flourished along with your ever blooming crush on Geto Suguru. The small talk and fleeting eye contact soon became midnight snack run meetings and lasting touches.

You cannot exactly pinpoint when and how you started dating. Gradually you were inseparable. You were each other's safe space for Suguru taught you what soulmates meant. Hand holding to kissing to getting lost together under your sheets, it was blissful. Beautiful. A dream.

But alas dreams sometimes morph into nightmares.

Suguru and Satoru were assigned a mission to protect the star plasma vessel. The mission went as horrible as one could think. That day Geto suguru lost a lot more than the life of Riko Amanai. He lost his way. What followed was a series of events that lead to the darkest day of your life.

Suguru looked dull. His warm smile felt empty and almost like a charade. "Sugu you are really worrying me". As you watched your beloved boyfriend slowly destroy himself, all you could do was mourne not even knowing what it is you were mourning. The rock bottom soon dug itself deeper when you and your classmates were assigned what seemed like a simple kill and come mission but oh god was that not the case.

Geto's pain multiplied the moment he lost his junior to death and his girlfriend to a coma.

The negative emotions spiraled. Losing his true north took a toll on him in ways more than one. He prayed he begged he screamed he shouted. "why" he thought. These emotions birthed clarity. Clarity that was against everything he stood for.

Soon all he was was hate.

The day you regained consciousness was a few days too late. The man you loved was no longer a man but a ravenous murderer out for revenge.

When Shoko updated you on the current situation, you thought it was bullshit. Of course you did. How could Geto Suguru ever be anything bad in your eyes.

The silent night that followed, you found yourself near the little creek at the edge of your school grounds. A place you hold dear. A place where you shared your first kiss with suguru.

"beautiful night huh" you turn around to face the owner of the familier night. "sugu" Your voice cracks "i knew they were lying". She approached the raven haired man with desparacy. "I'm glad you came. lets clear out this misunderstanding and-and we can go back to normal". The tears were barely holding as you clutch onto suguru.

"whoever said it's a misunderstanding dear". All it took to break the lie you were telling yourself. "WHY" you sobbed.

"I'm doing the jujutsu world a favour darling" he spoke. Not a slight intonation of guilt in his words. "I thought I'd take you with me. We'd reform this society together" his hands caressed your cheek "but". What followed was the most agonizing moment of your life. The man you saw your entire life with just lodged a dagger through your heart both literally and metaphorically "you remind me of my humanity".

He kissed you one last time before he laid you down on the soft grass. As he stared at your lifeless body, he knew he would never know peace.

a/n: I really want to get back to writing more often cause it is genuinely nice. Hopefully, I'll get more time from now on

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto x reader #geto x y/n #jujutsu geto #jjk #jjk x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru #jjk suguru #geto x you #suguru x reader #suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk angst #geto angst #geto suguru angst

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cemeteryspider · 4 months

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Strings of Fate: The Puppet-Master

Luke Castellan x Child of Poseidon!/Blood-Bender! Reader

Summary: The reader finds themself in the throws of a God's war, learning about themself and the world around them. They decide the confide in Luke Castellan about their unique ability to manipulate the water in blood.

~Sorry if Luke is a little OOC I tried my best~

Trigger Warnings: Self-harm *one instance and is healed quickly*, Canon Typical Violence, Blood, Loss of a Loved One *Sally Jackson*, and Emotional Distress

As Sally Jackson’s oldest child, I've always been a little overprotective of my little brother Percy Jackson. This included taking the fall for him at school so his transcript stayed as clean as possible. I became a force to be reckoned with because people beat up on Percy, and after a while, no one wanted to mess with Percy’s psycho older sibling. Or at our latest school when Percy stabbed through his pre-algebra teacher with a gleaming golden sword that was a ballpoint pen the moment before, and I tried my best to mitigate the situation.

After that, life was a blur. Going to the cabin and learning about our dad was a crazy moment because Mom rarely spoke about him. Yet, we were utterly unprepared for the loss of our mother.

“You are my children, brave the storm. I love you.”

Then we were running away from our mom and away from the minotaur. We saw Sally Jackson turn to dust in the minotaur’s grasp, and in a second, Percy was running back and fighting the minotaur. Grover grabbed my arm and shook his head at me, but I ripped away and ran towards the only family I know I have left.

On his back, holding one of the minotaur’s horns in his hands and groaning, I shouted at the thing towering over him ready to strike in a moments notice.

“Hey! Get away from him!”

It turned toward me and huffed at me. For a moment I was scared, then I started throwing rocks. I was angry and used as much force possible. Then it grasped me in its fist like mom and started to squeeze. I began to give up, but then something spoke to me.

“Reach out, Y/n, take control.”

Following the advice literally, I extended my hand toward the minotaur. Closing my eyes, I waited, striving for control. Its hold around me loosened, and I found myself taking a look at what’s happening around me. I got a glimpse of the minotaur’s blood flowing from its nose into the air. Percy jumped into the air and stabbed the back of the minotaur’s skull with its own horn.

~~~

Luke put his arm around my shoulders when I stopped reciting the story and gave me a little squeeze.

“Hey, it's gonna be okay. We’re going to figure this out together.”

I tucked my face in the crook of his neck and kept crying. The night was cool around us in the woods near the cabins.

“I’m so scared, and I just don’t know what’s happening to me. I mean, what am I supposed to do? I’m just trying to keep it together for Percy because he’s already scared and upset, but I’m scared and upset too, Luke.”

He put his hand on my head and threaded his fingers through my hair. Luke let me cry until I calmed down, and I decided I wanted to show him.

“Give me your dagger…”

“What?”

“Please, I need to prove it to myself… I’m not crazy.”

He slid the dagger from his sheath and flipped it to hand me the hilt. I quickly and carefully split the inside of my palm open. Luke took a sharp intake of breath as I squeezed my hand into a fist.

“Y/n, what are you doing?”

I unclenched my fist and focused on the cut. I closed my eyes and let myself be in control.

“How the Hades are you doing that?”

Again, I allowed my eyes to open, and my blood was flowing around my hand and into the air. After a deep breath, my blood hit the floor of the forest.

“Come here.”

He held out his hand, and I took it in my not bloody one as he led me to a small creek not too far away. He submerged my hand into the creek, and it started to heal immediately.

“Thanks, Luke. I just… I’m not crazy.”

“I believed you before, you know.”

“Maybe I didn’t,” I said quietly.

He enveloped me in his arms, and I allowed myself to fall apart completely. After all this time of keeping Percy out of trouble and protecting him, it felt nice to be held and taken care of.

“Come on, let's get you to bed, and we’ll talk in the morning. Okay?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

After a minute, he pulled away and led me by the hand to Cabin 3 carefully, avoiding the harpies looking for campers out of bed.

“Could you stay?”

“I can do that, as long as you don’t mind getting up a little early and waking up Hermes Cabin.”

“Yeah, I can do that with you.”

“I’m going to sleep in Percy’s bed so I don’t crowd you, you know.”

“Yeah, just with Percy gone, it’s lonely… I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t sharing a room with someone.”

“I’ll be here. Get to sleep, I’m sure you’re tired.”

I tiredly climbed into my bed as Luke climbed into the bed that Percy slept in not a day ago. As I went to sleep, I heard Luke’s soft breaths fill the cabin.

~~~

I woke up with a start, and Luke had his hand on my arm.

“Hey, Hey, you’re okay. You just had a bad dream Darling. You’re okay. Take some deep breaths.”

I quickly blinked, vaguely remembering the nightmare I had. I saw Mom disintegrating into nothing, and then Percy in the minotaur’s fist, life draining from his eyes and disintegrating into nothing. Particles of ash mingling with Mom’s.

“Breathe with me, Y/n. In and out. In and out.”

I slowly matched my erratic breathing with his, and as the minutes went by, I started to calm down.

“See, you’re okay. I promise everything is okay. You’re safe.”

“T-thank you, Luke… Sorry for waking you up.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I just want to help you, Darling.”

“Still…”

A couple more deep breaths.

“Are you okay now, darling?”

“I’m okay now, thank you.”

“I’m gonna go back to sleep so I can get up in a few hours, okay?”

He took one step, and I reached for his hand.

“Could you… hold me, please?”

He just smiled at me and lifted the covers to get underneath.

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #child of poseidon #pjo x reader

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fortheloveofwonderland · 3 months

Text

Rusty | Chapter 8 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - You and Spencer come across the wild horse who was responsible for his accident and she takes a liking to you. Luke gets a call from his old partner and is sucked back into a case from his past.

A/N - the second half of his chapter will take us to the BAU and we start to piecing together the readers past and why she was on the run. And we are finally introduced the to fics namesake.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - swearing, very brief mention of horse castration, talk of male ejaculation, very brief mention of past Maeve and past addiction, slightly pining Luke, mentions of Spencer’s assault and details of medical records following the assault, vague spoilers for CME, gun violence, past abuse, slightly angry Luke.

WC - 6.3k

Chapter 8 - A Horse With No Name

“Wait a minute. Hang on. Stop! Stop!” Spencer practically yelled and you slammed on the brakes at his sudden change in demeanour.

The car screeched on the asphalt, coming to an abrupt stop. Spencer was already working his way out of his seatbelt and trying to open the door.

It had been an uncomfortable morning to say the least. You’d been alone in his bed when you’d woken up and not at all surprised by that fact.

You’d found him down at the stable, grooming Wilbur. He didn’t look at you but at the horse when he asked if you could drive him into nearby Pipe Creek for a new cell phone after his old one had been smashed to pieces.

You complied and the two of you took a drive.

He hadn’t once looked at you all morning, not even when you’d stopped for coffee after procuring a new phone. Conversation hadn’t been much more forthcoming either and after several attempts to engage him, you’d given up entirely.

Now on the drive back, his shouted words which caused you to stop the car were the most he’d said all day.

You hurriedly followed Spencer out of the car, recognising the stretch of road to be almost exactly where you’d found him on his back in the dirt a few days ago.

He was hobbling to the side of the road and as you followed hot on his heels, you could see what he'd made you stop for.

“That’s her! That’s the horse that frightened Willow! The one that caused me to fall and break my arm!” He faux whispered, pointing in the direction of the large steed as though you wouldn’t be able to see her.

She was almost as large as Willow with broad shoulders and thick legs. She was chestnut red, her coat practically glowing in the sunlight. Her mane and tail were a golden-blonde and they waved manically behind her as she galloped in circles.

“Okay…” you frowned at the horse. “So why did we stop?”

“I…I don’t know.” Spencer turned to you, mirroring your expression. “I’ve never seen a horse like her. I find her fascinating. But I don’t think she likes me very much.”

As if on cue the beast let out a loud and booming neighing sound before she started trotting closer. Your back went up, shoulders squared as if that would help against any potential onslaught.

She was looking right at you, large eyes staring into your soul. She slowed her gait as she drew closer and you held your breath to see what she might do.

What she did so surprised both you and Spencer. She nuzzled her snout into your chest, making little appreciative noises as she did so. You tentatively raised a hand and patted the side of her head.

“What is happening?” You hissed at Spencer.

“She’s bonding with you. She likes you.” Spencer shrugged.

“Why?” You continued to pet her.

“No idea, horses are curious creatures.” Spencer dared to move closer, inch by inch.

He brought his good hand up to touch her but before he could she reared her head back from you and made a noise of displeasure.

“See, I told you she doesn’t like me!” Spencer grumbled, shrinking back.

“Lucky you.” You pulled a face as the mare nuzzled into you once more.

“I think you’ve made a friend.”

“I don’t want a friend.” You hissed.

“I think it’s too late for that.” Spencer chuckled at the little happy sounds the horse was making. “Stay here.”

“What?” You frowned at him as he started heading back towards the car. “Where are you going?”

“I'm going to go and get some riding equipment, we can take her back to the ranch and check her over. I’m pretty sure she’s wild though, but we can have the vet come out and check if she’s chipped.” He opened the driver’s door.

“And if she isn’t?” You grumbled, scratching the side of her face.

“We’ll keep her. I’ve been in the market for another horse.”

“We? There is no we!” You spat but he was already getting into the car. “Should you be driving with your injuries? And when exactly was the last time you were behind a wheel?”

“It’s only a few miles, I’ll be fine. I can't stay with her, she doesn’t like me.” He shrugged.

“Yet you’re proposing you keep her? Are you…” the door slammed closed and you rolled your eyes. “Good. Great, he’s gone. And I’m talking to a horse.”

Behind you the engine roared to life and after a few false starts Spencer pulled away. The rust coloured horse tilted her head and looked at you inquisitively.

You hated to admit it but she was completely intoxicating.

***

Some half an hour later, Spencer arrived back with the riding equipment along with a mounting block and your riding boots.

Of course you were going to have to ride her home.

Spencer helped you to saddle her up ready but when it came time to mount her you froze up.

“This seems incredibly dangerous.” You tensed, gripping the reins in your hand whilst standing on the mounting block. “I’ve only ever ridden a horse once in my life. And clearly she’s got an unpredictable temperament. I really don’t want to do this.”

“I cannot mount another horse right now.” Spencer winced at the sheer thought. “After I had to ride down to town to collect you when you were drunk, I am certain I will not be riding for the foreseeable future.”

Of course you thought it was just because of his knee and he wasn’t readily going to tell you that it was also because of the healing cuts on his thigh. He’d been lucky with your wandering hands last night that you hadn’t come across his bandaged thigh.

“Oh throw that back in my face why don’t you.” You wrung the reins in your hands. “Spencer I’m fucking scared.”

“I have every faith in you.” He smiled at you.

“Really doesn’t help.” You rolled your eyes. “I hope she’s worth it, I hope having another horse is worth my death on your conscience.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly overdramatic?” Spencer scoffed.

“Says the man that was convinced he was going to be eaten alive by desert critters?”

“That was a very real possibility. But only one in every ten thousand horse riders die each year in a horse related accident. Around seven hundred and ten a year.” He told you a little smugly.

“Why do you know that?” You frowned.

“I know a lot of things.” He shrugged. “Will you get on the horse already? You’ll be fine.”

“Hmm, we’ll see.” You grumbled, taking a deep breath and edging your left foot in the stirrup.

You braced yourself, readying yourself to balance your weight on the ball of your foot and swing up over the horse. Lower yourself slowly like Spencer had mentioned after you’d thrown yourself on Franklin.

Another deep breath and you pulled yourself up, using the reins to hoist your weight. You forced yourself to slowly drop onto the saddle but even still the mare jostled a little.

“Whoa, whoa!” You wobbled, petting her neck. “It’s okay girl. Are you sure she’s a girl?”

“Trust me, there’s a huge difference, if you know what I mean.” Spencer clucked.

“I guess the saying ‘hung like a horse’ had to come from somewhere.” You mused, slotting your other foot in the stirrup.

“I’ll drive alongside you, we’ll take it slow.” Spencer ignored your bad joke.

You waited for him to climb back in the car and roll down the window before you gave a gentle tug on the reins and the mare started forward.

Apart from the side of the road being uneven and feeling a few times like you were slipping this way or that, the ride was surprisingly smooth.

The wild horse obeyed your commands, didn’t trot too fast and seemed appreciative of the occasional pat on her neck.

Spencer parked your car and walked alongside you towards the stable, giving the flaxen horse a wide berth as she panicked if he came too close.

“You’re a natural at this.” He smiled up at you. “She’s really taken a liking to you.”

“I’d be lying if I said the feeling wasn’t mutual.” You leaned forward and rubbed the back of her ear.

She responded with a happy little huff.

Spencer felt his heart swelling seeing you atop the great beast. There was something so fascinating about the way you got the unpredictable creature to behave.

It must be your aura, Spencer had felt it himself. You had a calming presence and clearly he wasn’t the only one receptive to it.

He opened the stable and motioned you into an empty paddock. He encouraged you to fill a trough of food for her while he called the veterinarian in Bandera.

You fed and groomed her, making the introductions to Spencer’s three steeds even though they couldn’t understand you. An hour later the vet came to check her out.

Doctor Watts gave her a once over and deemed her to be healthy and approximately three years old. She scanned the horse for a chip and found none, as Spencer assumed she was wild.

The vet didn’t stay for long and soon the two of you were alone again with the four horses.

You were hand feeding her some chunks of fruit and brushing your knuckles through her mane and Spencer watched you intently. You could feel his eyes on the back of your head.

“Would you stop staring.” You grumbled without looking at him.

“Sorry, I just think it’s sweet.” He smiled.

“Sweet?” You glanced at him over your shoulder.

“A few days ago you hated horses. Look at you now, you’ve got your very own steed.” He beamed.

“My…mine? She’s not mine, she’s yours?” Your hands stilled and you turned to fully face him.

“Oh no, I am not the one she’s bonded with.” He chuckled. “That horse right there, is yours Y/N.”

You felt a pang in your chest and you looked back at the chestnut red beauty with a watery smile. You stroked her face again and she nuzzled into your hand.

“I guess she is.” You whispered to no one in particular.

“What’s her name?” Spencer took one small step forward, not wanting to agitate your new companion.

You didn’t even hesitate when you answered.

“Rusty. Her name is Rusty.”

***

Spencer helped you get all four horses into the enclosed field so they could all begin in welcoming Rusty to the family. Willow was, unsurprisingly, not keen on fraternising with the other mare after their encounter in the desert the other day.

Franklin seemed to abide her but Wilbur was positively smitten. He wouldn’t leave Rusty’s side and the feeling seemed reciprocated.

“Uh, Spencer?” You cocked an eyebrow at him as you observed them, leaning against the fence. “I’m slightly concerned Wilbur is being too friendly.”

“Don’t worry, he and Frank were both castrated before I brought them. He can’t do her any harm.”

“Ew, sounds painful. Is that a normal thing to do?” You grimaced.

“It’s no different to neutering a dog or a cat. It helps to eliminate aggression and uncooperative behaviour in male horses. It’s perfectly normal.” He replied with a shrug. “Are you implying Wilbur isn’t good enough for Rusty?”

“I’m implying that one horse is plenty for me.”

“So she is your horse?” His lip twitched.

“Well you’ve made it clear you don’t want her. And I can’t just release her back into the wild.” You huffed.

“Does that mean you plan to stick around for a while?” He asked tentatively.

“While this place does have its perks,” you mused, pushing yourself away from the fence. “Something has to give. I can’t keep…doing whatever it is we’re doing and then having to walk on eggshells. You either want to just be friends or you want more than that.”

You hadn’t meant to say that out loud despite the fact you’d been thinking about it all day. Judging on Spencer’s expression he hadn’t expected you to say that either.

“I, uh,” he scratched his head, looking out across the field. “I like you, Y/N, I really do. And I do like the idea of being more than just your friend. But I don’t…I can’t…I am not ready for an intimate relationship and I don’t know if I ever will be.”

“Will you ever tell me what happened to you?” You sidled a little closer to him.

“Honestly? Probably not. But if it’s any consolation, I’ve never told anyone, baring my therapist.” He sighed.

“What about Luke?” You questioned, seeing the way Spencer tensed at the mention of his name.

“Nope, not even Luke. Which is partly why our relationship fell apart.”

“How am I supposed to stay here when I know barely anything about you?” You were chewing the inside of your cheek.

“You know more about me than I do about you.” He countered.

“Fine,” you shrugged. “What do you wanna know?”

“What were you running from?” He was quick to ask.

He watched your jaw tighten and you turned away from him to look back at Rusty who was still sniffing around Wilbur.

“That’s not important.”

“It is to me. I told you about my ex, you know about my dissociative disorder.”

“And you know about my step dad.”

“That doesn’t make us even.” He scoffed. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

Your back straightened and you folded your arms around your body, hugging your sides.

“Why would you think that?” You kept your eyes trained on Rusty.

“Deflection. Answering a question with a question. You are in trouble.” He watched you for more signs.

“Seriously, what did you do for work?” You turned back to him suddenly, eyes narrowed in questioning. “You sound like…no. No, surely not.”

“What?” His eyebrows pinched together.

“You’re talking like a cop. But I can’t see it. You don’t seem like the type.” You scrutinised him.

“I can categorically tell you I wasn’t a cop.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Stop changing the subject. What kind of trouble are you in?”

“I don’t wanna talk about this.” You shook your head and started over toward Rusty. Spencer followed you.

“Because I’m right, you’re running because you’re in trouble.” He limped after you.

“Look, Spencer,” you spun back to him, eyes wild. “If you don’t have to talk about why you don’t want to fuck me, then I don’t have to talk about this.”

Your words caused him to stop in his tracks, your tone angrier than he’d heard you before. He didn’t speak so you continued.

“You and I both know last night you came in your pants. But you said you didn’t want to talk about it and I respected that. Show me the same courtesy.” You turned again, taking a few more steps towards your new companion.

Spencer ground his teeth together furiously, watching you walk away. He clenched and unclenched one hand at his side.

“It was the first time I’ve come in almost four years.” He spat out, unsure why he was revealing this piece of information.

When you looked back at him, his face was beet red as were his ears.

“Excuse me?” You didn’t move any closer to him.

“I told you I have intimacy issues.” He huffed. “Well that extends to…self stimulation.” He turned even redder. “So yeah, that’s the first time in nearly four years. Maybe three and a half. Closer to four.”

“Jesus.” You shook your head. “You really are fucked up, aren’t you?”

Spencer let out a dry chuckle.

“Very much so.” He nodded in agreement.

“I guess you’re welcome for last night.” You winked at him and his blush, which had started to creep away, appeared again.

“You gotta stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Flirting with me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I might just do something really stupid.”

You swallowed as the look in his eye grew serious. You took a few hesitant steps towards him.

“Stupid by who’s definition?” You got closer and Spencer was also moving nearer you.

“I'm not joking when I say I’m not ready for anything intimate, Y/N. I don’t want to lead you on.” He still stepped closer.

“And I don’t want to be let down.” You agreed.

“Trust me when I say I am the king of letting people down.” He sighed wistfully.

“So, uh,” you reached each other, just a foot between you. “Friends, then?”

“Friends.” He smiled a little sadly at you.

“Okay, friend. How about we do something fun?”

“Fun?” He frowned.

“Come on, even in the middle of butt fuck nowhere there must be something fun to do.”

“Bored of your new companion already?” Spencer chuckled.

“Bite your tongue!” You gasped. “I will never be bored of her. And I didn’t necessarily mean right now. How about tonight, we go out and get, like, absolutely wasted.”

“I, uh, I don’t drink.” He shrugged, voice meek.

“Ever?” You sounded incredulous.

“Not for a long time.” He scratched at the back of his neck.

“Well no wonder you’re so uptight.” You rolled your eyes. “A few drinks would probably loosen you up.”

Spencer’s vision faded in and out in quick succession. He rubbed his temple with his fingertips, swallowing around his dry tongue.

There had come a point, long after his addiction that he’d made the decision to quit drinking. After Maeve’s death he’d used alcohol as a way to cope with the overwhelming emotions.

But after a while the alcohol wasn’t enough and he’d found himself considering something stronger, something much less legal.

He almost relapsed. And if he had he knew he’d never have been able to stop. He was already drinking far more than he ever had and had grown a tolerance to it, he knew something had to give.

So before he could let himself fall further down a rabbit hole, he quit drinking and hadn’t touched a single drop since.

“It, uh, affects my medication.” He lied.

“Oh,” you softened. “Right, of course. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He shook his head. “If you want to go drinking, then don’t let me stop you.”

“You think I’m going to have as much fun drinking on my own?” You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Seemed to enjoy yourself the other night.” He shrugged. “If you really want I will come with you, but I am not drinking. I can be your designated driver.”

“Hmm,” you mused. “Certainly more fun than drinking alone but less fun than having a drinking partner.”

“It’s the best I can do.”

“Fine, let's do it.” You agreed, turning back towards Rusty. “You know the guys are all super curious about you down at 11th Street.”

You started towards your mare who was still being sniffed around by Wilbur. Spencer fell into step with you despite his limp.

“Curious? Why?” He frowned.

“Because you’ve never been into their bar, never spoken to them. You’ve lived here two years and never tried to assimilate with the locals?” You reached Rusty and she turned her attention to you, wary eyes casting over Spencer.

“I moved out here so as not to have to assimilate with anyone.” He kept a keen eye on Rusty, not appreciating the way she looked at him and didn’t get too close to her.

“They think you’re rude.” You petted the large mare’s head.

“What are you like best friends with them now?” Spencer scoffed.

“I’m just saying, it really wouldn’t hurt for you to make a little effort with them. They’re nice people, who knows you might even make more friends.” Your tone was teasing when you spoke the last word.

“I have plenty of friends.”

“Back in DC?” You scoffed. “When was the last time you saw any of them?”

Spencer’s eyebrows pinched together as he led Wilbur a little further away from Rusty, his chest tightening. He wasn’t exactly ashamed of being a hermit, but when you said these things it made him feel incredibly lonely out of nowhere.

“It’s been…a while.” He spoke under his breath.

“Would it really kill you to just try and make a friend? I might not be able to hang around here forever and if I have to leave I’d like to know you’re not gonna be alone for the rest of your life. If you died out here, it would be weeks, maybe even months before anyone ever knew.” You run your fingers through Rusty’s mane, a wry smile on your lips.

Spencer pulled a face, shaking his head at your candour.

“Wow, thanks for that. Really driving your point home.” He grumbled.

“I'm just saying,” you chuckled. “If, for whatever reason, I did have to leave, I’d hate to think of you all alone out here.”

“I wouldn’t be alone. I have three horses and cattle. Four if, hypothetically, you left and didn’t take Rusty with you. I’ll be fine. Let’s get them back to the stable and feed them, I’m worried Rusty is considering eating me.” He scowled.

“See, just another reason I don’t want you to be out here alone. Believe me when I say she would eat you.” You teased, a bright smile on your face.

It didn’t last long though before you frowned and were clicking your jaw, fingers coming up to your face to massage the muscles.

“You okay?” Spencer stared at you.

“Hmm.” You nodded, fingers kneading the side of your jaw. “Old injury. It plays up sometimes.”

He didn’t question it but he continued to observe you while you put on a brave face, turned back to Rusty and effectively shut any further conversation down.

***

After hanging up the phone and printing the contents of the email, Luke Alvez compiled a case file and flicked through the pages. He leaned forward on the desk on his elbows, fingers laced together, chin rested on them while he stared at the printouts.

He hadn’t been concerned when Phil called, the two spoke at least once a week and met for dog walks with Roxy and Lou as often as they could. Probably more often in the two years since Spencer up and left, clearly Phil didn’t think he was coping. Maybe he wasn’t.

In truth, Luke still thought about his ex every day. Perhaps that was due to the fact his desk still remained empty in the bullpen, Emily never having replaced him. Possibly it was because he still held onto some of Spencer’s things he’d left in his apartment; a few books, a pair of mismatched socks, a tie, even his old CalTech sweater which Luke still wore around his home more often than he liked to admit.

Phil was probably right for checking in on him frequently, even after two years Luke was still grieving that relationship.

Spencer had been the only person Luke had ever dated that he’d seen a future with. He’d known early on that he wanted to spend his life with the dorky, awkward doctor. And maybe they would have, if it wasn’t for Cat Adams and Spencer’s stint in Milburn.

Luke had seen Spencer’s medical records from repeated trips to the infirmary, although Spencer wasn’t aware of this. He also hadn’t let anyone else on the team see them to protect Spencer’s already fragile psyche.

On three occasions he was reported to have palatal petechiae, bruising and lesions, and even burst blood vessels near the back of the roof of his mouth. The soreness he experienced meant he wasn’t eating much as solid food probably aggravated his mouth.

It was something Luke and the team had seen before and he knew the most likely cause of these injuries was from extremely rough oral sex. It was indicative of sexual assault, but not entirely probative.

Of course he never asked Spencer outright, knowing his boyfriend well enough to know that he would shut down if asked such a question. He’d tried getting him to open up, especially after almost a year passed and Spencer still panicked every time things grew heated between them.

And when Spencer had grown violent, Luke knew at that moment that the two of them would never come back from this. With Spencer’s hands twisting and pinning his arm behind his back, he knew they were over.

He’d told Spencer he couldn’t do this anymore, that he didn’t know who Spencer was anymore. He still loved him, he probably always would, but unless Spencer sought some real help, Luke had to walk away.

A few weeks later the team had been called into the roundtable room for what they thought was another case. Luke had frowned at Spencer’s empty desk, wondering where he was and why they weren’t waiting for him.

He’d known something was amiss when Penelope took a seat with them and didn’t stand at the front to present the case. Emily and Rossi stood, their features unreadable.

“What’s going on?” Tara was the one to ask, brows pinched.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Spence?” JJ voiced Luke’s thoughts.

Emily and Rossi exchanged a look, Emily puffed out a breath and Rossi offered her a small nod of his head to encourage her.

Luke felt his stomach coiling. His heart was thrumming violently in his chest. The last time Emily had called them all together like this without Spencer, it was to tell them of his arrest.

He braced himself against the table, waiting for the blow. Something had happened, something had happened to Spencer.

“A week ago Reid came to me,” Emily began, her voice fighting back the sadness. “After Benjamin Merva, he, uh, he no longer felt that he was an effective member of this team. He made the decision for himself to leave the BAU.”

“What? That’s crazy talk!” Garcia shook her head frantically. “We talked about this when they were holding us! We said the team needed both of us!”

“He’s been through a lot, Garcia.” Rossi spoke with a hint of melancholy. “More than anyone should ever have to go through. He was still dealing with his incarceration, and then this? It’s too much for one person.”

“But why isn’t he here? He didn’t say goodbye?” Penelope whined, tears filling her large eyes.

Luke couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. His vision was obscured, maybe by tears he wasn’t sure. The voices around him grew more and more distant, as though he and the team were getting further apart.

His brain was coated in a thick cloud, inhibiting his thoughts. Dizzy, he suddenly felt so dizzy. His hands held the edge of the table in a white knuckle grip.

“He’s probably halfway to Texas by now.” Emily brought her hand to her lips and started chewing on one of her nails.

“Texas?” Matt spat out the word as though it were alien to him. “What the hell is he going to Texas for?”

Again Emily and Rossi exchanged a glance. Truthfully they didn’t have all the answers, as was his way, Spencer hadn’t told them all the details.

“I’m not entirely sure. He said he needed to get away, sold his apartment and he was going to Texas. That’s all I know.” Emily continued her chewing.

“Newbie?” Garcia turned to Luke, a few tears trickling down from beneath her glasses. Luke didn’t move. “Alvez?” She clicked her fingers at him.

He still didn’t move.

“Luke, man, you okay?” Matt’s hand was on his shoulder, Luke’s vision petered in and out.

“You must have known about this?” Tara’s eyes were on him now too.

“I…I…we broke up.” He confessed. “A few weeks ago.”

A collective gasp sounded out in the room but it still sounded so distant to his ears. Matt’s grip on his shoulder tightened but Luke barely registered it.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t he say anything?” JJ whimpered.

Luke blinked several times to try and clear the fog hindering his vision. He tried to focus on just one thing, one single thing.

Emily.

As the fog started to clear the image of his Unit Chief gnawing on her nail came into view and she was looking right at him.

Everyone else in the room disappeared. For a moment or two it was just him and Emily.

He cleared his throat, sucked in a breath.

“He’s…he’s really gone?” His voice trembled.

“He’s really gone.” Emily nodded stiffly. “I'm so sorry Luke.”

Even two years after the fact Luke could still feel everything he’d felt that day, the crumbling weight of losing the only person he’d ever really loved. In reality, he probably lost Spencer the moment he was arrested, but this had felt so final.

Since Spencer’s departure, things hadn’t been the same and the team was still adjusting to a series of changes which happened in the wake of him leaving.

Less than a year later, Penelope made the decision to leave the BAU stating she no longer understood how any of this worked. Matt had been sequestered for special assignment, Emily had been promoted to Section Chief and Rossi now held the post as BAU Unit Chief.

Since the pandemic the team had operated differently. On any given day it was mostly only Luke in the office. Rossi was still struggling in the aftermath of Krystall’s death and he, Tara and JJ mostly consulted on cases alone as they were short on the ground.

That was until the discovery of the network of serial killers who had been operating online during the pandemic, now clawing out of the shadows to become fully operational once the world was no longer on lockdown.

Garcia was back in a temporary capacity and Emily was devoting more time to her old team. The six members were working tirelessly to bring this operation down. And then he’d received the phone call from Phil and had an extra weight added to his already overloaded plate.

He couldn’t catch a break.

He was lost in the file and didn’t hear her heels clicking on the floor as they approached and it was only when she perched on the edge of his desk that he noticed her arrival.

“Rumour has it you spoke to our elusive cowboy?” Penelope clutched her unicorn mug between her hands, steam rising from the top.

“Word travels fast around here.” He sighed, sitting back in his chair.

“I like to be kept apprised of all communication with our fallen comrade. I'm so worried about him. You know he spoke to Morgan too? Yet he won’t answer my calls. Not for weeks! You, I get, but Morgan? They haven’t seen each other since he was released from prison.” She spoke fast, words blurring together.

Over the years Luke had gotten fluent in Penelope Garcia.

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up, it wasn’t exactly a pleasant call.” Luke swallowed. “We argued, no surprise. But it was good to finally hear his voice again.”

“How did he sound?” She brought her mug to her lips and sipped the liquid, Luke could only assume it was some variety of flavoured tea judging by the vague scent of berries he detected.

“Tired.” He shrugged. “Frustrated. I don’t know.”

“You know him better than anyone.” She exhaled.

“Do I?” Luke scoffed.

“You dated for two years.” She shrugged.

“And three months of that he was in prison. And then for almost a year after he could barely look at me let alone talk to me.” He spat, harsher than he meant to, Penelope pouted and he quickly steeled himself. “I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

Penelope took another sip of tea as her eyes glanced over the open file on his desk. There was a mugshot of a woman in the top left corner and what looked to be the kind of information she would unearth in a deep dive.

“You working on your own cases now? You haven’t got enough to do around here?” She nodded her head at the file.

Luke followed her gaze despite knowing what she was looking at. He ran his fingers over the sheet of paper in an absent mind.

“Uh, it's an old case from back when I worked with the Fugitive Task Force.” He sighed, seeing no reason to lie to Garcia.

“Do tell.” She made herself more comfortable on his desk.

“A few years back she was arrested for shooting a guy to death. Claimed self defence, which I might have brought if she hadn’t shot him twelve times. She killed him and then reloaded her gun so she could keep shooting him.” He grimaced at the thought. He’d seen the crime scene photos, the guy looked like swiss cheese.

“Jeez,” Garcia pulled a face similar to Luke’s. “How’d she end up on your radar?”

“She was a classic femme fatale. Pretty, young, played the innocent victim well. She worked the courtroom, I’ve seen the footage. She had the jury eating out of the palm of her hand. She got a reduced sentence, murder down to 2nd degree manslaughter. She was sentenced to seven years. Seven fucking years, can you believe it?” He baulked, incredulous.

“I can only assume if the FTF was called in, she did not even serve those seven years?” Penelope asked softly.

“Like I say, she was a femme fatale. Manipulative, overtly sexual. Men were puppets to her.” Luke raked his fingers through his hair. “Upon transfer to her facility after trial she worked her magic on the poor, naive guard. Fluttered her eyelashes, pouted her lips, that kinda thing. The poor guy dropped his defences and she managed to escape. That’s where Phil and I came in.

“We chased her for months, eventually I got the call from the BAU and my services were needed elsewhere. ‘Bout a year ago they caught up with her and she was finally held accountable for her actions. And then just now, I got a call from Phil.”

Garcia wasn’t a profiler but she’d spent enough time around them to understand what Luke wasn’t saying and piece together the rest.

“She escaped?” Penelope exhaled.

“Yeah, a few weeks ago. There was a mass prison break at her facility much the same as the one at Scratch’s facility. She was one of ten women who escaped and now Phil wants my help capturing her.” Luke shook his head. “Which is obviously the last thing I need right now with everything else going on with the network.”

Garcia placed her mug down on the desk and leaned forward, picking up the top sheet of paper and scanning through the information.

“Abuse victim, father passed when she was young.” She mused out loud as she continued reading. “Precursors for violent crimes unfortunately. Who was this guy, Leon Sayers, the man she killed? Was he a random victim or…”

She looked up from the paper and at Luke who was shaking his head.

“Sayers was her abuser. Her stepfather. At her trial she insisted Sayers killed her mom but it couldn’t be proven. I think it was all BS, I think it was all part of a ruse to make the jury feel sorry for her.”

“You don’t think she was abused?” Penelope snatched up another sheet of paper and scanned. “I mean there were a lot of hospital visits in her youth, all chalked up to her being clumsy but…is anyone this clumsy? Jeez this one says at fourteen years old she was admitted with a broken jaw! She had to have surgery and her jaw wired shut for eight weeks!”

“I don’t doubt she was heavily abused but she skipped town at sixteen, and hadn't surfaced until her mom’s death. She could have stayed away but she sought Sayers out. Doesn’t that seem like premeditation to you?” Luke scoffed.

“Alvez,” she put the paper down. “I'm not condoning what this girl did but after my parents were killed by that drunk driver, it crossed my mind that I might like to take my own form of revenge. That kind of grief makes us go to incredibly dark places. And if he’d abused her before, it’s not to say she didn’t get into an altercation with him, it might have been self defence. Admittedly the overkill was a bit much, but it said she did have bruising indicative of defensive wounds at the time of her arrest, bruises in the shape of fingers on her neck! He tried to strangle her, Alvez.”

“You say you aren’t condoning what she did, but it sure as hell sounds like it.” Luke spat, pushing himself to his feet and slamming the file shut.

“Newbie, calm down.” Penelope stood too, putting a placating hand on his arm. “All I’m saying is that not everything is black and white.”

“Seems pretty black and white to me.” He growled. “Murder is murder, Garcia.”

“Except when it’s manslaughter.” She clucked.

Luke looked ready to blow his lid. If he were a cartoon he would have had smoke coming out of his ears. His jaw tightened and Garcia watched the way the muscle pulsed, in perfect time with the throbbing of the vein in his neck.

“Are you kidding me? You’ve been out of the FBI long enough now that your sense of justice has been warped?” He raised his voice, spittal flying from his lips. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing! Do you actually…do you seriously think-”

“Alvez,” a stern voice cut across the bullpen and Luke turned away from Penelope towards the sound. Emily stood up the top of the stairs, eyes dark and brow pinched. “Another container has been found. We’re meeting the others at the airstrip.”

Luke puffed out a breath, sucked another one in. He let his jaw relax and tried to quell his anger.

“Where we heading now?” He ignored Penelope still in his peripheral vision.

“Texas.” Was all she said before disappearing back inside her old office.

@kalulakunundrum @small-and-violent @voledart @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @marvellover1819

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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emberfrostlovesloki · 7 months

Text

Unwanted Attention [Hotch x Reader]

Prompt: Having to travel to the middle of nowhere Ohio for a serial killer was bad enough, add to the fact that the local LEOs are looking a little too hard at JJ, Emily, and _y/n_ was seriously testing Aaron’s resolve. Lots of protective Hotch here! This is another @imagining-in-the-margins inspired fic for her Meet Cute Writing Challenge. I’m using the dialogue prompt: “Watch where you’re going!” “… You ran into me?!”

Category: Angst/comfort - (mostly comfort I think).

Word Count: 5.8K

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence (serial killer - kills via strangulation but nothing explicit) unwanted physical touch (groping of the behind and pubic area) misogyny, sexism, the U.S. police, language, brief mention of intimacy.

A/N: Hi friends! I am very pleased with this one. I love writing Hotch with righteous anger. It just looks too damn good on him. I also love the duality of this man because one moment he is ready to bite someone’s head off and the next he only has eyes for you and he’s checking in and feeling guilty. You could read this story as a standalone or as a prequel to my story, Life can be Terrible, but At Least You're In It. (linked). I want to shout out @criminalskies for hyping me up while writing this. Last, if you enjoyed reading this, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! - Levi

List with all stories

_y/n_ = your name

_f/c_ = favorite color

_l/n_ = your last name

_y/h/c_ = yuur hair color

Walnut Creek Ohio, who on the team had heard of it? Well apart from Spencer, because apparently he’d read a United States Atlas Map one night when his insomnia was bothering him, and he had retained all the information about nearly every tiny town that existed in the States. Spencer was rambling off facts about the tiny town stating, “There are 908 residents in the town as of 2017. It’s shocking that a serial killer would target such a small community where everyone has to know everyone else.” _y/n_, JJ, and Reid were all at the coffee station filling up cups. _y/n_ pulled out her _f/c_ thermos. She always made sure that anyone who wanted coffee got to go first because her reusable metal container took about half the pot. _y/n_ had finally wisened up after Emily and Spencer kept complaining about the coffee getting lukewarm, or worse, cold while sitting on the plane. Now her coffee stayed hot for hours if need be. She had bought the teammates that relied as heavily on caffeine as she did as Holiday or birthday gifts and the thermoses were stored away in one of her closets of her apartment, ready to be taken out and wrapped at the right moment. Spencer’s comment pulled her back to the present moments and she replied, “Nothing can stop a person going bad I guess. Not even a small town.” This stopped Spencer's comments on the location of the team's most recent case, and he shifted gears to talk about the psychological development of those raised in rural environments versus those raised in urban areas. _y/n_ continued to listen to Spencer as he spoke, even if she couldn’t always keep up with his mile-a-minute commentary. She listened because Reid was a fount of knowledge and often a comment he made and maybe didn’t even remember would be helpful later on in the case. She also listened because sometimes the other members of the team didn’t when he spoke. It wasn’t that they didn’t think that what he was saying was important, it was just that they were trying to come up with their own thoughts and theories about the case. _y/n_ was also guilty of tuning Reid out sometimes, but when she could listen to him, she did.

_y/n_ had always been more of a listener than one to contribute to the conversation early on. _y/n_ felt better about talking once she had more information and that normally wasn’t until the team arrived at the case's location or even saw the first crime scene. Once _y/n_ had the bigger picture, she was ready and able to hope in and give her thoughts. Before that time came, she would listen and think about her prior knowledge. Although it might be less exciting than guessing and formulating theories, she found that often some basic information or past cases or criminals was useful when leads dropped or the case seemed to go cold. In her process, she was thinking about the future. As she had integrated into the team full-time at the beginning, Derek teased her for writing so much down in a notebook. She highlighted any relevant information the team stated or facts that seemed relevant. Morgan had joked in good humor but as the first few cases came to a close, the whole team slowly realized that she was approaching these cases from another angle, one that proved to be highly valuable at important points.

_y/n_ settled next to Emily at her desk and pulled her go bag from underneath the space. The sound of Aaron’s door closing caught _y/n_’s attention. He was wearing that maroon tie she liked so much. She hadn’t told him that yet, it felt too trivial, but she really liked that tie on him. Aaron caught her eye for a moment and there was a small twinge in her chest before they quickly, discreetly looked away. Nobody knew that they were spending time together outside of work. They had to be discreet because it was mixing work and pleasure and in a place like the FBI, that didn’t just fly. _y/n_ was sure Hotch knew everything about the rules and consequences of breaking those rules, but he hadn’t filled her in on those details. She had looked at the employee handbook but it was all legalese and it hurt her head. If she and Aaron did become more serious, and committed, she would ask him to interpret the confusing language for her. Thankfully they weren’t having a hard time keeping their work and private lives separate, yet.

Aaron felt the normal thrill of heading out to a new case. He considered the word, ‘thrill,’ thinking it wasn’t the perfect synonym for the arrival of yet another slew of murders, but it certainly wasn’t excitement either. Excitement meant something happy, something to look forward to. ‘Energized,’ his brain offered. Mentally Aaron nodded along, That would work for now. He had to be energized for this work. He wasn’t a young man anymore but there had to be a strength and calmness with him. He was the leader and even with Rossi being on the team for over a year, his agents still looked to him to make this all work. His eyes found _y/n_’s and there he found the look of thrill. This was still so new to her, even though she had been on the team for a while. He looked away as always, not giving into any desires that lingered when he was paying attention to his newest agent. He was grateful that _y/n_ was professional and polite and had the utmost decorum even though outside of work they hadn’t been entirely professional. The thought of their last non-work meeting at her apartment and her heavy breathing and soft sounds on her lips, as he worked over her clothed body with his hands brought a momentatry flush to his face.

Hotch sobered as quickly as he had flushed as Dave came up beside him and said, “You ready for this?” Aaron looked over to his friend and bluntly replied, “As ready as possible, but it's still never easy.” Rossi nodded along as they both moved down the stairs and toward the parking lot. This line of work wasn’t easy. Aaron knew that every time his team left for a new case there was a chance that someone might get hurt, or even killed and no matter how good everyone was at their job, that possibility still worried him. _y/n_’s face popped up in his mind as he found his seat in the jet and he pushed away the thought. His relationship with her had shifted to something he wasn’t entirely sure he had under control. They hadn’t made anything official and hadn’t even said, “I love you,” yet. However, Hotch wasn’t a man who moved quickly, but as long as he and _y/n_ had an open, honest conversation about where their feelings were headed, he wasn’t going to fight it. He had fought so many things, and people in his life that he didn’t have the desire to fight this too. Being around _y/n_ felt good. It felt safe and he rarely got that in his life, so he was embracing it where he could. As JJ went over more of the facts and details regarding the case involving a serial killer wreaking havoc in the tiny town in Ohio, he shifted his full attention to what his media liaison was saying.

As the jet landed on the tiny airstrip, everyone got out and into the waiting SUVs. Aaron drove with Emily, Spencer, and JJ while Rossi took _y/n_ and Derek. Spencer and Emily were discussing the need to work well with the law enforcement in the town as they were likely ingratiate into all aspects of the community. Meanwhile, JJ was preparing a statement for the media. In the other car, Derek turned from the front seat and asked, “So what are we thinking in terms of prior knowledge _y/n_?” _y/n_ turned her gaze to Morgan’s and said, “Well strangulation is such a common signature that we’re going to have to look for something more specific to get traction here. The photos do look like this guy is strangling people from behind and the unsubs killing fit men someone who doesn't want to face what they’re really doing? Or it could be that they despise their victims so much they can’t stand to see them again, even while killing them?” Morgan nodded and elaborated on the idea that the killer might see these men as a competition of some kind. As having something the unsub lacked. This information allowed those in Rossi’s car to start to form a physical profile of the unsub. As the team made it to the small local police station, everyone got out of the parked cars and a man who appeared to be in his fifties who was balding badly came out to greet them.

Aaron stepped forward and extended his hand. The man took it and gave it a firm shake, saying, “I’m Officer Bronson. Thank you so much for you folks from coming out here.” Aaron nodded, replying, “I’m Agent, Hotchner and this is my team.” He indicated to the team, quickly introducing them. First, he gestured to JJ stating, “This is our media liaison, Jennifer Jareau.” JJ stepped forward and took the man’s slightly sweaty hand. Aaron moved through the rest of the team quickly, wanting to get the introductions over with and the real work started. He motioned to each of his agents saying, “This is David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Dr. Spencer Reid, _y/n_ _l/n_, and Emily Prentiss.” Each member nodded as Hotch said their name and Officer Bronson replied, Well welcome to Walnut Creek. I wish it was under happier circumstances. I’ll let you all get inside and out of this heat.” As the team moved into the small building, Aaron asked, “Is there a space where we can get organized and look at the evidence more easily?” Bronson nodded and led the team to a table at the back of a very small station and said, “Sorry it’s nothing fancy. I’ll have someone clean off the files and stuff off for you.” The man turned and semi-shouted, “Anderson, can you clear your junk off this table?” Anderson, a thirty-something-year-old moved around the team and got his things saying, “Sorry Chief.” Bronson looked to Aaron, almost for approval, and asked, “Will this do?” To which Hotch simply replied, “It’s fine.”

As the team settled a little _y/n_ looked at JJ with a ‘Are you kidding me?’ expression and then looked at Anderson who was placing his numerous files on another table. JJ rolled her eyes in return. The fact that one of the officers had open files possibly containing sensitive or private data out on a table for anyone in the room to see displayed the station's lack of professionalism. The team worked up a preliminary profile and Aaron told Officer Bronson that they were ready to address his unit. Bronson called his team to the side of the room and as the officers sat down, Aaron moved forward saying, “Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for your attention. My name is Aaron Hotchner and I’m the Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. This is my team, and we’re here to coordinate with you to try and stop these killings as quickly as possible. If you have any questions please hold them to the end. We appreciate you working with us, and now I’ll let Derek Morgan deliver our preliminary profile to you.”

Aaron stepped aside to let Derek deliver the profile. Hotch had asked Morgan to deliver the profile because something about the officers sitting in front of him didn’t seem like they were convinced that they needed the team's help. Given the fact that Derek was the closest in age to many of the officers, and he could be just as intense as Aaron if he wanted, Aaron thought that the men would respect Morgan over someone like himself or Rossi. It helped that Morgan also looked more like the policemen now listening with unveiled trepidation about the profile. This was another part of the job that Aaron disliked. He not only had to profile the unsub but the law enforcement officers as well. His team and the local authorities had to work together due to bureaucratic rulings and sometimes the officers didn’t want the Bau's assistance. The idea that the team was ‘taking over’ or ‘standing on their turf’ often caused conflict. Aaron always tried to nip this conflict early. His team didn’t need to worry about that and quite frankly they all had better things to do. Aaron looked at the ten seated men, as he listened to Morgan. Most of the officers were looking at Derek, but one or two were consistently looking over at JJ, _y/n_, and Emily. Aaron clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to sigh. He could tell whatever conflict his team and this police unit were going to have would be an uphill battle.

Hotch noticed when the men he was working with paid a little too much attention to members of his team. Hotch couldn’t deny that _y/n_, JJ, and Emily were all beautiful, intelligent, and capable and that combination was attractive. However, that did not give these men a right to act lewdly or leer at them. As Derek wrapped up the profile, he fielded a few questions from the assembled crowd. With that, Chief Bronson dismissed his men. Aaron gathered the team and they broke into smaller units to look for any clues that might bring them closer to finding the unsub. Aaron, Spencer, and _y/n_ were headed to the high school which was the scene of the latest killing. Rossi and Morgan were headed to the hospital to see the bodies of the victims to determine if there was more to the signature than just strangulation. Lastly, JJ and Emily were going to go to the press to provide a statement for the townspeople who were panicking and holding up the police phones making those who really needed help unable to get it.

In the evening as the team regrouped at the station, there was the kind of frantic energy they got once the case had really started. _y/n_ had lots of thoughts and was ready to see what the rest of the team had discovered. She knew she wasn’t going to see much sleep tonight, so she moved to the break room where the coffee pots normally were in police stations. As she approached the room she began to overhear a conversation going on inside. The snippet she heard was, “So who are you picking, Blondie, Brunette, or _y/h/c_?” There was a laugh before the other man in the room began saying, “What about all three?” There was more laughter at this and as the unseen man began saying, “But if you’re really making me choose…” _y/n_ walked quickly away before she could hear the answer. As she moved back to the team she thought, ‘These guys really have no standards.’ She felt slightly repulsed but did her best to ignore the feeling. As she stepped back to the table, and Aaron looked over at her, he could see that something was wrong. A few minutes later, when he was finished listening to Spencer’s geographic profile, Hotch moved to stand next to _y/n_. In a quiet volume, he asked, “Is everything okay?” _y/n_ looked up at him. His expression had the smallest hint of worry, and she alleviated that fear by saying, “Yeah. It’s nothing.” Aaron nodded and said, “Okay. Tell me more about what you were saying to Derek about the point of impact, we might be able to get a height on the unsub with that information.” _y/n_ nodded and jumped into the conversation. Aaron could tell that something was off about _y/n_, but he wouldn’t push it. He trusted her to handle things herself and if she needed to, he knew she would ask for help.

The night wore on and eventually, the team moved to the tiny hotel the town had. There were barely enough rooms to fit them all. The town was very cozy and picturesque in its quaintness. _y/n_ thought about this as she drove Derek and Rossi to the hotel. She assumed it was a nice place to grow up in. To grow old in. _y/n_ wasn’t sure where these thoughts were coming from, but she chalked it up to tiredness and the case. Because for seven men there would be no growing old here or anywhere. The sadness of that realization only made her want to solve this case more badly. There were always a lot of emotions tied to the cases they worked on, and to protect herself, she had to try and stay disconnected from the pain and hurt that the victims and the victims' families went through. But she couldn’t always hold back those emotions and now was one of those times. As everyone settled in for the night and said their goodnights, which just meant ‘I’ll be sitting up in bed reading over the same evidence as you one door down,’ Aaron walked over to _y/n_ and said, “Goodnight, _y/n_.” His brief interaction with her at the precinct from earlier in the day flashed in his head. He didn’t like it when she looked upset. It made him feel nervous, so he asked, “You’d tell me if something was wrong? Wouldn’t you?” The question came out of left field and _y/n_ blinked for a moment, not really knowing why Aaron was asking. At this point, she had sort of forgotten the rude comments being made by the officers, so she replied, “Of course I would Aaron.” At her response, Hotch infinitesimally relaxed and the two headed for the elevator together. Rossi had seen the interaction between them. He didn’t hear what they said, or that _y/n_ had used Hotch’s first name, but he couldn't help but feel that something was there between the two agents. Perhaps it was the way Aaron leaned down a little bit to be in earshot, or the way _y/n_ looked at his friend like nothing else around her mattered. David wouldn’t say anything yet, but he was sure he was going to start paying more attention to Aaron. Rossi wasn’t against whatever was happening between his coworkers. Aaron had had a rough few months, and he thought the man deserved some comfort.

In the morning most of the team was out hunting leads. Derek and _y/n_ had stayed back for a minute because _y/n_ thought she had seen something new in the geographical profile. They would both head to the sight of the first body once she had looked at the board again. _y/n_ was standing, looking at the map, engrossed in the pins Spencer had pushed into all the significant locations thus far. She just barely acknowledged when Morgan said he was going to use the men’s room. She also didn’t notice when one of the officers came up behind her. The man extended a hand and grabbed her ass giving it a squeeze. At the unwanted touch, _y/n_ whipped around saying, “Hey!” The phrases echoed around the nearly empty office. She looked at the man, clocking his name on his badge, Monroe. There was a moment of silence before _y/n_ incredulously said, “What was that?” Monroe gave a laugh and said, “Sorry, babe. I thought you were interested.” With that, the officer quickly left, as he noticed Derek coming back from the bathroom. Monroe nearly brushed shoulders with Morgan as they both tried to fit through the door at the same time.

When Derek got into the room, he noticed that something was off about _y/n_. She was standing still with a look of shock and disgust on her face. _y/n_ tried to fix her facial features back to normal, but Morgan had seen and quickly strode into the room next to her. Derek looked her over quickly and asked, “_y/n_, what’s wrong?” _y/n_ looked to the floor for a second, biting the inside of her cheek. She couldn’t really believe what had just happened. For a moment she thought about lying but knew that Morgan would keep asking until she gave in. She sighed and looked up at Morgan’s worried face, saying, “That guy just groped me.” At hearing this, Morgan turned on his heel, but Officer Monroe was halfway out the door with Officer Anderson. They were both laughing at some unheard joke. It took everything in Derek to not go over to the two men and give Monroe an unadulterated piece of his mind. However, he knew that wasn’t his place really. And he wanted to make sure _y/n_ was okay. He turned back to _y/n_ and asked, “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” _y/n_ nodded her head no, saying, “No. I was just shocked, I guess.” Morgan nodded along and said, “It shouldn’t have happened, period. You need to tell Hotch.” _y/n_’s widened at the suggestion. It made sense of course. Issues like this were under his purview, but for some reason telling him about this made her hesitate. Before she could think about it too much Morgan repeated himself saying, “Hotch would want to know.” _y/n_ put her palms up and said, “Fine, fine. I’ll tell him when he gets back.” Morgan gave her a look that made her say, “I promise I’ll tell him.” After a second of picturing that uncomfortable forthcoming conversation _y/n_ said, “He’s gonna be so mad.” Derek could understand what _y/n_ was saying but noted, “Maybe, but not at _y/n_.” There was another awkward silence before Derek finally said, “Do you need a few minutes, or would you like to head out?” Desperate for a distraction _y/n_, almost too quickly replied, “No. let’s go.”

At the supermarket where the first victim had been found. Morgan and _y/n_ took notes and got the security footage. It seems like they had a real lead by finding the license plate of the van that had dumped the deceased man in the alleyway near the store's load bay. However, the footage was too grainy to make out. After finishing watching the video, _y/n_ moved to call Garcia and see if she could enhance the video quality while Derek asked the security guard who had found the victim in the morning some questions. When she wrapped up her call with Garcia, _y/n_ briefly slumped against the outside wall; closing her eyes. She tried to think about why talking to Hotch about what had happened with Monroe was bothering her so much. She knew that Derek was right. Hotch wouldn’t be mad at her, at all. Maybe it was a feeling of embarrassment? _y/n_’s logical side of her brain said that she didn’t need to be embarrassed. She hadn’t groped anyone, but the feeling persisted. Maybe because talking about the incident meant being vulnerable in front of Aaron which was all fine and good when they were alone in her apartment. But having to do so at work was entirely different. _y/n_ let out a breath deciding to push all her feelings back for a moment. She would deal with it later. For now, she moved back inside the rendezvous with Morgan.

‘Later’ came as it always did. It was around five o’clock and the whole team was reconvening at the station. As the SUVs arrived one by one in the parking lot, everyone got out. _y/n_ looked over the team. They all looked a little tired, but when didn’t they on a case? _y/n_ felt the fatigue pull at her, but she knew she would find a second wind once she heard what everyone else had found out. She knew this unsub was here lurking in this little town, ready to kill again. She looked over to Aaron who was speaking to Emily about something. _y/n_ desperately wanted coffee and she walked toward the front door as she got close, Officer Monroe walked out the door. His badge was off and it was clear that he was headed home for the day. _y/n_ wondered if the man had a wife? Kids? The idea of it only made her more disgusted. As they neared each other she refused to make room for him on the sidewalk. She’d make him move aside for her. She wasn’t, however, going to look at him. _y/n_ planted her gaze on the sidewalk. Much like Monroe’s unwanted touch that morning, she didn’t expect to walk into him full force. When she turned her face to the man he said, “Hey, watch where you’re going, sweetheart.” _y/n_ could see that Monroe was actually enjoying this and she replied, “You ran into me!” Monroe smiled at seeing this woman like this -- uncomfortable. He had enjoyed the rush of her skin under his hands, and now he hoped for a repeat performance. Hardly thinking that there were others looking on, he quickly and forcefully placed a hand on her navel and then brushed downward. _y/n_ stood stock still as this happened because she thought that it couldn’t possibly be happening. Not here in public, in broad daylight, in front of the whole team? It just couldn’t be happening.

Aaron was chatting with Emily about the profile as he looked over the team to see how they were doing. As he looked at Morgan, and Morgan returned his gaze with a facial expression that said, ‘We need to talk.’ Aaron gave the man a nod and Morgan looked over to_y/n_ who was walking forward the precinct. Her shoulders seemed pulled tight under her shirt but in a way that hid that she was trying to hide her stress. He watched as she walked into one of the police officers from yesterday who had been overly enthused by _y/n_, Prentiss, and JJ’s presence. Aaron could barely hear the brief conversation between the two and as the word, “Sweetheart,” was thrown out, Aaron stiffened. And then it happened. He couldn’t fully see where or how far down the officer’s hand had landed because _y/n_ was blocking his view, but Aaron observed _y/n_ stiffen and that told him all he needed to know.

Before _y/n_ could find her voice and tell Monroe to ‘get the fuck off of her,’ Aaron’s clear sharp voice addressed the officer like a whip. Like a wound aimed at the man that dared to touch _y/n_. Aaron was over to _y/n_ in an instant. He placed a hand on her shoulder, firmly but gently pulling her frozen body back and behind him. Aaron towered over Monroe, and he felt his blood boil. Aaron let a harsh breath out and said, “If you value your job, and your pension you will get your hand Off. My. Agent.” Aaron highlighted each word that evinced his anger. Behind him, _y/n_ felt a wave of relief from being pulled out of that situation. Quickly Spencer and Emily were pulling _y/n_ farther away from the scene, but she could distinctly hear Hotch say, “Get in your car and leave. Now.” Derek watched as Monroe slinked away to his car looking defeated and small. Spencer and Emily walked with _y/n_ into the precinct, asking if she was okay, and the team as a whole huddled around her to make sure she was really alright. When she had reassured them, everyone except for Hotch moved away from _y/n_. Aaron placed a hand on her forearm and led her to a chair. She sat and let the exhaustion of the case, disgust at Monroe's actions, and the feeling of his hand on her body overwhelm her for a moment. A shiver ran through her. Aaron knelt down on one knee to be more on eye level with _y/n_. If his words before had meant to intimidate and accuse, his tone now was one of reassurance and comfort. Aaron spoke professionally but with a hint of something more that spoke to their relationship outside of work. He asked, “Be honest with me. Are you okay? Are you hurt or bruised?” Aaron’s voice helped still her thoughts and she assessed her body before saying softly, “I’m not in any pain.” She didn’t answer his first question because she didn’t particularly feel alright, but she knew she was safe now. Especially now that she was with Aaron. Aaron registered this and asked, “Has this happened before while we’ve been here?” _y/n_swallowed and replied, “Yes, this morning right after everyone headed out for the day.” Aaron gave her that look that said, “Elaborate please.” _y/n_bit her bottom lip, wondering how to phrase what had happened. Not finding any more polite or dignified terms, she said, “Morgan had stepped out and I was focusing on the bulletin board and he, um, came up behind me and grabbed my ass.” She could see the anger, the controlled rage fire through him again and she wanted to say something to reassure Aaron that she really was alright, even if she wasn’t. However, he stopped her as the Chief of Police entered the building. Aaron turned his head back to _y/n_ and said, “Excuse me for a moment.” Then with a tone of reassurance, he said, “This conversation isn’t over.” Hotch stood and looked at Emily who understood that he was asking her to sit with _y/n_. Prentiss moved to sit next to _y/n_. When this was done, Aaron turned his attention to the officer who had just entered the building and said, “Chief Bronson, your office, now.” His intonation left no room for questions or delays and the older man nodded and walked into his cluttered office with Aaron on his heels. Once the door was closed Hotch turned and he felt the anger bubble up to the surface again. As Bronson asked, “What seems to be the problem?” The man sounded nervous.

From outside the glass-walled room, the team listened as their leader said, “One of your officers just assaulted a member of my team.” Bronson’s response was inaudible, but Hotch’s reply of, “What do I mean?” Could be heard clearly. At this, the team flinched, knowing that the man inside with Hotch was about to have his soul ripped from his body and handed back to him. Everyone listened as Aaron said, “What I mean is that just a few minutes ago, Officer Monroe had his hands on a member of my team in a private area. And that wasn’t the first time this has happened today.” Aaron took a steadying breath before continuing, “As much as I respect law enforcement and what you do, I’m highly concerned about what’s just happened. If someone under your authority thought they had the right to touch a federal agent, I fear what’s happening with normal residents of this town.” Bronson stumbled to find words and said, “Well I certainly don’t condone that behavior.” Aaron let out a harsh scoff, not truly believing the man saying, “Perhaps not, but that doesn’t change the fact that your officer felt entitled to do what he did. And I don’t think Monroe thought he was going to face any consequences, and I can only imagine that he assumed that because you’ve let him get away with behavior like this before.” After this, Hotch’s voice dropped lower so the team outside could no longer hear him. Derek said, “Well I think Officer Bronson has had his ‘Come to Jesus’ moment.’” That comment actually made _y/n_ laugh and she felt a little better now that she could laugh at this whole situation. Hearing Aaron stand up for her like that made her feel warm inside in a comforted sort of way. Aaron finished unloading with the warning, “You’ll be receiving an ethics complaint from the Department of Justice as soon as I’m back in Quantico. You might consider cutting your losses before then.” With that, he got up and left the office.

Later that evening in _y/n_’s room, she and Aaron sat. She was sitting on the edge of the bed facing Aaron who was in the only chair in the lamplit space. This was to be a continuation of their conversation from before. _y/n_ looked over at Hotch and saw how perturbed he looked. She felt a tug in her chest seeing him like this. He already had to deal with so much and now there was this. She started the conversation in an attempt to soothe this new hurt by saying, “Hotch, it really wasn’t that bad. He didn’t hurt me, it was just unexpected.” At her words, he dipped his head and said, “It never should have happened, _y/n_. He touched you without your consent twice, and I couldn’t prevent it.” _y/n_frowned and felt that Aaron had to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders with this job. She said, “It’s not your fault, Aaron. I know you see how they look at JJ, Em, and I.” Hotch lifted his head and placed a warm hand on her knee saying, “Of course I see, and it bothers me more than I can say. Having these men look at you is bad enough, but when one of them starts to act on those feelings, it's unconscionable.” _y/n_ saw that she wasn’t going to make him feel any better, so instead she put her hand over his and gently rubbed over his knuckles with her thumb. She said, “I’m going to be okay Aaron. And if I’m not, I’ll let you know. Thank you for looking out for me.” Hotch let out a breath at her touch and words, simply replying, “Always, _y/n_. I’ll always be here.” He wanted to lean in and press his body to hers. To cover her from unwanted attention and hands. But there was still a case, and she looked tired, but he promised himself when this was solved that he would be spending a considerable amount of time either on his or her couch with _y/n_ on his lap and his arms settled around her; as long as that was something she wanted of course.

The case wrapped up a few days later and the team headed home. On the plane ride back, _y/n_ crashed on the couch facing Spencer. Emily, Rossi, and Morgan watched with a small amount of surprise, then a soft understanding as Hotch quietly took off his blazer and placed it over her curled, sleeping body. And when Rossi left his office and walked toward his car he stopped and made sure Aaron and _y/n_ didn’t see him as Hotch held _y/n_ and leaned down to kiss her forehead. As Hotch wrapped her in his arms, _y/n_’s hands moved to his chest, and after everything that had happened on top of the case, at least she knew that she was always safe with him.

#criminal minds #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotcher #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #fanfiction #reader insert #reader x hotch #angry hotch #protective hotch #derek morgan #emily prentiss #hotch blurb #comfort fic #hotch angst #i made this for you #spencer ried

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mrs-dr-reid · 17 days

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Betting on the Right Horse

Chapter One: A Goodbye Brings A Hello

Chapter Summary: Reader goes back to Horseshoe Ridge, Colorado after many years away for her uncle Jason Gideon’s funeral, and she learns that while she is the main beneficiary and inheritor of his horse ranch, she has shared ownership with Spencer Reid: her uncle’s protegée, and she’s PISSED.

Word Count: 4013

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, tw death/funerals, tw grief, tw food/eating/drinking, Spencer Reid being a little bit of an OOC asswagon (unless you're familiar with the dilaudid arc), Reader being a teensy bit entitled

A/N: Ayyyyy, welcome to my first slow burn AU series! A big shout out to all my fellow writers in the discord server I’m in for helping me outline this series and figure out the plot (and also letting me yell at them about this fic in general)!

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I honestly couldn’t believe it when I got the call. I was just getting home from work when a number I didn’t recognize showed up on my screen, and when I answered, it was my Uncle Jason’s friend Dave (who I vaguely remembered from when I was younger) telling me that he passed away the night prior due to heart failure. I almost dropped everything onto the floor of my apartment, because I hadn’t talked to Uncle Jason in a while, and now he’s gone and I’ll never get another chance.

Dave told me all of the details for Uncle Jason’s funeral, then offered his condolences before hanging up, and I had to go sit down and collect my thoughts and feelings. I practically grew up on Uncle Jason’s horse ranch, Sparrow Creek, and it was one of my favorite places in the whole world, especially the little town of Horseshoe Ridge, Colorado where it was located and all the people in it, and now I regret not going to visit as much once I went off to college.

I immediately called my boss and told her I’d be taking the next few days off to go to the funeral, even though it was VERY last minute. Thankfully, she was very understanding and told me to take as much time as I needed (something about a bereavement period, I honestly don’t know what she said after she told me it was okay for me to take off work because I couldn’t hear her over the blood rushing in my ears). After I hung up, I dragged my suitcase out of the hallway closet and started packing while simultaneously booking the first flight out to Colorado I could find on my laptop. I dug around in my closet and found my old riding boots, and was happy to discover that they still fit, so I stuck them in my suitcase just in case there was an opportunity to go riding while I was out there.

Once my suitcase and my carry-on bag were packed, I grabbed my keys, shut off my lights, and then headed back out to my car and to the airport, where I was thankfully able to get some work done on my laptop while waiting for my flight so I wasn’t atrociously behind once I got back. Once I landed at the Denver airport, I ordered an Uber to take me to the ranch, and after I was dropped off, a wave of nostalgia washed over me as I looked up at the wrought iron gate with the logo of a sparrow flying over a babbling brook branded into it.

A taller Asian man in a cowboy hat, worn-out jeans, scuffed-up boots, and a button-up shirt rolled up to his elbows saw me standing there as he walked by and called out, “Can I help you, Ma’am?”, so I snapped out of my reverie and said, “Oh! Yeah, sorry. I’m Y/N L/N, Jason Gideon’s niece. I’m here for the funeral this weekend?”, which made him say, “Wait, Y/N/N? It’s me, Matt!”, as he walked over to me. My jaw dropped open and I said, “Matt Simmons?! No way, how are you?”, as I let him pull me into a hug (I taught him how to ride equestrian style when we were kids).

He said, “I’m good! Gideon hired me as a ranch hand a few years ago, I got married a little bit after that, and we’ve got two boys with twin girls on the way,” which made my eyebrows fly up to my hairline before I said, “Wow. You’ve been busy,” making him chuckle and say, “Yeah, I guess I have. Anyways, I’m sorry for your loss. Gideon was a good man, and it was an honor working for him,” the conversation suddenly turning serious.

I let out a melancholy sigh and said, “Yeah, he was the best. A teensy bit eccentric, but I’m gonna miss him. I regret not coming to visit for so long now that he’s gone,” tears starting to well up in my eyes. Matt rubbed my arm comfortingly, then said, “Well, I should probably bring your stuff to your old room, then maybe I can give you a tour? A lot of stuff has changed since the last time you were in town,” so I wiped my eyes, put on the closest thing to a smile I could muster, and said, “Yeah, I’d like that,” before following him up the path to the ranch house.

Once my stuff was situated in the room I always stayed in when I came to visit (it hadn’t changed at all since I was here last), Matt showed me around the ranch and pointed out everything that had changed, and I had to admit it looked amazing. The stables had been extended within the last year to make room for more horses, a horseshoe of cabins had been added to the west side of the property to accommodate dude ranch guests, the training arena and paddock had doubled in size, and the stalls themselves had been updated to be a bit bigger and more comfortable for the horses.

We circled back to the stables just as another darker-skinned man (also in a cowboy hat) came trotting over to us on a beautiful Tovero Paint, and he said, “Hey, Matt! Who’s the lady?”, as he dismounted. Matt said, “Hey, Luke. This is Y/N L/N, Gideon’s niece. Y/N, this is Luke Alvez, one of the ranch hands, and this is Raven, one of our newer mares,” while gesturing to each of them. I stroked her nose and said, “She’s beautiful. Are all of the horses still named after birds?”, so Luke chuckled and replied, “Oh yeah, that’s never going to change. And I don’t know if you remember the town lawyer Hotch, but he just inherited his dad’s old ranch a couple of years ago, and his wife secretly named all of the horses after fictional lawyers,” which made me burst out laughing before I said, “Oh my god, really?!”

Matt let out a snort before he said, “Yup. And he only figured it out a month ago, because Emily’s horse misbehaved and she accidentally said, ‘Miss Elle Woods, you should be ashamed of yourself!’, in front of him,” which only made me laugh harder. Luke said, “At least we don’t name them after different types of pasta like Rossi does,” making me say, “Oh, I would constantly be hungry if I was over there,” earning nods of agreement from the men and a whinny from Raven. I turned to Matt and said, “Are Nelson and Chickadee still around? They were my favorites when I was younger,” so he nodded and said, “Yep. They mostly do trail rides for the less experienced riders nowadays, but they’re still here. Wanna go see them?”, which made a giant grin spread across my face before I said, “Yes!”, and Matt lead me to their stalls after we bid our goodbyes to Luke and Raven.

I approached Nelson first, and I said, “Hey, Big Guy! I’m not sure if you remember me, but I certainly remember you!”, while holding out my hand for him to sniff. He snorted happily and nuzzled against my hand once I started scratching his nose, and Matt said, “I think he remembers you,” which made me smile while I continued stroking him. Chickadee huffed indignantly from her stall, so I walked over to her and said, “Oh, I’d never forget about you, Pretty Girl!”, as she nuzzled my hand in a very self-satisfied manner.

Matt said, “There are a couple more horses that weren’t here last time if you wanted to meet them too,” which made me shoot him a look before I jokingly said, “I can’t believe you’d ever think I didn’t want to meet a new horse,” earning me a playful eye-roll from Matt before I was introduced to his horse, Robin the Clydesdale, and the rest of the trail horses: Puffin the Norwegian Fjord, Starling the Tennessee Walking Horse, Eagle the Off The Track Thoroughbred, and Falcon the Hanoverian. We exited the stables, and Matt said, “Well, you probably want to try and settle in before the funeral tomorrow, so I’m gonna get back to work,” so I nodded and said, “Yeah, yeah, definitely. See you tomorrow, and thanks again for the tour,” which made him tip his hat at me with a wink before walking off.

When I made it back to my room, I flopped onto the bed and had to take a breather. I tried to settle my mind by unpacking my bags and hanging my clothes up in the closet to get some of the wrinkles out (fingers crossed), but then I saw a picture of me at age 11 sitting on Nelson’s back and Uncle Jason holding the reigns and smiling up at me proudly, and tears instantly came to my eyes. I grabbed the picture frame off of the dresser, and I whispered, “I’m gonna miss you, Uncle Jason. I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch,” before setting it back down and getting out my phone to order dinner. I quickly figured out DoorDash wasn’t really a thing in Horseshoe Ridge, but thankfully I remembered that Uncle Jason kept a whole drawer of delivery menus next to the fridge. Once that was squared away, I got into my pajamas, ate my dinner once it arrived, and then called it a night.

At the funeral, I sat next to Matt and his family since I didn’t know anybody else there, and listened with tears in my eyes as Dave gave the eulogy. I was invited up to say a few words, so I kept it short and sweet (mostly to avoid crying in front of a room full of strangers) and said, “My Uncle Jason was one of the best people I’ve ever known. As Dave said, he was selfless, intelligent, and had one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever seen. He’ll be dearly missed, and I sincerely regret not coming to visit more often,” before nodding in thanks and sitting back down, Matt rubbing my shoulder encouragingly as I did so.

At the reception, I was making small talk with the perky blonde woman Luke introduced to me as his girlfriend Penelope when Matt came up to us and said, “Hey, Y/N/N! I wanted to introduce you to Dr. Spencer Reid. Spencer, this is Y/N L/N, Gideon’s niece,” and then I looked at who he’d gestured to, and my heart skipped a beat because I was looking at a man at least 6 inches taller than me in a well-tailored suit with wild brown curls, stubble decorating his jaw in a way that somehow didn’t look disheveled, and honey brown eyes that made me feel like I was going to melt into the floor. I was broken out of my reverie when the man said, “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. Gideon talked about you a lot,” but he didn’t stick out a hand to shake.

I shrugged it off as some germaphobe thing, then I said, “It’s nice to meet you as well, Spencer. How did you know my uncle?”, and he replied, “He guest lectured at my university a lot, and I’d always wanted to be a cowboy growing up, so once I graduated, he took me under his wing and showed me the ins and outs of running a ranch. He even made me the foreman a couple of years back,” making me nod understandingly. A thought occurred to me, and I said, “I’m sorry, Matt said you were a doctor, but you don’t look that much older than me. Are you some kind of genius or something?”, which made him shove his hands into his pockets and say, “I have three Ph.D’s in mathematics, chemistry, and engineering. I also have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and I can read 20,000 words per minute, so yes, I guess I’m what is considered to be a genius,” in a tone that could be easily interpreted as nonchalant or arrogant.

I decided to go with the first option and say, “Impressive. Anyways, it was really nice to meet you, but you’ll have to excuse me. I need a refill and a snack,” while holding up my nearly empty wine glass in a pointed way. The corner of his mouth quirked up, and he said, “Likewise,” before nodding and wandering off. I smiled in a confused manner as I watched him go, then said, “He’s… peculiar. I can see why Uncle Jason liked him,” which made Matt let out a snort and say, “He’s one of the only people who could beat him at chess. Besides you and Rossi, of course,” earning an eye roll and a playful shoulder shove from me.

After I’d obtained my second glass of wine (or maybe third? I’m not 100% sure), a tall dark-haired man approached me and said, “Miss L/N? Could I borrow a few minutes of your time?”, so I nodded and said, “Of course,” while quickly scouting out a place to set my glass. The man continued, “My name is Aaron Hotchner, but most people call me Hotch. I’m the town lawyer here in Horseshoe Ridge, and I worked very closely with your uncle for many years,” and held out a hand to shake. I fought to contain a snort when I remembered what Luke and Matt told me about the horses at his ranch, and I shook his hand while saying, “Nice to put a face to the name,” which made him crack a smile before saying, “I was wondering if you’d be able to come by my office tomorrow morning for the reading of your uncle’s will,” and a chill ran down my spine momentarily before I nodded curtly and said, “Yeah, absolutely,” hoping Hotch didn’t notice.

He eyed me with a touch of concern for a few seconds, then reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a business card, and handed it to me while saying “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Ten thirty. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to locate the partners in crime that are my wife and son,” before nodding and trotting into the other room, and I could barely hear him call, “Emily! Jack!”, as he disappeared. I tucked the card into my purse after looking it over for a moment, then wandered back to where Matt was sitting with his (very pregnant) wife, Kristy, and their two sons, David and Jake. I said, “I’m gonna head back to the ranch, okay?”, while gesturing towards the door of the funeral home, so Matt nodded and said, “Do you need a ride?”, which made me shake my head and say, “No, Luke gave me the keys for the truck because he’s riding back with Penelope. Thank you, though,” before smiling at him, extending a quick “nice to meet you” to Kristy and the boys, and leaving.

The next day, I arrived at Hotch’s office at the same time as Spencer, and I started to ask, “What are you do-...?”, but then it hit me and I smacked myself on the head before saying, “I’m such an idiot. Of course Uncle Jason would have left you something, you worked with him for how many years?”, which made Spencer chuckle slightly and say, “Five years, three months, and fourteen days. But who’s keeping track? And I totally get your confusion. You’ve known him your whole life, it makes barely any sense for me to be here,” relief flooding through my body that he wasn’t offended.

He opened the door to the building for me, and I went up to the front desk to talk to the receptionist. I said, “Hi, we’re here for a meeting with Hotch?”, so the woman typed something on her computer and said, “Yep, he’ll be ready for you in about fifteen minutes,” with a big smile on her face. I thanked her quietly, then sat down in the waiting room next to Spencer, and it was quiet for a while, him fiddling with his jacket sleeves and me tapping on my legs to the tune of “Sweet Caroline”.

I finally broke the silence and asked, “Where are you from?”, which startled him before he cleared his throat and said, “Vegas. I moved out here the second I turned eighteen, though. You?”, so I replied, “Boulder, about an hour west of here. I moved to Chicago for college, though, then got a full-time job a little while after I graduated, so I didn’t get the chance to come visit as often as I would have liked,” making him nod understandingly. He asked, “What was your major?”, and I said, “Finance with a hospitality minor. I’ve been an accountant for about four years now,” earning an impressed nod from him. I almost said something else, but the receptionist called out, “Dr. Reid and Miss L/N?”, so the two of us stood up, and she led us back to Hotch’s office.

The receptionist poked her head in the door and said, “Your ten-thirty is here, Hotch,” and I heard his deep voice reply, “Thank you, Elle. Send them in,” before she opened the door a bit more, smiled at us, then trotted back to the front desk, where I could vaguely hear the phone ringing. Hotch adjusted his reading glasses, then gestured for us to sit down, so I took a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk, Spencer following suit. Hotch folded his hands on his desk, then said, “Thank you both for coming. Shall we get started?”, making Spencer and I look at each other before looking back at Hotch and nodding our assent.

Hotch pulled a fairly small packet of paper out of a manilla envelope, then began to read out loud: “The last will and testament of Jason Benjamin Gideon. I, Jason Gideon, hereby bequeath Chickadee the Appaloosa horse to my beloved niece, Ms. Y/N M/N L/N, for she was always her favorite,” which made me smile, because Chickadee was, in fact, my favorite horse at Sparrow Creek. Hotch continued reading, “I also bequeath Nelson the American Quarter Horse to my protegée, Dr. Spencer Walter Tristan Reid, so that he may continue to work on his horse riding skills with a trusted partner,” and the corner of Spencer’s mouth quirked up at that sentiment.

Then Hotch got to the part I was most interested in; namely, who got the ranch. He read, “Now, the subject of my most beloved estate, Sparrow Creek, and its accompanying businesses and assets,” then he hesitated and looked up at the two of us with what I swear was nervousness in his eyes, but I disregarded it and leaned forward in my seat slightly. Hotch took a deep breath, then continued, “I, Jason Gideon, hereby leave Sparrow Creek and all equity involved to my beloved niece, Ms. Y/N M/N L/N, but only under these conditions,” which made me wrinkle my eyebrows and make eye contact with Spencer, who looked just as confused as I did.

Then Hotch said what was probably the worst thing I’ve heard since I was informed of Uncle Jason’s passing: “Ms. L/N must remain at Sparrow Creek full-time for an entire year, and work alongside Dr. Reid on a day-to-day basis to ensure the prosperity of the ranch. If these conditions are not met, Sparrow Creek and all its equity will pass in full to my protegée, Dr. Spencer Walter Tristan Reid,” and my jaw just about hit the floor in indignance. Hotch set the packet of paper on his desk and looked up at us without saying anything, and all I could hear was my own heartbeat pounding in my ear. Spencer said, “That’s it?”, and Hotch confirmed, “That’s it. Anything you need me to clarify?”, which made me stand up and storm out of his office, steam practically pouring out of my ears.

Once I made it outside, I started pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, and I’m sure it was quite the scene for any pedestrians who happened to be walking by. A stream of obscenities came out of my mouth in an enraged mutter as I attempted to calm myself down, but when Spencer emerged from the building, my rage boiled over and before he could finish saying, “What happened back there?”, I screamed, “What in the actual FUCK WAS HE THINKING?!?!”, which made him fall silent and stare at me like I’d just grown two extra heads.

I rambled, “My entire life, Uncle Jason told me that one day I’d be in charge of Sparrow Creek, and that it would be the greatest joy of his life to hand it down to someone who truly loved the family business. Now he decides that some random city boy he’s only known for five years gets the whole kit and caboodle if I screw the pooch?! WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!”, getting angrier and angrier until it exploded out of me and I kicked the first solid object I saw (which happened to be a metal trash can that made a loud reverberating sound like a gong when the reinforced toe of my boot made contact with it) before I continued pacing.

Spencer’s face hardened, and then he said, “Maybe he thought since you weren’t around enough, you wouldn’t be able to handle it. Maybe he was giving you one last chance to prove yourself, and he was making sure the ranch would pass on to someone who knew what they were doing in case you couldn’t take the heat,” which made me stop dead in my tracks, and slowly turn towards him while saying, “What the hell did you just say to me?”, a deadly chill in my voice that even scared me a little.

Spencer stiffened a little bit, then leaned forward slightly so he was all up in my face (asshole) and said, “Gideon put safeguards in place to make sure someone competent gets the ranch if you fuck up, Princess,” which made my nostrils flare before I snapped, “Don’t call me that,” and glared at him. After a momentary stare-down between the two of us, I rolled my eyes and said, “Whatever. I have to go, I gotta make a few calls before my flight back to Chicago tomorrow night,” while starting to walk back to the pick-up truck I borrowed from the ranch.

Spencer called out, “Awww, throwing in the towel before you even start the race, Princess?”, and the holier-than-thou tone of his voice made me want to punch his lights out, but I composed myself, plastered on a sickly sweet smile, then turned around to face him before saying, “Oh no. I hate to disappoint you, but I’m only going back to pack up my stuff, sublet my apartment, and put in a request for indefinite remote assignments from my accounting firm before renting a U-Haul and coming right back here. If you think for even one millisecond that I’m not gonna fight tooth and nail for something I’ve been waiting my entire life for? Then you better hold onto your ass with both hands, Einstein,” and if only I had a photographic memory to keep the way his smug smile dropped off his face in my brain forever.

I scrunched my nose at him the way the mean girls did in early 2000s movies, then said, “Better get a calendar and pen ready, Doc,” before sarcastically blowing him a kiss, climbing into the truck, and starting the drive back to the ranch. I caught a glimpse of him standing dumbfounded on the sidewalk in the rearview mirror, and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud, because I was going to make Dr. Spencer Reid regret ever underestimating me, and have a smile on my face the entire time I did so.

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CM Taglist: @homoose, @libraryofloveletters, @xgoldentigerlilyx, @less-intelligent-spencerreid, @boketto2-0, @aryaarathornson, @spoookymuulders, @nomajdetective

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added

#logan writes #spencer reid x fem!reader #horse ranch au #betting on the right horse #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds angst #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid

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secretpostsposts · 3 months

Note

Do you like the idea of fem!Branch? Because I feel like overprotective brozone would be so funny/angsty on her like she their babygirl.

Also to make it sadder branch would look like a carbon copy of brozones mother 💔

You mean Possessive Brozone?, with fem! Branch?

Yes, I have planned to do a small separate one-shot just to get rid of the idea, but that will be when I have the story of Beloved Little Brother.

But thinking about that, I have this for you!

So fem!Branch and Brozone:

And with a resemblance to Brozone's mother? If you read chapter 5, I'm trying to imply that his father was also obsessed and possessive of his mother, and I like to think that Branch looks like his mother, it doesn't matter. Whether it is feminine or masculine, I like to grow who looks alike.

(the fact that it is an almost direct copy only plunges them deeper into the need to protect their little sister)

Clothes

They got rid of much of their wardrobe (except Floyd's vest of course), much of their wardrobe became dresses in cold pastel tones (you know those types of colors that highlight certain aspects of a person in this case troll), Branch never seen a photo of his mother so he doesn't know that many of those dresses are copies of what his mother wore, rather than anything JD got because he remembers his mother more. If they manage to isolate them, they make her dress how they want every day, fem!Branch has no opinion about what to wear or wear.

(lack of) personal space

Hug, hold her hand, touch her cheek or caress her hair, fem!Branch does not deny physical affection, although she tries to minimize it, of course the brothers do not listen to her much (the older brothers hardly listen to the little ones), even so she likes the signs of affection, except when they manage to isolate her from her friends and the others she refuses to be touched, shouts at them and tries to hit them (but she has left JD with many black eyes, not Floyd, walking around that he is the one). But involved in everything, she doesn't have the willpower to hit Floyd, which always ends with Floyd hugging her and Branch feeling helpless).

Privacy

Before isolation, they gave her privacy, or at least an idea of privacy, they followed her and watched her from a distance, at home at least one of them is close to the room she was in, behind closed doors they try to listen , with the door open they only come by from time to time to keep an eye on him, when he cannot have the doors closed, he does what he does and when he does it he must be watched and monitored by one of the brothers, except for the bathroom where Branch usually He hides to get away from his brothers.

Schedules

It doesn't take much to say Clay has a strict schedule for Branch, something she disagrees with, but she takes advantage of the outings to try to escape, although Brozone ends up tricking Branch's friends into believing that Branch is upset about something (although Creek tries to help her escape, although he always ends up hurt)

(you know I think Cloud Guy would also try to help Branch, if he likes to bother him but he's his friend so a troll and a cloud who want to help Branch)

#trolls #trolls band together #brozone #trolls brozone #trolls branch #trolls john dory #trolls bruce #trolls clay #trolls floyd #beloved little brother #trolls creek #cloud guy

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papaver-decervicatus · 9 months

Text

Cat/Mouse/Den: Pt. 1, Cat

Alone on wilderness patrol, König’s radio intercepts an enemy transmission meant for a SpecGru sniper. Within a beautiful and capable woman’s crosshair, something electric and treacherous takes root in his heart, and he decides to tempt his doom. It’s a game of cat and mouse, and it’s been far too long since he has had anything worth hunting.

CW: Obsession, stalking, canon typical violence, intrusive thoughts, unsanitary wound care

Authors Note: Huge shout-outs to @kneelingshadowsalome and @sprout-fics for writing some really great fics that inspired me to write this and for being such kind beta readers!

This work is inteded to pass as x reader or x OC in third person POV, German is from google translate, feel free to correct me if you can!

This project started out very small and has definitely spiraled out of control. To all readers, please enjoy and let me know what you think!~ Caedis

Pt. 1, Cat | 1.3k words | König POV | NEXT

“They call you… Maus?” König says into his radio.

It’s a mistake. That he’s heard the transmission. That he found her position. He’s sure that she sees him, he knows he’s good as dead.

He’d seen her file in a briefing. Some SpecGru sniper, relatively new to the force. Accolades nothing short of damn impressive but with a general disposition against war. She’s a good rule follower unless she hates the rule and then she tends to do her own thing. Overall, mixed bag, but too useful to refuse. She wouldn’t be on the force if she weren’t some sort of useful.

Most of what he’d thought was, “Wow, really? That many targets? Seems temperamental. Wish I could’ve been a sniper. Seems much more peaceful.” And then a much quieter, general, passing: “She’s pretty.”

And that was it, really. When he got moved to solo wilderness patrol, it was Klaus’s idea to give him intel on who he thought would be most likely to be on patrols alone. As the resident wilderness expedition expert, he thought it most reasonable to give König and a few others on similar patrols the basics on her and a few of her comrades. Quite mundane for his line of work, all things considered.

The irony isn’t lost on him, that him doing the very thing her file warns his upper command about, “doing his own thing,” is what will kill him. He’s out about five miles from where he should be, dangerously far. But, he always had a weakness for the mountains. When he realized his route to do shipment surveillance was close to a ravine, there was no question in his mind that he was going to check it out.

And it’s got him in a good-looking lady’s sniper scope, right as the sun sets behind her. She’s got a perfect shot.

What's that silly English phrase? Curiosity killed the cat?

He smiles about it, though. He’s happy it’s a sniper. Happy it’s a pretty one.

“You’re not my target.” Is her response. She shouldn’t be able to radio back to him.

Strange.

“Not an answer. And who is then?” He quips back into the static, still not quite sure he believes she’s there. Even at every possible disadvantage, this is still his territory, he’s still the king of his little domain, of this minuscule set of battle strip. It’s pathetic, the only place he feels any sort of peace is at war.

“Negative to both.”

“Playing hard to get. That’s fine with me.”

He hears her chuckle before she shuts off her end.

This is… most exhilarating.

He finds her in the tree line, and he smiles. She’s across the 80-yard-long ravine. There’s a creek at the bottom, and interesting flora marks the cliffs all the way down. He wonders what wildlife drinks from the stream down there and if there are any decent caves he could find an opening to. If any could fit him, that would be. She’s found a good post, in the branches of an inconspicuous tree. That’s right, she specialized in tree climbing and tracking if he remembers her file well enough. It’s a pretty perch, no wonder she chose it.

A younger part of him is jealous. The older part smothers that part down as he takes in the view.

The sun is setting behind her. She’s very far away, but his skin prickles to life knowing that he’s being watched. The exposed rock of the ravine flames to life with amazing browns and reds, and the stone sparkles like rubies and tiger’s eye stones as the sun's rays catch it.

It’s a beautiful place, really. It’s not such a bad place to die, he thinks. She’s a good shot. She’ll do it quickly. Nothing to fret about, really. It’s his own fault, anyways.

He knows if he runs to or from her, he’s dead. So he stands still.

Waiting.

For what?

He doesn’t know. A fairy tale? An Angel? A sign from God? His own comms? The common sense to radio his own and tell them about the fucking sniper in the tree?

He doesn’t know.

So he waits for her to make the first move.

“If you turn tail,” She warns, his radio crackling to life, “I won’t shoot.”

He’s going to die, might as well have some fun at it.

“I will- if you tell me why they call you Maus.” His accent lingers on the word, just about the same in Deutsch as it is in English. Maybe that’s where the Brits got the word from in the first place? Some Germanic mountain peoples from long, long, long ago?

He can’t see her in detail, she’s much too far. But with his hazy memory of her file, he imagines her face contorted in with the effort of deciding what to do. He thinks of her blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face. He thinks about her flexing her fingers around, but not squeezing, the trigger.

She seems to chew her lip on this one. He already knows her code name, it’ll do very little good or bad for him to know just why.

“I’ll bite, soldier.” She says, hurriedly, like someone might walk in on their little game. Like the teacher is about to find the two kissing in a supply closet at the school. Like she knows this is bordering dangerously close to bloody.

“Quid pro quo?” She asks.

It’s not a no.

He smiles. His cheeks get red as they flick upwards in a grin of pure giddiness. What a fun way to die. Playing a silly little game like this? Fantastic!

“I think you know.”

“König?”

“Ja.” To his delight, her accent scraping its way around his call sign, the only name he cares about at this point, isn’t half bad. Being so seen on the battlefield should make his chest tighten, but not quite like this. It’s wrong, but then again he actually enjoys war so maybe he’s never quite been right, either.

“Why?”

It’s his turn to laugh and rush out a response. He sits down on the ground and opens his legs as wide as they’ll comfortably go and rests his cheek in his hand propped on his thigh. If he’s going to die, he’s going to give her a pretty show. He’s going to die comfortably lazing around like a cat on a windowsill, taunting the stray tabby outside who so desperately wants to claw him to death.

“You first, Schatz,” he downright purrs into his mic. He’s no fool, if he could see her up close, he would not be flirting with disaster like he is currently.

He can’t see her, she’s much too far away, but he imagines her chest constricting beautifully and her biting her lip. He imagines her lips pressed into a thin line while she claws into her upper arm, trying to regain control. Like it’s all a silly game. And, maybe it is.

Cat and mouse.

He likes the sound of that.

Her voice returns to him, low and slow like she’s dragging her tongue over every syllable like she’s trying honest-to-goodness to taste him.

“Maybe next time, König.”

He can hear the smile in her voice. Maybe she’s enjoying the game, too?

A shot rings out, and his blood whistles and boils. It hits the tree 6 feet to his left at exact head height. His ears start to ring, but he’s entirely unharmed as birch bark splinters around him.

“Position compromised, moving.” Is what she radios to her command.

“Rog, Mouse.” Command calls back.

He sees movement from her position, but he knows she’s much too far for him to get to her in time. He laughs bright and loud and gets himself up off the ground.

“Nächests mal, kleine Mäuschen.” Next time, little mouse. He says, to no one in particular. It’s been a long while since König has had so much fun like this on the battlefield. At a genuine disadvantage, put into a position that size and strength alone won’t remedy. And he’s sure as hell not ruining it by telling anyone, no matter how dangerous that is.

A game of cat and mouse?

Good.

It’s been far too long since he had something worth hunting.

#Navigation -> Cat/Mouse/Den #König #König x reader #König x OC #König MWii #König COD #Char: Mouse

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