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pedrito-friskito · 1 year

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strawberry wine - joel miller x fem!reader

before - part two

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

you and joel go on your first date, and get to know each other a little better.

a/n: this story has taken over my BRAIN. thank you all for hyping it up, it’s literally falling out of me and I can’t wait to share more!! 🤍 (also moodboard pics are not meant to depict the reader exactly, only fic aesthetic!)

word count: 3.4k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI - this part is not explicit but other parts will be, some heavy petting, more fluff, more banter, joel miller deserves the world and I wanna give it to him

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He’s ten minutes late.

There was a warning, at least. You’d planned for seven thirty, and he called at quarter past, a twinge of annoyance in his tone as he apologized, told you he was running late, apologized again. You brushed it off, told him to take his time, that there was no rush. He sounded genuinely upset, and it made your chest ache a little. “It’s okay, Joel,” you’d said, trying to reassure him. “I’ll see you when you get here.”

“M’sorry,” he grumbled into the phone, and you could almost see the nervous hand on the back of his neck. “Don’t want you to think m‘not lookin’ forward to this or nothin’. I am. Just for the record.”

You stifled your grin. “Zip it. See you soon, Miller.”

“See you soon,” he replied, and you both hung up a second later.

The rest of the week had felt like a year. You’d slept fitfully after your late-night call with Joel, and you nearly toppled over when he showed up at the store on Wednesday, just after nine, a cup of coffee with your name literally scrawled on it pushed across the counter to you.

“Think of it as an apology for keeping you up last night,” he drawled, giving you a half-smile.

“I thought you were making that up to me with dinner on Friday,” you replied, lifting a brow as you lifted the coffee to your lips.

“You tellin’ me you don’t want the coffee?” he asked, reaching his hand out. “Cuz I’ll take it right back if you don’t.”

“I didn’t say that,” you shot back, slapping his hand playfully. “Seven thirty?”

The half grin turned full. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

He hadn’t come into the store Thursday, instead leaving you a slightly rambling voicemail; your cell battery died and you didn’t realize until you were heading to bed.

Hey, it’s me. Just callin’ to see how your day was, sorry I didn’t stop by today. Job ran long and Tommy is…well, maybe I’ll tell you when I see you. Really lookin’ forward to tomorrow night. Sleep well. Bye.

Friday you actually had off, your sister taking the opening shift and your father waving you off when you offered to work the afternoon. “Almost seems like you’re at the store more than you’re home, honey. I got it, don’t worry.”

You left Joel an equally as rambling voicemail.

Hey you, it’s me. Just wanted to call, see how your day’s going. I won’t be at the store today, if you stop by, Dad gave me the day off, says I work too much or something. Whatever that means. Anyway…I’ll see you tonight. Can’t wait. Bye!

The doorbell rings at precisely 7:41, and you bolt for it, bare feet nearly slipping on the hardwood. You yank the door open a little harder than necessary, your eyes meet Joel’s, and your breath gets stuck in your throat. “Sorry I’m late,” he stumbles out, and you bite your lip as his eyes rake over you. “These are for you.” Your face goes hot as he steps through the door, presenting a bouquet of daisies that only look slightly squished. “You look…beautiful.” You whisper your thanks as you take the flowers from him, your head automatically tilting to the side when he leans down and presses a stubbly kiss to your cheek.

He looks impossibly handsome, in that rugged way of his. The t-shirt had been swapped for a nice flannel shirt, the sleeves still struggling against his biceps, the top two undone buttons giving you a generous view of his collar. He’s trimmed his beard a little, his hair messy in an artful sort of way that you’re not sure is on purpose or not, but still manages to work.

“This old thing?” you ask, lifting the bouquet to your nose as you turn and head for the kitchen, inhaling the sweet scent of the flowers. You look at him over your shoulder. “You want a drink or something, before we go?”

He hangs around the front door for a moment before toeing off his shoes — the same pair of work boots he seems to live in — and walking towards the kitchen to join you. “Nobody else home?”

“Nope,” you reply, popping the p as you find a vase in one of the many kitchen cabinets, walking over to the sink to fill it. “Dad’s at the store, my mother has her book club, and my sister went out with some friends.” You arrange the daisies as nicely as you can in the vase, beaming at him as you do. “These are great, Joel, you didn’t have to.”

“Felt bad about being late,” he says, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, the other stuffed in the front pocket of his jeans. He looks nervous. “I gotta admit, it’s a long time since I’ve been on a first date.”

You give him a flat stare. “This is a date?” His face drops and you can’t keep a straight face, instantly bursting into giggles. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

He just grins, red along his cheekbones, shaking his head at you. “You are somethin’ else, you know that?”

“And yet, you still want to take me to dinner,” you laugh, setting the vase in the middle of the kitchen table. “That is still the plan?”

“Put your shoes on,” he commands, still shaking his head, “before I change my mind.”

You brush past him as you head for the front door, giving him a cheesy grin, and his hand skims against the small of your back, sending a shock along your spine. You do as you’re told, slipping on your sandals and fishing your keys out of the dish by the door, letting him step through the door before you pull it shut and lock up.

The pick-up is parked at the curb, and he opens the passenger’s side for you, offering his hand to help you up into the cab. “A gentleman,” you murmur, giving him a wink, and he shakes his head at you again.

He slides into the driver’s seat a moment later, slides the key into the ignition. You buckle your seatbelt, but pause when you realize he hasn’t started the truck, and is frozen in place, hands gripping the wheel, his expression almost grim.

“Joel?”

“I have a daughter,” he says, the words seeming to hang in the air between you. “Her name is Sarah, she’s eleven. Her mother isn’t in the picture, but I had to tell you cuz I…” He trails off, gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles go white before he releases it completely, dropping his hands into his lap. “I don’t want you to think I’m tryna hide anything from you.”

Your brow furrows, and you reach across, finding one of his hands, sliding your fingers through his. “I don’t think that, Joel.”

“S’why I was late,” he explains, and the twinge in his voice on the phone earlier makes sense. He stares down at your joined hands, rubs his thumb over the back of your hand. “Tommy said he’d come stay with her while I was out, but he was late and she got it in her head that she didn’t need a babysitter. Ripped me a new one for it.”

You huff a little laugh. “Sounds like a handful.”

“She’s not,” he says quickly, still staring at your hands. “She’s a great kid. Smart as hell, funny.” He chuckles. “Stubborn.”

“I hope I get to meet her,” you say, squeezing his fingers, “someday.”

“Someday,” he repeats.

He stares at you a long moment, those dark eyes suddenly feeling unfathomably deep, and you bite your bottom lip. There’s not much space between you; it’d be all too easy to lean across the console, put your fingers under that scruffy chin and your lips on his.

Joel almost jumps, flinching you both out of each other’s eyes, a nervous smile tugging at his mouth. He drops your hand to start the engine, pulls on his seatbelt. You go to pull your arm back, but he catches your fingers again before you can, letting your linked hands rest on his thigh as he pulls away from the curb, his palm warm against your own.

Dinner is delicious, some little hole-in-the-wall Italian place you’ve never heard of, no doubt a result of your more recent move to Austin. The conversation comes easy, and Joel only lets go of your hand when it’s time to eat, the pair of you talking over glasses of red wine and candlelight.

He talks about Sarah a lot, the so-called secret of his daughter not a secret anymore, and you listen intently. He raised her himself, from what you can tell, the details of her mother scant and said with a thin thread of bitterness. But the smile on his face as he talks about his daughter, it’s easy to see how proud he is of the person she’s grown into, and you hang off his every word.

He talks about Tommy, too. Mainly how much of a shithead he is, and you nearly spit out your wine. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a good guy,” he amends, lifting a shoulder. “He’s just…he makes some bad decisions sometimes, y’know?” You nod. “I’ve had to bail him out more times than I can count.”

You nod. “Younger siblings are like that.”

“Your sister’s been to jail?” he asks bluntly, and you almost choke on your wine again.

“My sister? The apple of my parents’ eyes? Hah.” You set the glass down again. “No, but she likes to party. I’ve had to go pick her up more than once since I’ve been back, late nights, early mornings, whatever. Although, one night, if I hadn’t shown up when I did, she probably would have spent the night in the back of a cop car.” You plant your elbow on the table, push your cheek against your fist. “All I mean is, I’m sure your brother is appreciative.”

Joel scoffs, taking a healthy sip of his own wine. “Yeah, I know he is.” His brows lift for a moment. “Sure has a funny way of showing it sometimes.”

You let out a quiet laugh, crossing your ankles beneath the table, letting your foot knock against his shin. He’s sitting beside you, rather than across from you, and the closeness has made the air thick between you since you sat down. “Now, tell me something about yourself.”

“Like what?” he stutters out, brow creasing as he sets his glass back down.

“You’ve told me all about Sarah and Tommy and your job, but what about you?”

The crease just deepens. “What d’you wanna know?”

You think for a moment, pursing your lips. “Your favourite book.”

He gives you a long look, tongue poking the inside of his cheek, shoulders up around his ears. His eyes seems to glitter in the low light of the restaurant, the candlelight dancing off his features. He pushes a hand through his hair, mussing it further, and the motion is so endearing you want to squeal. He parts his lips, the answer about to fall from his lips, and then he shakes his head, wrenching his eyes from yours. “Nah.”

“Tell me!” you insist, putting your chin in your hands and batting your lashes at him. “Please?”

Joel licks his bottom lip, and then finally: “To Kill a Mockingbird.”

A smile spreads across your face. “I love that book.”

He laughs. “Do you? Been a while since I read it, I just remember really liking it.” His shoulders unravel a bit, relaxing into his seat, and he reaches for your hand again, swiping his thumb over your knuckles. “Tell me yours.”

It goes back and forth like that for hours. Favourite books, movies, songs, the first record you ever bought, the first drink you ever had. First jobs, first cars, on and on and on. Stories about your families, good and bad, a few from Joel that line your eyes with tears, a few from you that have him gaping at you like a fish.

You talk your way through dessert — a slice of the best chocolate cake you’ve ever tasted split between the two of you — and when the waiter brings the cheque, you don’t miss the way Joel’s throat bobs at the price. He goes quieter, his face a little sullen, and the look only deepens when his card is declined. The waiter tries it again, trying to blame it on a picky machine, but the same thing happens.

“Just give us a sec?” you ask the waiter, and he gives you a little smile before disappearing. Joel grunts in frustration. “It’s okay, I got it.”

He tries to wave you off when you reach for your wallet, muttering under his breath about cash in his car, but his protests stop when you plant a hand on his thigh beneath the table, leaning across the small space between you to kiss his cheek. He freezes for a moment, but then melts again, his eyes slipping shut when you press two fingers beneath his chin, his pulse a riot against your fingertips.

“I got it.”

The drive home is mostly quiet, your mind a little buzzed — partially from the wine (you’d downed the rest of your glass and Joel’s once the bill had been paid, refusing to let good wine go to waste) and partially from how good he’d smelled when you kissed his cheek. Earthy and rugged, but something softer underneath, like honey and lemon, warm and comforting, the kind of scent you want to wrap yourself in. In the cab of his truck again, his hand finds yours, but this time you pull his arm across to you, wrapping both your arms around it, sighing heavily when his hand wraps around your thigh, the fabric of your dress the only thing between him and bare skin.

He parks at the curb again, gets out first and runs around the front of the truck to your side, opening the door and offering his hand again. His palm rests against the small of your back as he walks you towards the porch. “I’m sorry, again, about the bill and everything,” he mumbles.

You nudge your shoulder against his chest. “You apologize too much, Joel Miller. I had a great time.”

The corner of his mouth quirks. “Me too.”

There’s an awkward pause at the door. The house is dark; it’s late now, your conversation having carried nearly until the restaurant closed, and your parents are no doubt asleep inside, your sister probably still out. You half-wonder if you’ll get some drunken phone call from her later.

Joel takes his hand off you only to stuff both in his pockets, swaying back and forth on his feet as you fish your keys out of your purse. “I got a job Monday afternoon,” he tells you, and you lift a brow. “I’ll stop by in the morning?”

You give him a little grin. “I’ll be there.”

He’s staring at your mouth. Full-out, no subtleties, and a rush sweeps through you when he leans forward, one hand reaching out to cover your hip. Taking a deep breath, his scent filling your nose, everything in you deflates slightly when he kisses your cheek instead of your mouth, and before you can protest, he’s turning and heading back down the driveway.

You watch him leave, tucking your thumb between your teeth. The broad shoulders, the way his hips move as he walks. You know for a fact you didn’t read things wrong, but then why—

He stops, halfway between the porch and his truck. His hands are curled into fists at his sides, and he turns slowly, eyes meeting yours across the dark driveway. Before you can get a word out, he’s sprinting back up to the porch, your keys and purse falling to the concrete steps as he yanks you into his arms and kisses you.

One arm tight around your waist, the other delving into your hair as he presses his lips to yours. He tastes like chocolate, the sweetness heavy on his tongue, and the feeling of his mouth makes stars spark behind your eyes. You wrap both arms around his shoulders, squeezing him against you, your feet kicking up in the air as he lifts you off them. There’s a bit of teeth, a bit of tongue, and you can’t help the little noise that tumbles out of you. Joel kisses it right out of your mouth.

You’re both breathless as he releases you, slowly letting you back down to your feet, his arms still around you. You can feel the twitch in his biceps as he puts you down, and your palms rest flat on his shoulders, mouth dragging up from your lips to your cheek to your forehead as you return to the ground.

“I…” you mumble, but nothing else follows. You’re speechless.

He grins. “Been wanting to do that since I first saw you.”

“Tonight?” you ask, finding your voice. “Or at the store?”

“The store,” he replies, tilting his head to the side and pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Then again when I saw you in the bathroom.” Another kiss. “And again when you opened the door earlier.” He ducks his head now, drags his mouth over yours, this kiss fleeting and making you ache for more. “Feels like every time I see you is the first time.”

You dig your fingers into his shoulders, chasing his lips, taking his bottom one between your own. “You’re a romantic, Joel Miller.”

“Just for you,” he replies, and your chest erupts with warmth, linking your hands around his neck as he kisses you again.

After your first date, Joel becomes a fixture at the hardware store.

He learns your schedule, meshes it with his own, and his visits become a daily occurrence. He pops in at a different time every day, but you don’t care, grinning like the devil when his truck pulls up outside. It’s usually between jobs, or on his way to one. Usually, he actually needs some sort of supplies, but more often than not, he hunts you down in the store, dragging you to an empty corner or aisle and kissing the breath from your lungs.

You take your breaks when he shows up most days, dragging him out of the store and to the coffee shop across the way, filling him with caffeine and some kind of pastry between your stolen kisses. He always grumbles at you when you pay for his coffee, but you’re quick to remind him that he has a kid to feed, you don’t.

Nearly two weeks after your first date, he leads you down the alley beside the hardware store, a hungry look in his eye that has you aching. Your back hits the bricks, and he follows, his body pressed between your legs, arms wrapped around your middle, yours around his broad shoulders. He kisses his way from your mouth down to your throat, following the line of your jaw and leaving tiny nips as he goes.

“Come over tonight,” he murmurs, and you suck down a breath as his hips slot against yours. You’re not immune to the press of his body, the friction between you making you want more. “I’ll ask the neighbours to watch Sarah. Make you dinner, watch a movie.”

“Dinner and a movie?” you quip, tilting your head back as he fits his face into your neck again. You tangle your fingers in his hair. “Pretty classic second date there, Miller.”

He grunts into your skin, pressing your further into the bricks. You can feel the bulge between his legs, the press of denim against the soft cotton of your shorts. Your knee lifts, thigh dragging up the outside of his. “I can take you out instead,” he says into your throat. “Tommy owes me some cash, I can—”

“Hush,” you murmur, tugging lightly on his hair until his head lifts, those dark eyes meeting yours, pupils blown wide as dinner plates. “Your place sounds perfect. We don’t have to go anywhere.” You lean forward, brush a soft kiss across his mouth. “Just as long as I’m with you. Hell, we could eat cereal in our underwear for all I care.”

His brow lifts. “In our underwear, huh?”

You shrug, grinning. “Well, you’ve already seen me mostly naked,” you quip, “underwear seems like the next logical step.”

“A towel is not mostly naked,” he tells you, kissing you again, “just for the record.” He squeezes your hip, pulls back slightly as you lower your leg, your knees shaking beneath you. “But I’d like to. See you naked, that is.”

You stifle your giggle, heat pooling between your legs despite it all. “Play your cards right, and maybe you will.”

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#my fics #strawberry wine #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us spoilers

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str0l0gy · 1 year

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ONE VOICE, TWO PHONES

IN WHICH riki messed up the relationship he had with you because of a dumb mistake. you saw how he tried to talk to you everyday but you turned down each attempted. until one afternoon he managed to convince you to keep talking to him and you agreed by leaving voicemails for him. but only in one condition, he doesn’t get to respond.

DAY 7. TTYL? MAYBE?

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NI-KI, GRADUATION DAY! I’m so excited to graduate and say goodbye to everyone! I’m going to miss going to school and seeing everyone in the morning… but I can’t wait to get outta here.

Riki could feel the excitement running through her body just from her tone. He remembers when you two used to sit in the roof of the school, talking about the future after school ends. You had planned to go to an Ivy League, or maybe travel the world before going back to studying. He also remembers how you said you wanted him to be there with you in every step you take. A small smile appeared on his face when the memories flashed in his mind.

The voices that were talking to you in the background of the voicemail ended. He heard you take a breath before continuing.

Hey, umm I wanna see you after graduation ends, okay? I wanna physically say bye to you and everything. So, call me or text me after graduation is over and I’ll find you, yeah? I really hope you do. Good luck today, Ni-ki, bye bye!

Is he ready to say goodbye to you, though?

TAGLIST @sd211 @4imhry @theycallmeahumanoid @ihrtgyu @vlvtrkii @luvistqrzzz @rikilv @viagumi @positivelyinlovewithjungwon @jhopesucker @ixayjun @woonierkiz @lost-leopard-beanie @moonshoon

#enhypen #enhypen imagine #kpop #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen oneshot #enhypen scenarios #niki x reader #angst #niki fanfic #riki nishimura

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thebiggerbear · 4 months

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Anael x Reader - Prompt Response - "I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Summary: Anael calls you to pick her up after she leaves Cas back at the Emporium. Having just come off of a rough hunt, you're really not that inclined to be at the angel's beck and call.

Pairing: Anael x Female!Reader; Anael x Female!Huntress Reader

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). For Anael's version of this prompt response, I had quite a few ideas that got written but just didn't seem to work out for one reason or another. Eventually, I settled on this and the more I wrote it, the more it felt right to me. So, I hope it's okay.

This is meant to take place right after 14x17.

Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

Please do not do any of the above. Thank you for your understanding.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Warnings: mentions of drug-like usage/using behavior; implied sex; mentions of child death

Word Count: 4186

Anael Taglist: @nancymcl; @brightlilith

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Your phone started to buzz on the table and when you glanced at the screen, you let out a snort. You seriously contemplated letting the call go to voicemail but you figured that would be more trouble than it was worth in the end. You swiped up on the screen and held the phone to your ear.

“Yeah,” You greeted.

“It’s me.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know. What do you want?”

You heard her scoff on the other end. Good, maybe she was finally getting the message. “Wow, bypassing the small talk and getting right to it, huh? Why, I’m doing well, Y/N, and thanks for asking. I’m so glad I called.”

You wiped your hands on a rag. “Cut the crap, Ana. You and I both know you wouldn’t have called if you didn’t need something. So, what do you need?”

She was silent for a moment and you could just imagine the scowl on her face. “I need a ride,” she sniffed.

“A ride?” You nearly laughed. “Last I checked, you’re an angel. Can’t you, you know, fly wherever you need to?” You knew you were being a bit of an ass but you didn’t care; it was better this way.

“You know I can’t fly.” You could practically hear her eyes roll through the phone. “And even if I could, with everything that’s going on right now, it’s better to keep a low profile.”

“Michael’s gone, Ana. Well, that Michael anyway. You don’t need to worry anymore,” you assured her, a bit of compassion leaking from your tone. You couldn’t help it; you’d seen how unsettled she’d been after Michael, who was wearing Dean Winchester at the time, paid her a visit. She’d almost looked scared and as she told you all too often, angels didn’t get scared. It had taken some coaxing (not as much as you expected though) but you managed to finally get her to do the right thing and call Sam Winchester to give him a heads up about his brother’s location as well as Michael’s plan. That was the thing about the angel you were currently on the line with. She talked a big game and pretended she didn’t care, she appeared to only be interested in money, couture, and having the table tilted towards her. However, you knew differently.

For instance, when she counted money, yes she was committing the amount to mind, but she also did it as a nervous tic (which was weird for an angel to have). While as a super-strong celestial being she could brazenly count her money anywhere in front of anyone and never worry, she never did it in front of the people she was helping. “Bad for business.” That’s what she’d told you when you first asked but you noticed that she counted the same bills that she had counted an hour beforehand and the amount hadn’t changed. There was something comforting to her about having the cash in hand, whether because she had been smart and made it on her own, or it gave her a sense of freedom from the existence she had known previously as well as instilling a feeling of value within her. Before she’d been a button pusher and punished for asking questions; now she was a self-made businesswoman and her own boss, answering to no one.

She also appeared to be vain and completely full of herself, thanks to her vessel’s beautiful looks and how she presented herself through the actual Jo. Though through your association together, when she believed you and the others weren’t looking, you caught her healing a hurt child or a sick old woman without asking for any form of payment. You’d gotten to know her and you believed there was a good side to her, when she wasn’t being self-serving that is. But then again what did you know about celestial beings?

Which is what had you straightening up and clearing your throat quietly, removing all softness from your voice. “So you can get someone else to pick you up, hell take an Uber for all I care, but I’m in the middle of something and I can’t just drop everything to come get you whenever the hell you decide to call.”

Silence.

You tossed the rag you had been using onto the workbench. You had been changing the oil on your car, having just arrived back from a particularly brutal case the night before. Maintaining the classic car you drove, keeping to routine, that was your own source of comfort. You waited for her to respond to you, most likely some snippy yet witty reply. Most other hunters might not be willing to risk pissing off an angel, but Ana was no ordinary angel and you weren’t any other hunter. You two might not have the bond Dean Winchester had with Castiel, but you and Ana seemed to share an understanding. Well, most of the time.

“How bad?”

“What?”

“How bad?” She repeated. “The case. How bad was it?”

You hung your head, pressing your lips into a thin line. She definitely knew you more than you gave her credit for. “Pretty bad,” you mumbled.

“Your crew?”

You let out a breath. “Still all accounted for. Though they’ll be taking a well-earned short vacation for the time being.” The truth was you all needed a breather after that.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“Come pick me up,” she urged, not sounding so demanding this time. “I’m not that far from you.”

This wasn’t a good idea. “Ana, I don’t—”

“Come see me,” she coaxed softly. “You need me, I can tell.”

Your reflex was to automatically protest her words. “I don’t need—” But then you thought about how you hadn’t slept a wink since what happened and how you’d had to consistently bury yourself into something to occupy your mind, trying not to think of the sound of the kids’ screams or how they’d looked after. You also thought about how you were running on fumes, hanging by a thread, and you were struggling really hard to put this one behind you.

“You do,” she insisted, almost as if she heard your thoughts.

You thought it over for a moment. You really could go for a drive, to try to clear your head if for nothing else. But at the same time, you wanted your space and company was the last thing you wanted, especially hers. She had a way of seeing right through you; you supposed it was her being an angel and all. But right now all you wanted to do was curl into yourself and retreat from the world until things in your head made sense again (because the world never would).

“Y/N,” she tried again, her tone still gentle yet also letting you know she wasn’t going to let this go. The more you resisted, the more she was going to push. Even if she did indeed have to get a ride from someone else. You could almost guarantee, somehow, someway, she’d be on your doorstep before the night’s end.

Fuck it. You sighed and moved over to the sink to wash your hands. “What’s the address?”

You watched as Ana approached the old pick-up you’d chosen to drive instead of your car, opting to stay lowkey, and she got in. Her brown eyes were intent on you from the moment she settled into her seat. You knew she could see just how broken you were after last night, how you were barely hanging on, and you hated it.

“Find us a place,” she commanded.

You shot her a look. “Ana…”

“Find one.” Her tone brooked no argument.

You flashed a glare over at her but shifted the truck into gear regardless and did as she said. You knew she wouldn’t let up until you did.

You coasted to a stop and put the truck into park before turning it off. You had found an inconspicuous spot at what looked to be a park for bike riders, power walkers, and wanderers alike. There appeared to be a pond in the middle and ducks were floating along the glassy surface that was studded with flowers and lilypads. The wind rustled through the trees and the sun was just starting to sink down behind the mountains, painting the sky in hues of pink, purple, yellow, and orange — a marriage of shades of color that Man had not been able to replicate entirely, leaving Nature as the sole artist to achieve that palette. It was beautiful and all you could think about was how the family you’d tried to save would never get to see a sky like this ever again (or any sky for that matter). It poured salt into the wound when you spied two young children running around, laughing, as their mother playfully chased after them, smiling wide. You hoped they would stay as happy as they were in this moment and that they would never know the horrors that you knew all too well, that they would never know what existed in the shadows of this world around them, just waiting to gobble them up and snuff them out.

“You’re not injured,” Ana determined, her penetrative gaze still roaming over you. “Not physically at least.”

Your eyes flickered to hers and you gave her a look, but you didn’t say anything before you turned back to the sunset.

You felt her hand begin to cover yours and you moved it quickly away, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “Ana…”

“Y/N.” She sounded completely unfazed by your pulling away, so much so that you turned to look at her. She was focused on you, her eyes never moving from yours, as she reached out to you. “Let me help,” she urged.

“Ana, I don’t think—”

She huffed out an impatient breath. “That’s your problem. Stop thinking.” She slid closer to you in the bucket seat and her hands framed your face. “Let me help you,” she murmured before leaning in and placing her lips over yours.

As expected, a warm tingly feeling shot through you from where her lips and hands connected to your skin. It was almost like that warm feeling you get in your gut after taking your first shot of liquor that feels like fanning an ember back into a slow-building flame. Though this particular warmth was now throughout every single inch of your body, touching every single cell of your existence. And it grew and grew until a huge wave of warm and light washed over you. Once it did, your head slowly fell back against the headrest and a bright blue-white haze covered your vision. You could see Ana smiling down at you, from her perch on your lap that she had somehow moved into during the kiss. She looked even more beautiful in this light though you still couldn’t see past the face of Jo to Ana’s true form. That disappointed you a little though you expected it. She had told you some time ago that you would never be able to see it, that it was dangerous to humans if they tried and could even prove fatal. It still didn’t mean you didn’t want to see a glimpse of it though someday. You had no idea why you wanted to see it; you just did.

Ana moved some loose strands of hair out of your face. “There. Feel better?”

“Mmm.” You slowly closed your eyes, enjoying the feelings coursing through you. “Much.” It was true. You felt like you could jump out of the truck and go run a 5K or climb the highest mountain without having to take one single break. You even felt like you could swim the English Channel. It was amazing what a little angelic grace could do to the human body.

“Good.” She laid her hands against your cheeks and forced your gaze up to meet hers. You noticed that she was inches from your lips again. “Now, take me somewhere nice.”

The nicest place ended up being a motel on the edge of town (the best room they had of course, one that the clerk assured Ana was cleaned regularly while he looked clearly annoyed that she had the nerve to ask) where you holed up for the next day or so. It was a blur of moans, tender caresses, and grace injections as you’d come to refer to them. Each time you were about to crash, Ana would take your angel blade and cut a tiny slice on the skin of her neck that immediately glowed bluish-white. You loved it when she did that because you would latch your lips to that spot and consume the little bit of grace you could get before the wound closed, and she would arch her back before prettily moaning into your ear, gently holding the back of your head to that spot.

You weren’t a grace junkie as Ana liked to call you sometimes but you couldn’t deny that when she offered up trace amounts of grace like this, especially when you needed a boost, you absolutely took it. In your line of work, with what you’d see on the daily, how could you not take it when offered? The thin thread you’d been hanging on now felt as if it wouldn’t snap so easily, like it had been fortified in steel or something. But at the same time, you hated yourself for allowing the energy into your system, allowing her to be the one to feed it to you, though you would never take it from any other angel.

One of the rare moments in between injections, Ana was laying next to you, holding herself up by her elbow, her head in her hand as she studied you. You were on your back, staring up at the ceiling.

“Feel like talking about it now?”

You briefly glanced over at her, huffing a laugh, as you folded an arm behind your head. “Is that what this was all about? Getting me to talk about it?”

“You were in pain,” she defended.

Your eyes met hers and you could see the tender concern behind them. It always caught you off guard, the genuine care she seemed to have for you. That certainly hadn’t been the case when you two first met. It seemed like a lifetime ago when you’d held an angel blade to her throat, demanding to know where a certain rogue angel was located. And now, here you were…in this very weird space otherwise known as your working relationship.

You supposed she was right; you had been in pain, in a way. You turned your head to stare back up at the ceiling, not wanting to look at Ana for this part. “It was a Rugaru. It got to a family before we could stop it.” You briefly squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting those images to come back. “It was feeding on the two small kids when we got there. The parents were already gone. The screams, Ana…” You shook your head. “We killed it right there. But, um, it was too late for the kids.” You wiped a stray tear that had made its way down your cheek. “They hadn’t even made it to double digits yet.” You clenched your jaw. “We should have figured it out and gotten there sooner.”

Ana tenderly brushed hair away from your face. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah, it is,” you whispered. “Any other hunter would have picked up on what they were dealing with and saved that family.”

“Okay, first off, that’s not true. Second, you were not the only hunter there. And third, who’s to say if other hunters had been in your place that they would have been able to save the family?”

“They would’ve. Had it been the Winchesters, they definitely would’ve.”

Ana gripped your chin and turned you to look at her. “Don’t do this to yourself. The monster killed that family, not you. And you put an end to it so it will never hurt anyone again. You hunters do more for this flawed world in a week than most people do in their lifetimes. You do more than angels or Heaven or God himself even. You put your life on the line every single day to help people you’ve never met before, to keep them safe. You stand in between them and the monsters. You don’t get paid, you hardly get any thanks, you see some of the worst things that most humans will never see, and yet, you still continue to do it.”

“Isn’t that the job? Saving people, hunting things?” You teased.

She frowned down at you. “Don’t do that. Don’t make light of what I’m saying because you feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m not,” you insisted. “I just…” You threw up a hand, shaking your head.

Her expression softened and she stroked your cheek. “You’re a good person, Y/N, and a good hunter. Don’t ever doubt yourself. You can’t save everyone though you try. By killing that monster, you saved many families. Don’t forget that.”

You pressed your lips together and dropped your gaze. You knew she meant well and she was right, you couldn’t save everyone, but it still was going to take you some time to get past this one. You weren’t the only one feeling that way, either. You weren’t entirely sure if all of the hunters in your group would be coming back, two individuals in particular. They’d been the ones to tend to the kids and hold them as they died while you and the others took down the Rugaru. You couldn’t blame them if they decided to hang it up after this.

Ana gripped your chin a little tighter, making your eyes dart up to her face, and you watched as she studied you, appearing to be contemplating something. Before you could ask what she was thinking, she slowly leaned down and pressed her lips to yours. This time, though, you didn’t feel any grace coursing through your skin.

She pulled away after a few moments and you stared up at her in confusion. Giving you a tender smile, she trailed her finger along your jawline. “I like you, Y/N. You’re one of the better humans I’ve met since I’ve been down here.”

“You like me?” You asked in disbelief.

“Does that surprise you?”

“Um, yeah? I thought you couldn’t stand me most of the time.”

“Not most of the time, just sometimes. I certainly can stomach you more than any other human.”

“Wow. I feel special.”

“You should.” She ran her finger down the bridge of your nose to the tip. “Do you think I go around giving my grace to just anyone?”

“Well, there was Lucifer.”

“That was different,” she snapped.

“You heal a lot of people, which I’m all for by the way.”

She leaned back in. “But they don’t get it directly from the source and they don’t get the perks I give you,” she finished right above your lips before kissing you again. This time, you could feel grace being infused into your skin and running rampant through your system. When she broke away from you, you opened your eyes to find that familiar bluish-white haze covering your vision. It was like seeing in 20/20 vision, only a hundred thousand times better.

Ana ran a finger along your lips and as always, you could feel the touch that much more, sending tingles through your body. Glancing up at her, you started thinking about other touches and how they would feel magnified like this. Then you remembered what some people usually did to feel alive again after seeing death and how fleeting life could be.

Within seconds, you were sitting up and you grabbed her and moved her to your lap, very aware that she had let you do it. You saw her smirking down at you as she framed your face with your hands.

“You know, you say you like me but I’m wondering just how much.”

“Oh really?”

“I think we should find out.” You yanked her closer against you and she shook her head, smirking even wider. You tugged the back of her hair, forcing her to arch her neck and she let out a tiny gasp. You knew it was more for theatrical effect than anything else.

“Don’t forget, this is Mulberry silk,” she warned you. “You get blood on it, I’ll kill you, no matter if I like you.”

You used your free hand to place a finger to her lips. “You’re talking way too much. All I want to hear out of this mouth right now are the pretty sounds you make or you begging me for more.” Normally, unless you were in the bedroom you didn’t talk like this, but you could feel the grace fueling everything deep within you, even your ego.

“I won’t be begging.”

“You will,” you whispered into her ear before nibbling on the lobe. “I’ll make sure of it.”

You grabbed the angel blade and created a tiny slice in her skin, seeing the grace peeking out at you from within. Ana placed her hands on your shoulders but she didn’t resist as you swiped your tongue over the wound. “I hate you,” she finished in a moan.

You huffed out a laugh when you felt her pull you closer, her fingers winding into your hair to hold you to her. “You have a weird way of showing that.” You dropped the angel blade on the floor and moved in for the kill.

You had been right; not only did you get Ana to beg, you felt everything a hundred million times more than you normally would. And she had been right; not only did she like you, the shattered glass littering the room and the car horns blaring outside when you were finished proved just how much.

You licked your lips nervously as you parked the pickup, your body having returned to its normal state less than an hour ago. “Listen,” you started. “That was a one time thing.”

Ana turned a smirk onto you, knowing full well how this little back and forth went between you afterwards. “No. It wasn’t.”

“Yeah, it was.”

She turned in her seat to fully face you, laying a hand on your shoulder. “It wasn’t the last few times it happened and it won’t be the next few times. Not to mention we have another motel we nearly destroyed.” She squeezed your shoulder. “I know you don’t want to admit it to yourself, but you like me, too.”

Your jaw tightened and you glared at her, but kept quiet.

She leaned in and you didn’t stop her when she kissed you, no grace involved this time. “Now, you go enjoy your well-deserved break from hunting. Me? I’ve got some business to take care of.” She inclined her head towards the church you were dropping her off at, the sign welcoming Sister Jo, the faith healer. “I’ll call you when I’m finished.”

You watched as she got out of the truck and turned back to you, resting her hand on the open window ledge. Her smirk was cocky, knowing, but her eyes appeared a little softer when she trained them on you. “Until then, Y/N.” She shot you a wink and then walked away.

You watched as she made her way into the church. You thought over what she said. Yeah, you liked her, but you weren’t about to admit that to her. It didn’t matter if she admitted it to you first. She was still an angel, a fallen angel who lied when it suited her and money was the name of the game for her. At least on the outside. But the Ana you’d gotten to know over the last year, ever since you’d crossed her path in your quest for revenge against one of her fallen brothers who had murdered your hunting partner…she was different and she was who you liked. You just wished…well, that things could be different. That she wasn’t an angel and that you could have met some other way. But no matter what you wished, this was your reality and there was no changing it. Ana was an angel and you were having whatever this was with one. If your old hunting partner could see you now…

You shook that thought out of your head and started the pickup, driving away from the church, headed back to your place. You told yourself for the millionth time that the next time Ana called you, you wouldn’t pick up. But a part of you knew that you would, and this scenario would play out again, as it had many times before. You knew she was right and you hated her for that. The disappointment you felt at yourself knew no bounds.

You switched on the radio, picking a familiar song and choosing to get lost in the music instead of your thoughts. Until then.

A/N: Please let me know what you think. 😊

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darsynia · 1 year

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Trust Fall | Ch 25b

gif by @idontwikeit

Story Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: Tony/OC, ‘terrorists made us fall in love;’ IM1 timeline. In this chapter, Tony figures out why he can’t get in touch with Emory, and 'Agent Harris' takes Emory to meet the scientist whose serum has given and taken away so much from her.

Length: 3,050

Taglist: @starryeyes2000 @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @themaradaniels @starksbf @chickensarentcheap @tiny-anne @thorfics @chibijusstuff

Chapter Twenty-Five: Caustic Echoes

“It’s two in the morning. We have to stop meeting like this, sir.”

Tony couldn’t sleep, so he’s back in the workroom. “There’s a word for this,” he gripes. “Nagging. Nagging is the word! You’re a nag, JARVIS. I went to bed at eight. I got six hours of sleep! What more do you want?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Enough time to do my scheduled diagnostic without interruption, perhaps?”

“Don’t go all Star Trek on me.” JARVIS does periodically perform a subroutine in the middle of the night, and Tony has been keeping an irregular schedule, but lying awake in bed alone has never been his preference. “It’s morning somewhere in the world, pretend that’s where we are.”

Tony expects JARVIS to respond with a crack about a healthy breakfast, but the resulting silence is deafening, even with the torch going full blast and a welding hood on. Blaring music would be admitting defeat, but after twenty minutes, Tony can’t take it anymore. He chooses the lesser of two evils.

“ETA on Obie?”

“Mr. Stane is due to arrive at Teterboro at 1 PM. His assistant has sent a request to meet with you for lunch.”

Tony’s stomach roils at the very thought. Usually he snacks constantly when he stays up late, but the unresolved issues between him and Stane are nausea fodder, apparently. He doesn’t even want to plan to eat something. Unfortunately the alternative is to have Obie visit the mansion, and that’s even worse. Everything Tony’s been trying to change is based here, and he wants to keep Obadiah Stane far from all of those things. He casts his mind around for what to do, but his first instinct, ‘call Pepper,’ is a no go. She and Happy are both undoubtedly asleep in preparation to fly back in the same jet as Obie will.

“Sir?”

“Ask me about it in a few hours,” Tony sighs. He flips the welding hood up, unwilling to cloud the glass viewing slit with his huffed breath. “Right now I’d rather barf on his shoes, and no, you can’t quote me on that.”

“Beg pardon, but I meant to get your attention for something else. Miss Autumn’s phone has registered at 100% charge for the past thirty-six hours. Its location has also remained static through that time.”

Tony’s completely blindsided. He barks out, “Initiate two calls to Fury’s office number. One from my cell, and one from one of Stark Industries’ main lines. Let me know if one of them connects.”

“Calling now.”

Flipping down the hood, Tony finishes the last few millimeters. It doesn’t take long, but neither should the task he’d given JARVIS. “Well?” Each second represents a chunk of distance between them, and it’s widening.

“Your personal number was routed to a voicemail line. I left a neutral-sounding request for a call-back. The company line is on hold--” JARVIS breaks off, resuming in a mildly apologetic tone. “Sent to voicemail. I disconnected.”

Shit. “Thirty-six hours? She’s already in Sokovia,” Tony says aloud, shutting off the torch. It feels like he’s shut off any hope of helping her in the process. No message and SHIELD is dodging his calls? The mission could be over by now. Time to shift gears and modify his suit for extraction/rescue, if necessary. “Keep calling both lines until someone actually answers,” he says, feeling a vindictive sense of outrage. They know he’s got her best interest at heart, but they’re keeping things from him anyway? He’ll make them work for it. “Bring up the schematics for that shoulder-mounted weaponry.”

“Offensive, Flight, or Hybrid, sir?”

“Hybrid.” He goes over to the silver suit he’d worn to bring her home with him last time. Much of it is solid, because that was the point. It would be better to build a completely new one, but he’s on the wrong coast for that, realistically. Fuck. Tony grabs the table for support as a wave of nausea passes over him. He’s worked himself sick before, but never this quickly. Maybe he can use how he's feeling to Stane at bay?

“Schematics fully loaded and ready, sir.”

This situation can’t be worse than building an arc reactor from memory, miniaturizing it, and then using it to power an armored suit built in a dingy cave with materials from his own weapons.

This time he has coffee.

“Good. Let’s rock and roll.”

When they arrive at the fortress, Emory’s both comforted and concerned by the place. It doesn't look run-down or evil at all. There are high metal gates surrounding the castle-like building’s extensive grounds, throughout which are scattered various statues. She can’t see any of them clearly, but most are human-sized, and her first thought is that one of her fellow serum-takers had gained Medusan powers.

Even if that isn’t the case, just implying as much displays horrifying genius.

They’re greeted at the large front stairs by two figures wearing what can only be described as modern servant’s livery. The high boots, tight fitting trousers, and buttoned-up vest are all jet black, but the shirt underneath is a pristine white, and the fancy jacket they’re wearing on top of it all is covered with rich silver embroidery that travels from the lapels down to the sleeve cuffs and around to the long ‘tails’ in the back. There’s an immediate sense that, while this group of people have a common bond, maybe even a sense of belonging, it’s not like a family.

Whoever this scientist is, he’s learned his history. HYDRA’s heraldry and cult-like devotion to structure is on obvious display.

Agent Harris’s own cleverness is equally evident, though. Thanks to Emory’s wheelchair and accompanying oxygen tank, they’re led around the front of the building to a side entrance. It’s humid and mossy, a far cry from the grandiose front entrance. Once inside, the scientist’s minions guide them through three different hallways, each angled upwards, until finally they cross through a doorway and into a lavish-looking foyer.

The second floor staircase arches across the space, leading to a balcony that is populated by at least four similarly-dressed henchmen. If it weren’t for the winding path they’d taken through deserted hallways, past open doors showing empty, unfurnished rooms, Emory would have taken the number of people milling around the foyer to be indicative of the population of the whole building. The fact that they’re all wearing the same uniform and gathered in the same place makes her think they’re making a physical show for the meeting.

“The boss is in the ballroom today. I’ll announce you,” a young woman says. She has black hair pinned up like a crown on her head, and her eyes have a faint blue glow to them. Fascinated, Emory watches her closely, noticing a kind of blue haze around the woman’s hand when she touches the doorknob to the next room.

“Ballroom. Sounds fancy. And big,” Agent Harris says. Something in her faux impressed tone makes Emory wonder if they might need to modify the tank. If the term ‘ballroom’ is accurate, that could mean high ceilings and wide open spaces, or in other terms, a lot of airspace. That’s useful if Emory needs the gas to fight with, but it could also make their secret weapon less effective.

She reaches out a hand to touch Harris’s arm, making sure to do so tentatively, as if afraid she’ll offend.

“Yes, what do you need?” Irritated deference.

“Can you check the flow? I might be breathing a little fast,” Emory says, her voice muffled through the mask.

“I’m sure you’ll be-- Oh, all right,” Harris says, leaning over to inspect the valve. The actual oxygen connector is hidden in the mount to the wheelchair.

The door opens, and the same young woman leans through, a neutral expression on her face. “It will be a few minutes.”

Emory looks back at Agent Harris to see that she’s at her watch, a pained smile on her face.

“Of course,” the SHIELD agent says.

Emory doesn’t bother to smile, knowing the semi-transparent mask she’s wearing would obscure it anyway. In her head, she chants a mantra that’s true in both original and coded wording.

I want to go home.

Tony ends up using the Disrobe-Bot to better dismantle the suit for modification. Installing shoulder-mounted weaponry takes a long time, longer than he’d wanted, thanks to whatever stomach bug he must have picked up in California. With JARVIS’s help, he sets up a HUD-based firing sequence just in case he’s not able to verbally command his AI to fire. If he looks up and to the left three times in rapid succession, that’s JARVIS’s command to fire available weapons at the most imminent threat. It’s imperfect, and he’ll need to find a place to test it that isn’t in the middle of the city before he’s satisfied with the concept. There’s a non-zero chance that his house is staked out by paparazzi who would love to file a story saying they heard gunfire at Tony Stark’s estate.

Eventually, his ‘hungry, not hungry, nauseated/not nauseated’ cycle forces him to snack on a packet of frozen raspberries that he hopes to hell hasn’t been here since the late 90’s. If it was, it's not like he'll be able to tell. He’s halfway through it when he gets a call from Pepper.

“Hey, you about to board?” Tony says in greeting. Somehow it’s past ten AM.

“No, I’m in my car. I was all set to leave, but Tony, there’s something going on with Obadiah.” She sounds upset, almost frantic.

“Okay pull over, okay? You’re practically hyperventilating,” he tells her, reaching back to find his rolling desk chair. The mere sound of her panic is making him dizzy.

“I’m parked at a gas station. You need to listen to me,” Pepper says, a note of urgency in her voice. “Just now, before the flight, I went into your office to copy over some of your files to bring back. It’s a big flash drive so I was just throwing everything on it-- but there was a whole chunk of stuff that wouldn’t copy because it’s encrypted. I used your codes but they didn’t work.”

“So when you told me you didn’t know those and hadn’t ever tried them--” Tony starts to tease, but Pepper interrupts him. “Tony, Obadiah showed up within ten minutes of me trying to open those files. He was out of breath. It was barely six in the morning! He had to be somewhere in the complex already.”

“Okay that’s weird,” Tony allows, adding, “But he could have been picking up the palladium, Pep. It’s not something you’d want to keep at home, even if you’re Stane.” He’s still hoping she’s overreacting. Obie and Pepper have never gotten along well, and he wasn’t there to mediate. She wouldn’t even answer questions about what Stane’s behavior had been like during Tony’s kidnapping.

He’s in the middle of tossing the frozen fruit pouch onto the desk a few feet away when her next words make him fumble the throw.

“When he saw the flash drive, he demanded that I give it to him. He was ANGRY, Tony, I’ve never seen him like that before. I didn’t know what to do! You didn’t put anything about your new armor on there, did you? I called as soon as I could.”

He hadn’t, but this is frightening behavior for Stane. Even at his most upset, the man usually displays an almost pathological friendliness. Obie can get cheerfully menacing, but never hostile. Raspberries start toppling from the fallen package onto the floor like blood drops as Tony tries to think about the implications of what Pepper is saying.

Reassurance first.

“Nothing new is on there,” he says firmly. “Did he catch the flight? JARVIS?” Tony looks up at the ceiling.

“The flight plan was filed with no deviations, no delays reported.”

Pepper speaks before JARVIS is finished, because Tony’s not on speakerphone. “They’re about to take off, Happy texted me from the plane. He wanted to keep an eye on Obadiah.”

“Fuck, that’s not the best idea,” Tony blurts out. Pepper lets out a little hiccup of a distressed laugh in his ear. “Okay, so you don’t have the drive, but the computer is still at the office?” As soon as he says this, Tony regrets it. Pepper would have to go in person to check, and Stane has buddies at the company. Fear mixes with the raspberries in his stomach, seasoned by whatever bug he’s been plagued with today. It would be just his luck if he ends up too busy throwing up to figure all this shit out.

“He escorted me out to my car, and his driver was parked next to it when we got out there,” Pepper says.

“Well that’s not a good sign.”

“I could barely pull out of the lot, I was shaking so hard! What do we do? There has to be something on that computer, something he doesn’t want us to know about, and if that’s true--”

“Then he’ll probably send someone in to nuke it ASAP, yeah. Give me some time to think,” Tony says. “Can you go find another flash drive? I can write something to bypass the encryption, but I can’t do it remotely. We’d have to upload it onto the drive and have you go physically plug it in. Fuck, and Rhodey is in town with me, still.”

“I could go look in the surplus supply office for another--”

“Do not go back there by yourself,” Tony interrupts again. “Go buy one, biggest you can find, but use your card, I’ll cover it. Keep under his radar. I’ll send half of Rhodey’s unit in with you if I have to. Just don’t try to be a hero and go without backup. Happy would never forgive me, and I’m pretty sure I’d miss you eventually,” Tony says, typing a few questions to JARVIS in the window at the top left of his screen they use for nonverbal communication.

His AI answers in the same place. Do I have your authorization to request our pilots disable the communication systems on the plane as a security concern on your behalf? It will not prevent Mr. Stane from using his personal devices, but could delay him while you and Miss Potts coordinate on the ground. And yes, there is Pepto Bismol in the upstairs bathroom.

“I don’t think you could tie your shoes without me,” she teases back, a little more confidence in her voice. “What’s your social security number?”

Tony’s busy responding ‘Yes,’ ‘Good idea,’ and ‘thank FUCK’ to JARVIS, missing most of what Pepper says except for the word ‘number.’ Shit. “Seven?” he tosses out.

“Seven? Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Pepper laughs. “Whatever you do, don’t meet with him until we find out what’s on that computer, okay?”

“Not even in the suit? Geez, thanks for the faith in my abilities, Benedict Potts!” Tony teases. He’s found the program he wants to send over, but she’ll still need to physically plug the drive in to use it.

“If we’re talking Arnolds, I want you to be thinking Schwarzenegger, not spies! Promise me? It was hard enough talking Happy down, and I only told him Stane was acting strangely. He’d be going all Air Force One as we speak, otherwise.”

“Spies!” Tony says, snapping his fingers a few times in happiness at what she’s helped him figure out. “You are brilliant, beautiful, and behind on your responsibilities. Go get a flash drive, I’ll talk to you later.”

With that, he hangs up and heads for the upstairs bathroom, dialing the number for Agent Phil Coulson as he goes.

It takes over twenty minutes for the ballroom door to reopen. During that time, a further two black and silver-clad people join the others on the balcony watching Emory and Harris, but besides a few offhand comments, everyone stays silent. The stress makes Emory close her eyes and try to meditate. She and Natasha had discussed whether it would be a good idea to start gathering energy in the moments leading up to the mission, and in the end, they’d agreed it was a bad idea. Now, in the midst of a situation that she could use to power up, Emory’s glad she doesn’t have that pressure on her as well. It’s very likely that this wait is intended to reveal her powers.

Finally, the door opens, and the blue-eyed henchwoman steps through, nodding at Harris and beckoning. Emory presses her arm against the shape of the phone in her pocket to bolster her courage.

The room she’s wheeled into is dimly lit and very large. The lack of light surprises Emory until she reasons that most ‘balls’ are evening affairs. It would be useless to design the room with the kind of windows that would stream light into a space hardly ever used in the daylight hours. Still, the absence of sunlight and lack of lamps fills her with dread. What will they be greeted with at the shadowy other end of the room? A lab? A throne?

They pass four columns on the way to an answer to her question. Multiple rich-looking carpets denote a rich-looking office area against the back wall. In the very center is an enormous dark wood desk with a huge winged chair. The lights are all positioned behind the chair, so its occupant isn’t fully visible until they’re feet away.

She sees his hand first, as the scientist reaches toward a small lamp positioned at the close corner of his desk. Everything about the encounter so far is obviously theatrical, so Emory braces herself. Did this man’s obsession with the serum turn cruel after his own use of it backfired into something horrible?

The light switches on, revealing that the chair is even more disproportionately large than she thought. Seated there is a matronly, slight woman with graying hair pulled back in a generous pouf on the top of her head. She’s dressed in a black suit jacket and stark white shirt, just like her minions, though her clothes carry no embellishments. The desk is meticulously neat, with a few folders and the lamp, and nothing else.

“Welcome, my dear.”

Next chapter, both Tony Stark and Emory Autumn fear for their lives.

#tony stark x oc #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark x original character #tony stark imagine #iron man fanfiction #iron man #iron man x oc #iron man x original character #mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #tony stark #series: autonomy #ocfairygodmother #fyeahsuperverseocs

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winterscaptain · 2 years

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ulterior motives.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: thank you all so much for your patience and love while I was stuck! i have more ajf for you and we will continue to jump around while I work on the little roadblock in the season 11 arc. as always, it helps me write more when I hear from you! without further ado, here’s the internal affairs episode fic!

words: 7.9k content advisories: language, pregnancy, canon-typical violence, death, and discussion of sexual assault, alcohol use, alcohol mention, sex mention, use of a firearm, gun death, food consumption

summary: “i'm sure I've had my phone tapped for years, I don't think it's a crime against humanity they just ought to quit doing it, god damn it.” ― cornel west. december 2nd, 2015

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It’s late, and Aaron isn’t home yet. He usually calls.

He always calls.

You try his phone again. Straight to voicemail.

Jack is long asleep, leaving you to worry without sufficient distraction. Concern wasn’t the only thing keeping you up. Little Man introduced heartburn into his symptomatic arsenal and he was delivering.

Propping yourself up further in bed, you stare at your phone.

Where are you?

As if he knows you’re looking for him, your phone rings - a picture appearing on the screen. A favorite capture of yours, it was taken close to four years ago down at Dave’s lakehouse. He’s looking up into the trees, a little squint around his eyes and the suggestion of a smile on his lips.

Gorgeous.

It always makes you smile.

You answer. “Hey, love.”

“Hi, beautiful. What’s your evening about?”

“Just about headed to bed,” you reply. “Your son is misbehaving just by nature of his size, so I guess it’s not really his fault. Did you get everything done with Emily? I know there’s a regional thing going on.”

There's silence on the other end of the line.

“Aaron?”

“Hang on, honey.” There’s a strange color in his voice - trepidation, maybe, or concern. “I’ll call you back.”

But he doesn’t. Not even after ten minutes, then fifteen, then thirty. You flip your phone in your hand, feeling the smooth screen with every pass.

+++

Director Cochran meets Aaron at the entrance in the secure parking garage, leading him into the building. “Chief Hotchner, it’s good to see you.”

“You too, Director.” Aaron reaches out and shifts the flowers he bought you into his left elbow, offers a firm handshake. “Is there anything I should be concerned about?”

Cochran shakes his head. “Not at the moment. We just wanted to read you into a couple of things.” He pats Aaron’s shoulder in an almost-paternal gesture and leads him into the elevator.

“It couldn’t wait?”

Cochran shrugs. “You know us by now, Hotch. Why would we inconvenience ourselves with niceties? I will get you a vase and some water for those flowers though. Would hate for them to wilt while we chat.”

Unfortunately, Aaron knows exactly what he means. He doesn’t reply, but lets an amused huff tumble down his nose. When the elevator opens, he catches sight of a familiar face.

“While I appreciate the ride and the intrigue, you could have called.” Aaron can’t keep the tinge of irritation out of his tone as he’s led into the NSA executive lounge. It’s cozy - armchairs and low tables cluttering the room lit by two fireplaces and little else.

Deputy Director Axelrod stands. “I would have just called to set up a meeting, so I figured we’d skip a step. Plus, this is a little more comfortable than a parking garage.”

Aaron shakes his head, almost amused, and offers his hand. “Good to see you, sir.”

The men take a seat, and Axelrod can see Aaron is a little preoccupied.

“Can I get anything for you, Agent Hotchner?”

With a rueful sigh, Aaron admits, “I could use a phone. My wife is expecting me home and I’d imagine she’s fairly worried by now.”

“Ah, yes. Congratulations on the recent nuptials. How are mom and baby? And your older son?”

Something about the knowledge this man has of his family makes Aaron deeply uncomfortable, but that’s the clandestine agencies for you. While Axelrod is low on the list of people who could pose a threat, Aaron figures less is more.

“They’re well. My wife is due in March.”

Axelrod smiles. “Congratulations again.” He pauses. “How old is Jack now? Nine?”

“Ten. But you knew that.”

He opens his arms in a gesture of guilty surrender. “Now, then. Down to business. A joint NSA-DEA investigation into Libertad, the online illicit drug site, has gone south fast.”

“I heard about it.”

“Yeah, well,” Axelrod says, tipping his head. “One DEA undercover agent is now dead, two are missing.”

Aaron’s eyebrows rise. “Someone in the cartel made them?”

“It would appear so. I’d like your team to investigate.”

That is… strange, to say the least. Aaron’s head is already abuzz with possible repercussions, implications, and red flags. “Why us? Surely, the DEA’s got leads.”

“True,” Axelrod relents. “You and your team are better.”

And that’s even more suspicious.

Aaron calls him on his bluff. Needless to say, he’s a little more than eager to get home. His patience for bullshit and politics dwindles fast, these days.

Good thing he’s grown savvier.

“What do you really want?”

The look on Alexrod’s face says Aaron’s got him. “Look, someone gave up those agents. I have good reason to believe it was the assistant DEA director in charge of the operation, Bernard Graff.” Aaron’s eyebrows lower, a squint appearing at the corners of his eyes. Axelrod continues. “I need you to get the proof.”

“Why not go to the Office of Professional Responsibility?”

“It’ll raise some flags. Graff would suspect an internal affairs investigation. You’re already involved in the Darknet with Giuseppe Montolo, so you have the perfect cover.”

Aaron can’t deny Axelrod’s logic. There’s already a good enough excuse to put together a task force even without a possible mole, given the circumstances. Really, both Aaron and Emily decided it wasn't worth the political game to get anyone else involved in the Dirty Dozen debacle until it was absolutely necessary.

So let’s find out if it’s necessary.

“What makes you think it’s Graff?”

“He knows technical details beyond the scope of his job.”

If that were a crime the entire BAU would be under suspicion. With an internal smile reserved only for himself, his chin tips in understanding.

“And there’s a flash drive that never leaves his wrist. I think it has the access code to the Libertad servers.” As if he can read Aaron’s mind, see his trepidation, he continues. “I did you a favor once. Consider this repayment.”

Axelrod gestures behind him and some lackey brings him a burner phone.

He passes it to Aaron. “All outside numbers are blocked but we have some workarounds. Go ahead and give your wife a call on this phone. Yours will be up and working as soon as you leave the campus.”

Aaron returns the gesture with a tense smile, dialing your number. “Thanks.”

+++

You’re dozing a little bit, sitting up in bed, when your phone rings. The caller ID is blocked. You answer it anyway, prepared for the worst.

“This is Hotchner.”

“Hi, baby.” There’s an apology in his voice, his tone quiet.

You heave a sigh of relief. “Where are you? What happened? When are you coming home?”

There’s a second of silence on the other side of the phone. He answers you after a moment. “I can’t tell you where I am right now or what I’m here for, but I am safe and I will be home soon.”

A memory pops into your head, one of staring at him, in bed, after your first night sharing a bed (in the biblical sense).

“And while I may have to keep things from you, I promise I will never fabricate a reality outside of the truth ever again. If you ask me a question I can’t answer, I will tell you as much. If you ask me if what I communicated is all the information I have, I will tell you that, too.” He huffs something that’s almost a laugh. “I will be as forthcoming as possible about the things I cannot be forthcoming about.”

It brings a smile to your face, soothes your anxiety.

“Okay. I mean, I tried your phone, but -”

“It won’t go through here.” He pauses. “I’m so sorry honey. I didn’t mean to worry you. I wasn’t able to call until now.”

“It’s alright, Aaron.” You mean it. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

+++

As promised, Aaron returns home within the hour. You’re still awake.

When he finds you in the bedroom, he immediately joins you on the bed, still suited, sans-shoes. You take him in your arms and he rests his head on your chest, his hand falling on your belly.

“I’ll be able to read you all into the op tomorrow,” he says. “They’re running audits on BAU security clearances as we speak.”

You rake your fingers through his hair, disrupting the pomade holding it in place. Aaron sighs and somehow gets closer to you.

“Scale of one to ten?”

You can feel his smile. “Political, national security implication, difficulty, or insanity?”

“Let’s start with political.”

He hums. “Twelve.”

Yikes.

You established this system when he was promoted, in the interest of observing the security clearance gaps while keeping the how was your day conversations interesting.

To date, there’s never been anything over a nine on the political sliding scale of nightmarish repercussions.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

You sigh. “Alright. National security?”

He wavers for a second. “Eight. Corruption isn’t inherently a threat, but this could get bad.” He taps your belly with his fingers. “Theoretically, of course.”

Everything is, of course, theoretical. In case anyone were to ask.

“True enough.”

“Anything else?” He asks. Apparently, this is a conversation consisting of two-word phrases. Often, you’ve come to find that’s just marriage.

You shake your head. “No, my love. I’m happy you’re home.”

He takes your hand and kisses your palm, pressing your hand to his cheek. Even though you watched him shave this morning, you can feel the stubble on his jaw. The exhaustion radiating from his every pore seems deeper than just the consequences of a long day. There’s something existential about it.

“Hey, Aaron?”

He cranes his neck, meeting your eyes.

“It’s gonna be okay, whatever it is.”

A little huff of laughter leaves him. “Thank you. I love you.”

“Love you more.”

He shakes his head. “Impossible.”

+++

Upon reaching the office a little early the following morning, Aaron closes himself up in Dave’s office while you tackle any emails that need your immediate attention. Dave and Aaron pass your desk on their way through the bullpen, but you don’t know where they’re going.

The floor is quiet, so you eventually get up and wander. It’s still early, so the traffic in the hallways is minimal.

You finally reach Penelope’s “apartments,” as she fondly calls her new room, and knock on the door.

“I’m halfway decent! Close the door behind you.”

With a little laugh, you follow instructions, leaning on her makeshift breakfast table. “You didn’t even know it was me.”

“It was either you, one of the handsome agents assigned to my detail or another equally gorgeous member of our team.” She shrugs, appearing from behind her privacy screen. Her fingers are fiddling with her earrings - getting them on, you imagine.

She wasn’t lying - she is only halfway decent. Her dress is open at the top, exposing the top of her adorable, lacy bra.

“I figured,” she continues, “you needed something to brighten your day.”

You let out another laugh. “Like your tits?”

She looks at you, wide-eyed and smiling. “Of course. Now can you hold this so I can pin it?” She gestures to a section of hair that seems to stubbornly slip through her fingers every time she tries to do something with it.

You’re more than happy to oblige, holding the locks with soft, gentle fingers. “Are you settling in okay?”

She shakes her head, but her face is obscured by her arm, blocking your view of the mirror. “I’d rather not get settled in. This will be done soon and it'll make it all that much harder to pack.”

“Ah.”

You can’t help but feel a little bad. Her sunny optimism, you’re sure, will only get her so far. Privately, you’re giving it another week before it really crashes and burns.

It’ll sink in soon.

“How’s little man doing?” She asks, turning. “Can you zip me up?”

“He’s good. Didn’t keep me up too much last night.” You slide the zipper up the middle of her back, linking the hook and eye at the top.

You can see her suggestive, almost wicked, smile in the mirror. “Why? Because boss man was busy doing that for him?”

“Penelope!”

“What?! It’s been like four years, I should think you’d be over the sex jokes by now.”

You sigh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” she replies, turning around and tapping your nose. “You love me.”

“This much is true,” you concede.

She leaves you, picking up a pair of blue frames from her hanging tree of glasses. You hear voices down the hall - familiar ones - and you cross to the door, opening it a little.

Before you can step away, you hear, “I assume you want to keep this between us for now?”

You turn, giving the impression of disinterest as Dave and Aaron round the corner.

“Yeah,” you hear Aaron reply. He reaches the door, knocking twice on the frame.

“Garcia, are you ready?” He glances at you and you just smile with a little shake of your head.

“Uh, hold on. Yes.” She turns, showing off her outfit and frames. “See, the blue plays off the knit, here. It’s complementary, but it’s not matchy-matchy.”

“You’ve been here a week,” Dave says. “Have you thought about unpacking? It might make things a bit easier.”

You glance over at Dave, tipping your head just the barest amount.

Careful.

“I took my hotplate out ‘cause I was sick of the cafeteria food, but I’m not going to be here much longer ‘cause of this new case, huh? You guys are going into the belly of the beast. You’re gonna find out who’s targeting me. Am I right?” She toddles up to Hotch, her heels bringing the top of her eyeglass frames to his chin.

“Among other things,” Aaron replies drily.

“It’s the Darknet – that’s where all Montolo’s cronies live. If anyone can find the answer, sir, it’s you guys.” her face breaks into a wide grin. “I know you can.”

+++

“The NSA and the DEA are both involved,” Aaron says. “So we’ll be part of a joint task force. Go ahead, Garcia.”

Aaron sits beside Emily, who reviews the information in front of her with a furrowed brow and pinched mouth. You know this has everything to do with Aaron’s little escapade last night, but beyond that you know there’s a whole host of things you don’t know.

Given the smallest bit of the conversation you overheard this morning, you know you’re not alone.

“Okay.” Penelope stands and starts clicking through the photos. “Uh, three weeks ago undercover DEA Agent Mark Bowers disappeared. He was based in El Paso, but five days ago his body showed up in Ciudad Juarez, just across the Mexican border.”

“Ciudad Juarez is one of the most dangerous cities in the world,” Tara says.

Penelope nods. “Not only was Agent Bowers found strangled, but he also had another human face covering his own face.”

“Another... human... face?”

JJ’s confusion, marred with disgust, almost makes you laugh.

Yeah. This job broke my sense of humor.

You’re almost sorry about it.

“Yes,” Penelope confirms, her lip curled up. “I guess skinned or scalped. I don’t know what you call it, but I couldn’t put the pictures up here. You can see them on your own tablets.”

“It is typical for drug cartels to use a corpse to send a message,” Derek says.

“Yeah,” you add. “Body parts sent to family members, that kind of thing.”

JJ, recovered from her shock, notes, “A face on top of another face could easily mean he’s undercover or he’s two-faced.”

“Which is bad news for the two missing agents,” Emily replies. “They were both undercover.”

Penelope runs though the last known whereabouts of DEA agents John Portman and Sarah Miles. It looks grim. “All of these agents were investigating the Libertad drug cartel.”

“Well, if someone knew that they were undercover, then there has to be a mole on the inside.” Derek glances around the table.

“Well,” Aaron says. “We have to consider all possibilities. This cartel is in fact unique in a few ways.”

Something colors the underside of his tone. He replied just a little too quickly, looked around a little too fast. You[‘re not sure if anyone else at the table would have caught it, but to you it was as obvious as a neon sign.

There’s a mole. That’s our real assignment here.

Security clearances don’t mean much when you can read him as easily as the words in front of you.

“Yeah,” Penelope chirps, “it appeared on the Darknet after the Silk Road was shut down. It has an online and an on-the-ground component based in El Paso. It’s run by someone named George Washington.”

“An identity that can be assumed by different individuals.” Aaron supplies. You try to catch his eye, but it’s almost like he’s avoiding you on purpose.

“El Paso’s just across the Rio Grande from some of the worst drug violence there is.” Dave shrugs. “Not a bad place to set up.”

Tara nods. “Yeah, you’re right about that. I mean, it’d be so easy to fly under the radar when there’s bigger fish to fly right down the road.”

“All right,” Aaron says. “You’ll all head to El Paso with Prentiss and find out what happened to the missing agents. Except you.” He points to you. “We’ll run the cyber part of the investigation from here.”

“Me?”

Typically, Aaron doesn’t pair off with you in the interest of discretion. This time, he just nods, meaningfully meeting your eyes.

Okay, you reply with a look. I’ve got your back.

Dave stands, wishing you and Aaron a cryptic, “Happy hunting!” before leaving the room.

+++

You and Aaron take one of the bureau SUVs to the DEA headquarters. It’s just up the road in Springfield, but the drive feels longer than it should.

“Are you okay, Aaron?”

He tips his head. “I’m alright.”

You reach for his shoulder, your thumb passing over the fabric of his suit. “Is there something I should know?”

“Nothing you need to know,” he replies. “I’d rather have you safer than more informed, at the moment.”

“Ah.”

That makes all the sense in the world. At least you know you’re right - there’s something going on, something deeper than a few missing agents.

You take a little bit of a chance, but know there wouldn’t be any real consequences anyway, not in the relative safety of the car. “Is it the mole? Are we finding the mole?”

Aaron’s face doesn’t change, save for the small crease that appears in the corner of his eye. “Again, I’d rather you be safe than informed. You know what to look for and how to communicate your findings.” He reaches for your hand. “I brought you because…” He sighs. “Because I can read you the best. I can see what you see.”

You bring his knuckles to your lips, feeling the dry, warm skin against your mouth. “I love you.”

He glances at you with a small smile, neatly making his own point. I love you, too.

+++

The inside of DEA’s Cyber Division is far...sleeker than you would have imagined. You’re not sure why you pictured something that looked more like someone’s basement, but then of course, you know what they say about assumptions.

“You must be Agent Hotchner.” A seasoned, rugged-looking man approaches Aaron with a hand outstretched. You immediately notice the flashdrive on his wrist - securely wrapped in a paracord bracelet.

“Yes sir.”

The man directs his attention to you and you do your best to keep your expression neutral as he attempts to subtly size you up. You’re used to it by now. A pregnant FBI agent isn’t necessarily the first thing people expect.

Can’t imagine why.

“One of your colleagues, I presume?” The man asks, glancing at Aaron.

“Yes, sir. My wife - Agent Hotchner. She will be assisting me with the task force’s cooperative efforts.”

You step forward and take his hand.

“It’s a pleasure, ma’am. I’m Assistant DEA Director Bernard Graff. Welcome to the cyber war against drugs.” He leads you both further into the room. “We could always use the extra help, but I’m surprised the NSA pulled you into this. Aren’t you busy hunting psychopaths who cut up prostitutes or something?”

“Well, we have a case and there may be some crossover.”

Graff glances at Aaron. “You mean Giuseppe Montolo and the online hitmen?”

“Yes,” you reply. “We’re interested in whoever the successor to the Silk Road may be, and Libertad seems to fit the bill.”

“Well, if you ask me, the NSA’s got it easy. All they do is monitor and analyze. But when it comes to putting away the bad guys, you and I have to do all the dirty work. Isn’t that right?”

You move to reply with some kind of quip, but Aaron stops you with a finger on the outside of your hip. There’s some kind of commotion near one of the offices before a man throws the door open, making a beeline for the elevators.

“No, no.”

“It’s not related.” A woman says, chasing after him. He stops, turning.

“Are you kidding me? My best friend did not just have a hiking accident. I’m out of here.”

He continues to flee. She takes two more steps toward him but gives up. “Simon.”

Soon enough, the woman redirects, approaching you, then Aaron. Graff supplies the introductions.

“This is Adrienne Mitchell, our head Libertad intelligence specialist. Agents Hotchner and Hotchner from the BAU - apparently the FBI is doing couples counseling now.”

Ignoring the jab, you reach out, taking Adrienne’s hand. “Pleasure.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“The man who just left was our confidential informant Simon Kahn,” Graff explains.

Adrienne looks over her shoulder for a moment. “He just learned his friend died. I’ll give him some space, then we talk to him again.”

“Our specialists have been posting online as buyers and dealers…”

You can’t help but notice the searching, suspicious looks Adrienne keeps throwing your way. You know she’s trying to be subtle about it, but it’s your job to notice. There’s a bit of a staring contest between her and Aaron for a moment, both seeming to sus each other out in equal measure.

There’s some part of your brain that keeps your attention on Graff, nodding along with what you assume is a quasi-original thought. You’re only brought back fully when Adrienne shifts, adding to the conversation.

“He’s a Tor network relay operator for them. He wants out but claims he’s not being allowed to quit.”

“Is he being threatened?” You ask.

“Apparently,” Graff replies, “but we haven’t seen the evidence.”

Aaron’s turn. “Does he know who the head of the cartel is?”

“The real ID of George Washington?” He waits for confirmation and Aaron nods once. “No. But he does know the number two.”

“It took months to get him to come in. He was close to giving us a name, but now he’s scared again.”

You almost feel bad for Adrienne - she looks genuinely distressed.

Graff offers to set you up while Aaron requests some information for Penelope. One of the agents at a nearby desk shows you to a small office space while Graff and Mitchell hang back. You can’t really see - only a warped reflection in the glass shows them leaning toward each other, but it looks like they’re talking about you.

+++

Aaron steps into the office from a phone call with Emily.

“Anything good?”

He shakes his head. “They’re doing good work. There are a couple of solid leads in El Paso. It looks like the unsub had some skill and patience while removing the skin of the face and spent some time with the dead victims. That alone is a good start on the profile.”

You tip your head. “Good enough.”

+++

Graff shepherds you both into his office later in the evening, pouring some scotch.

Graff looks to you and you put one hand on your belly, patting twice, while the other holds up your water bottle. “I’m good with mine.”

He looks at Aaron.

“Oh.” Aaron shakes his head. “Thanks.”

“Axelrod said you were a real straight arrow,” Graff says. “Like Eliot Ness reborn.”

You smother a smile, flipping the straw on your water and pulling a few sips. Aaron shoots a somewhat playful glare in your direction before one of the photos on the wall catches his eye.

“Is that your dad?”

“Yeah. That’s my dad. He was in the DEA, too. His father, my grandpa, was a G-man. It makes you all wonder, doesn’t it?”

“About what?” You ask.

“If what we’re doing really matters? In the end, we’re all just government employees, aren’t we? After we’re gone, someone will take our place. New criminals replace the old.”

“Does it make you want to give it all up for a different life?”

The blood in your veins runs a little cooler at the implication of Aaron’s question. You suppress a shiver.

Graff takes the bait. “I know why you’re really here.”

You take a deep breath through your nose, waiting him out. It doesn’t escape your notice that Aaron has placed himself between you and Graff. You’re also out of the sightline from the main set of windows. Anyone looking in would only be able to see the two men.

The observation closes your throat a little. All Aaron ever wants to do is protect you.

And your sons.

It’s true. In Aaron’s mind, it’s his sole function. The work, the excitement, the politics, it’s all secondary. In some ways, he only continues to do this job, to run divisions that catch ‘the bad guys’ so the world is safer for you.

And his sons.

You swallow, focusing back.

Where were we? Right. Graff knows why we’re here.

Doubt it.

“Hornet.”

Told you.

“Most people aren’t aware there are multiple Darknets,” Graff continues. “Tor network is just one of them. There are over two million users on Tor, which is slowing it down, making it too vulnerable. A lot of operations are jumping ship to other darknets, like Hornet.” He pulls the flash drive from the computer, clipping it around his wrist again.

“You think Libertad will?” Aaron ask

“Probably. But I bet Giuseppe Montolo's hitmen have already moved. You're here because you think we have undercover access to a Hornet router.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Do you?”

“No,” Graff replies. You’re almost certain he forgot you were there. “We're still working on it. So your presence here is premature.”

Aaron’s phone rings. It’s Dave.

“Excuse me.” He picks up. “Yeah, Dave. Yeah, keep me posted. Thanks.” He hangs up. “My team has found evidence of a serial killer working in the El Paso area using the drug violence as a cover.”

We knew that.

What was that call really about? What does Dave know?

You keep your expression neutral, soft, as the thoughts pass through your head.

Graff doesn’t do so well in his weak attempt at neutrality. The irony is thick when he says, “Well, it's a good thing you're on this case, then, isn't it?”

+++

You lean against the glass, listening to Aaron’s side of Dave’s update. Given Aaron’s clipped, brief answers, it's likely Dave’s got good information for him.

“No,” Aaron says. “But something’s definitely wrong.”

You turn your head when the door to the bullpen opens, Graff at the handle. Aaron could probably see him through the glass as he approached.

“I’ll talk to you later.” Aaron hangs up and crosses past you, making a little lopsided triangle.

Graff looks at both of you in turn. “I thought you should know I'm having the ground investigation into Libertad suspended for now.”

“We understand,” you tell him. “I’m sure this is preferable to taking the risk of losing more agents in the field.”

Graff tips his head, looking at Aaron. “You know, I've been wondering. Instead of looking for Montolo's hitmen, have you tried looking for the Dirty Dozen?”

“Did Axelrod tell you about that?”

The space between the glass and the elevators shrinks all of a sudden - feeling much smaller under the blanket of tension Aaron just threw over the room.

“Aren't we all sharing information here?” Graff asks.

Before Aaron can reply, Adrienne throws the door open, almost running into one of Graff’s broad shoulders in her haste. “We got a problem. Simon Kahn, our C.I., is dead. His car exploded outside his apartment.” She swallows, her brows taking on that anxious bend you noticed earlier. “He was coming to meet me.”

+++

Aaron practically wrestles you into the elevator to head home later that night. Jack’s already asleep and Jess is crashed out in the guest-room-turned-nursery.

“I’ll stay here,” he says. “There’re a few more things I need to check out.”

You nod, reaching for him. He wraps his arms around you, getting as close as he can around your son. It’s getting harder by the day and you’re not even in the third trimester yet. “Be safe, please.”

He nods. “I will. Go home and get some rest.”

+++

You try to ignore the two black SUVs on either end of your block as you walk to the front door of your condo, unlocking it. A shadow on the far side of your porch startles you.

“Jesus, Anderson.” You put a hand to your chest. “You’re lucky Hotch is still at the office. Pretty sure he would have shot you if you gave him the chance.”

“Sorry.” Grant’s lips twist in a rueful smile. “It’s been quiet. Nobody in or out except Jess and Jack. You’re clear.”

You offer him a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Of course. I’ll leave it to the Marshals - they’ve got you covered on the perimeter.” He gives you a playful salute and hops the porch railing, landing on the grass. “Good night.”

“Good night, Grant. Give my love to Jude when you get home, okay?”

“I will. He’s looking forward to baseball next spring. He wants to take Jack to a few Nationals games when the Mets are in town.”

That brings a smile to your face. “I’m sure Jack would love that.”

+++

In all truth, Aaron doesn’t have anything to do. He is, of course, hypervigilant about your safety and has a vested interest in getting you home and under the protection of your family’s detail.

His efforts to guarantee his own safety?

Questionable, at best.

When most of the agents have cleared out for the evening, Aaron stops pretending to read the Libertad files. There are inconsistencies - ones that absolutely caught his attention on the third or fourth pass through.

Whoever’s orchestrating this is good. Too good.

He stands, closing the files.

“Done for the night?” Adrienne asks, looking up from her computer.

Aaron nods. “Almost.”

He’s outside, walking to his car, when his phone rings. The number is blocked and he instinctively looks around before answering it.

“This is Hotchner.”

“It's Graff. We need to talk. It's urgent. Meet me at the Raleigh Hotel bar. I'm heading there right now.”

Graff hangs up. Aaron calls you.

“Yeah?” You sound groggy.

“Sorry, baby. I just - um.” He runs a hand through his hair, glancing at his car. “I love you.”

“Are you okay?”

He nods, though you can’t see him. “Yeah. I, uh, I just wanted to tell you.”

“You’re getting in your car, aren’t you?”

How the hell…

“Yeah.” After New York, he occasionally has a bit of anxiety getting near the agency SUVs late at night, especially in the middle of a high-profile case.

“Alright. Let’s go through it. Anyone weird lurking around?”

Aaron looks, stepping back into one of the stoops. “No.”

“Find some cover and unlock it for me.”

The vision he has of you, sleepy and sitting up in bed, powers his next breath. He unlocks the car. Nothing happens.

“Clear.”

“Good. Alright.” You take a breath. “Good job. Let’s go to that driver’s side door.”

Aaron steps out from the eave and down to the street from the curb. He takes a look inside - nothing of note. “I’m trying the handle.”

“Okay.”

Your soft breath in his ear keeps him locked in. He reaches for the handle and opens the door.

Nothing.

He glances under the breaks. “Brakes are clean.”

You’re quiet, but he knows you’re there.

+++

It’s safe to say your heart is in your throat. You know exactly what he’s afraid of. You remember New York like it was last week - not too far, not too close.

But close enough.

You swallow your fear and give your next direction. His brain, you’re sure, is entirely made of fear and adrenaline right now. It’s your job to be his rational center.

It’d be unfortunate to hear him get blown up again, but if it brings him peace of mind, that’s enough.

+++

“Start ‘er up. Let’s get that engine warm.”

Aaron checks for a pressure plate under the driver’s seat before sitting down. “Graff called me,” he says. “Said it was urgent.”

“Unfortunately,” you tell him, “you’re being responsible so he’s going to have to wait.”

“Right.” Aaron puts the keys in the ignition, the door still open, and turns. The engine starts up no problem, no fanfare. “Alright. Unless anything’s on a timer, we’re good.”

He hears you sniff on the other end of the line, but he’s not sure if you’re crying or if you’re just handling some of the weird sinus pressure that’s plagued you through the second trimester.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Go to your meeting. Thank you for calling me. I’m glad we did that together.”

Aaron sighs. “Me too. Love you.”

“Love you more.”

+++

It feels like you’re asleep only moments when you get a call from Penelope.

“Hey, pumpkin. Sorry to wake you, but it looks like Assistant Director Graff has been found dead in his car.” You can hear the grimace in her voice.

You’re fully alert almost immediately. “Where’s Hotch?”

For some reason, ‘Hotch’ is the thing that leaves your mouth when you’re terrified - something for your therapist to deconstruct later, probably.

“He’s arriving on scene as we speak. He was at the Raleigh Hotel, safe and sound.”

You take a deep breath. “Thank you, Pen. Does he need me on scene?”

“No,” she replies. “He just knew you’d be pissed if you woke up to a news of a shooting and nobody told you.”

He’s got that right.

Even then, you’re already awake.

What the hell.

+++

“Aaron?”

“I’m headed to Springfield,” he says by way of reply.

You tip your head, your fingers tapping the steering wheel. “That’s convenient. Me too.”

He huffs. “I thought I told you to stay home.”

“You did. I’m done with that.” You rush to add, “It’s not Penelope’s fault. She told me to stay home, too. But I just - I can’t.”

Glancing in your rearview mirror, you spot your detail - a lone black hatchback trailing you about two cars back.

“Alright,” Aaron concedes. “I’ll meet you there.”

+++

You end up arriving at the same time. He takes you by the elbow and practically drags you to the elevator. He’s gentle, of course, but his sense of urgency is not to be overstated.

“What happened?”

“Someone shot Graff in his car. Staged the crime scene.” He shakes his head. “This is bad.”

The elevator opens and you let him out in front of you, his long legs taking only two steps before he reaches the door. You see Adrienne on the other side of the glass.

“We need to talk,” Aaron says.

Adrienne grabs her upholstered bag, that signature concern and anxiety written all over her face as she approaches you both and leans in. “Graff didn't kill himself.”

“We know,” you assure her. “The question is, who did?”

“The mole.”

“What do you know about a mole?” Aaron asks.

“Graff told me months ago. He's the one who alerted the NSA that an insider might be running Libertad.”

“And you and Graff thought it was one of us, that we came to tie up loose ends.”

“Yes,” she says. “But then Graff said it wasn't either of you, when you were genuinely surprised that Libertad might leave the Tor network.”

Your brow drops. “Do you have the flash drive?”

“He gave it to me for safekeeping. He said he found something new.”

Adrienne leads the way into Graff’s office, where Aaron takes the lead. He clicks through files, sees inconsistencies even more egregious than the ones he caught that afternoon.

“Graff was storing evidence against the mole,” Adrienne explains. “It looks like someone requested a police investigation file.”

Aaron clicks twice more, revealing a familiar seal. His voice is quiet. “Someone from the NSA.”

+++

Aaron sends you and Adrienne home, offering one of your agents to her. She refuses.

“No. I’m happy to accept the consequences of doing the right thing. You guys are in far greater danger than me.” She offers you something you think could be a smile if it wasn’t so tense. “Thanks for your help.” Looking up at Aaron, she adds, “Thanks for not being the mole.”

The half-surprised twitch of Aaron’s eyebrow gives him away. “You’re welcome. Anytime.”

Adrienne disappears into a cab that promptly disappears and you close yourself into the car, ready to drive home. “You going to confront Axelrod?”

Aaron nods. “It’s not that late. He’s still at the office.”

You check the clock, surprised to find that he’s right. It’s not even midnight.

Looking through the window at him, you tip your chin up. He meets you in the middle, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to your lips. “Get home safe.”

You hum. “Get in the car. I’m going with you.”

His brow pinches, but he doesn’t say anything. With a sigh, he rounds the front of the car and slides into the passenger seat.

+++

You wait near the doorway, in the hall, as Aaron gets clearance into the executive lounge. He’s full of confidence - entirely settled in Lawyer Mode.

Not for the first time, you can almost see that young prosecutor Haley used to talk about.

The door closes behind him. You wait.

About a minute later, your clearance comes through. The door opens for you as well, but you don’t go all the way in. You lurk, just inside the door, in the shadows. It’s advantageous for Aaron to have a witness.

“Do you have proof?” You hear Axelrod ask.

“Not beyond his dead body and the urgent call he made to me.”

“All right, so my hunch was off.”

Axelrod seems far too blasé for someone close to a treason accusation. Maybe he’s betting Aaron won’t go there.

I wouldn’t put money on that.

If you can bet on anything, it’s that Aaron will go there - no matter where ‘there’ is.

“Partly,” Aaron answers. “The head of Libertad is definitely an insider. And the evidence points to you.”

Axelrod scoffs. During his eyeroll, he catches sight of you. His eyes linger, a squint appearing.

“I'm going to give you one chance to come clean.” Aaron’s tone draws his attention again, taking the heat off of you. “If it is you, make no mistake, I will take you down.”

You shiver.

Aaron pulls a folded piece of paper from his inside pocket. “Do you recognize that number?”

“No,” Axelrod says. “But it's an NSA prefix.”

“Someone called Simon Kahn from this number a half an hour before he was killed.”

You can hear the prosecutorial bend in his tone, like he’s trying to convince a jury hiding behind the fireplace.

It never really leaves you, I guess. Even Aaron says law school scars for life.

“It could have come from any NSA office. It wasn't me.” Aaron has him on the defense now.

Good.

“A year ago,” Aaron says, unfolding the paper, “someone from the NSA requested a file transfer from the El Paso police department. It was about a serial killer investigation that started in Mexico.”

Axelrod takes it, reviewing the request. “This came from an onsite server. It means whoever requested this was in Fort Meade on December 2, 2014. I wasn't even in the country. I was in France at my niece's wedding.” He looks at Aaron, eyebrows raised. “Would you like to see the photos?”

“Who tipped you off about Graff?”

“My boss.” Axelrod’s eyes cast downward, his brows following suit. Aaron glances at you, checking in. You nod once.

Let’s do it, baby.

The small lift at the corner of his mouth speaks volumes.

The next afternoon finds you in the lounge again, a glass of water on the little table next to Aaron. After assurances from Axelrod that the Director would have limited contact and mobility, you both agreed to go home and get some sleep.

Well-earned.

As promised, Director Cochran breezes through the doorway for a ‘scheduled meeting’ with Axelrod. You stand as the door opens, placing yourself just off the wing of Aaron’s chair. Your intention is to haunt. It was Aaron’s idea, anyway.

When Cochran turns the corner to see you and Aaron, he pauses.

“Agent Hotchner. And...Agent Hotchner. This is a surprise.”

Aaron doesn’t move, doesn’t stand, doesn’t flinch. Even his fingers are still where they sit folded in his lap. “Director Cochran. Agent Prentiss’s team - my team - found the serial killer responsible for murdering the drug enforcement agents. His name is Jacob Dufour.”

“Excellent,” Cochran says, taking a seat. “I envy the work the BAU does. It must be so satisfying.”

Smug bastard. Didn’t even offer me a seat.

Aaron doesn’t buy into the informality. “Dufour wasn't working alone. He had a helpful partner putting the victims into his hunting zone.”

“Dufour didn't even know they were DEA agents,” you add.

“Who was the partner?” Cochran asks.

Aaron’s voice remains even, his head tilting ever so slightly in a move that reminds you, strangely, of Gideon when he set Reid in a checkmate. “You.”

“Me? And how is that possible?” Cochran’s questions are flat, serious. But then again, he is a politician. All directors are. It would take more than this to get a rise out of him.

Aaron stands. You sit, demurely placing yourself on the arm of Aaron’s recently vacated chair.

You watch, a soft smile on your face as you watch Aaron close in, that hawkish instinct seeming to draw him even taller, towering over Cochran in a chair that suddenly looks too small. “In 2011 there was a local investigation into a serial killer who was taking advantage of the drug violence. You requisitioned a file and figured out how the killer was operating.”

“I applaud your thoroughness, but this is really unwarranted -”

That’s enough.

Your turn. “There's five million dollars in Bitcoin in a Panamanian bank account that we have traced back to you.”

“Well,” he scoffs, “this is clearly a setup.” Axelrod appears with two armed agents flanking him. Cochran grasps at the apparent lifeline. “Axelrod, tell him. Tell him.”

Axelrod doesn't address the request. Instead, he directs the agents behind him. “Take him.”

“Do you mind if we borrow your pen?” You ask. It’s hardly a question. One of the agents, wearing gloves, picks up the pen from Cochran’s pocket. The agent unscrews the cap, revealing a USB drive.

“Something tells me the access codes to the Libertad servers are in there,” Aaron says, his voice without suggestion or inflection. He’s ice cold, down to his veins.

The agents take Cochran by the arms, but he resists. “Wait. Agent Hotchner -”

Aaron’s not having it. “You're under arrest on multiple counts of racketeering and conspiracy to murder a federal agent.”

“This is a mistake! You don't know what you're doing!”

The agents escort a struggling former director out of the lounge while the three of you look on.

Axelrod sighs, breaking the fresh silence of the room. “I could use a drink. How about you?”

“Sure.” Aaron tips his head

You press a kiss to Aaron’s cheek and shake Axelrod’s hand. “You boys have fun. I’m going home.”

Aaron scoffs. “Leaving me with what car?”

“You have a protection detail and the entire NSA fleet at your disposal. Right now, the mother of your child needs to prop her feet up.” You turn toward Axelrod. “Can you get my husband back to Quantico for me? He left his car there and he’s perfectly capable of driving himself home.”

He smiles, taking your hand and patting the back of it. “Of course, ma’am. Drive safe.”

“Thank you.”

You turn to leave, looking back just in time to hear Axelrod confess, “You know, Hotch, as long as you don't threaten to take me down again, I think we could actually be friends.”

+++

You rest at home with Jack as evening turns into night. Aaron finds himself in Penelope’s hideaway, his check-in sidetracked by a phone call with Dave.

“So Libertad's been completely shut down.”

“Yes,” Aaron replies. “But all of its competitors are stepping in as we speak.”

“How's Garcia doing?” Dave asks.

Aaron glances across the room, where Penelope pulls groceries out of a tote bag, compliments of Anderson. “She's disappointed she can't go home, but she's doing okay.”

“I'll bring her a new garden troll to cheer her up when I get back.” Aaron can hear the smile in Dave’s voice.

“That's a good idea. I'll talk to you soon.” When he hangs up, he looks at Penelope. “Am I right? You doing all right?”

She pauses. “Well, uh, I don't really have a choice, do I?”

“No.” It’s apologetic, empathetic. He’s not sure it’s an asset, but he intimately understands the pressure and stress of protective custody.

“Well, then, yes,” she chirps. “I am hunky-dory. I am.”

She begins to flutter, her voice filling with tears. “I'm, um... I'm gonna put some satin sheets on that, I'm gonna put a splash of color over there. I'm gonna put some tassels on that thing.”

As soon as she stops moving, she breaks, tears falling from her eyes. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

“I know, it’s hard.” He stops her, his hands ghosting over her shoulders. “But it's not gonna be forever.”

“And... You got Cochran.” There’s her everlasting hope, breaking through her tears like sunshine.

That’s good.

“True.”

“And he lawyered up, but he could talk at some point?”

This much is true. “He could.” Aaron moves to leave, but Penelope gets his attention again.

“Hey, I'm gonna make myself a vegetarian omelet for dinner. Do you want one?”

“Well, uh…” He checks his phone. “Jack's already in bed, so... You have jalapeños?”

“Uh...Uh…” She breaks out into a small bit of incredulous laughter. “I'm sorry. Um, do--do I have ja -” She grabs a cutting board, already adorned with a knife and three jalapeño peppers. I want you to know, I have had a love affair with all things hot and spicy since I was like twelve.”

Aaron smiles, taking the board from her and getting to work.

+++

When you check your phone, you find a text message from Emily.

8:57pm Attachment: 1 Image

The photo - clearly taken without either party’s knowledge - reveals an adorable portrait of Penelope and Aaron cooking dinner together. Penelope stands at her hotplate, flipping something that looks like an omelet, while Aaron finely chops chives and jalapenos at the table.

Another text follows up from Emily.

8:58pm Don’t let him trick you into dessert - she has brownies and he had three.

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic #fem reader

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letarasstuff · 3 years

Text

Showing the Bird

(A/N): This was requested by an anon, I hope you have fun reading it!

Summary: Spencer's daughter always is quick to pick things up she shoudn't do, this includes a certain gesture with her hand and middle fínger.

Warnings: A kid showing her middle finger

Wordcount: 1.6k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________

Spencer is a technophobe. That’s why (Y/N) has limited access to any kind of electronics, which is a good thing for a three year old. The only sort she is allowed to use is the TV in the living room and even there her choices are limited to the several DVDs the little family owns and cable TV. Emily is in the process of persuading him to get a subscription to a streaming service for (Y/N)’s sake.

“Ok, Sweetheart. One hour of TV today before eating dinner and getting ready for bed, like we negotiated”, Spencer reminds his daughter before turning it on a kid’s channel. She nods, already engrossed by Peppa Pig hanging up on that sheep for being able to whistle.

Earlier the two Reids made a deal: If (Y/N) got all the states and their capitals right, she is allowed one hour of television. This may sound like he forced her to learn this information, but it’s really just a way to stimulate her brain and the toddler is eager to learn. Spencer only has to make it look like she has a gain in it.

The young doctor doesn’t like to leave his kid alone while watching TV. It’s not because he can’t leave her on her own for a few minutes. Spencer wants full control over what (Y/N) sees and what not. Especially he can tell what effects something has on a child and he doesn’t want her exposed to things she shouldn’t be subjected to at her age.

“Daddy, why are the animals talking to each other? I know they are translating all languages to us, but a pig speaks not sheep language.” Spencer is slightly baffled at her question. It’s mostly cute that she explains most things to herself in such a plausible way.

“Uhm, well Sweetheart. You have to-” Saved by the bell. Or more like the ring of his cellphone. Still he hesitates to get it. It’s Morgan, who probably calls because the team needs help with the case.

Spencer had to stay behind for this one, because he planned on taking his vacation days with (Y/N) to fly up to Las Vegas to visit her grandma. But Diana spontaneously took the opportunity to go on a trip with the sanctorium. Now the two do all the things they don’t have the time for in their regular day.

They already were at the aquarium, visited three different museums and even went to the movies once to watch the latest disney movie. Spencer really had to keep himself from pointing out the inaccuracies to not spoil (Y/N)’s fun.

Now the father debates taking the call. He doesn’t want to leave his daughter alone while the TV is on, but also doesn’t want to talk about a case right in front of her. The option of turning the TV off is also from the table, because this would be just plain mean.

So he answers it, afraid that the voicemail will turn on. “Hey Morgan, wait a second, I’ll have to leave the room”, then he puts his hand over the speaker and turns to the toddler. “Sweetheart, I have to talk to your Uncle Derek real quick. I’ll be right back.” She nods and goes back to her cartoon.

But while her father is in the room next door, the audio gets awfully quiet. Frustrated, because she isn’t able to understand properly what they are saying, (Y/N) looks for the remote. And there it is, waiting patiently for her and her little toddler hands.

But instead of turning the volume up, she accidentally changes the channel to an old cop movie. Curious about what is happening on the screen, the girl leaves it on for a few seconds. Upon entering a room, another man greets him with his middle finger raised. (Y/N) looks at her own and tries to copy that movement. On the third try she kind of gets it.

Getting bored of not knowing what the plot of the movie is, she turns it back on the cartoon she watched earlier and settles back down on her little chair next to the table full of books (Spencer put it there to avoid her sitting too close to the TV and straining her eyes while watching her shows, the distance is perfectly measured).

Just as (Y/N) sits down Spencer re-enters the living room, feeling relieved because he was able to help his team. “Hey Sweetie, is everything alright?” Happily she nods, showing him the bird.

Spencer’s face? Just imagine the shook Pikachu. “(Y/N)! You don’t do that! This is really mean!” He tells her in a stern voice. Where did she learn that from? He doesn’t know it, but the genius is almost a 100% sure she saw someone on the street doing it, (Y/N) always was quick to pick things like these up.

The toddler looks at him with a sad face, close to tears. “I-i-i didn’t know. I’m sor-sorry”, she says, beginning to cry. Oh no, this is not what Spencer was aiming for. “No no no, don’t cry. It’s alright. I’m not mad at you. You just don’t do this, people can get really hurt by your gesture.”

After calming her down, he thinks of something they can do outside of their apartment, to forget the little incident. “Do you wanna go to the office with me? All your aunts and uncles are going to get there soon and maybe we can go eat dinner with them?” Excited by the thought of seeing her family, (Y/N) nods and jumps up to get her own little go bag.

It’s a bright pre-packed backpack with small coloring books, normal books, pencils and other knick knacks she might need when she goes out with her father. The only thing that they have to put in is her favorite stuffed animal of the day. They call it like Spencer’s work bag, because the toddler once overheard the word at the office and refused to call it something different than his.

“Hey, look at who decided to give us a little visit!” Penelope exclaims as soon as the team leaves the elevator. (Y/N) tries to keep up with her preppy step, desperately holding onto her hand to not lose her.

As they finally come to a halt in front of everybody, the little girl smiles sweetly at them. “Hi”, she says in the most adorable voice. But instead of doing her usual wave, she raises her small hand with her middle finger standing out.

You just hear a faint “NOO!” and a crashing noise before Spencer comes along in a jog. He scoops his daughter up, looking her into the eyes. He takes a few steps away from where the team is standing.

“(Y/N), what did we say about this gesture”, he asks her in a serious tone. Instantly tears start to form in her eyes again, but Spencer knows he has to be strong now. “(Y/N), you have to stop doing it. It can really hurt people. Do you remember when Jason made fun of the braids Auntie Penelope put your hair in?” She nods.

Meanwhile the team stands awkwardly in the background, not knowing what to do. They never really witnessed the genius reprimanding his daughter in front of them. Though it’s not directly in front them.

“You were hurt by his words. The same is with the gesture you just made. We don’t do this to people, we don’t want to make them feel bad. Now, I don’t want to punish you, because you didn’t really know the meaning. Just apologize to your Aunties and Uncles. Next time you do it, there will be a hard no on TV for a week.”

Quickly wiping her eyes, the toddler mutters a small “Ok Daddy.” Spencer’s heart hurts a little at that, but he needed to be stern in this one.

She wiggles out of his grasp and slowly makes her way over to the others. (Y/N) gives each of them a hug, apologizing individually to them.

“So, who wants to see the new pictures of Sergio I got on my desk?” Emily asks in a cheerful tone to break the awkward tension. Immediately the girl takes upon that offer and bounces off to the desk with her godmother in tow.

Spencer still stands near the elevator, watching the interaction going down through the glass doors. Hotch pats him on the shoulder. “I know it’s difficult to be mad at them or strict even, but you did the right thing”, he reassures him briefly before making his way to his office. The genius smiles, as a parent you seldom get encouraging words about how you raise your child. It kind of feels like walking down a path with closed eyes. But on both sides are deep rivers with piranhas in them.

Derek takes a place beside his best friend. “You know, as serious as this is, it’s also as funny. I mean how she just smiled sweetly as a cupcake and deadass pulled her middle finger up like nobody’s business? My man, in your case I would keep a close eye on her during (Y/N)’s teen years.” Both laugh at the bizarre situation.

But luckily the toddler learned her lesson from this and stopped showing people the bird as a greeting. This is until she learns the next inappropriate thing, she should rather not do.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #reader insert #spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid #x reader #x daughter!reader #x child!reader #emily prentiss #derek morgan #aaron hotch #penelope garcia

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serenity-lattes · 2 years

Note

Hi ! I got inspired by the Emily one you just wrote (which I love btw) ! Would you write a full on angsty one where either a gender neutral reader or Emily almost dies on a case and they discover they love each other??

Oh my gosh, thank you for letting me know you like my other fic! AS for your request, you’re a nonnie after my own heart! I’m a sucker for fics with angst and a happy ending. I hope you like it. :)

Love,

Serenity

One More Snowfall

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence, main character flatlines briefly, angst

Word Count: 2013

A/N: After having a lovely conversation with CJ I got inspired to rewrite the ending of the episode “Lauren.”

Taglist: @lcvingprentjss @safespacespence

Emily sat in her vehicle, about to make a call when she was perplexed by a voicemail waiting for her. She hadn’t made a call yet, so there shouldn’t be any messages waiting for her. When she inspected it further, she saw the number. One she recognized all too well. Yours. She frowned and hit the play button, unsure of what to expect.

“Hey, it’s Y/N… Hotch told Garcia to try all your old numbers, but she gave me this one to try. I hope this reaches you so that you know that I’m so pissed off. Because for one of the smartest women I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, right now you’re being pretty thick. What the hell were you thinking, Emily? That we would just let you carry such a heavy burden alone?” Your voice cracked, making you pause and collect yourself, “No. We are family and we help each other. Just like when Hankle abducted Reid, when Breitkopf targeted Gideon, when Battle shot Garcia, when Foyet targeted Hotch, when Gordinski falsely accused Morgan, and so many other times, we helped each other. We would have done the same thing for you, Emily, we are trying to do the same thing for you.”

You paused for a long time, making Emily think the voicemail was over, but just before she hung up, your voice came through, “There’s still so much I want to experience with you, okay? Stay safe, Emily, because we are coming.”

There were tears prickling at her eyes, threatening to spill over on her cheeks. She couldn’t involve the team in this. Doyle and everything surrounding him is a force the team has never had to deal with and she wasn’t about to do that to them now. She loved them too much, you especially.

After hours and hours of investigating, marking off the dead ends, trying to figure out why Doyle was going after Emily, the team finally figured it out. The only question left was where they were. Reid and Garcia answered that based on a set of photos of Declan and the house keeper, and once Garcia found the location, everyone rushed to action. Suited up and ready, You, Derek, and SWAT were walking into the warehouse with terrifyingly little information of what you would find. You and Derek walked into a nearly empty room, but a nightmare was the only way you could even think to describe what you saw.

Emily was on the floor, a stake sticking out of her abdomen, along with a puddle of blood around her.

“I got her! I got her in the basement on the South side. I need a medic,” Derek called into his radio before kneeling down beside her, “Hey, it's me, I'm right here. You're gonna be all right. Stay with me, baby. Come on, stay with me.”

You crouched down on the other side of her, taking her hand, trying your hardest to keep your composure, but this didn’t look hopeful in the slightest.

“Let me go,” Emily whispered weakly, eyes flickering between the two of you.

“No, no. I am not letting you go. Help me! Listen to me, I know why you did all of this. I know what you did for Declan. I'm so proud of you. Do you understand that? I am proud of you because you are my friend, and you are my partner. No, Emily! Come on, stay with me. If you can hear me, please just squeeze my hand,” Derek’s tone was firm, but he was so proud of Emily when she tried her best to squeeze his hand. It was weak, but the intent was there, “Yes, there you go. There you go, baby. Just keep squeezing.”

In moments, the medics were putting her on a gurney, putting an oxygen mask over her face. You stood up and followed, refusing to leave her alone. Hotch met you at the door, grabbing your arm.

“Let the medics do their work,” he ordered, fury welling up in your chest.

You shook your head, pulling your arm out of his grip, “suspend me for disobeying a direct order if you must, but get out of my way,” you ran to the ambulance, piling into the back, wanting to stay there with Emily. She was barely awake, but that was better than not at all. The medics were fast to start patching her up, save the biggest wound that would be saved for surgery, but then there was the dreaded, long tone. Your eyes widened as you looked at the screen, suspicions confirmed. Emily lost too much blood and was now flatlining.

“If there is anything you’d like to say to her, you better say it now,” one of the EMTs called over to you while they began chest compressions.

You let out a shaky breath and gulped, inching closer to Emily, brushing her hair out of her face, “The last thing that I said to you was that there’s still so much I want to experience with you, and I meant it. Emily, you are the one person that can always succeed at brightening my day and you’re the one person that I care about the most. I love you and I need you to come back, alright? I need to get one more coffee with you from that crappy truck outside the precinct, I want to talk about Slaughterhouse 5 with you, I want to fall asleep next to you on the couch while Sergio keeps making biscuits on our legs,” you were crying, though it was impossible not to right now, the woman you love is possibly going to die right in front of you, “I want to see one more snowfall with you and do childish things like make snow angels and snowmen before we go inside and indulge on hot chocolate and other sweets. Please come back because not only do I need you, but the team also needs you, and so many people out there who don’t even know you yet need you.”

And just like that, there was a blip on the screen, followed by another, and another that started into a slow, pace. It was far from a regular pulse, but it meant she was alive. You smiled, leaning down to kiss her cheek, “Keep this up, Em.”

In minutes, the ambulance pulled up to the hospital, EMTs rushing her out and into the operating room. You stepped out and sat on the curb, head in your hands, hoping that Emily would make it out of there. After what seemed like an eternity, you heard footsteps and looked up to see JJ sitting next to you. You have her a bleak smile, which she returned.

“She is in recovery, but they’re keeping her sedated so her body can recuperate,” she informed you, the dam of tears broke within you while she was patting your back, doing her best to comfort you.

It was touch and go for Emily for a couple days; she had lost so much blood after Doyle stabbed her. You felt guilty for not having visited sooner, but you didn’t want to go see her in the recovery room and see her essentially lifeless and hooked up to a bunch of tubes. It was traumatic enough having watched her code in the ambulance, something that would haunt you for the rest of your life.

You were at your desk, staring at the same file for the last half hour, feeling Reid’s calculative gaze practically burning a hole into your head.

“What?” you grumbled, flipping the file shut, turning to face said teammate.

“You’ve been staring at the same page for the last fifteen minutes and 45 seconds and it never takes you more than ten. I obviously know what’s bothering you, so why don’t you just take a break?” he said, considering his words carefully.

“It’s bothering all of us, Reid. She’s our friend,” your eyebrows furrowed. You weren’t the only one stressed out about Emily’s condition. Garcia has barely stopped crying since they all left the hospital.

“Come on, Y/N. I know I’m not the first person to give this sort of advice, but we all know that you and Emily are a little more than friends,” he chuckled, scooting his chair closer to yours, putting a hand over yours, “Even I can see how you look at her.”

“Shut up,” you pulled your hand out from under his, anxiously straightening out your shirt, “I can’t have this conversation right now, not when we don’t know if she’s even going to—”

You were cut off by Garcia’s heels making little tip-taps as she scurried down the hall, “Guys! Oh, my gosh, okay, listen! She’s up. She’s awake. She’s okay!”

The flood gates of relief washed over you, stomach finally unknotting since you found her in that warehouse with Morgan.

“Y/N, go see her, she’s awake…” Reid coaxed you, scooting back to give you the room to leave. You nodded and grabbed your jacket, not even bothering to tell Hotch where you were going. Either Reid would tell him or he would figure it out himself.

You violated too many traffic laws on the way to the hospital, it was a wonder that you didn’t get pulled over. When you ran inside, you didn’t bother to stop and listen to the nurses at the station calling out to you.

When you reached Emily’s room, you stopped, a hesitant hand on the glass door. Penelope had gotten word that she was okay, but you were still nervous about what was going to be behind the door. The last time you saw Emily, she was bleeding out and being wheeled out by a team of medics. With a deep breath, you gingerly slid the door open and stepped into the room, nearly crumpling when you saw those chocolate eyes looking at you.

“Hey,” you breathed, not moving past the doorway. It was like she was back from the dead and in a way she was.

“Hi,” she whispered, lips curling into a soft grin.

“I am so glad you’re okay,” You approached her bed, sitting down in the chair beside it, “you really gave us a scare, Em.”

“Half the team has been shot at one point or another, I figured it was my turn,” she joked, but you couldn’t bring yourself to join in it just yet. You were still processing the last few days, “Sorry, too soon?”

You nodded, eyes flickering down to her hand before you reached out to take it, “When Morgan and I found you, I was terrified, then you coded in the ambulance and I thought that was going to be it, all our times together flashed before my eyes, along with regrets of things we didn’t get to do and for not having said all the things I’ve ever wanted to say to you.”

Emily’s thumb brushed along the side of your hand. You both sat in silence for a moment, only hearing the beeping of her vitals on the screen behind her head.

“When I coded in the ambulance, all I felt was cold and darkness,” she began, your eyes filling with tears at the thought, “But then I heard you, everything you said to me. Y/N, it was like you were my guardian angel or something, and I need you to know that I feel the same way.”

Your head snapped up, searching her face. She too had tears in her eyes as she squeezed your hand.

“I love you,” she finally said, tears finally falling onto her cheeks. She was cut, bruised, and crying, yet still the most beautiful thing you’d ever laid eyes on. You lunged forward, carefully taking her in your arms as you held her close, nose buried into her hair.

“I meant everything I said,” you murmured, leaning back enough to push her bangs to the side so you could press a kiss to her forehead, “because I love you so much, Emily Prentiss.”

#emily prentiss x reader #Emily prentiss x gn!reader #criminal minds #fanfiction #fanfic #emily prentiss

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unmitigatedsuperiority · 3 years

Note

"Why did you leave..? Why did you leave?! Answer me, dammit!" Spencer x reader pls

"Why did you leave..? Why did you leave?! Answer me, dammit!"

Spencer’s voice reverberated throughout the hallway as he yelled into the phone. Echoes of fearful anger. If he had to listen to the heinous sound of your phone ringing only to go straight to voicemail one more time, he was going to break down. But he couldn’t do that. Not right now. Not when so much was at stake. Instead, he pocketed the phone before it could reach your voicemail again. He took a deep breath, shaky and tense, before taking off.

Rushing down the steps of your apartment, Spencer felt his heartbeat in his ears. A metronome to set the scene, utterly at conflict with the chaotic thumping of his feet on each carpeted step. He couldn’t believe you left at a time like this. If you had even left voluntarily, that is. Penelope’s trusted program that tracked the team’s partners’ phones had originally put his mind at ease, but that was before the unsub had escalated. Before he couldn’t reach you when he knew for a fact that your phone was in your apartment. No one was safe, not even you, and that concept made his blood run cold. Spencer couldn’t do anything, couldn’t think if he didn’t know you were safe. Instead, his brain was practically useless, engulfed by anxiety and dread. He needed to find you.

Shoving open the front door, Spencer stumbled out onto the sidewalk. He took a quick look in either direction, allowing himself a moment to envision the storefronts on each side. Grocery store, convenience store, bank… He couldn’t picture the street. He couldn’t remember. Trying to push down the pure panic that hammered in his chest at that thought, Spencer glanced left and then right. Trusting his gut, he turned left. You were in that direction. You had to be.

Too-bright store signs and the rush of cars assaulted his senses. It made Spencer want to crawl out of his skin. He was overstimulated and overwhelmed; thoughts moving a mile a minute. The world was too loud and busy, and didn’t they know his world was upside down right now? He kept up a brisk pace as he weaved through pedestrians, glancing into storefronts, searching for your face. Trying to keep focus when he was so close to falling apart. He was about to give into the fear when suddenly…

There.

“Y/N!” Spencer called out over the crowd; eyes glued to your back as he broke into a sprint. You hadn’t even fully turned around when Spencer had his arms around you, holding you as though letting go would kill him. And maybe it would. Maybe the feel of his hands against your torso was the glue holding the broken pieces of him together. Even after this moment, once the two of you were walking back in the direction of your apartment, he held your hand tight. He couldn’t lose you again.

After you let him into your apartment and made him a cup of tea, Spencer explained the situation. The unsub. The panic. You apologized for not answering your phone and he apologized for scaring you. Leftover anxiety rolled off him in waves. You tapped the side of your mug as you rolled the next words over in your mouth.

“I thought I’d be fine. I was just going to the convenience store down the street. The same one we’ve gone to a thousand times. I didn’t even know I’d forgotten my phone until I was halfway there. I didn’t realize how bad everything was. That…that must have been scary. Coming here and not knowing where I was.” You looked into pensive brown eyes, the same ones you’ve seen nearly every day for the last few years. There was a sad furrow in his brow now. You suddenly felt an all-encompassing urge to lean forward and smooth it away.

“God, I was – I was terrified,” Spencer started. The crease in his brow deepened. “If anything ever happened to you, I’d never be able to forgive myself.”

“I can take care of myself, you know?”

“I know that. But that doesn’t change the fact that if anything did happen to you I…” Spencer trailed off, his eyes moving back and forth as he searched his brain for the words. He licked his lips, a nervous tic. You waited for him to collect himself. He gesticulated with shaky hands as he continued his explanation.

“When I don’t know you’re safe, it’s like my brain stops working. Every fact and statistic…it’s like I can’t recall anything. I can’t do anything until I know you’re safe. The very fact that I feel that way is kind of overwhelming, actually.” He huffed out a humorless laugh. You set down your mug and pulled him into your side, raking a hand through his curls. He let out a soft hum at the sensation before speaking again.

“I’m sorry for putting you through this. I just…can’t lose you.” Spencer quieted at that last part. You stilled your fingers in his curls and cupped his jaw in your other hand. You traced along his cheekbone with your fingertips, this rare moment of vulnerability thick and tangible in the air. A sad smile pulled at your lips and you tugged him close.

You cradled his head in one hand as you tightened an arm around his waist. You held him there, safe in your arms, as though you were the glue holding the fragile pieces of him together. Keeping him from breaking down. And maybe, in that moment, you were.

“I’m right here, Spencer,” you reassured him in hushed tones. “I’m right here.”

send me blurb prompts!

taglist: @everyonesfavoritepipecleaner @moderatelydelusional

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#it's under 1k words people can we get a round of applause #this was difficult bc it was such an angsty prompt but i quite like how this turned out #my fics #fics: reid #fics #cm #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds blurb #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst

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cuttinqlines · 3 years

Text

IN THE MIDNIGHT HOUR II

(richard ramirez [ahs 1984] x reader | mainly implied xavier plympton x reader)

trigger warning; drug use, toxic relationships, mentions of abuse, toxic characters, xavier is portrayed as a major piece of shit for the first few installments, glorification of a serial killer, knives, etc.

disclaimer: i do not support the real richard ramirez in any way, shape, or form. this is simply based on the fictional version from ahs 1984. no disrespect is intended in any way. please, feel free to click off of the fic if you don’t enjoy this type of content. any hate will be ignored.

word count: 2,467

a/n: sorry this took so long. im a depressed piece of shit lmao.

taglist: @kuollut-talven @felicityofbakerstreet @bitchcraft1398

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IT HAD ONLY been a few days since your run-in with the self-proclaimed ‘Night Stalker’ yet it felt like years had passed. The memory of the event was constantly running through your mind, seeming to occupy your every thought. It was as if your mind was filled only with visions of dark hair and piercing dark eyes. It had gotten to the point where it was consuming you, distracting you from anything that wasn’t the thought of him. It was impossible to focus. You weren’t exactly sure that you wanted to. The part of you that desperately longed for the dark stranger to reappear and tear you away from your dilapidating life was overtaking you. You had almost wished that you would have given in to his demands that night. Almost. Something had been holding you back that night and something- someone- was still holding you back, tethering you to the place you had grown to despise.

Letting out a sigh, you stared at yourself in front of the bathroom mirror, attempting to shake away the thoughts that continuously plagued you. The ghost of a bruise still showed underneath your eye, barely noticeable with the makeup that you had delicately applied over it. You looked better than you had in the days before, but you still weren’t keen on leaving the confines of the four walls of your bedroom, let alone your apartment. You hadn’t left the house since that night. You were sure everyone thought that you were spiraling- He had probably twisted the story into that narrative. You turned away from the mirror, leaning against the base of the sink. It was time to face the situation at hand. You could already feel the silent judgment of Montana. She had told you so. “Fuck.”

It shouldn’t have mattered that much to you- what everyone thought. It’s not like they had too much room to judge. They were your friends, sort of, but they didn’t rule you. They weren’t the end all be all. Still, you couldn’t help but feel nervous at the thought of facing them. It had been days of voicemails, knocks on the door, and missed phone calls. You had gone ghost. They wouldn’t have expected anything else, though. It wasn’t unlike you to disappear. You were used to disappointing everyone.

After a few more minutes of anxiety and deliberation, you laid out a pretty white line, snorted it down, and got ready to head out the door. At the very least, you could show up to aerobics and casually run into everyone. By the time you got there, you were sure you could figure out how to gloss over all of the problems that kept on appearing.

****

The Aerobics studio hadn’t changed much in your week of absence. The faces of the instructors were still plastered on the walls, yours still included much to your surprise. The chairs strategically placed throughout the lobby were occupied by young adults, laughing at something one of them had said. The ambiance was peaceful and you suddenly wished that you would have shown up for work in the last week. The thought quickly diminished as you thought back to the bruise that had been occupying your face. There was no way you would have shown up with that. You wouldn’t have given him the satisfaction. Stepping up to the front desk, you leaned against the counter lazily.

“Hi. Do you have any classes with vacant spaces open for today, Janice?” You asked the receptionist a bit awkwardly, looking at the wall behind her as you spoke.

The woman looked up, purposefully making direct eye contact. She looked you up and down, judgement written all over her face. “Yes. The instructor position for the class you teach at 6:30, (Y/N). If you want to keep your job, I suggest you get prepared for it and go teach it.”

You couldn’t help but cringe at her tone. The attitude dripped off of it like poison. Truth be told, you had thought that you had already been fired. That is generally what happens after you drop off of the face of the planet for a week. “Right- I’ll just go ahead and get set up to start, then. Thank you.”

“You’re lucky that you showed up today. You’re really pushing it with your delinquent behavior. Shape up or ship out, sweetheart. This is the last time you’re getting exceptions. You’re really lucky that Montana covered your classes for the week. Now, get moving. It’s 6:20. Studio 3.”

Janice hardly gave you time to react, as she stood up and began to push you towards the direction of the studio. Her cold touch caused an unpleasant shiver to shoot through your spine. Your mind instantly drifted to your unwelcome house guest, though the shiver he gave you was not exactly unpleasant- You mentally scolded yourself for obsessing over the ‘Night Stalker’, before practically bursting into the studio.

It felt as if a million eyes landed on you from the moment you opened the door. The never-ending stares seemed to burn holes into your skin. One pair of eyes, in particular, seemed to stare the deepest. Xavier. You flickered your gaze to meet his, the other people in the room disappearing into a sort of tunnel that consumed the sides of your vision. Your heart caught in your chest. You wanted to tear your eyes away, but there was something stopping you. Something about Xavier always seemed to hold you back. His gaze was pleading, an apology seeming to spill out of it.

“(Y/N)! I thought you were going to be out for a while! Xavier said that you were like super sick or something.” Montana’s voice rang out, casually. “So happy you’re here though. Teaching this class has been such a drag.”

At the sound of the young woman’s voice, your head instinctively jerked towards it. You plastered a pained smile onto your face. “Yeah- thanks for covering for me, Montana. I seriously owe you one. Being sick was a major drag. Probably worse than teaching this class of Cyndi Lauper obsessed boys.”

The blonde let out a laugh. “Well, since you’re back, I’ll let you take this one. And maybe take your man out when you’re done. He’s been such a buzzkill lately.”

Montana gave you a wink, patting your shoulder affectionately. With a final wave to you and Xavier, she slipped out the door and disappeared down the hall with a flash of blonde hair. Not wanting to waste any more time, or give Xavier the chance to talk to you, you flicked the boom box on and let the sound of Billy Idol’s voice fill the room.

****

The entirety of the class went by uneventfully. Billy Idol’s soothing tone seemed to temporarily soother your anxiety, making it easier for you to ignore the pained glances that were becoming more and more inescapable. You left the music on as the class drew to a close, turning the volume down to a soft, but audible hum. You didn’t bother to look as everyone made their way to the door. Instead, you moved towards the front of the room, letting yourself face the large windows that looked out towards the city.

You watched as people leaving the last few classes of the evening walked down the sidewalk, off into the night. Some faces were familiar, regulars that always seemed to be in aerobics class. Other faces, unfamiliar and new. They all seemed so happy, as if their lives were perfect. You wished that you could get a taste of that feeling. You continued to admire the citizens of Los Angeles, lost in your thoughts. Then, in a sudden flash, there was a single face that stuck out in the crowd. Unmistakable dark hair and piercing eyes that could have belonged only to the face that you could never forget. You locked eyes with the man, causing a sinister smile to appear on his face. He moved closer to the building. Your heart skipped a beat. He was headed towards the door. Your eyes were still locked with his, nothing could-

“(Y/N)... Can we talk about what happened the other night? Please… I didn’t mean for it to go so far.” Xavier’s voice hit your ears, soft and pleading.

You broke away from the ‘Night Stalker’s’ gaze, slowly turning to face the man that you had once felt so strongly for. You leaned against the windows behind you, pressing your nearly bare back against the cool glass. Xavier took a few steps closer, leaving only a few inches between your faces. You couldn’t help but flinch as he reached out to tenderly touch your face. Hurt flashed across his face briefly, but his hand still gently came into contact with your soft skin. You let your eyes flutter closed and sucked in a sharp breath. “I- I can’t do this,” you whispered, hot tears pricking in the inner corner of your eyes. So many different emotions were running through your body. The urge to run away from him had never been so heightened.

He grazed his thumb gingerly across your jawline, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Please. I just wanted it so badly and I thought that was the only way. And I didn’t want anyone to find out. The way you looked at me when you did- I lost it. I thought you would tell everyone. I thought you would leave me. I’m so sorry.”

You had yet to respond to him when a cutting voice interrupted the scene unfolding before you. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” The deep voice questioned, sinister laughter etched into his tone.

“N-?” You began, eyes flickering open. You met the dark haired man’s eyes, looking directly past Xavier. He was already staring at you intensely, the usual smirk plastered on his face.

“Richard.” He corrected, moving his eyes from you to the other man in your company. Xavier had moved away from you by this point, looking at Richard with a suspicious glare. Richard simply continued to smirk at him, looking more and more devilish as time passed. “My little angel, didn’t expect to see you so soon. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Okay. Who the fuck are you?” Xavier demanded, his hand wrapping around your forearm in a protective manner. You instinctively recoiled to his touch. You shifted your weight from one foot to another, watching as the two began to go back and forth.

“I’m the devil’s favorite prodigy. It’s more like ‘who the fuck are you?’” The other man taunted. His eyes locked on the contact point of yours and Xavier’s skin. An unreadable emotion flashed across his face, but was quickly replaced with his usual infuriating smirk. “I’ve decided I’m here to collect her. Truth be told, it wasn’t originally in my master and I’s plan, but it seems like I stumbled in at the perfect time, with you harassing my girl.”

“Your-? (Y/N), are you fucking this guy? We get into one fight and you’re off giving it out to this creep?” The blonde questioned, his tone demanding and incredulous. His voice rose with every word that he spoke. He was red in the face by this point. You could tell by the clench in his jaw and the way his hand tightened around you that he was angry. The smug expression of Richard definitely wasn’t helping his reaction either.

You tried to ignore the fear that had begun to creep into the back of your mind, your mind flashing back to his closed fist accidentally ramming into your face. You looked up at him with your tear stained face. Words were failing you. You didn’t exactly want to say that Richard had broken into your house, pinned you against a wall, and sparked something inside of you that made you feel so many fucked up things. Was it really more fucked up than what you felt about Xavier after everything that he had done? You weren’t so sure any more. Xavier seemed to take your silence and lack of denial as a ‘yes’ to his questions. Disgust took over his face, his hand tossing your arm away as if it had suddenly turned into some sort of cursed object.

He scoffed at you, shoving you away from his body. “I can’t believe you would do this to me. Maybe you deserved that.” He spat out venomously, angrily gesturing to the hardly hidden bruise underneath your eye.

You flinched as his hand raised. Something seemed to click into place for the dark haired man as he watched the two of you, your reaction triggering the darkest part of him. You hardly had time to react further, before Richard was in front of you. His left arm pressed back against your body, gently shoving you behind him. His right hand was adorned with his blade, ready to slash at the man before him. “You did that to her? For your sake, I hope you say no. I’d hate to have to kill you right here. It would really throw a wrench into the master’s plans and we both hate that.”

Your hand reached out slowly, tugging on the edge of this sleeve, beckoning his eyes to meet your eyes. He complied, looking over his shoulder quickly. You shook your head at him, a silent plea for him to drop it. He was already acting psychotic enough to have the police called on him and you were sure that would be the last thing that he wanted. He looked back to Xavier, who was staring at him incredulously. “Get the fuck out of here or die,” The dark haired man spat out.

Xavier gave you a pointed look, before shoving past the both of you and storming out of the studio. You knew he would show up at your apartment later, demanding explanations for the psychotic interaction that just went down. You would figure out a way to avoid that later. For now, your full attention was on Richard. He turned towards you, dark eyes studying the every feature on your face. His hand hovered over the side of your neck, before gently pushing your hair to the side. His fingers softly trailed down the side of your throat, traveling down your chest. Like a phantom, they grazed the length of your body, sending a shiver down your spine. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest. You softly bit down on your bottom lip, eyes staring straight into his. “You’re mine now, little angel. I’ll kill for you. I’ll die for you. But you have to be mine forever- That’s the catch. Will you sell your soul to the devil?”

“I will.”

#ahs 1984 #ahs fanfiction #ahs x reader #richard ramirez #richard ramirez x reader #night stalker #In The Midnight Hour #american horror 1984 #xavier plympton #xavier x reader

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smoll-tangerine · 1 year

Note

HELLO!!!!!! im so glad you’re active again!!!!! may i please be added to after the tone taglist? 😭 im so excited!!!! i love angst it’s gonna be sooooo goooood

HI BBYGRILL!!! yes, i'm FINALLY done with school (though, i still have to work on my master's thesis, but that's not due any time soon so hehe yk what that means).

THANKS FOR YOUR INTEREST BB, you're added to the taglist! (i luv your user btw)

#nini.asks #untilsunset #w: after the tone: voicemails i want to keep #taglist: after the tone: voicemails i want to keep

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band--psycho · 3 years

Text

Jax Teller x Reader-Valentines Day Drama

(Credit to the gif owner)

Y/ns POV

He told me what time he’d be back and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t keeping a sharp eye on the clock as it counted down, waiting for Jax’s arrival home. I had everything planned out, a nice romantic dinner which was still cooking away in the oven, followed by his favourite dessert which I’d already made during the day. Then we’d probably have a nice relaxing bath or a quick shower together (depending on how his day with the club had been) and then we’d spend the rest of the evening in bed, celebrating the day in the most perfect way possible. Making love in every way we could, rough and dirty, slow and passionate...all of it. Granted I knew I probably wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow but that was a price I was more than willing to pay. I was just looking forward to spending the evening with him, I couldn’t remember the last time we’d spent time like this together; he was so busy with the club we rarely ever got to spend proper time together. I understood it all, the club needed him..but I just missed him and I knew that tonight would be the perfect day for us to reconnect.

The candles were lit, the dinner was plated and set at the table and I watched with anticipation as the clock struck 6pm. I couldn’t help the small frown that came on my face when I didn’t hear the familiar sound of Jaxs’ bike, but I just told myself that he was running a little bit late.

The hours passed by, painfully slowly. I’d tried calling him but his phone just kept going straight to voicemail. I’d practically drank half of the bottle of whiskey I’d brought for us to share, blown the candles out, thrown the dinner away and just sat in the darkness as I waited for him. By the time I heard the familiar hum I’d been dying to hear all evening four and a half hours had passed and in all honesty, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to see Jax right now.

“Darlin?” I heard him ask, but I didn’t turn round to face him, I just stared at the wall, trying to stop the tears from falling from my eyes as well as trying to stop myself from letting all of the anger that was boiling in my veins out. But I was jogged from my thoughts when I felt Jaxs hands on my shoulder, lightly gripping it causing my attention to focus back on him as he knelt infront of me.

“Darlin’ I am so sorry I was late,” he apologises, the sincerity is in his voice, but I couldn’t help the scoff that slipped past my lips as I did so. Flashbacks of all the missed, cancelled or postponed dates racing through my head, making me grip tighten on the glass I was holding.

“Y/n/n..say something,”

“What do you want me to say Jax?” I snapped, the pent up anger flooding out into a harsh tone. I saw his eyes raise in shock; in all the time I’d known him, I’d never spoken to him like this but at this point I didn’t even care. I was mad. And in all honesty, I was done hiding it.

“I spent all day waiting for you to come home, I had a whole evening planned and you couldn’t even call to tell me you were going to be late!” The anger in my voice did not falter once as I slid the glass onto the table before my grip shattered it.

“Y/n/n...some shit came up with the club-”

“Some shit always comes up with the club, Jax!” I yelled back, interrupting him.

“It was important Y/n/n/! I couldn’t just up and leave! I needed to fix the shit that was going on!” Jax answered back, the anger in his voice growing as his eyes burned into me.

“And what about fixing shit between us, Jax?” I asked harshly, running a hand through my hair.

“Y/n-” he attempted, in a softer voice as he slowly made his way towards me.

“Your top priority is always the club,” I spat. I knew it wasn’t rational. I knew Jax was desperately trying to diffuse the situation but I couldn’t see past the red mist that had descended.

“Because they’re my family!” He retorted back, the fire in his eyes growing harsher and harsher.

“So what am I, to you Jax? Some whore who’ll give you comfort when you need it?” The words left my mouth before I’d even fully registered what I’d said. The fire in Jaxs’ vanished as soon as he heard those words. He attempted to open his mouth, more than likely to apologise..but I was too angry to hear any of it and before he could say anything else I made my way towards the door, swinging it open.

“Where are you going?” Jax asked, though he didn't move from where he previously was. It was like he was frozen in place.

“For a damn walk,” I replied, slamming the door behind me as I left the house.

Third Person POV

Jax knew better than to follow her when she was in a mood like this, he also knew that there was nothing he could say that could make up for how he’d been acting lately nor what he’d said to her and how he said it. He knew what she was talking about, he’d felt the distance that she was talking about and he hated it just as much as she did. He missed her but he couldn’t just spend fleeting moments with her, it only made him miss her more and then he couldn’t focus on the task at hand. The club was in some deep shit and he didn’t want to involve her with it. He stupidly thought that putting some distance between them would make things easier...that he’d be able to come home and forget all about the issues with the club but in doing so he avoided looking at the problem that was causing them as a couple. He brushed off the way her smile would slightly falter when he’d cancel a date or the disappointment in her voice when he rearranged; he constantly promised himself that he’d make it up to her when everything with the club was sorted but it just kept on getting worse and soon enough there was no ‘right time’ to tell her all about it.

“So what am I to you, Jax? Some whore who’ll give you comfort when you need it?” Those words echoed round and round in his head. He hated it. Hated the fact that she felt this way. Growing up with her, he’d seen all the shit boyfriends she’d had and the one thing they all had in common was treating her like shit. When he started feeling more than friendship towards her, he made a promise, not only to himself but to her too that he would always treat her how she deserved to be treated like a princess. Sliding down the wall in the room he realised he hadn’t been doing a lot of that lately, instead he’d been doing the very thing he promised that he wouldn’t do. He pulled a cigarette out of the packet , letting out a deep sigh as he lit it. The tears brimming in his eyes as the cigarette connected with his lips; thoughts about him and Y/n/n running through his head.

~~~~~~~~

Y/n had intended to go for a long walk to clear her head, but she’d only taken a few steps away from the house when a wave of regret and sadness washed over her. She hated fighting with Jax, hated how angry she’d got so angry at him and how she let the alcohol she’d drunk take over her mouth revealing all of the thoughts she’d only ever kept to herself. Y/n knew she’d been harsh towards him and out of order; she knew what he and the club were like before she agreed to date him so none of this should’ve been a surprise to her. And maybe it wasn’t necessarily a surprise to her, maybe what was a surprise to her was how much she missed him while he was away.

Y/n had no idea how much time had passed, but knew that sooner or later she would have to go inside and face Jax. She tried to work out what she could say to him as an apology but nothing she could think of made up for how she treated him, nevertheless, the air was growing colder so she decided to bite the bullet so to say. She took a deep breath attempting to calm herself before pushing the door open and re-entering the house.

~~~~~~~~

Y/ns POV

The room was bathed in a sea of darkness, had it not been for the dim light of Jaxs’ cigarette I wouldn’t have known where he was. Tentatively I approached him, I felt a pang of guilt in my heart as I saw his tear stained cheeks. Slowly, I slid down the wall so I was sitting next to him, not knowing what to say to him. For a while we sat in silence until Jax grabbed his ashtray, putting out his cigarette.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, turning to him and slowly wiping away the tears that lingered on his cheeks. Instinctively he raised his hand to mine, placing a soft kiss on my palm before whispering “I’m sorry,” back to me.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did…” I admitted, trying to hold back the sob that was building in my throat.

“You said how you felt, darlin’,” he reassured, pulling me closer to him, he placed a light kiss on the top of my head before continuing to say, “you’re always gonna be my family, Y/n, I love you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone else and I’m so sorry I haven’t made you feel like that.” before I could respond he lightly hooked his finger under my chin, forcing me to look up at him; his eyes lingered on mine for a moment, glancing down at my lips momentarily before tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. And then he placed his soft lips on mine. This kiss wasn’t fast or rough like a lot of our kisses had been recently. Instead, it was slow and passionate, like we were exploring every fibre of each other's kiss. Just like the first time we kissed.

“I can’t change the past, darlin’, but I promise you, I’m gonna do my best to remind you every single day how much I love you,” as he said those words he slowly rose to his feet, I did the same but before I could fully stand up I felt Jaxs’ arms wrap around my body picking me up bridal style as he carried me off to our bedroom, muttering sweet nothings in my ear and after every whisper he’d place a soft and delicate kiss on my forehead.

If you want a part 2 let me know?🤷🏼‍♀️

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heartcal · 3 years

Text

“who do you believe?”; l.h. (pt. ii)

oh my GOD it’s here, it took longer than expected but she’s finally here! after the eye strain i got a sty so that threw me in for a loop, but the good news is my eyes are better! and i’m fully vaccinated too! please get the vaccine if you are able to :^) enjoy!

a/n: (formatting again lol) there’s a part where there’s supposed to be texts (in italics) so it may be a bit weird to read (hopefully not) (sorry for these parantheses) please let me know if there’s anything off!

pairing: luke hemmings x reader

summary: having known luke for years, it was bound to happen eventually. the crush you developed happened before you could stop it, and you did your best to keep it a secret. you told no one, did your best not to show it, so what do you do when his girlfriend finds out?

warnings: swearing (as usual),

genre: angst, fluff, basically friends (to brief enemies but not really) to lovers?

wc: 5,201 (they’re getting longer, huh)

taglist: @1sosrvd1267 + @wowitsel (side note: i don’t have a current taglist, this is just for this fic!)

part one | my masterlist!

You skipped the after-party that night. You couldn’t bear standing in the same room as Luke and Rachel, so you booked a ride and left as soon as the car pulled up.

Had you stayed for the party, you would have crumbled under the looks of pity thrown at you by those who would have heard about what happened. The knowing looks that something bad had happened between two people everyone on the crew knew were best friends would have been uncomfortable.

The ride home is uncomfortably silent, but you were thankful the driver wasn’t the talkative type. The soft jazz playing on the radio wasn’t calming but it did distract you from the pain and embarrassment you felt from the argument.

Once the car had pulled up to your place, you bid a silent farewell to the driver and slid out.

You just wanted to get inside, take a shower, shut your phone for the night, and sleep until you physically can’t get any more sleep.

You’re not too surprised Luke stood up for his girlfriend. He does love her—he’s shown that with friends and with fans. But the way he glared at you, defended her without trying to find out what exactly went down…he had never looked at you like that.

You’ve seen that look before; it wasn’t something you were used to but it was the look he would give paparazzi when they would harass you, the guys, and his friends. The glare carried such strength that it would make people back off. And so when it was directed towards you, it struck you hard.

Having done what you wanted to do once you entered the house, you lay in bed with wet eyes staring at the ceiling. Your phone was face down on your nightstand, completely out of reach to the point one slight touch could knock it off.

Maybe you were the one at fault. Maybe you should’ve told the truth about your feelings to Rachel or Luke before this all happened. It could have prevented the fallout and you would be with the guys and the crew celebrating a successful show.

But what good would that have done? Had you told someone, anyone, that you liked Luke more than a best friend should, would that have caused the same problem but presented differently? Or would something come from it? Maybe nothing would have happened.

A sigh escapes your lips as you turn your back away from the nightstand, facing the empty half of the bed and before your mind drifts to more pitiful thoughts, you close your eyes.

You didn’t dream that night. It’s as if you blinked, with the night flying by faster than you had wanted and anticipated.

The sunlight beamed down on you from above your headboard. It was late morning and it was time to face the harsh reality of the day.

There is no doubt you have lost Luke as your best friend.

Wiping the sleep and crust from your eyes, you sit up and vacantly glance around the room. The box where you keep gifts from Luke is illuminated by the sunlight, and with the vacant stare you stand to walk towards it.

You hesitate to open it; it’ll bring back memories of good times and with the events of the previous night, you do not think you can handle the rush of emotions.

It’s then when you realize your phone was off, and though you don’t want to do anything social today and would rather stay home with your favorite snacks and shows, you know you have to let your friends know how you’re doing.

You stall by washing your face and brushing your teeth, albeit slower than usual. You know that once you turn your phone on, the onslaught of questions and missed calls are going to take possibly an hour to clear up.

Sure enough, as you turn your phone on, the missed messages come in, barely giving your notification tone a break and the missed calls and voicemails were coming in fast. You can feel the heat from the battery on your palm, and for the sake of the phone you switch the sound off and turn on Do Not Disturb to prevent any new calls from coming through.

The messages you saw were from the crew, asking where you went and if you were okay. Others were from the boys minus Luke, and looking through the missed calls, there was nothing from Luke.

You’re not surprised, but the pain was still simmering within and seeing no messages or missed calls from him was adding to it.

You responded to the crew’s messages first, since many of them sent one or two messages asking simple questions: “Are you okay,” “Where did you go,” and “Did you get home safe?”

Then you responded to the boys’, Michael’s first since he had the least amount of messages.

hey, you didn’t have to leave. we could’ve talked some sense into him when he calmed down (11:37pm)

did u get home okay? we know you didn’t drive here yourself. (11:58pm)

please let us know you made it home. let us know you’re okay (12:10am)

hope you made it home and that you’re safe and okay. thank u for ur work today. please text me when you see these. goodnight (12:49am)

You typed your reply to him, letting him know that you were okay and got home safe.

Calum’s messages were similar, asking the same questions but some were repeated to emphasize his worry. In response, you answered his questions like Michael’s.

But even before you can open Ashton’s messages, seeing double digits next to your conversation with him, rapid knocks on your front door grab your attention.

With a groan you stand and grab your robe from the hook on the door, wrapping it tightly around your body as you open the door and groggily walk to the front door.

It was a stupid idea, as you weren’t ready to face anyone yet Ashton stands in front of you. He’s well-rested, a stark contrast to you as you were sure your eyes were still puffy and bloodshot, along with an occasional sniffle from your nose.

His eyes travel from your face, down to your feet, and back up to your eyes. He can immediately tell you had a terrible night.

“You weren’t answering anyone last night,” he begins, tilting his head as he narrows his eyes, “we were worried about you after you left.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “I just—I didn’t feel like talking to anyone.”

“You could’ve let one of us know that you were shutting off.”

You nodded with a frown, “I could have, yeah,” your eyes dart around behind him to avoid his worrisome eyes before asking him if he wanted to come in.

He doesn’t hesitate and steps in once you move aside, opening the door wider to give him enough room. He notes your bag in a heap on the floor a few inches away from the couch, and how your shoes were far apart, with one upside down, as if you flung them off.

“How are you holding up now?”

You shrug, still avoiding his eyes because you know if you make eye contact, you’ll break down and you won’t have control over the onslaught of emotions.

“Be honest,” his voice is soft, wanting to make you feel comfortable enough to open up.

You stare at the ground, biting the skin of your lower lip nervously. This is why you did not want to talk to anyone face-to-face. Talking to them over the phone, preferably through text, allowed you to lie to the other person (and if applicable, to yourself). But talking to someone in person, and to someone who can see through your lies, you were bound to break down and become vulnerable.

You inhale, taking careful steps to the couch and gently sitting down with a sigh. Ashton follows you, sitting next to you but giving you space to not overwhelm you.

“What happened last night—,” you lean back with your arms folded over your chest, “—was something that I feared. When I realized I liked Luke, I was so worried about him finding out and what the outcome would be. I knew from the beginning that things would never be the same if he found out, and I was afraid of the change that would come from it.”

Ashton listens intently, his eyes displaying sincerity as he listens to you list off your worries. What he saw last night bothered him to no end, and had he not exerted most of his energy during the show, he would not have slept at all and would have stayed up all night in a constant state of worry.

“So, now that Rachel knows, and no doubt Luke has caught on, I don’t know what to do. I responded to everyone’s texts before you arrived, and Luke sent nothing—not even a phone call.”

Ashton nods, swallowing before speaking, “Well, after you left, things went down that may be the reason why he hasn’t tried contacting you.”

Your head turns to face him, eyebrows furrowed as confusion embeds itself across the rest of your features.

Ashton readjusts himself, getting comfortable in his seat as he gathers the right words.

“Something happened after I left?” You ask as you shift in your seat to face him.

“Michael wanted to go after you, to at least offer you a ride back, but Calum went back to tell Luke that it was bullshit what happened. So, Michael went back to make sure they wouldn’t fight or anything. I also pointed out that he was a dick; choosing you over her when he’s known you the longest didn’t sit right with us. But he got defensive and kept wanting to leave but Rachel convinced him it was alright, so they stayed for the party. But the party was bad—the crew felt the tension and the vibes were down—,” he chuckles at the word choice, getting a small laugh out of you as well, “—it brought everyone out of the energetic and ecstatic mood we were in before the confrontation. We all kinda did our own thing during the party but we noticed things were tense between Luke and Rachel. And when the party ended, shit hit the fan.”

“What happened?”

Ashton sighs, “To make the long story short, they got into an argument when we were leaving the venue after Michael brought up your name. He said something like, ‘I hope they got home safe,’ and that you weren’t answering your phone at all. Calum and I pointed out, again, how rude Luke was to you and Luke kept defending himself. Rachel dropped an insult and something shifted. Basically, they’re done and the guys and I can finally fucking breathe.”

“Wait—,” you stand with bulging eyes, “—wait, are you saying they broke up?”

Ashton hums as he watches you mindlessly walk around your living room.

The guys have been waiting for their break-up. It’s not something they were open about, as to avoid any conflict with their best friend, but it was almost an unspoken agreement: Rachel was not liked.

As for you, it’s not like you were wishing for their break-up. You wanted Luke to be happy, and if he was happy in that relationship, then so be it. But you were not a fan of it. Yeah, you liked her in the beginning but when she started disregarding you as if you did something to offend her, you lost most of your respect for her. Now, with this news of their break-up, you don’t know what to do.

Are you happy? You don’t exactly feel happy about it, but there is some relief.

“So,” you sit back down on the couch slowly, “what am I supposed to do with this information?”

“Not sure,” Ashton shrugs, “but I recommend talking to Luke.”

You shake your head fervently, “No. I don’t feel like talking to anyone.”

“But you’re talking to me,” Ashton has a smirk, but you know there’s no malice behind his joke.

“You showed up unannounced, Ash,” you smile, “I was responding to everyone who sent messages and voicemails. I don’t feel like talking to anyone else in person.”

He holds his hands up in defense, “Fair enough, but don’t be a stranger.”

He gives you a quick hug, whispering something similar to ‘don’t shut Luke out’ before he pulls away and walks out.

Ashton’s words stuck with you for the next week. You felt comfortable enough a few days after the fact to contact the boys, eventually meeting up with Ashton and Calum for lunch and third-wheeling Michael and his fiancée. The only person out of your friend group and co-workers you have not contacted was Luke. He hasn’t contacted you either, but you do not think much about it as you’re still trying to figure things out. If he were to contact you, how do you talk about what happened?

You want to know why he was able to choose his then-girlfriend over you, but at the same time you don’t want to know the answer. You know that one day, and though it hurts, you will not be his number one. With the way he behaved that night, it felt like that dreadful moment came to earlier than expected, that he found his number one and you immediately became his second go-to person.

So it did surprise you when you were out with an old friend to receive a text from Luke.

Can we talk about what happened? (2:23pm)

You only stare blankly at the text, not even moving to type a response. You were in such a good mood, and not even this text would change it. Instead, you lock your phone and place it back in your pocket, noting to leave it alone until your day out comes to an end.

And when it does, you see that more texts from Luke had arrived, the final being sent an hour before the outing ended.

I know you’re mad, I understand that and I don’t blame you but please talk to me (2:31pm)

You’re reading these, please say something (2:33pm)

There are some things that I need to clear up with you, I want to apologize for what happened that night but I want to do it face to face. Please respond. (3:57pm)

Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be waiting. Sorry if I’m bombarding you with these texts, I just don’t want to lose you over something that I realize now should not have happened. Respond when you want to, I’ll be here. (5:49pm)

You could only let out a small chuckle at the persistent requests to talk, and you don’t deny the small—minuscule, honestly—flutter in your stomach. You don’t waste any time responding.

Sorry, I was busy. We can meet somewhere to talk. (7:08pm)

He responds about five minutes later, agreeing to meet at a small café the two of you love tomorrow afternoon.

The rest of the night for you is spent thinking of ways to carry yourself, being completely confident, and accepting the fact that you love your best friend. Pep talks in the shower and mirror to calm any arising nerves, revising the topics you want to talk about in your head so you keep the confidence.

As for Luke, he was struggling to gather all his thoughts. In the beginning, he thoroughly enjoyed the fact that you and Rachel got along. He liked seeing his best friend and girlfriend become friends like that. He didn’t notice the shift, however, and he wishes he did before things got out of hand.

When he defended Rachel, without finding out the story from all sides, he thought he was doing what was right. To him, friendships and relationships have the same base, but romantic relationships with a partner have a different structure than friendships do, and he was starting to see cracks in his friendship before he saw it in his relationship.

When he confronted Rachel after she insulted you, he started to see someone he never saw. He remembered the times Rachel ignored you, sometimes playing it off as if she never heard you. He remembered how she would make plans with everyone and exclude you, but he always played it off as an accident (even if he knew it wasn’t). He remembered all these times he noticed a change in mood when the two of you were in the same room, and he couldn’t believe he turned a blind eye to all of it.

It hurt him to break-up with Rachel—he won’t deny that because he did love her. It’s not that he saw the rest of his life with her as they weren’t at that mark in the relationship.

But, when he did picture his future, he always saw you. He always thought it was just as a friend, someone who was just joined at the hip. Yet, he was quick to throw that away for someone he rarely saw when he pictured the future.

Which is why, the next day, as he sits at a booth near the window of the café, he carefully goes over what he wants to say. He doesn’t want to ruin the chance to fix things between the two of you. If it goes awry, not only does he lose you, but his friendships with the band and the team will take a hit since they all love you.

The bell above the door rings making his head turn to watch you walk in. Your eyes danced around the café before they fell on him.

He couldn’t help the smile the formed on his lips, a small breath of relief escaping as he watches you walk towards him. The smile doesn’t stay long though, because as you sit down with a stoic expression, the reality hits him.

“I got your usual,” he’s shy and timid, pushing the mug toward you as he eyes the liquid nearly spills the edge.

You mumble a ‘thanks,’ grabbing the mug and taking a small sip. It falls silent as the two of you wonder who should start first.

Luke makes the move first. He sighs, sitting up straight and wiping his palms on his pants.

He’s nervous. When the guys started touring, visiting new cities and countries, he would always be nervous and constantly wiped his hands on his thighs, sitting up straight and even straighter if he wasn’t slouching. It’s an old habit, but something you remember fondly as he had grown out of it. Or so you thought.

“I want to start with I’m sorry,” he begins, making eye contact but fails to hold it. His eyes instead drift to his drink, “I know what I did was wrong, and I put you in a spot that hurt you and disregarded you. At the moment, I thought I was doing the right thing because she was my girlfriend, but then—” he gulps, “when she insulted you, it struck a nerve and, not to sound cliché or anything, it felt like it opened my eyes. I saw someone I didn’t see when I first met them.”

You don’t respond, just nodding your head to let him know you’re listening.

He licks his lips before continuing, “When the guys brought up how you left on your own, I was feeling nervous and they started reminding me how much of a dick I was to you. I didn’t want to admit it myself, but now, I was such an ass. I’m just—I’m so sorry for what happened.”

“Luke,” you sigh, shifting in your seat, “I’m not saying I forgive you but I accept your apology. It hurt me so much that a friend, someone I’ve known for years was just so quick to turn their back and take someone else’s side. I know she was your girlfriend, but I wish you didn’t do what you did.”

“If I could go back and fix it, I would.”

You only nod again, trying to think about other things that need to be talked about. The one topic you hope to avoid is the possibility of him knowing your feelings—something you do not want to discuss, at least not yet.

“Did she say anything to you?”

The question leaves your mouth before you register it, and the widening of your eyes catches Luke off guard.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you mutter, grabbing your mug and taking a long sip.

“She didn’t tell me what started the problems between you two, if that’s what you mean,” Luke smiles a bit, watching you nervously play with the mug’s handle after the sip. It fades when your eyes move up to meet his, “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but it isn’t important anymore. She’s out of the picture, and I don’t want to lose you.”

The silence returns, but unlike the previous bout, it’s a calming silence. It isn’t uncomfortable, rather the air is easier to breathe and the tension isn’t unsettling.

“Where do we go from here?” Luke asks, nervously wringing his fingers.

“I don’t want to lose you as a friend, Luke,” you offer a smile, “but it’s going to take some time to ‘heal,’ if you will.”

Luke smiles again, this time a bigger grin. He nods, leaning back in his seat, “Let me know what I can do to make things better. I’ll do it if I get to keep you.”

Over the next few months, your friendship with Luke was rekindled. The guys were at ease now that Rachel was gone and you seemingly had taken her place, even though you were friends. The awkward glances they would give when Rachel was in the same room were now playful rolls of the eyes over a dumb joke or pranks. You didn’t miss out on any outings you wanted to go to, now that everyone invited would check in with each other the night before. Things went back to the way they were before Rachel.

There was a change in your friendship, however. It wasn’t something you noticed right away, but it was something you thought about at night just a few weeks ago. Luke paid more attention to you, not that he didn’t pay attention before, but this was a noticeable change where he still looks at you even after you finished talking, and would only look away from you when you caught him. He would always cover his mouth with his index and middle finger, but you saw a small smile behind them. You played it off as friendly teasing, but it tugs on your heartstrings.

Another noticeable change is the hugs. Duration-wise, they were relatively the same. However the touch lingered; if he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, an arm would stay around your shoulder, meanwhile if they were around your waist, his hand would stay on the small of your back. You played it off as a friend being protective, but yet again, it did nothing to stop your growing love.

Tonight was the first night of their tour. The boys were up to their usual pre-show antics, as well as the nervous habits; Michael fixing his hair and deciding whether to go with a beanie or a hat, or neither, Ashton was warming up with his pre-show playlist, Calum testing his bass, and Luke was relatively fine.

Sure, he was nervous because it isn’t a crowd of 500, close to 20,000, but he was calm compared to the last time he performed. He didn’t have any worries to talk about, his vocal warm-ups were smooth, and getting dressed up was a breeze. He shared chuckles with you as you both watched the others move around with tense expressions (all with no malice, of course).

“You sure you’re not on edge?” you nudge Luke with your arm as he leans forward on the couch your sitting on to fix his shoe.

“Nope,” he sits up, leaning back in his seat.

“Really?” you inquire again, doubt laced in your tone with a hint of teasing.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “if anything I’m excited about tonight.”

You hum, crossing your arms as you watch Ashton walk over.

“Ten minutes left,” he nods at Luke before walking to Michael to tell him the same thing.

You give Luke a look, wanting to get him to admit he is nervous, but all you get is a smirk and a shrug. He stands, patting your shoulder left before walking away to put in his in-ears.

You won’t deny you still don’t have feelings for him. Throughout the past few months, you were able to pinpoint the reasons why you fell for him. The small acts, the obscure things he would remember about you—especially the ones you don’t remember yourself—with the attention he would give you. It was staring you in the face, but you chose to deny all the signals to give yourself the satisfaction of thinking it was just a phase. But now you know why you love him.

Two minutes until showtime, Ashton finishes his speech and the crew is taking their places. The band stands at the opening, waiting for their cue to head out.

As you watched them hype themselves up, you noticed Luke looking around nervously. Of course.

“Nervous?”

His head whips toward you, and you can see it in his eyes.

“A little,” he mumbles, but you don’t hear it over the crowd’s excited screams.

“You got this,” you grab his shoulders to make him look you in the eyes, “like Ash said, you guys worked your asses off for this album. The fans loved it, your shows are all sold out, and you have thousands out there waiting to see you kill it.”

He’s silent, blue eyes staring into yours as they bounce from one eye to the other.

“I love you,” he blurts, loud enough just for you to hear.

You freeze, the grip on his shoulder loosens but remain.

He notices, “She did tell me something that night, and whether or not it’s true, I-I love you.”

“Sixty seconds!” a stage recites in the earpieces.

The boys turn to look at both of you, curious eyes turn into surprise as they watch your expression.

“I don’t know how long, I don’t know when, and I don’t know what it was, but I know for sure.”

Your eyes glance at Ashton briefly, not missing the knowing smile he gives you before you look back into Luke’s eyes.

“I…love you, too,” you respond, gripping his shoulders while your eyes drop down to his shiny shoes.

He doesn’t hear you over the cheers and screams, but reading your lips he knows the answer.

Luke smiles, grabbing the back of your head and kissing your forehead.

He leans down to your ear, “I expect to hear you say it when I come back.”

With flashing lights scattering across the stage, the boys run out to the stage, big smiles gracing their faces for multiple reasons with adrenaline pumping through their veins. From backstage, you watch the show you a smile, feeling high from the brief but fulfilling confession.

It’s two hours later when the show ends. Your heart is pounding as you watch the crew celebrate the successful first show.

Luke pulls you away from the crowd, into the hallway and away from the noise.

“So it was true, what Rachel said?” Luke begins, his hand still holding yours as a shy smile forms.

“What did she say?”

He exhales air through his nose in a laugh, “She said you were in love with me, and that you were trying to break us up.”

You scoff, shaking your head as you look at your intertwined fingers. He squeezes your hand to get your attention.

“I doubt that last part, but the first part I’m hoping is true in a sense.”

Your eyes meet his, adoration swimming in them bringing a smile to your face, “There may be a strong crush I have on you,” you tease, “and it may or may not have turned into love.”

He laughs, letting go of your hand to wrap you in a hug. His head dips down, his forehead on your shoulder as he breathes in your scent. He moves slightly, whispering in your ear, “Say it.”

Your head rested against his chest, hearing his heart beat rapidly and rhythmically.

“I love you,” you whisper.

You feel him smile against your shoulder before he pulls away, his arms resting on your hips as he smiles down at you.

“If you’d like,” he begins, his tone timid now, “that place you like in Seattle has a new dish. It’s our next stop…” he drifts off, hoping you’d catch on to him asking you out.

You do, laughing at how he remembered yet another thing you seem to have forgotten. It was a themed restaurant that had some of the best food you’ve ever eaten, and for days you wouldn’t stop talking about it. But you never went back to it, even during breaks, but somehow he seemed to remember.

“Yes, Luke.”

You know the shock will hit you later that night, that finally the person you’ve fallen for, who happens to be your best friend, admitted his feelings to you. But you’re happy, Luke’s happy, and with the boys’ and crew’s reaction to the two of you walking back to the area where they’re celebrating, the happiness is infectious.

On the road in the tour bus, Ashton passes you as you respond to emails.

“Thanks for not shutting him out,” he says, drinking a small bottle of water from the fridge.

“Did you know?”

He shrugs, avoiding your eyes as he finishes the bottle and tosses it in the recycling bag. “Maybe,” he walks towards the back where the beds are, “maybe not.”

You shake your head, “You did.”

“Didn’t want to spoil it,” he gives you a quick hug before retreating to bed.

Luke walks out of the bathroom shortly after, taking his spot next to you.

“Go to bed,” you slightly shift your shoulder as he lays his head on it, “you need the rest.”

“No,” he mumbles, sleep lacing his tone, “feels like a dream. Don’t wanna wake up.”

You chuckle at his nonsense, finishing off the last email before shutting the laptop and placing it on the counter next to you. You adjust yourself on the couch to have Luke lay down with you. He readjusts himself so he doesn’t crush you, wrapping his arm around your waist and placing his head on your chest.

“I wish I had known before all the drama,” he mumbles again, eyes closed, “I want you in my life, always.”

He drifts off to sleep with that, a faint smile on his lips.

You know what made you fall in love with your best friend. You accept it now, and you’re at peace knowing the feeling is mutual.

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ynscrazylife · 3 years

Note

I was thinking maybe a oneshot where B!D gets poisoned by Cadmus?

Sisterly Instincts

Summary: Y/N is Kryptonian who landed on Earth a few years after Kara. When CADMUS kidnaps her, they inject her with a poison made out of their version of Kryptonite, which is very harmful to her.

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header c @/mundodeseriess

Image ID: Alex and Kara sitting together. Alex has her eyes closed, head on Kara’s shoulder, arm wrapped around her, and is looking upset. Kara is wearing her glasses and is looking down, crying. End ID.

“Alex, have you heard from Y/N yet today?” Kara asked as she entered the DEO, a slight frown on her face still evident from the morning.

Alex shook her head no. “Not since last night, why?” She asked, coming down the stairs and joining her sister in her walk.

Kara shrugged it off. “She just didn’t send me her usual good morning text . . . She’s probably fine, right?” The blonde answered, now feeling silly as she voiced the worry that had been slowly eating at her.

Alex’s warm chuckle calmed her almost instantly. “Yeah, it’s nothing. We’ll see her soon as she’s coming into the DEO anyway,” she reasoned, assuming their younger sister had just overslept.

They reached the main room where J’onn and the other DEO agents sat at their desks and immediately the Danvers’ sisters got to work.

However, when it was ten minutes past the time Y/N was supposed to arrive, Alex decided to give her a call, biting her lip. She discreetly pressed her phone to her ear, turning away so she wouldn’t cause her sister unnecessary worry.

It ringed.

And ringed.

“Hey! You’ve reached Y/N Danvers. Sorry I couldn’t answer! Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you.” Alex cursed quietly when it rang so long it went to voicemail and huffed to clear her mind and steady herself.

“Hey, Y/N. It’s Alex. I’m sure you just overslept or are rushing to work,” she said, pausing to chuckle when the image of her younger sister running around the city popped into her mind, “Just give me a call when you get this. Love you, bye!”

Despite the small worry entering the pit of her stomach, Alex reminded herself that Y/N being late and missing a phone wasn’t too uncommon, and she resumed her work.

"Alex?” Kara said, and Alex looked up from her computer to see her sister gesturing at the clock with a nod. The brunette looked over, and felt that pit sink lower when she saw that 20 minutes had passed. Getting no message from Y/N, Alex and Kara shared a look, coming to a silent decision.

“We're gonna go by Y/N’s apartment and check on her,” Alex informed J’onn as she stood up from her chair and grabbed her coat. She couldn't keep herself from remembering that Y/N should be here right now, she didn't live far away.

Kara nodded, following her older sister, and the two women left the DEO, neither of them discussing their worries in fear of distressing the other one. Great minds do think alike, though, and that’s why they both internally came to the conclusion that if nothing was wrong and they found Y/N sleeping late, they were gonna be pissed (however they hoped that was what they found instead of the scary alternatives brewing and stirring in their minds).

When they reached Y/N’s apartment, Kara knocked on the door. They waited almost a minute and when the door didn't open and they didn’t hear anything, Alex fished the key Y/N had given to her out of her pocket and unlocked the door.

Stepping inside, the women were prepared to search the house like they were on a mission, when a paper on the floor, having been slipped under the door, caught their attention. Sharing a look, Kara grabbed the paper and unfolded it. It read:

“Hello, Supergirl,

I won’t lie. I don’t know your ‘secret identity’. However, I was able to find out Y/S/N’s, so it’s only a matter of time before I find yours, too. Come to these coordinates: [pretend there’s random coordinates] by 12:00 alone and allow us to experiment and test on you. If you fail to do that, I won’t give Y/N the cure to the Kryptonite poison that’s in her system and I’ll reveal her identity to the world.

-- CADMUS.”

For a couple moments, Kara and Alex stood, glued to the spot. Thoughts and emotions washed over their bodies: concern for their sister, anger at CADMUS, and an utter helplessness since they didn’t know what to do.

It was a little past 10:00 now and when the two got back to the DEO, they made a plan with J’onn. He’d disguise himself as Kara and would do as the letter said and they’d have DEO agents - including Alex and Kara - stationed around the building with cloaking devices, which would make them invisible to CADMUS and their tech. Winn would hack into CADMUS’ tech and after Y/N was given the cure, the DEO agents would act.

At 10:30, the DEO agents were stationed around the base, invisible, and J’onn had walked into the base itself, disguised as Kara. He noticed the Kryptonite around the room, there to weaken Kara, so he put on an act: pretending that it was hurting him. He barley refrained from rushing over to Y/N when he saw the woman who was like a daughter to him siting on a chair, weak and only half-conscious, sweat shining on her face with Lillian Luthor standing beside her.

“Good, you came,” Lillian said with a sadistic smile.

“Yes. Now give Y/S/N the cure,” J’onn said, putting on his best Supergirl face.

The corners of Lillian’s mouth turned into a smirk and she walked over to another chair a few feet away, which had Kryptonite restraints. “Sit,” she said calmly, although the way she stood, her hands delicately placed on the chair, brought power to the lonely word.

J’onn complied, frowning as he walked over to the chair and sat down, letting Lillian put the restraints on his wrists and ankles that she thought would weaken him. For extra effect, J’onn sucked in a breath and faked pain.

Lillian smugly turned around and walked back to Y/N, who didn’t seem to realize what was going on. The older woman gestured to one of her minions and they promptly injected a serum into Y/N’s neck, making the youngest Danvers’ gasp just the slightest before her eyes fluttered close.

“The antidote is taking its affect in her system,” Lillian informed J’onn before turning back to her minion. “Take the girl outside. She can find her way back.”

The man nodded and picked Y/N up, slinging her over his shoulder and walked out. The second J’onn heard a smash and knew that his team had acted, he gave Lillian no time to be on alert before he ripped off the restraints and knocked all of the CADMUS agents out.

. . . . . . . . .

Alex and Kara had been standing outside, listening to Lillian and J’onn’s interaction through their earpieces. The women were both racked with worry over their little sister and when they saw the man carrying her, it took everything in them both to wait until he carelessly dropped her on the floor. When he did, Kara revealed herself and knocking him unconscious into a wall. Alex then revealed herself as well, hearing J’onn fighting, and ran to Y/N while the rest of the DEO agents went inside to erase CADMUS’ memory of Y/N’s identity and to make arrests.

“Y/N, Y/N! Come on, wake up,” Alex said, slightly panicked as she gently rolled Y/N from where she was laying on her side to be on her back. Kara, after making sure the guy was unconscious, sped over.

Kara knitted her brown together and drew her lips into a line, silently gathering her sister into her arms. Alex glanced up at her, tears in her eyes, for she knew Kara was only silent when she was very worried.

“I’ll meet you back at the DEO,” Kara said quietly, her tone almost emotionless, before lifting off and flying into the air. Alex swallowed and took a breath, getting to her feet.

. . . . . . . . .

As she flew through the air, Kara battled to keep distracting thoughts about the clouds and the breeze away, as she knew she had to focus on her unconscious sister. Y/N was the priority. Once she landed at the DEO, she immediately headed to the med bay, where doctors took over and Kara informed him that Y/N had supposedly been given the antidote.

After almost ten minutes of Kara pacing just outside the door and Winn doing his best to comfort her, the doctors informed them that the antidote was indeed in Y/N’s system and it was fighting off the poison. They didn’t know when she would wake up but when she did, she would need to rest a lot as she’d be weak. They were also unsure if CADMUS had done anything else to her, so she’d need to stay at the DEO overnight if she didn’t wake up soon.

The doctors allowed Kara to see her so the blonde sat by her sister’s side, holding her hand until Alex burst in, looking out-of-breath.

“How is she?” Alex asked, sitting on Y/N’s other side and taking her free hand.

Kara told her what the doctors said and they collectively let out a breath, relieved that she was going to be alright. They stayed with Y/N for another hour, silent except for the occasional comment, when Y/N started blinking her eyes open.

The agent and the superhero both sat up, patiently waiting for Y/N to wake up and adjust herself.

“Alex? Kara?” Y/N croaked out, looking at her sisters in a haze of confusion.

Both women smiled and let out happy tears, helping her to sit up before wrapping their arms around her. Y/N smiled, leaning her head against Kara’s neck.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Alex whispered.

“It’ll never happen again,” Kara promised.

Y/N nodded. She didn’t say anything in response, finding herself too tired after the day’s events. Kara and Alex stayed until she fell asleep and then they reluctantly left her under the watchful eye of Winn, since they needed to debrief with J’onn and prepare for when Y/N would come home.

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