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silentvoicescryingout · 1 year

Text

dreamscape

For batsycats, by silentvoicescryingout

“You’re so beautiful,” his voice coos huskily, mere breaths from her ear. “ My Sakura .”

She moans, stretching her limbs like a cat, legs splaying wide as his fingers brush, featherlight, over her folds.

“Touch me, Sasuke-kun,” she begs in a whisper, rolling her hips against the air, leveling him with a needy stare. She spreads her legs wider, presenting all of herself to entice him into action, into granting her relief from the throbbing ache inside.

“Here?” he murmurs, that small grin she loves so much curving his mouth as he presses his palm fully over her dripping core.

She gasps, eyes rolling back as he rubs at her with his full hand, spreading her wetness all over. The tips of his fingers slip teasingly between her sensitive folds, one dipping slightly into her entrance now and then.

Her release is so close, maddeningly close but just out of her reach. She whines through Sasuke’s ministrations, canting her hips and begging him to give her what she needs, to push deep inside of her to touch that part of her that needs it most.

“Shhh,” he whispers, leaning forward until she feels surrounded by him, his heat, the scent of sage and ash and smoke. “I’ll take care of you, my love.”

And finally, finally, he sinks two fingers deep inside, curling, reaching and thrusting as he chants–

“Sakura.”

Her eyes fly open to find obsidian and hints of lavender staring down at her. The thin padding of her mission pack digs into the flesh of her cheeks, her blanket tucked high around her chin but tangled and askew around her legs.

His gaze is dark, apologetic when he murmurs, “I’m sorry to wake you, but we have to move on. I can smell a storm coming in soon. We should leave before it hits.”

Sakura nods shakily, sitting up abruptly and offering her sweetest smile. Once he turns to stalk out of the rickety abandoned shelter, she presses both hands to her blazing cheeks and muffles a groan in her knees.

Fuck.

The air is so cold it feels like tiny kunai scraping against his cheeks as it whips by. Water is falling in sheets toward the ground and in various directions. Freezing droplets splash against his scalp and the exposed skin of his throat, dribbling down to soak under his clothes.

He glances to his side, single hand tightening over Sakura’s trembling fingers as she blinks up at him through spiky, wet lashes.

“It’s really coming down, isn’t it?” she murmurs. Sasuke is sure she is likely speaking at a normal volume; it is only that her voice is drowned out by the sound of the pouring rain, and the whistle of wind slashing through the trees and brush around them.

“Come on,” he says at an elevated volume, drawing her close to his side. “There should be a cave nearby to shelter in until the storm passes.”

A fizzling crack of lightning followed by a thunderous boom makes her flinch. Sakura shoots him a sheepish smile before shuffling closer to his side and ducking her head against the onslaught. Sasuke frees her wrist, fanning out his cloak to fall around her shoulders in a last-ditch attempt to shield her from the downpour. It is useless, he knows, as they have both been practically soaked to the bone already.

With her pressed this close to his side, Sasuke can feel the way her entire body is shivering. His hand unconsciously firms in its grip, fingers tightening at the curve of her waist. The bit of skin exposed by the cropped nature of her top is riddled with gooseflesh. He is attuned enough to her after weeks of close-contact that he can tell she is circulating her chakra in an attempt to keep warm.

He inhales deeply, the scent of rain, soil and Sakura filling his nose. As he exhales, he begins to follow suit, kneading his chakra beneath the surface of his skin and concentrating it in the palm of his hand at her side, where his hip is flush against hers as they tread heavily through the thick mud and water.

She shivers again, tightening a fist in his cloak and bringing it close to her chest. Her other hand snakes behind his back, fingers splaying at the center of his spine. He flits his gaze down to hers again and sees her pale cheeks tinted with the slightest bit of pink.

“Thank you,” she mouths, offering him a smile. Her soft bangs stick against the frame of her face, colored a dusky rose from the moisture. Her eyes somehow look brighter against the dark and the gray around them, shining like two jewels in her face.

“Aa,” he breathes. Another streak of lightning and clap of thunder sounds and then the rain begins to fall impossibly heavier.

Facing forward, he quickens his pace to a jog, clutching her absentmindedly to his side all the while.

By the time they reach the mouth of the cave, Sasuke and Sakura are dripping wet, pale and shivering. The storm rages outside, rivulets of water flooding the ground. Luckily this place is carved out of a ledge a few feet above ground level, high enough to avoid flooding and deep enough to protect against the violent winds and icy rain.

Sasuke drops his pack near the edge, venturing deeper while clutching a damp scroll. He unfurls it, using his sharingan to make things clearer in the darkness; with a click of his teeth, blood beads on the tip of his thumb and drips slowly onto the scroll. He murmurs a summoning jutsu and a pile of dry kindling appears.

He uses his katon , exhales a stream of flame to bring the fire roaring to life. He finds stray stones on the ground nearby and uses them to border the fire. A small sigh falls from his throat at the rush of warmth.

“That’s smart,” Sakura stutters from behind him. He turns to see her lingering near the mouth of the cave, dripping and shivering violently. “Storing firewood in a summoning scroll…genius.”

“Come closer to the fire,” he says, brow furrowing at the way her lips seem tinted purple even in the low, flickering light. “You’re freezing.”

She shakes her head, “I’m too wet. I need to change these clothes, and you do too…”

Her voice trails off as she drops shakily to a kneeling position, opening her pack and fumbling around. After a few moments she curses weakly and Sasuke rises to approach, peering down at her as she pulls out handfuls of wrinkled, wet fabric.

“Everything is soaked,” she sighs, cursing quietly again. “I wore the last of the clothes I had stored in my own scrolls. I should have known better. Fuck.” His lips almost quirk into a small smile; the very first week of their travels had brought the shocking realization that Sakura, sweet-voiced and angelic-faced as she was, cursed like a sailor.

His concern over her trembling form and blue-tipped fingers quickly kills any mirth he might have indulged.

“You’re going to get sick if you don’t get out of those wet clothes,” he says quietly. “I’ll check if there’s something in my bag that managed to stay dry.”

“Oh, Sasuke-kun…” she begins to protest, but Sasuke is already kneeling beside his own pack, rifling through his belongings.

Blood rises to his face slowly as he finds everything inside his bag is wet as well. He glances up at her apologetically.

“I have nothing dry enough,” he sighs, rising to a standing position. “I keep some bedding stored in my scrolls. We’ll have to make do with blankets alone.”

Sakura nods slowly, lashes fluttering as her gaze falls to the ground, focusing on the shadows cast by the dancing flame feet away. She fidgets for a second before reaching down to peel off her knee-high sandals, then, her tiny, pale toes flexing over the rocky ground.

Sasuke swiftly summons another scroll, pulling from it a small pile of thick blankets, and two thin sheets. He saunters toward the fire, laying the blankets as close as possible in the hopes that they would take on some extra warmth. He sheds his dripping cloak, tossing a kunai so that it wedges into the cave wall and hanging the garment from it. Even standing nearby the fire, a chill snakes down his spine as he levels a line of other kunai the same way, creating a space for them to hang up their clothes to dry.

He turns back to see Sakura clutching her arms around herself, shaking like the leaves being torn about by the racing winds outside.

“Here,” he says sharply, snatching up one of the thin sheets and walking briskly to stand in front of her, “take this and dry yourself. Then come wrap yourself in a blanket and sit by the fire. I’m going to quickly set up a few traps outside.”

Her teeth chatter as she said, “Sasuke-kun, I can help. Just let me-”

“Please,” he intercepts, stepping slightly closer. He can smell jasmine and rain and something sweet like berries standing this close. A hard swallow works down his throat before he urges her again, “Get warm. You’re shivering hard enough to break your bones. It will only take a moment, and it’ll give you privacy to…undress.”

Understanding lights her eyes and the tiniest pink flush dots her pallid cheeks. She nods again, creeping deeper into the cave and closer to the fire with her shoulders hunched forward.

Sasuke exhales a slow, heavy breath before pivoting on his heel and trudging out of the cave into the chaos outside. Rain pours over him, icy and feeling almost solid with the force of the downpour. He moves as quickly as he can about the perimeter, anchoring traps where he can only hope they won’t be swept away by the tiny current building on the ground as it floods with water. He casts an area genjutsu, wide enough that he thinks the traps will be a last resort anyway.

It takes him all of a handful of minutes to secure their area, but he dawdles anyway– he tells himself it is to ensure Sakura has time to dry and remove her clothes in peace. But the staccato of his heart behind his ribs and the sharp breaths puffing steam in the cold air cue him into his own desire to avoid being in close quarters for as long as possible.

The first few weeks of their travels had been maddening; they both were awkward and stilted, him being moreso, of course. His attraction to her only intensified in proximity, causing him to struggle every moment to not stare at the way different levels of light cast over her face, to lean in to capture the tinkling of her quiet laughs. Sasuke had nearly embarrassed himself on multiple occasions with the urge to sniff at her sweet-scented hair and overall pleasant aroma, because it called to him so.

Now, these reactions were more tame. Exposure had served them well, lulling them into an ambience of comfort–an anticipatory stasis at best. Sparing a glance did not seem such a monumental feat, and he did not feel the need to study her for hours, as if he would not see her again at any given moment.

Yet, all of the struggles of their early days alone rushed back and did so tenfold at night. Whether they sheltered in a cave like the one he loitered outside of now, or in adjacent rooms at a small-village inn, the late hours brought with them traces of insanity, a yearning so intense it would cause him embarrassment that would linger until the morning.

He hesitates now, shivering and drenched because he is achingly aware that when he returns, Sakura will be bare save for one thin swathing of fabric. She will be close enough to breathe in her scent, to feel the essence of her chakra against his senses.

He realizes that she is likely huddling close to the fire now, cold and trying to sap in warmth with only a blanket and a meager flame.

Inhaling deeply once more, Sasuke turns and makes his way back to the mouth of the cave, slowing his steps once he is deep enough to not feel the rebounding splashes of water as it ricochets off the ground. He pauses, glancing upward at Sakura who sits mere inches away from the makeshift fire pit, curled in a ball so tight her form seems tiny, insignificant among the looming shadows dancing over the walls.

“Sasuke-kun,” she says, each consonant trembling as her teeth chatter lightly. “You’re back.”

“You’re still cold,” he replies, browns pinching as he notes the shudders wracking her form.

“Yeah,” she stutters, bobbing her head in a slightly disjointed manner. She attempts to give him a smile, nonetheless and his heart skips a beat. “It’s freezing. I’ll warm up soon, though. Hurry and get changed!”

He nods slowly, taking a few more steps before pausing again. His gaze falls to her small fingers clenched in the fabric at her chest, the still-damp locks of her hair falling waywardly around her face.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll close my eyes,” she snaps her lids shut, whipping her chin to the side so her face is turned away from him. “I won’t peek, promise.”

Sasuke chooses to believe the shiver that works his way down his spine is the result of the damp and the cold, and definitely not his body and mind traitorously reacting to the thought of Sakura choosing to watch him change, openly, instead.

She begins rocking back and forth as he makes quick work of slinging off his clothes. Her shoulder twitches under the blanket when his shirt falls with a wet smack onto the hard ground. He can see her visibly sucking in a deep breath when his pants follow suit. If he were not shivering from the low temperature, he is sure his face would be burning as he brusquely scrubs at his skin with a thin sheet, tossing that to the side before hunching, positioning his arm in front of his pelvis as he creeps forward carefully, inching around Sakura’s possible line of sight as he reaches to grab one of the blankets folded near the fire.

He tucks the fabric around him, relishing for a moment in the initial warmth before kneeling on his haunches as close as he can to the fire. As he positions himself, his shoulder brushes against Sakura’s and she perks up slightly, still turned away.

“You can open your eyes,” he murmurs.

She swivels her head to face him, eyes blinking open slowly and fixing on his face. The green of her eyes is slightly marred by the orange glow of the fire, her lashes looking more red in the dim light. The flames glow is the only thing bringing color to her cheeks, her lips tinted with lavender in their pallor.

Sasuke stiffens, mind swirling with solutions to bring her temperature up high enough for the danger of hypothermia to fade. He considers giving up his blanket for a moment before realizing that Sakura would only expend her energy fretting and he would likely become sick with cold and burden her even if he managed to convince her to take it.

“Tea,” he sputters, gnawing at his lip and blinking his eyes closed for a moment in humiliation when Sakura only tilts her head in confusion. “I’ll brew tea. Hopefully it’ll help us get warm more quickly.”

“Oh,” she bobs her head vigorously. “Yes, tea. That’s a good idea, Sasuke-kun.”

Sasuke springs to his feet before she is completely done speaking, glad to be doing something useful, yes, but also to create some distance even if shuffling over to his packs near the cave wall takes him away from the warmth of the fire. He sucks in a few quick breaths, trying to calm his thudding heart as his fingers fumble for the small muslin pack holding his herbs. They are soaked and wilted, but hopefully useful enough to brew a decent, if not so flavorful tea. He holds the sack gently between his teeth, reaching once more for the light, steel teapot. He hooks the handle over his pinky finger and wrestles out his water tin before straightening with a small huff.

When he turns, Sakura is watching him over her shoulder. She offers him a small smile when their eyes meet and he nearly stumbles despite standing motionless. Heat makes a valiant effort to pool in his cheeks and he dips his gaze, watching his frigid toes as they tap across the rough, hard floor back toward the fire and his companion.

She murmurs a quiet Thank you, Sasuke-kun as he goes about preparing the brew. By the time the teapot is stabilized over the burning logs, Sasuke is left with nothing to do but to clutch his blanket around his shoulders and stare at the water, willing it to boil faster. Despite his own trepidation, he had sat down so close beside Sakura that he could feel her shoulder brush against his arm with every breath either of them took.

His gaze wanders to the side for the umpteenth time in a handful of minutes, flitting over her pouty, chill-paled lips, the gentle arc of her brow and sweeping curve of her jaw. The freckles that are so faint in the natural light of the daytime seem stark, sprinkles of brown across the bridge of her nose and high points of the cheek due to how pale she has become. A shiver wracks through her and Sasuke tenses against the urge to reach out to her.

“Still cold?” he murmurs, pinning his gaze on her more fully. The fire was blazing strongly and most of the chill had faded from his own bones.

Sakura shivered again and scooted around slightly to face him.

“Yeah,” she whispers, lips tilting in a sheepish smile. “It’s much better than before, though. I’m just a wimp when it comes to cold weather.”

As she says those words, a clap of thunder sounds, loud enough to echo into the cave. A whoosh of cold air sweeps in, causing the fire to bend and flicker before it rights itself again. Sakura’s teeth chatter.

“I’m sorry,” Sasuke-kun says, a frown creeping over his features. “I shouldn’t have taken us the long way around. I wasn’t expecting a storm like this so soon in the season.”

Sakura shakes her head quickly, “No, no! I’m glad you did, the scenery– it was a really beautiful route. I enjoyed it a lot. I’m sure that’s not why you took us that way, of course, but…”

“It was,” he interjects, clearing his throat when her wide, green eyes shoot up to peer into his face. He can see the flames dancing about her pupils, casting an orange tint in her iris. “It was why I…took the scenic route. To show you. I thought you would like it.”

“Oh,” she says quietly, the word more of a sigh. Her lips curve upwards again, into a shy, sweet smile. “I liked it. Loved it, really. The river and the flower fields were so beautiful.”

“Aa,” he mutters gruffly. “Good.”

He turns quickly, rising to his haunches to stir at the bubbling liquid in the pot, hoping the flames would cast glow enough to camouflage the red tint of his cheeks.

Behind him, Sakura whispers, “Thank you for showing me, Sasuke-kun.”

The spoon he is holding catches against the rim of the teapot with a loud clang as he grunts some unintelligible response. He can feel a blush burning from neckline to temple, but he sets about pouring tea into two travel mugs with the straightest face he can manage. Sakura’s thanks and her bright expression seem to replay on a loop in his mind; he is left wondering, briefly, if he had managed to capture the moment with his sharingan, not even knowing it had been engaged.

A quiet sniffle causes him to snap out of his thoughts, resting the teapot back over the fire and reaching to offer one of the steaming cups to his trembling companion. She grabs it with both hands, soft, cool fingers brushing over his before drawing back slowly.

Sakura clutches the tea to her chest, shoulders hunched and head tipped downward to let the warm steam wash over her face. She sighs softly disturbing the whitish translucent stream rising about her cheeks for a second before inhaling deeply.

“You make the best tea, Sasuke-kun,” she mumbles, leaning in closer and closing her eyes as she breathes deeply once more. “This smells nice. It feels good, too.”

Sasuke nearly chokes but forces out a quiet scoff, “You’re just happy because it’s warm.”

She lifts her head long enough to throw him a grin and a quick wink. Sasuke nearly tips over, fingers clutching tight around the mug that nearly slipped from his grasp.

Pale, slightly chapped lips part, making a small o as Sakura begins blowing on her drink rhythmically. He finds himself mesmerized with the way her mouth puckers, the skin wrinkling slightly, soft folds looking like delicate petals. Her cheeks puff slightly, some of the color gradually returning to her flesh. It looks supple, so smooth and soft despite having spent time in the chafing cold. The fine hairs at her temples have begun to dry, curling slightly away from her forehead from the heat and steam. Sasuke has to bite the inside of his cheek to restrain the absurd urge to reach out and tap the rhombus on her forehead, the only thing that mars the perfection of the smooth expanse of skin.

Shutting his eyes, he lifts his cup to his lips, not even bothering to blow before chugging half of its contents. It’s hot, and burns going down his throat. But he mentally shrugs, because he breathes fire routinely and a little hot tea is not so bad in comparison.

The liquid is warm sliding down his throat, and he can feel it pool in his belly, chasing away most of the last dredges of cold from his muscles. Without his express permission, his eyes reopen and immediately come to rest on Sakura’s huddled form once more. He watches with apt attention as she blows gently once more, before bringing the cup closer to her mouth.

The metal rim rests on her plush lower lip, steam gathering at the top before she tilts the cup and slurps carefully, pulling the brew into her mouth. After the first tentative sip she sighs, humming quietly as she treats herself to a longer drink, tipping her chin back so that Sasuke catches a glimpse of the delicate column of her throat. It undulates softly with each of her swallows and his mouth runs dry, skin suddenly feeling rather hot beneath his blanket.

Bare skin. Just like hers is, hidden behind the thick layer of cloth.

He swallows thickly, quickly throwing back the rest of his tea, hardly even tasting the earthy, if slightly bitter, flavor.

“Mmm,” Sakura hums, the sound between a relaxed exhalation and husky moan. Sasuke’s fingers tighten around his empty container. “That feels so good .”

She could have very well pulled those very words from his dreams, an echo of one of the many, many imaginings that had circulated through his psyche when he let himself indulge in the deepest, most unguarded kinds of rest. It was these same imaginings that would cause him to awaken suddenly, sweating and panting, aching so much that he would be forced to flee from whatever sheltering space he shared with Sakura to wait out the effects of his own torturous fantasies.

“Aa,” he croaks.

Mechnically, he reaches to drain the last of the teapot’s contents into her cup, unable to prevent himself from openly staring as she repeats her process again. Curling into her own body, pursing her lips, blow, blow, blow , blow , inhale, exhale, slurp, slurp, swallow. He watches as a deep shudder works its way down her body, her muscles visibly relax, shoulders falling away from her ears. A healthier flush takes residence high on her cheekbones, creeping slowly across the bridge of her nose. Her lips look moist now, more red than pink, soft and full with the blood finally rising to the surface.

She drains this portion quicker than the first, setting down her cup with a satisfied sigh. Delicate fingers come up and sweep through the nearly-dry strands of her hair, raking them back away from her forehead. A few chunks of her grown-out bangs slip down slowly to frame her forehead, and Sasuke’s fingers twitch with the urge to touch them, to brush them back and secure them behind the pretty pink shell of her ear.

“Thank you, Sasuke-kun,” she says, voice stronger and more chipper. “Your tea pulled me away from death’s door!”

“Don’t joke like that,” Sasuke snaps, mouth flattening. Sakura only laughs, rocking back slightly and adjusting her grip on the blankets wrapped around her shoulders.

“Sorry,” she snorts quietly. “But really, I was starting to not be able to feel my toes. My body temperature has always run a bit on the low side… I thought maybe I was anemic or something. Tsunade says it’s just how I’m made. But it really sucks in situations like this.”

Sasuke only nods. He runs his eyes over her with a more critical eye, focusing on the digits peeking out from underneath the blanket at her chest and below, at the ends of her small feet. They have lost that palish blue hue, to his satisfaction.

Sakura continues, as always, so gracefully undeterred by his lack of responsiveness. “You always run hot, isn’t that right?”

“Aa,” he nods in the affirmative. “Uchiha thing. Didn’t think you’d noticed.”

Red fills her cheeks and she chuckles, rubbing at the side of her neck, “Ah, well, I’ve had to look at you medically quite a few times. And running your vitals, too! Your natural state is like a low-grade fever. You’ll be happy to know I finally put a permanent note on your file, so no one else will force you to go through illness screenings because of your temperature.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes, “It’s not like anyone else will ever be treating me.”

Sakura huffs, casting a disapproving glare at him that was more cute than ferocious.

“Sasuke-kun! None of our medics would ever turn away someone in need of medical care. It is against our code of honor.”

“Aa, I suppose they wouldn’t,” he says absentmindedly. Her flush has deepened and she chews on her lips in the most hypnotizing fashion. “But I’ll only ever want you.”

The words slip out of his mouth too easily, naturally. It is possibly the boldest thing he has ever said to anyone–to her – before but it feels so commonplace, so true , in all contexts, that he takes a moment to realize just how intense it is.

And by that time, Sakura has become so red that Sasuke fears for her health. He is caught between intense embarrassment and concern as she gapes at him for a split second, before clutching her blankets tighter to her chest and looking away from his face.

“O-oh,” she stutters, hands shifting under the fabric. “I’m flattered, then. And…I’ll always do my best to take care of you, Sasuke-kun. Whenever you need me to.”

Sasuke’s heart flutters then pounds in his chest. Always , he thinks. He knows he will always need her, but he has exhausted his bravery for the night and cannot bring himself to say it. So, he only nods, leveling her with a meaningful look, hoping that she will catch on to the things left unsaid between them.

There are many of those things–but slowly, they rise to the surface and reveal themselves to the light. With each day, each evening spent side-by-side, he grows to know her and open up to her better. And she is patient with him, granting him the chance to meet her where she has already been at his own pace.

He is pulled away from the soft train of thoughts by a quiet cough, followed by a sniffle. Sakura throws him a small, light smile even as her hand rises to cover her mouth and she coughs again.

“You’ll catch a cold,” he frowns. “Here, take my blanket. My cloak should be dry enough.”

“No!” she seems to startle herself with the volume of her own voice. Her lips are beginning to tremble again, but she says, sternly, “Your cloak is definitely not dry, and I’m not going to let you catch pneumonia and die because you want to sleep with wet clothes on you. Keep your blanket, Sasuke-kun.”

Sasuke feels adequately chastised for a short moment, very close to being surprised at the tone she takes with him. He has heard it before, of course, usually when in the dobe’s company. Never had it been directed at him.

He is both amused and slightly pained by the experience.

Sakura shivers again and he forgets all about his wounded ego. He shoots a glance into the teapot, agitation gnawing at his insides.

“You’re cold again,” he states, wincing when the teapot is as empty as he knew it was. “At least I can brew more tea, though it’ll be weak…”

“No,” she interjects with a harsh exhale. “I can tolerate it, Sasuke-kun. I’ll just have to sleep it off–I’m tired anyway.”

The less than reasonable part of Sasuke’s mind immediately flashes to the worst-case scenario, Sakura freezing into a block of ice while they slumber. He submits himself to the idea of staying up throughout the entire night, keeping a vigil to maintain the fire as well as push his blanket off on her once he is sure she won’t awaken to scold him.

“You get rest, too,” she says. Sasuke nods stiffly, knowing he won’t. “ Seriously . If we spread out by the fire, it’ll be fine. Even better, if we…”

Sakura trails off, pulling away Sasuke’s struggle against his newly developing morality which weighs the eternal cost of slipping Sakura into a slight genjutsu so she’ll sleep more heavily and not notice if he stays awake and gives her his blanket in the night. He tries to catch her gaze, only to find her studying the woven fabric in her lap.

“If we?” he prods. Her shoulders twitch and she hunches forward.

“Nevermind,” she mumbles.

“Sakura,” he says firmly. She flinches slightly but rolls her eyes. He has been firm with her in the past (many of those times to his deep regret).

“It’s silly,” she starts, sighing heavily. “But I was going to say, ‘even better if we lay close to each other’. Sharing close quarters means sharing body heat means sharing warmth. But, it’s not necessary and you burn hot enough already. So forget it! Good night.”

Sakura nods once, before unceremoniously flopping onto her back, then turning to her side and curling up in a tight ball facing the fire. Her form quivers slightly, drawn taut as if she is trying to staunch her reaction to the slowly increasing chill.

Sasuke can only watch as she fidgets for a couple of minutes, bunching a portion of the blanket so it forms into a sort of makeshift pillow. Her body looks so small, curled up as it is, drowned in the thick fabric she has cocooned herself in. And yet he can still make out the small quivers.

With a deep breath, he turns his back to her, clicking his teeth at his thumb to draw forth a bead of blood. He summons three empty scrolls, unfurling them and tearing them into medium-large pieces with his hand and teeth. He can feel Sakura’s eyes on him from behind, but focuses on his task of tearing the thick, pristine paper until he has a hefty pile of scraps at his feet. Squatting close to the fire, he crinkles and stuffs wads of papers between the gaps of the burning logs. With a deep inhale, he breathes out a small stream of flame, urging the fire to lick higher, blaze hotter.

Rising as smoothly as possible, and ignoring the eyes peeking at him from over the bunched blanket, Sasuke walks until he is but a single step away from where Sakura lays. He kneels behind her, watching carefully as her shoulders stiffen, her form ceasing any movement as if she is not breathing.

He holds his breath, too, as he pulls the blanket from his shoulders, swiftly fanning it out so half of the large cloth falls over Sakura. Consequently, it covers her head and he uses that bare moment to dart under the other edge, securing it over his nude form just quickly enough before a pink head emerges and whips around in his direction.

“If lying close together keeps you warm, then that’s what we’ll do,” he says quietly before her parted lips can spew whatever words were brewing. “Sleep, Sakura.”

She looks as if she will protest, but he gives her his best blank stare. With a heavy sigh, her body relaxes incrementally and she casts only one more cursory gaze over her shoulder as she turns to face the fire once more. Sasuke clenches his jaw as she wriggles about under her blanket, and now part of his. A few times, he thinks her hip or elbow will brush against him, but she eventually settles, bundled tightly in both blankets.

A small yawn spills from her mouth before she utters softly, “Thank you, Sasuke-kun. Good night.”

Quicker than he thinks should be possible for any ninja, Sakura’s breaths even out and her body slumps, fully relaxed as she slips into slumber. He indulges in a tiny smile, shifting carefully until he is on his side, her back a mere six inches or so from his chest.

Sleep evades him; he is too aware of her proximity, her scent, the warmth of another body in his space. She is closer than anyone has been in a long time–perhaps ever in his life. He can smell the rain in her hair, residua of the herbal tea they drank. The scent of burning wood and ash tickles his nose, but still the sweetness that he can only name as Sakura reaches him. For a long while, he simply watches the rise and fall of her slender shoulders under the blanket, the shadows of the fire dancing against the small visible part of her cheek. Quiet snores begin to whistle through her nose and a sensation so endearing, compelling in its combined simplicity and intensity rises up from his belly, spreading through his chest.

Sooner than he anticipates, his heartbeat slows from its frantic staccato, his breaths growing deeper and longer. His eyelids grow heavy, blinks coming more frequently by the second before the sounds, sights, smells and feeling of Sakura lull him, too, into sleep.

A violent shaking causes him to jerk awake. First, he notices the dark, only the barest of dim orange flicking in a sea of blackness. Then, he notes a weight against his chest, the cause of the quaking that drew him into consciousness in the first place.

It is not even an hour since he finally succumbed to sleep, he guesses. Yet the air inside the cave is frigid cold, heavy with moisture as thunder booms and wind sends rain thrashing audibly outside.

Sasuke's eyes manage to focus on a head of light-colored hair, and he leans forward to peer into the face pressed into his shoulder. Pale brows are drawn tight, pearly teeth peeking between pale lips, chattering. A tiny whimper falls from that mouth and his chest grows tight.

He shushes her quietly, emitting an unfamiliar, husky coo as he reaches to loosen her iron-clad grip on the blankets slipping haphazardly on down his torso. The fact that he actually manages to free the fabric and himself from her grip (with quite a bit of effort, despite his desire to be careful) cues him into the fact that she is still asleep, albeit freezing.

Moving as swiftly as possible, he rises to his feet, situating both blankets around her as they have slipped down her back in favor of being clutched to her front. Next he stalks close to the dying fire, grabbing handfuls of his pre-cut, makeshift kindling and stuffing it over the struggle coals. He blows gently until it catches a tiny flame, inhaling deeper and pouring from his mouth in a spherical katon . The fire blazing strongly once more, Sauske returns to kneel by Sakura’s shivering form, hand shielding his pelvic area.

“C-cold,” comes a hoarse murmur. He jerks in surprise, activating his sharingan to peer down at her face. Her eyes remain closed, lashes fluttering but never sliding open. “So cold…”

His heart squeezes before beating wildly against its cage. Biting his lip, he fights against his own shiver as the cold creeps over his skin. Making sure to keep his gaze fixed on her tightly-drawn face, Sasuke reaches his hand out to Sakura, gripping her shoulder lightly before rubbing his hand up and down the side of her body. He hopes, desperately, that the brisk motions would bring her some additional warmth.

Shudders wrack her frame and he can feel the muscles bunching under his hand, fighting to curl even more inwards onto herself. She thrashes suddenly, rolling dangerously close to the fire, with her back turned to him. The blankets nearly unravel completely, tangled about her legs and covering her only to the hip. She cries out painfully as the cold of the cave bites at the exposed skin of her back, sprouting gooseflesh and bringing forth another violent shiver.

“Sakura,” Sasuke breathes, snatching the blankets up over her once more. She struggles still, seeking warmth but preventing him from situating the blankets effectively in the process.

“I’m freezing, Sasuke-kun,” she moans, voice too sluggish and slurred to be fully lucid. “Freezing, freezing…”

Sasuke grinds his teeth nearly to dust. Before his logical mind can fully catch up to the action, he is ripping the blankets away from her form completely. Her startled cry does not even manage to echo into the cave before he is pressed up behind her, throwing first one blanket and then the other over both of them. He curls his right leg over both of hers, using it to drag her closer, nestling the stub of his left arm under her head and slipping the right between the two blankets to curl over her waist.

“Shhhh,” he hisses into her hair, exhaling heavily onto her neck in the hopes that his breath would aid in his efforts to warm her. “Rest. It’ll be warm soon.”

She sniffles, shaking and shivering as she burrows further into the blankets, further into his embrace.

He endures a few long minutes of her wriggling, his mind torn between extreme concern, embarrassment and distant elation before she stills slightly and releases a relieved exhale. As if in a faint, her muscles loosen all at once, her body relaxing into his. He breathes in short inhales and long exhales, fingers clenching and unclenching at her waist, torso stiffening with each minute shift she makes as she slowly falls back into a deeper sleep. Her skin feels cool against his, and soft, so soft . Were he not in such a daze and so on edge from her frightening condition a few minutes before, he might have fixated on the suppleness of her waist or the press of her thighs in front of his.

Instead, he focuses on the sound of her breathing, relaxing bit by bit as it filters through her nose easier and more slowly by the second. Eventually her skin seems to feel warmer, his own body growing quite hot with the weight of two blankets over him and another human body lying just so. He nestles impossibly closer, anyway, hoping to emanate as much warmth as he can.

Exhaustion grips him and he finds himself falling more deeply into sleep, irresistible with the weight of Sakura’s body against his own, and the feeling of her safe and secure within his grasp.

Sasuke feels hot. His skin is prickling with the sensation of licking flames, his blood simmering in his veins. The heat is centralized in his core, pooling low in his belly and radiating throughout his form.

He exhales, fingers clenching over something soft, smooth. The smell of jasmine, cherry blossom, her , fills his nose with each inhale.

Ah, this dream again.

Sakura is fitted snugly in his grasp, her back to his front. He can feel her hair brushing over his collarbones, the plush flesh of her buttocks cradled in his hips. Her thighs rest flush against his, a slim, smooth calf hooked around his knee.

A slight shift causes white-hot pleasure to shoot down his spine, and Sasuke shudders. He feels as if every one of his nerve endings is at attention, soaking in the sensation of her skin against his, the breath expanding her chest and a slow, rhythmic motion rocking him back and forth.

The feeling of something warm, slick, soft slides over his shaft and he sighs deeply. His hand slips down, squeezes a plush handful of flesh before slipping back up to dance over her ribs. Her skin is like silk, his rough fingers sliding so easily. She shifts again, forward , back , pressing into him with a curve to her spine, straining against his grip at her front. It all feels so real that Sasuke nearly succumbs to the pull of a deeper slumber, tempted to stay asleep and continue to see where this fantasy leads.

It is different this time. His surroundings are not so clear as usual– his imaginings usually for vivid, visually stimulating than this new, physical stimulus. A faint orange glow flickers at the edge of his awareness, a rustling sound like shifting fabric and cracking embers filtering in slowly.

He shakes himself mentally, painstakingly forcing himself into awareness. The dream grips him, forcing him to remain locked in his psyche where Sakura is clutched against his chest, where she is soft and warm and wet and…

Sasuke’s eyes fly open and he chokes on a gasp. The first thing he sees is pink obscuring his vision. Blinking away the wayward strands, he sees next a roaring fire, the rough cave wall washed with shadows.

And then he feels , a slow drag over his achingly hard member, slippery and hot, cushioned between two walls of warm, firm flesh.

Then he hears a sigh, sweet and underscored with a high-pitched wine.

“Sasuke-kun…”

A startled groan falls from his mouth as the dragging sensation comes again, and he drops his gaze down to the form in front of him, only partially shielded by a blanket that is bunched haphazardly about his waist.

“Sakura,” he chokes.

I must be dreaming, still. Sasuke nearly gives in to the urge to stay asleep when another quiet, gasping moan spills from her lips as her hips rock back into him before curling forward, his throbbing shaft trapped between her thighs. His hips flex in response to the motion, white flashing over his vision again before he shakes his head violently, willing himself to wake up .

“Fuck,” he rasps, yanking his hand away from its spot on her ribs, disturbing the blanket further with the motion.

Red bleeds over his iris, his eyes widening as he takes in Sakura’s bare form. Her skin is flushed, glistening with a fine layer of sweat. Muscles bunch and ripple under the skin of her back, the knobs of her spine peeking through with each rolling grind of her waist. She writhes against him, her head falling back into his chest and revealing a face with features twisted in a distant expression.

Her eyes are closed. His, on the other hand, are definitely open which means that he is not dreaming.

But Sakura…is.

“Sakura,” he calls hoarsely. His hand shakes, floating uselessly in the air as he attempts to control his ragged breathing, flinching as she makes that rocking motion once more and sends pleasure rattling down his spine.

“Mm,” she murmurs, “Sasuke-kun…”

She’s dreaming of me , he realizes in a daze. His trembling fingers fall to her shoulders, squeezing more tightly than he intends as he attempts to rouse her with a gentle shake.

“No, no,” she murmurs, and his hand snatches away from her. Her thighs clench tighter around him and he sees stars. “Stay…stay…”

Arousal and heartache combine in a terrible mixture, swirling in his gut. Sasuke bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, letting his hand fall on her shoulder once more.

“Sakura,” he says firmly, making his voice as clear as possible even as the pace of his undulations increases, the wetness becoming more apparent against his turgid member. His pulse thunders, nearly drowning out her gasping whimpers and breathy moans. “ Wake up. ”

Sakura jerks, her hands fisting in the blanket that managed to get stuffed against her front. Her head whips in his direction, wide eyes falling on him from over her shoulder.

The world seems to freeze around them as they both stare into each other with bated breath. The sound of the fire crackling and the winds outside seem loud in the silence, suddenly absent both their panting breaths and her unconscious ramblings.

Her gaze darts away from his face for a flash of a second, flitting to their surroundings before swerving back to his. Her eyes grow impossibly wider and her mouth–Sasuke notes that it is moist, red and indented as if her teeth had sunk into the lower lip–gapes.

“Sasuke-...kun?” Sakura croaks, voice unsteady and breathless.

He can only stare down at her, unable to form a full thought as he watches her glossy eyes blink up at him convulsively, her cherry-red lips plump and shining in the dim glow.

“You were dreaming,” he manages to whisper, biting back a groan as a shudder works its way down her form. Even the slightest motion brings attention to their intimate contact, bodies still flush against each other.

“I- Sasuke,” she gasps, shaking in earnest now. Her chest heaves and one of the blankets slips to expose part of a full, pert breast. A dusky nipple peeks just over the edge, plump and distended and oh so… tempting.

“You were dreaming,” Sasuke raps, shifting his body and eliciting his own shiver as the movement causes friction between them once more, “of me.”

“I’m sorry,” she chokes. The flush on her cheeks darkens, her hands scrabbling over the blankets in an attempt to cover herself. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

Her words cut off with a gasp, lashes fluttering as she twists her waists to escape from his grasp, the motion causing the head of his rigid arousal to slip through her folds. A low, rumbling groan finally rips free from his chest and she freezes, panting hard as she tilts her head to meet his gaze once more.

Sakura’s lips are sweet, soft between his own when he jerks forward to suck them into his mouth. They part on a startled exhale, a soft tongue slipping out to join his as she hums a quiet, helpless moan.

Their teeth clash and sink into giving flesh, tongues slipping, sliding and thrusting in a frenzied dance. He delves into her mouth as deeply as he can, tasting her essence and the remnants of the tea they shared, feeling each texture, ridge, bump of the insides of her mouth.

When his lungs burn for air, he retreats slightly, tugging her lower lip with his teeth to its limits, opening his eyes to stare down at her in a daze. Her hands have lost their grip on her coverings, one reaching up to tangle in the hair behind his neck and the other shaping the underside of her breast.

As if of its own accord, his lone hand plants itself at the beginning of the luscious curve of her hip, tracing a line up the side of her waist. His fingers creep upward until they meet the hand at her chest, sliding over the obstacle to splay over the globe of her breast, relishing the weight of it and the tickling brush of her pert nipple against his palm.

Sakura moans softly, drawing him back to her mouth as her hips sway into his again, backward then forward. This time, Sasuke is lost to the sensation, to his instinct and curls his own hips against her, rocking into her once, twice, then many more times at a building pace.

Soon she is panting into his mouth, their lips grazing against each other sloppily, hardly kissing at all. His hips snap against the round flesh of her behind, his member throbbing and dripping with her arousal and his as it slides back and forth over her softest lips.

Sakura , his mind chants. And perhaps between the tiny spaces and breaths between their dancing mouths, he calls her name aloud too.

“Ah, gods,” she cries softly, gripping her free hand over the one resting at her breast. She squeezes their fingers over herself and bears down on his shaft, slipping back and forth until he is nestled deep into her slit.

His grip tightens and he pulls his hips back as far as they will go without completely losing their contact– when he careens forward again, the very tip of his dips into what he can only describe as a well of pure, liquid heat before slipping forward and through her folds again.

Sakura’s hips jerk and she loosens his grip on his hair, her face turning away as she lets out a sharp cry.

He freezes, even as she continues to undulate against him, trying to blink past the haze that had taken his mind the last handful of minutes.

“Sakura,” he says breathily, swallowing thickly as the hand that was in his hair tugs at the blankets until they lay carelessly at the edge of the fire. “Should we…?”

“Don’t stop,” she hisses, reaching back once more to cup her fingers around his nape, pressing her hips back into his pelvis. Her breast presses more deeply into his hand with the arch of her back and he grits his teeth.

“If we don’t,” he pants, dipping his face into the curve of her neck and inhaling deeply, “There’s no telling how far I’ll go.”

His teeth graze the soft skin over her racing pulse and he bites down, sucking and nibbling at the spot recklessly. Distantly, somewhere his logical self is screaming, banging against the wall of arousal and pent up frustration to call for control.

Sasuke’s inner consciousness is silenced for good when Sakura gasps out, “Go as far as you can, Sasuke-kun. Take me with you.”

With a sound resembling a growl crawling from somewhere deep in his chest, Sasuke loosens his grip at her breast, sliding his hand over a muscular thigh and heaving it up, and back to hook behind his hip. Then he braces his hand at the crease between her thigh and pelvis, swinging his hips back until his dripping tip notches at the source of the wetness that has made them both slick and glistening.

The barest flex of his hip has the head of him teasing past the syrupy rim of her entrance and stars seem to take over his vision. He blinks to clear his head, sucking in deep breaths and restraining the urge to careen forward and sheathe himself inside of her as quickly as possible.

“Are you sure, Sakura?” he manages to grit out, gentling his grip at her hip and nuzzling his cheek against the edge of her jaw. “Is this what you really want?”

“Yes,” she breathes. Her hips tilt back, she opens herself to him more fully. “I want you so bad, Sasuke-kun. I need it.”

His breath falls out of him on a shudder and he grips her tightly again, brushing his lips over her shoulder, neck and jaw in what he hopes is a soothing manner.

“I’ve dreamed of this, too,” he murmurs, slipping his eyes shut as he slowly curls his hips, pressing against her soft flesh slowly until it gradually gives and parts around him. She lets out a low moan. “Ever since you joined me, every night you lie by my side…I dreamed of this.”

Sasuke’s entire body is trembling with strain, his member throbbing with each centimeter it sinks into her depths. Her walls flutter around him, her core squeezes and releases in maddening increments. The urge to slam the remainder of his length into her until he is buried to the hilt is strong, but he curbs that instinct, unwilling to cause her pain. He feeds himself to her inch by achingly slow inch.

“If this is still a dream,” he gasps, stilling for a moment as her inner muscles spasm around him, her body bunching tight when nearly half of him is inside, “I hope I never wake up.”

“Sasuke-kun,” she begs, hips tilting back and spine arching severely. “Please. Please .”

With a deep, shaky breath Sasuke slips his hand up her body, bracing her throat with his palm and cradling her jaw with his fingers. He opens his eyes, shifts to catch her glistening gaze and slides deep, until he can move no further.

Sakura’s head knocks back against his chin on a loud, guttural moan, and his tight grip on his restraint snaps.

Flesh meets flesh with loud, wet smacks as he rocks into her, gripping tightly at her jaw and pressing his forehead to her crown. Choked groans and uttered curses spill from his mouth as his perception of reality slips away, his mind only able to hone in on the sound of her rhythmic cries, the snap of his hips against her ass and the tight, slick grip of her sliding over him, again and again and again .

Sakura thrashes in his grip, hips knocking backward to meet his thrusts as her upper body arches away from him. His hold on her face, at her neck keeps her in place to receive each unforgiving thrust, his pace as wild and untamed as the fire blazing through his veins. When he opens his bleary eyes, his irises swirl, taking in and cataloging the sheen of sweat on her skin, the ripple of her toned muscles beneath. Her cheek is warm and wet with a combination of sweat and the tears trickling slowly from the corner of her squinted eyes.

Sasuke moans deeply, curling his body over hers to drag his tongue over her face, lapping at the salty perspiration before kissing his way desperately toward the corner of her mouth. He wrenches her head toward him so he can plunder her lips with his own, thrusting his tongue against hers in a pace matching the way his shaft burrows into her core.

“Sas-,” she slurs around his lips, sharp nails fixing themselves in the flesh of his forearm. His hips piston faster, more forcefully in response.

She is everything he has imagined, more . A culmination of every one of his fantasies, dreams and wishes made flesh. A keening whine builds in her chest and she gasps out his name, a shiver wracking her entire form as her nails dig more deeply into his flesh and prickles of pain sprout where her hand tugs at the strands of his hair.

“Let go,” he grunts, half desperate as he laves the skin of her neck with his tongue, sucking the lobe of her ear between his teeth. He smells jasmine, sweet fruits, rain, Sakura and now him all over her skin. “ My Sakura.”

“ Sasuke-kun! ” her voice is a shattering cry and her inner walls grip him so tight white flashes over his vision. Her hips stiffen before roiling in dizzying circles and waves, nearly dislodging him from her fountain.

A rush of liquid coats his shaft and both of their thighs between them and suddenly the heat bubbling deep in his core bubbles over, a tingle forming at the base of his spine as his hips snap forward once, twice before tunneling him deep inside the third time and pressing tight against her. His shaft throbs, jerking into her depths as he spills everything he has inside of her until he is sure some of his own essence leaks out to join hers between their legs.

They jerk and pant together for long seconds that could be millennia before finally the aftershocks fade, the muscles of his abdomen relaxing as she falls, weightless into his chest.

Sasuke cradles her close, squeezing his eyes shut as their breaths slow and the final twitches of his muscles cease. He can tell the air around them is beginning to cool but he still feels flushed, their skin sticking with their combined sweat and fluids.

He searches for trepidation, for guilt, but can find none. Only a deep-rooted satisfaction warms his chest, creeping into his extremities until he cannot resist a tiny smile from curving his lips before he presses them to the flushed skin of her shoulder.

“Some dream, eh?” Sakura breaks the silence quietly, emitting a small, slightly shaky laugh.

Sasuke hums in response, sliding his hand down, between her breasts to rest over her lower abdomen.

“Aa,” he says, huskily.

“Should we…talk about it?” she asks, her voice still breathless with exertion but carrying a tinge of hesitance that sets a fire burning in his depths.

“If this is a dream,” Sasuke muses, slowly untangling himself and relishing in the shudder that works its way down his lover's spine when he slips free from her core, “there are still many things to be done. We can talk in the morning.”

Sakura squeaks when he grabs her thigh and tosses her gently to lie on her back. Green eyes widen up at him, a deep flush spreading from her temples to the tops of her full, delicious looking breasts as he snatches a blanket, fanning it around his shoulders and then plants himself on his knees between her spread out legs. His gaze slips down to her soft, dampened pink curls.

“This part, I fantasize about often,” he murmurs dazedly, peering down at the milky fluid dripping slowly from her folds.

Sakura gasps before crying out when the blanket billows over both of them and he slides down to plant his face between her thighs.

End.

Tag list: @zenonico @ephemeredoll @psalloacappella

#silentfics #silentvoices #silent writes #lemon #sasusakufanfiction #blank period sasusaku #wet dream #pwp #somnophilia if you squint but actually not really #rainy days loving #Sasuke's love language is acts of service #Sakura is the center of his world #There's weird spacing because of italicized text I'm sorry idk how to fix it #commissioned piece #Uchiha Sasuke #Haruno Sakura #dreamscape #i was very proud of the title when i came up with it but now it sounds silly lolol

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yandere-sins · 9 months

Note

Imagine getting isekai’ed into otome game as a background character, watching the main character going down routes as you live your peaceful, mundane life, but you’ve unknowingly been going down a route as well, a route for a hidden character that you didn’t discover during your time playing the game.

That character being the reason the game has a dark content warning.

Gosh anon, that idea is so good!!!! I didn't know it would tickle all the right places in my brain, but when I started I couldn't stop lol. Love it, thank you for sending it in ♥

If this had one of these super long titles that are tmi it would be:

I got Isekai'ed into an Otome Game as a Background Character and now I Have to Finish It with the Secret Yandere Love Interest!!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

A serene smile spread over your lips as you watched the two lovebirds in the corner of your coffee shop.

Swirling the milk into a cup, it created a little white heart surrounded by foamy coffee, its aroma drifting into your nose. Had someone told you that the little things like a cup of coffee made with love and care were enough to give you the peace of mind you always wanted in your previous life, you would have laughed at them. For you, it had always been the hustle, the making money, finding a partner, and creating a family. Make everyone proud while being successful, whether it costs you nights of sleep or days without proper meals. But looking at yourself now, it all seemed so far away now, and you let out a content sigh before setting down the cup in front of the customer at the bar.

"You seem happy today," your regular at the counter noted, picking up the cup and taking a moment to appreciate the aroma just like you had. A smile sneaked onto their lips, too, after they took a sip, and you couldn't help but feel your heart swell with pride and happiness when they gave you a satisfied nod.

"I am! I'm really getting accustomed to my new life here, it's... been a while since I've been so content."

The truth behind everything that happened to you was something you couldn't speak about lightly. Not when it turned the life you knew upside down, leaving you to start over completely. One day you were an employee of a well-known company, responsible for sales and reports and everything stressful. And the next, you were in your favorite, cozy video game, running the coffee shop the main character liked to visit with all the romance options in the game.

Isekai was the genre that came to mind when you thought about your situation. Luckily you were spared the memories of your death in the real world, the circumstances blurry as you barely remembered going home late from work, only to wake up in this very different universe. Perhaps you were just comatose, and this was a dream. Still, by now, you had managed to slip into your role as the barista of the small coffee shop, a barely mentioned background character, just fine.

Your eyes jumped back to the couple in the corner, giggling and teasing each other over a group project, and you felt an immense relief you weren't reincarnated as the main protagonist and had to go through the years of studying and trying to establish connections with the love interests again. You already did that in your old life, and it wasn't as romantic and fun as the game made it out to be. You only played it because it got your mind off things, the art was pretty, and it had the exact amount of cozy time management you needed to relax. But living as the main character in it? No, thank you!

"Jealous?" your regular teased, and you chuckled, shaking your head. They tapped their—now empty—cup, and you took it from them, replacing it with some water until you had the next cup of coffee ready for them.

"I just think it's cute. I never had someone so interested in me they'd take me out for coffee and share their cake with me when I was younger."

Your words tasted a little bitter on your tongue. Still, you genuinely couldn't wish for anything but the main character's happiness. It was just the feeling of being loved, desired, and wanted that you missed, even though your new life was more than satisfactory despite you feeling a little lonely sometimes.

"Well, it's never too late to start," they chuckled, taking up their fork and cutting off the tip of their strawberry shortcake, including the big chunk of strawberry on top, picking it up and holding it out towards you.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare--"

"I insist! As thanks for the amazing coffee every time I come here."

Nudging your lips with their fork, you let out an awkward chuckle. It was okay, right? They wouldn't sue you for eating the cake they paid for, would they? This was just a silly little game. What could go wrong with you accepting their kindness?

Opening your lips, you let them feed you the cake, taking a moment to let the sweet and fruity notes mix with the fluffy whip cream before you were sent straight to heaven. Not to toot your own horn, but your baking skills had improved so much since you started working at the shop. Who knew you had that in you?

Occupied with the moment of bliss as you let the cake flavor mix in your mouth, you hummed happily before devoting yourself back to making the coffee with a smile on your face. Unaware of your regular fixating on the fork you had just eaten from, staring at it like it was some strange artifact. Your phone dinged softly in its drawer, and you checked it briefly to see the notification pinging up, saying, "Achievement unlocked: Cake-Master - Provide the most delicious cake to your customers."

"Excuse me!" the main character called out to you, stepping up to the counter, and you directed your attention to her, ignoring the little game notification you've been receiving since starting your new life here, the love interest not far away before the two began fighting over who was going to pay the bill this time lovingly. Of course, the love interest won, but you wouldn't have expected it any other way. Seeing the blush on the main character's face after her romance option told her he'd "always take care" of her made you grin like a little fan, and you cheered them on in your head.

By the time you returned to your regular, their knuckles had gone white with how hard they were gripping the fork in their hand, their eyes following the couple who was about to leave. For a moment, it made you wonder if they had a crush on either of them, their sweet interaction surely uncomfortable if that was the case. But you didn't remember there being a jealousy scene in the game. You'd know, almost playing it 100% before your death. There apparently was a secret route you never got but were trying your hardest to achieve. Now you were left to wonder what it entailed.

But the second you returned, they looked up at you, expression softening and the tension disappearing, and you chalked it up to having witnessed a cringe moment that they had gotten so awkward. "Thank you for the cake, that was really nice of you! Do you want another fork?" you asked and were met with a headshake and a smile.

They quickly began eating their cake and complimenting your baking skills, stroking your growing ego when they rubbed their belly.

"I never had a cake that good!" they proclaimed, and you laughed out loud, overjoyed that you had made them so happy.

"Say..." they suddenly spoke up again, leaning on the counter and watching you with gentle eyes. Your heart set out for a second, tension rising as you didn't know what they were going to ask. Ever since you opened the coffee shop, the main character, love interests, and this regular had come by constantly. If you were honest, you enjoyed their visits more and more. Their presence felt like it belonged here with you, and you were a part of something bigger after all, washing away the small, lonely part of you.

And maybe... just maybe... this was how your happy end would play out.

"Are you this nice to every customer?"

Halting your movements, you set aside the brew head that you used on the espresso machine, despite having to clean it, thinking about your answer for a moment. It was a strange question to ask someone who worked in customer service. Still, you appreciated your regular, so you didn't want to give them a snarky answer.

"Uhm, well, I am just trying to make everyone feel welcome! But of course, it's a bit different with my regulars! After all, they come here often, like a second family. So I guess I'm a bit nicer because you really get to know and appreciate these people that stay to chat and tell stories."

"I see," they muttered. "Family, huh..."

After that, you suddenly were swamped with sudden orders, excusing yourself to fulfill them, chatting and laughing with even the people that were just passing by. Maybe you really were just nice? Perhaps this new environment had made you more relaxed and gentle than the harsh world you lived in, and it was showing? But their question was shoved into the back of your mind as you kept fulfilling orders and earning your keep.

Once the rush was over, you returned to your regular, only to find their seat empty. Strange, you thought. You could have sworn that you felt their eyes on you the whole time you were away, but luckily, they didn't walk out on their tab, leaving the money and a folded-up napkin beneath their empty cup for you to find. You quickly stored away the bills, trusting your regular with knowing what they had to pay after so many weeks of the same order.

You were about to throw away their napkin when you noticed some red marks on them, unwrapping the paper to find a note scribbled in what you had to assume was ink.

"You're so beautiful when you laugh."

The surprise wore off quite fast, and you smiled, thinking nothing of it but that it was a nice compliment from your regular. Still, you ended up throwing the napkin away—not knowing if it was dirty, after all—taking the coffee cup and plate to the sink to clean them, overseeing the red tip on the fork that was too dark to be from the strawberry.

The rest of your day was uneventful, and by the time you were closing, you were tired and ready to tug in for the night, wrapping up your business at the shop quickly before walking home. You didn't have a chance to look at your phone since you glanced at the achievement notification, so you took it out, startled when you saw a dozen new messages.

Achievement unlocked: Happy new life - Be content with your new life

Achievement unlocked: A fork for two! - Share a fork with someone special

Achievement unlocked: Jealousy - Make someone special jealous

Achievement unlocked: Soothing - Calm someone special down with your presence

Achievement unlocked: Family - Have someone be moved by your words

Achievement unlocked: The nicest person in town - Be beloved by all, but especially by someone special

Achievement unlocked: Blood in the cup - Have someone hurt themselves at your coffee shop

Achievement unlocked: Wonder-Barista - Complete twenty orders in less than thirty minutes

Achievement unlocked: Strange compliment - Receive a compliment through unusual means

Achievement unlocked: Blooming infatuation - Have someone special fall in love with you

Achievement unlocked: Shop-Pro! - Close the shop twenty times after making a profit from your work

Achievement unlocked: Tired - Hard workers deserve to relax

You blinked a few times, surprised by what you were reading and a little weirded out by some of these achievements. They gave you some extra coins in your shop till and reputation with the townspeople, so you usually didn't mind them. But to say some of their descriptions were weird was an understatement. You couldn't even remember someone getting hurt at your workplace that day.

By the time you reached your apartment, you decided to ignore the strange notifications and just let the day come to an end with a hot bath and your favorite show. But you were startled when your phone suddenly began ringing loudly, even though you had turned off the sound back at the coffee shop after the first notification. The first messages that appeared before you were more achievements, and you stopped turning the key in your door as you read them.

Achievement unlocked: Follower - Have someone special follow you home

Achievement unlocked: Welcome home! - Arrive at home, not alone

Achievement unlocked: Wherever you go, I'll be watching you - Ɨ ΔΜ ΔŁŴΔ¥Ş ŴΔŦĆĦƗŇǤ ¥ØỮ

Lifting your head, you looked around you, glancing over your shoulder and into the courtyard below. No one was out; everyone was at home eating dinner and occupied with their lives. Confused, you swiped all the notifications away before another pop-up appeared.

ALERT! You're about to enter X's route. Do you want to continue?

> Yes > No

Panicked at this point, you pressed "No," but nothing happened. You kept tapping it repeatedly, not understanding what was happening with your phone. But nothing changed, the notification staying in place. The sound of something breaking inside your apartment tore your focus away from your phone, startling you.

You must have finally managed to close it, the pop-up disappearing just as you unlocked the door to your apartment, still having held on to the key when you were surprised by the sound. Darkness and silence greeted you from inside, everything seemingly normal.

Majorly confused, you shook your head, slowly entering the hallway leading inside. "Hello?" you called out, reaching for the light switch. The light flickered on, and... there was no one. Holding your breath, no sound reached your ears, and you groaned, realizing you got freaked out about... nothing.

This wasn't some kind of horror game, and the story never had a murder-solving subplot. True, the ratings for it were kind of strange—it being rated as 18+ on the website—but seriously, what should happen in a cozy little city like the one the game played in? You didn't even think they had a police station here.

Pushing off your shoes as you shrugged off the weird feeling from before, you walked up the hallway to your living room, turning on the light before coming to an abrupt halt. There were broken pieces of glass underneath your living room window, but what really freaked you out came into view only when you lifted your head. You could look into the mirror of your cabinet door from your position, red marker dripping from it as if someone had hastily scribbled on it just seconds ago. You weren't sure it was a pen anymore, judging by its deep red color and the fluidity of it.

"𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺"

Your phone pinged.

Achievement unlocked:

On the Highway to Hell - Unlock the secret route

#isekai #yandere isekai #yandere!isekai #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

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a-hazbin-reader · 3 months

Note

OMG CAN YOU PLEASE DO A ALASTOR X WIFE READER WHO IS AFRAID OF EVERYTHING (BUT HER HUSBAND)

YESSSSSSSSS

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Alastor being fucked up

Description: ☝️⬆️

Alastor is your safe space, your person, and he's well aware of that. You're his wife after all

He doesn't mind that you're so afraid of everything because it means you'll always stick close to him

Which means he never has to worry about where you are or if you're safe because you're glued to his side

Your constant grip on his arm is a reassuring reminder of that and if you climb him like a tree out of fear??

He will happily be your tree husband and promise you that you're safe with him

He not so secretly loves it when you're afraid because idk if you noticed but he's kinda just a little fucked up in the head and he thinks you smell good like that

Literally likes the smell of your fear like wtf honey

But also because it makes him feel like your hero, a number one Y/N protector, a good husband

And it wasn't easy to get that title even if it was self given

He remembers the days before you two were inseparable and disgustingly in love with each other

The days you would tremble in his presence and he would try to coax you into trusting him

Getting the tiniest bit of trust from you was like pulling teeth, it took all of his patience

Only to have all his hard work come crashing down the next time he got into a fight or intimidated someone

Sometimes, he wouldn't even know what he did to scare you so badly or why you were such fearful person

He doesn't even remember why he wanted you to trust him in the first place, maybe he was already enamored with you

Maybe he just wanted to devour you because you smelled so appetizing

But somehow, you two made it to where you are today, happily married and attached at the hip

You're too scared to sleep because of the weather outside? Your darling husband is pulling you into his arms and singing you to sleep

You saw a spider and now refuse to get off the table? Alastor is here to pick you up and squish the nasty bug for you

NO NOT ANGEL

Not Alastor putting away a comically large newspaper in obvious disappointment

You got spooked by your own shadow again? Well, now it's cute because Alastor's shadow is kissing yours, so how could you be afraid anymore??

You're not, but now you want a kiss from your husband really badly

Despite your fearful nature, you aren't scared of your husband or his demonic form

You almost find it sort of cute and could watch him all day, maybe kiss a tentacle or two

Even when you see him gobbling up people, you don't feel a single twinge of fear because you know he wouldn't hurt you

You have your reasons for being so afraid of everything, but Alastor has proven himself to not be one of them

That's part of why you married him

You seek him out for protection, love and affection which he readily gives you because he cares about you

He protects you so fiercely that you almost forget what fear is, you're just so blissful in his presence

You praise him and coo at him every time he comes to your rescue, which he just eats up

He preens under your words and is visibly proud of himself, pleased with himself for saving you yet again

Only asks for a little crumb of affection from his wife in return

It's his reward for being your protector, and he thinks it's a pretty fair trade

This one came out very cute! I hope you enjoy it!

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

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jyoongim · 3 months

Text

Based on ep 5

ALASTOR

BARKK BARK AOOOGAAA

Love a caring, defensive, sadistic, cannibilistic daddy demon

Title: Acts of service

Themes: slight submissive y/n, protective, blood, demon form, fluff, relationship dynamic, implied married couple, human life mentioned

Alastor can take a lot of shit…but even he has a breaking point….

(hehehehehehe)

Charlie’s hotel was not making the progress she wanted and so one day she shocked everyone with four words;

“My dad is coming”

The hotel was in a state of frenzy.

Everyone seemed excited to meet the King of Hell.

For once everyone was on one page and getting the place in tip top shape.

You had finally calmed Charlie down from her nth breakdown and had started primping yourself for the big man’s visit.

“Honestly its about time Luci showed his bright ass around here” you said as you patted some blush on.

Alastor was standing in the corner of your bedroom; oozing darkness menacingly.

He had been rather quiet and for once not making a fuss.

You almost smirked, whether or not he admits it

He adored Charlie

And HATED being bested in anything.

“Youre glowering dear” you say as you finish applying your flawless makeup.

“I just dont see what all the hoopla is about. So what if the Morningstar is coming…its just charlie’s dad” Alastor grumbled in a rant.

You giggled “Yea but this is important to Charlie so no funny business mister”

His big smile tightened and his eyes narrowed “no promises”

You and Charlie greeted Lucifer

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”

He damned near choked Charlie in a bear hug before turning to you

“Long time no see Sis” you hummed and gave him a big squeeze, but not before hissing lowly in his ear “do not fuck this up Luci”

He swallowed and you grinned before walking to stand by Alastor.

You nudged him towards Lucifer and reluctantly he introduced himself.

“Alastor sir pleasure to put a face to the name”

Lucifer shot you a look before eyeing Alastor suspiciously

“Uuuhh and you are?”

Alastor eye twitched “i’m the host of the hotel…you might know me from my radio broadcast hmm?”

Lucifer shrugged “nope guess thats why Charlie named it the HAZbin hotel”

You facepalmed and charlie was visibly getting nervous as you could literally see Alastor’s ego flare

“HA HA HA actually i came up with that”

“Ha Ha Ha well it wasnt very clever!”

They were in each other faces now

Alastor growled “ha ha HA fuck you”

You interjected, getting between the two, mostly Alastor

“Boys Boys reign it in PLEASE” you threw a look at Alastor, who straightened his suit.

You sighed and turned your attention to Charlie

“Dear why dont you tell your dad the whole point of your hotel” you gave a tense smile.

“Y/n is right dad! Alastor here has been tremendous help with the hotel…i wouldnt have made it this far without him” lucifer made a face.

You could see the wheels turning in Alastor’s head

He was up to no good.

“Yeeeeessss we are all very proud of Charlie. I am honored to fulfill any wish this lovely young lady has”

He hugged Charlie and it took all of your willpower to not laugh at Lucifer’s annoyed look.

You giggled as he completely ignored Alastor and in turn to the others.

Charlie introduced her girlfriend and you could literally see his shoulders ease.

“OH thank Hell youre a lesbian! Cool cool i totally approve of THIS!”

Lucifer went on to give luxurious suggestions to Charlie, which Alastor shot down.

You sighed lovingly at Alastor’s antics.

He might have been the big bad Radio Demon, but he really was a softie when he wanted to be.

Definitely would have made a great dad…

You blushed at the thought.

Lucifer and Alastor were currently bickering with each other about who was the better father figure.

When suddenly the door flew open and a short, voluptuous, 1920 styled woman bursted in.

Your eyes widened “Mimzy?”

She squealed and embraced you in a tight hug, you kissed each other’s cheeks in greeting

“Ooooh y/n darling how you’ve been? Its been too long” she asked.

You grinned and gave a shrug “ooh it hasnt been that long has it?”

She greeted Alastor and gave you an astonished look “Y/n darling you still with dollface here?” you felt everyone eyes shift to you and you felt your eye twitch a bit but said nothing.

She begged to have you chat with her but you told her youll catch up her later, as you were helping Charlie and Alastor with Lucifer.

Not many people knew what your relationship with Alastor, hell not many people knew about Alastor life in general.

And you kind of liked to keep it that way but Mimzy was a talker if you ever saw one.

But Mimzy was not was one to just show up just out of nowhere…

She wanted something

You and Alaster were trailing behind Charlie as she explained the purpose of the hotel when Husker appeared to the two of you, addressing Alastor

“Boss a word with you” you quirked a brow when Alastor kindly shooed you off to have his discussion. You walked a bit aways before morphing into the wall and listened in on their conversation

“What is it?”

“You and I both know that Mimzy only pops her ass up when she needs somethin, that bitch is trouble and who knows what kind of shit she got into to come running to you”

True.

“Dont worry so much Husker, its nothing i cant handle, besides who in their right mind would cross me?”

“I mean…youve been gone a while and it aint like no one knows why-”

He was cut off

“And they dont need to know” that sharp smile was tight

Alastor patted Husker’s head condescendingly; like a pet.

Husker shoved his hand away angrily.

“Big talk for someone who’s also on a leash”

You saw Alastor glitch, eyes turning to black and glowing dials

Uh oh.

“What did you say?”

Your eyes widened as contract chains shot out at Husker, wrapping around his neck

Alastor was menacingly toying with the chain as he growled

“If you ever say that again i will tear your soul apart and broadcast your screams for every disrespectful wretch WHO DARES TO QUESTION ME!”

Husker was shaking like a leaf and you were stunned; Alastor rarely ever lost his composure.

When Alastor disappeared down the hall you morphed to Husker to ease his nerves

“Oh Husker are you ok?” you asked as you tried soothed his nerves.

He shook it off (not really) and grumbled “fucking asshole”

You headed back to the lobby with Husker when a loud BAM was heard.

What the fuck?

“Mimizy you skank c’mon out here!”

You see Mimzy hide behind the bar and raise a eyebrow.

You frown, going to heave her over the counter

“Mimzy care to enlighten me about what the actual fuck is that”

She sweatdropped “i-i may or may not have borrowed some money from a loan shark”

Your frown deepened “how. Much. money?”

“O-o fifty…grand”

You hissed.

The hotel was shaking and was being heavily damaged

You pulled charlie out of the way as some debris fell from the ceiling and hissed at Lucifer “arent you gonna do something!?”

He was trying to make this a life lesson and now was NOT the time.

You growled and went to march right outside to give those goons a piece of your mind when a clawed hand settled on your shoulder.

“Dont worry dear ill handle this”

“But Alastor…”

His smile turned wild “its about time i reminded everyone why i am here…a reminder to not fuck with the Radio Demon!”

He transformed. Antlers out and black tentacles flaring.

You watch him grow big in size and rip the gangsters apart, eating a few.

You smiled wickedy, hells he was hot

After he had his fun he shrunk back to normal and you launched yourself at him

Lovingly you purred into his neck “you ok now?”

He grinned, nuzzling you “i missed blowing off some steam”

Mimzy approached the two of you and you frowned, opening your mouth to say something but Alastor beat you to it

“I think you should go Mimzy. Now”

She was shocked. Usually Alastor let her off the hook and it was you who normally told people off.

“Y-you cant be serious…”

His eyes narrowed “I mean it. You brought danger to this place just for me to clean up your mess. I wont allow that here”

He was putting his foot down. You leaned into him, happy.

You flashed her a sharp grin “i agree Mimzy, you should go”

She blinked “you backing up your hubby over ya own friend? y/n!”

She hissed at Alastor “you think i dont know you? You cant really give a shit about this place”

You crossed your arms, giving her a pointed look, hissing as you felt your eyes glow in anger “leave Mimzy. While i’m the one being nice”

She huffed and turned to leave, but not before flipping you both off.

You relaxed and turned to Alastor, who was looking smug.

Tugging on his bowtie you craned his neck to your level, purring

“Bedroom now dear”

His ears perked and his smile grew wider “feeling big emotions doll?”

“Ooh you have no idea”

With a flick of your hand the hotel was restored and you were whisking the lanky red demon upstairs to blow off some steam of your own

….

extra:

"what y/n and Alastor are married?!"

charlie blinked "yea i thought you guys knew that"

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

#hazbin alastor #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel

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burstinn · 6 months

Note

REQUEST!

as a male!Reader, I feel very represented in your works,

could you write a male!Reader that’s really tall? Like, humongous? In hight, and body? (In the military as well)

I always see male!Readers that are so small and tiny and baby.

like, no. You get me? Just saying. Thanks!

Male! Reader with the height and body of a goddamn Monster.

(Headcanons)

Note: some mentions on top reader but I like to keep it ambiguous. So you can read it as a switch! Reader. This is a quick drabble of some Hcs

People shown: Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Price, Keegan, Graves, Nikto, König, Horangi, Logan Walker,Roach, Makarov, Krueger

-Reader is 6'5.

-Basically built like the Russian terminator guy

GHOST

- Got shocked when he first saw you, wanted to seem more intimidating than you.

-So he puffed out his chest and glared at you.. Bro wants to challenge you nahh 😭😭🙏🙏

-You would fold him tho ngl (in the ring and in bed fr fr)

-when he got comfortable with you kinda jealous his title of the big, tall intimidating man got taken away.

-When you sparred with Ghost it was a tough fight but you managed to get Ghost in a chokehold wrapping one of your tough bulging sexy ass arms around Ghost's neck.

-Never knew he wanted to be man handled so bad it was Hot he had to excuse himself and run off because he got hard.

-Starts imaging if your cock is just as big.. Spoiler alert.. It is..

SOAP

-Looks at you then Ghost mind blown that there was someone more humongous than Ghost

-Teased Ghost for awhile

-Drools over your pecs..

-He totally dreams of being crushed by you..

Or being crushed between Ghost and you.. Or both..

-Asks if he could feel your guns (Your arms..)

(IT COULD ALSO BE YOUR HUGE THROBBING CO-)

-Keeps glancing at your cock. Even though it's clothed.. I mean look at you.. Your manhood is basically too tight for your pants he can literally see your outline.

-Soap asked if he could measure your Length.. So he could see how far it could go inside of him YK?! YOU UNDERSTAND.

GAZ

-More interested than having dirty thoughts.

-Keeps asking how you got that big

-Wants to be just as strong as you

-Cutie patootie (T_T)

-Basically hangs around you to see how you work

-Even follows you so he could watch you train and spar

-Asks about your diet and if how your body looks is genetic

-inspired by you. Like a child (😭😭WHALUAAHHAH GAZZ)

PRICE

-Beneficial for him I mean he gets to have another soldier that's just as intimidating as Ghost.. Maybe even more.

-Is like a proud father

-Talks to everyone about you and how bla bla bla

-Trains with you

-He'd show you tricks and tips on how he trains and you show him tips and tricks on how you train

-Probably has a picture of you at his desk.. Beside the other pictures of his other not biological family. Aka. The whole 141..basically has a pic of everyone they all family up in 'ere

KEEGAN

-Heh.. Yknow.. Pictures..

-In the showers in lockers makes sure he's there near so he can see you in all your glory

-Probably had wet dreams about you

-Also makes sure he's there when your training. It's not like he's obvious everyone there is fuckin watching you

-What's that? You wearing a compression shirt? 🤨🤨 nuh uh in the sex chamber you go 👉

-Touching, touching, touching EVERYTHING

NIKTO

-Quiet

-What the fuck

-Silent panicking

-Jealous very jealous

-Compares himself to you, would train harder just so he can look like you (bb nooo 😭😭)

-Would watch also how you train your body so he could copy it

-You caught him once training in the middle of the night.. And he's using your technique on how you use the punching bags.. He's just getting some stuff wrong..

-When he notices you he got.. Slightly embarrassed and angry.. Panicked inside when you came closer asking him if he was using your technique in training

-You trained him properly on how you do it.

-so like now.. You train him in the middle of the night..

GRAVES

-same as price shows you off but more in an annoying way

-Hes boasting

-Would face you off against his strongest shadows no diff you still win.. Yuuuhhh

-Subtle touching like hand on shoulder, arm, head whatever.

KÖNIG

-Relieved that he has someone that looks like him.. Albeit slightly shorter.. Still!

-Got nervous meeting you first.. Forced himself to act tough to impress you I mean he is a colonel

-Makes sure to be in missions with you. Wants to see you in your most serious and intimidating

-Got intimidated himself once he saw how you act on field

-Tries to be on your good side the whole time

-One day he was watching you and just started thinking about YOU KNOWWW!!

-Blasphemous! He got red and cried to Horangi about it

HORANGI

-You know about this guy

-He's silly

-He'd read fanfics thinking it's him and you

-he'd make fanfics too, about you and him maybe adds König

-Shows it to König all proud and shit as if König isn't looking at him with absolute horror in his face when he reads what Horangi wants to do with you or you with him.

-He's delusional

-Slapped your ass and blamed it on someone else that's near him. It was König.

-Is it as veiny as your arms? A man can only dream.

-gives you a soda can and tells you to crush it in your arms.. Better yet in between your legs.

-Would then tell you like "good now do my head"

-PlEASE let him be between your thighs

LOGAN WALKER

-Rolled his eyes when he saw you

-Avoids you like the plague

-Why doesn't he like you? No idea. He a big pussy bitch is what. He sad you get more dick n pussy than him.

-Complained about you to Hesh

-He may not like you. He can't lie tho. You are good at your job so like he can't do anything about that

MAKAROV

-Sex Chamber. Now.

ROACH

-Quiet around you..

-Looks up at you like a damn bug. It's cute. He likes it when he looks up at you

-He'd jump on you and crawls around like a cockroach

-haha funi jok

-Would use your shoulder as a seat.

-If you do pushups he'd be on top of your back

ALEX KELLER

-Oh..

-Audible gulp sound (haha he's drinking your seme-)

KRUEGER

-Curses in German

-Dreaming about HAHAHAHAAHAH

-If he's fingering his gun to clean it he just.. Thinks..

-If he sees YOU finger your gun to clean it.. That's it he's done.

-He's dragging you somewhere

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littlemissayu · 5 months

Text

“YOU SPOKE!!” – Their kids first words (Night Raven 3rd Years-Malleus & Lilia)

A/n: Yes I ‘m well aware I haven’t updated/posted my other oc request from my event, even though it ended over a month ago BUT it’s getting done and I will try to finish as fast as I can. I ‘m just posting this because it’s been delayed forever and I need something to get my writing juices going.

If you see me mention gender it’s based off of my Twst boys as Parents series that you can find here!!

Warnings: FEM! Reader, pregnancy,domestic fluff, babies(ofc), google translate translations, I’m only doing their first kids/first set of kids

pairing(s):3rd Years x fem!Reader(separate/romantic)

Yummy/Delicious- Hears you say it everytime Trey makes a really good baked treat(aka all the time). Now I know delicious is probably a hard word for a baby to say which is why I also have ‘yummy’. They say it for the first time after Trey gives them a small part of a macaroon. You could just see how Trey’s eyes lit up when he heard his little one speak for the first time!!

Smile!!/Cheese!!- The two of you (mostly Cater) always say these phrases to your kids, so it’s no surprise when their first words are smile and cheese. With the family album(that I 100% believe Cater would start making once you get pregnant). When Cater heard his babies speak for the very first time he got super sentimental and excited calling you over(if you weren’t already there)

Papa!- Now this is solely based on my personal headcanon that Leona’s first kid would be a girl and a total Daddy’s girl. Always with him, even though you carried her for 9 MONTHS, homegirl got evicted from the womb and wanted to follow around papa. I also believe this happened as he was getting something and turned his back to her so she tried to get his attention. His ears immediately shoot up and his eyes open wide. He instantly picks up his cub and rushes over to you to tell you what your daughter just said. But dw, her next word ended up being mama. Is so proud of his little girl~

Pretty!- You’re always saying this to your husband so she eventually just picks up on it. Also hears other people saying it about either you or Vil; not to mention you and Vil do occasionally call her “pretty girl”. So she’s just surrounded by the word so it's no shocker when it’s her first word. Vil just beamed at his daughter, truly feeling the sentiment. His little girl, his pride and joy has spoken for the first time BUTTTT sadly he wasn’t there to witness it. So all that happened when he came back from work. He almost left early after you told him over the phone. But he could be more proud of his kleiner engel.

Up!!- Now this is because this little Hunt loves being picked up, especially when her father is flying on his broom. They love the feeling of being high up and flying through the sky with her father. Rook is always open to giving his petit oiseau what they ask. When his little one said their first words he couldn’t help but outburst with joy. He couldn’t stop praising them for speaking, then when you came in or called out to him/your child, he began praising you for giving this wonderful child.

Play!!/Uh oh- Now 2 things to establish, 1. Ik “uh oh isn’t a word” but I’m just gonna have to count it and I will explain why 2. Why are there 2 different words, well if you read this fic here!!, you’ll learn that I believe Idia has twin boys therefore I wrote 2 different words. Now onto my explanation; for ‘play’ it just makes sense, sitting on his dad’s lap watching him play games that say and display the word ‘play’ on the title screen ofc that would be his kid’s first word it just makes sense. Now for your other twin boy this was his first “word” because whenever Idia gets frustrated on the game at a certain point he hears you say “uh oh”, meaning “Dad’s about to burst”. They also have learnt(bc they're a very smart child) that they can use this for other times when something is about to go wrong so they do say it when something might go wrong. Idia seemed nonchalant at first place but then a smile grew on Idia’s face from his adorable talking twins.<3

Heartsabyul Masterlist

Savanaclaw Masterlist

Pomefiore Masterlist

Ignihyde Masterlist

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #fluff #domestic #tw babies #babies #trey clover x reader #cater diamond x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #rook hunt x reader #idia shroud x reader

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atlabeth · 12 days

Text

dance until we're bones

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem reader

summary: you and hotch both confront a lifetime of things left unsaid when a case forces your past into the light.

a/n: so i started this. two years ago. got 1k in and left it, came back now for some reason, wrote like a freak until it was done. lol. this is quite heavy and different than most things i usually write and it is SO much longer than expected but im very proud of it 🫶 i didn't really pay attention to the canon timeline so just know that reader and hotch were in their early and late 20s in law school (90s) and early and late 30s in present day (early 2000s). title from i lied by lord huron and allison ponthier

wc: 17.1k

warning(s): a lot of angst. typical bau case stuff, murder (familicide), implied/referenced past child abuse, reader and hotch go at it basically the whole time, character death, kidnapping, slight mention of drugging, injuries, mentions of blood. i wouldn’t say a happy ending but a hopeful one

Hotch can barely stay awake.

He got the call thirty minutes to 4 a.m, and if he hadn’t already been up, he would likely be in a much worse mood. He can only hope that the rest of the team has gotten used to rude awakenings at this point.

It’s poor planning on his part—he already got out late due to extra paperwork, and once he got home, he found himself staring at the wall, and then staring at the ceiling. If he’s lucky, he’ll get to sleep on the jet. If things go the way they usually do, he won’t be out until their first night in a hotel.

He started making calls to the team on his way to the office, but to no one’s surprise, he was the first one there. He had time to wash down a shitty office coffee and get started on a second one by the time everyone’s there.

Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ all have coffees—JJ comes prepared with her own thermos, but Morgan and Prentiss fall victim to the BAU’s supply—Reid is fighting back yawns as he tries to fix a hastily made tie, Garcia is slightly less energetic than normal as she passes out files, and somehow Rossi looks the same as always.

Hotch just hopes he’s put together enough to make the team feel better about being here at an ungodly hour.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome,” Garcia greets, setting down the last folder in front of Reid before taking her spot next to Hotch at the front. “As lovely as it is to see all of you this morning, I’m afraid that we’ve got a grisly one on our hands, hence the hour.”

“Great,” Prentiss mutters. “How bad is it?”

“Three married couples have been murdered in St. Louis, Missouri in the past two months, with the most recent one happening yesterday,” Hotch says, and Garcia grimaces as she clicks onto the pictures. “Mom and dad are killed, but the children are spared.”

“Awful lot of similarities between the parents,” Morgan says dryly as he flips through the folder. “Looks like our killer has some family issues.”

Reid nods. “The unsub likely stalks these families once they see the similarities. I’m guessing he was abused as a child, seeing as they kill the parents but keep the children alive.”

“Probably has a grudge against his father,” Prentiss remarks. “They make it out the worst every time.”

“There’s no method to the torture,” Morgan says. “It looks like he’s just trying to make it hurt as much as possible.”

“Our guy probably isn’t trained in anything, then,” Rossi says.

Reid flips to another page in the file. “Serial killers like to see their victims suffer. If he’s not torturing the mom physically, then he’s likely making her watch.”

“He doesn’t kill children, though,” JJ notes.

“Maybe he thinks he’s doing them a favor,” Reid says.

“The unsub sees himself in the kids?” Morgan suggests. “He’s doing what he didn’t get the chance to do.”

“Whatever it is, we have to keep a tight hold on this,” JJ says. “The press eats this stuff up, and the last thing we need is a terrified city making it harder to do our jobs.”

“Especially with families being killed,” Morgan murmurs.

JJ sighs. “I’ll draft something on the jet and make some calls when we land.”

Hotch nods and he closes his file. “Wheels up in thirty. I hope you’re all ready for a long day.”

The jet is silent the entire way to Missouri, full of sleeping agents trying to delay the inevitable—save for JJ scribbling down notes on a legal pad for the first thirty minutes, but even she knocks out sooner rather than later. Thankfully, Hotch manages to fit an hour in himself, though it doesn’t do very much for him. He spends the rest of the time reading through the case file.

The team settles in quickly at the city’s precinct, and Hotch takes charge as usual. The uniforms are just as tired as they are, but he makes it work. Soon enough, JJ is off to work with the local liaison to craft a narrative, Reid has situated himself in an empty conference room to get to work analyzing maps with Garcia, and Hotch and the rest go to check out the crime scene.

It’s brutal—much too brutal for this early, but Hotch forces the emotions out of it and gets to work questioning the present officers. Morgan follows suit, with Prentiss and Rossi going to investigate the rest of the house.

They don’t learn much from the officers that they don’t already know. This is the most recent crime scene—George and Marsha Springfield, undeserving of such a grisly fate. Their two kids, 8 and 9, were off visiting their grandparents in Nebraska when it happened, and though they avoided the same fate, they’re going to deal with a lifetime of guilt.

It’s all Hotch can think about as he examines the first body. The six children left to deal with the carnage, about their past and future marred against their control.

All he can think about is Jack, and the dreary fate that awaits him if his father falls in the field.

Hotch swallows his doubt and his guilt all in one and forces every thought out of his mind. He has to be unshakable for the team, for what’s left of these families, for a city on the brink of hysterics.

They’ll find whoever did this. That’s what gets him through it.

They spent early morning at the crime scene, collecting evidence and gathering information from the officers and trying to make sense of the killer’s motive. Progress is slow, partially because of the hour, but they make enough that Hotch feels comfortable moving onto the next job.

Their four a.m. start time was too early to go knock on doors and get interviews, but now it’s a more normal 10 in the morning. After a quick stop back at the station to share information with Reid, Garcia, and JJ and down a few cups of coffee, they get right back on the road.

Hotch and Prentiss take one van and Morgan and Rossi take the other, splitting up to get what they can from interviews. It’s difficult working with kids, especially with such recent trauma, so they hold off on it for now, allowing the local uniforms that have been with them for a bit longer to set things up before the BAU tries anything.

First they go to a neighbor’s house, then an alleged eye witness. They don’t get much other than personality reads, but it at least gives them the beginnings of a profile. The third place they hit is their earliest idea of a suspect.

“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss reads off the file one of the local officers had put together. “Thirty-nine, born and raised in St. Charles, Missouri. High school degree, but never got to college because he was in and out of jail.”

“What has he been charged for?”

“Booked a few times for public intoxication and convicted three times for assault. Once was for third-degree assault, Missouri’s version of aggravated assault,” she says. “He got out of jail last year, and it looks like he’s been living in St. Louis for some of that.”

“Assault and drinking is a far cry from serial killing, even aggravated,” Hotch says. “What makes him a suspect?”

“Both parents are dead,” she says. “And from the looks of it, it was not a happy home while they were around. He’s got a sister, so it fits the initial theory of trying to replicate his family.”

Hotch lets out a loose breath and nods. “We’ll start there. Try and get a story from this guy, build a profile, see if it matches the one Morgan and Rossi have made for their guy.”

“And hope we pin something down before more bodies show up,” Prentiss murmurs.

They’re at their destination soon enough, and Hotch parks in an open spot on the other side of the road. His eyes dart around as they walk up to the front door, filing things away in the back of his mind.

The house number and last name—1432, Hartford—on the mailbox plagued with rotting wood. What there is of a yard is poorly cut, and a small garden of wilted flowers has their own corner, victims of the winter weather. One car is parked slightly crooked in a small driveway—there’s no garage, so at least he’s probably home. Two potted plants sit on either side of the door, thankfully alive.

“Remember,” Prentiss says as they come to a stop together, “be nice.”

“I’m plenty nice,” he murmurs, and she huffs the slightest laugh.

Hotch knocks on the door as Prentiss fishes around for her ID, and thankfully, they don’t wait long. The door cracks open after a few seconds to reveal a woman—certainly not their unsub, but something a whole lot more surprising.

You.

Your brows furrow at the sight of him, and Hotch has to hold back his shock.

You don’t live in St. Louis. And your last name certainly isn’t Hartford.

“Aaron?” you ask in disbelief, and he doesn’t even have to look at Prentiss to know the questions he’s going to get later.

He says your name, able to control his surprise with only the slightest crease of his brows giving it away, then corrects himself just as quickly. “Miss Hartford. My name is SSA Aaron Hotchner, and this is SSA Emily Prentiss. We’re here with the FBI.”

Your frown deepens as they show their IDs, and you actually take it from Hotch, skeptical eyes scanning over it for much too long. You glance back at him as you hand it back over. “What is the FBI doing here?”

Emily clears her throat as she puts her credentials away. “We’re here investigating the latest murders in St. Louis. Can we come in?”

“The murders?” you ask with exasperation. “What— what murders? And what do I have to do with them?”

Aaron notices the way your grip tightens on the door just the slightest bit, and a shred of sympathy strikes him before he speaks up.

“We’ll be able to explain everything if you let us in,” he says.

You swallow thickly in your throat, your gaze darting back to Aaron before you finally nod. “Okay. Sure. Why not?”

You move and Hotch and Prentiss walk inside, gesturing with a hand towards your living room as you shut and lock the door behind them. “Take a seat. Uh— do you guys need anything? Water, or coffee, or…”

You trail off, and Prentiss shakes her head. “Thank you, but that’s not needed.” She takes a seat on the sofa, but Hotch can’t stop himself from looking around the house.

It’s a small place, one story—likely rented, seeing how paintings sit on countertops and mantels rather than hanging on the wall. It has a certain charm to it, but something is off about it all.

Two styles clash—decorative pillows at odds with a filled and painted-over hole in the wall, an attempt at neutral tones ruined by dark articles of clothing scattered around, one person’s mess barely being held back by another’s cleaning efforts. You lived with someone else. Likely Lucas Hartford, possibly their unsub.

“Are you gonna sit down, Aaron?” you ask, snapping him out of his profiling haze. “Or do you want to look around some more?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, clearing his throat as he walks over and sits down in an open chair near Prentiss. “Just curious.”

“That makes two of us,” you say, and you cross your arms as you look at him. He notices that you don’t sit down yourself, and there’s still a coldness in your eyes. “You’re FBI now?”

He nods. “I had a change of heart.”

You huff a laugh. “Thought at least one of us would be a lawyer by now. I guess not.”

Hotch frowns, but Prentiss takes over before he can continue on that particular thread. “Miss Hartford—”

You interrupt by saying your first name, and it spurns something strange in his chest. It’s been over a decade since he’s heard your voice. “You can skip the formalities.”

Prentiss nods and repeats your name. “As you know, we’re investigating the murders that have been occuring in the St. Louis area.”

“And you think I have something to do with it?” you ask, the accusatory edge to your voice not lost on him.

“Not you,” Hotch says. “Do you know a Lucas Hartford?”

“He’s my brother,” you say, and your frown deepens. “You’re not saying—”

“No,” Prentiss interrupts, “we’re not saying anything. We’re just asking.”

And just like that, your entire stance, your visage, it all changes. Hotch can sense the walls slamming up around you, and he immediately realizes two things:

Getting information out of you is going to be much harder than planned, and you’re not anywhere near the same person you used to be.

Hotch doesn’t know what he expects, really. He graduated with the intent to prosecute for at least a decade—now, he’s with the BAU. It’s not fair to assume you’re that same girl he met in law school.

“My brother is not a murderer,” you state clearly.

“And we aren’t accusing him or you of anything—” she starts.

“Me?” you interrupt, and you let out a harsh laugh. “I’m a suspect too?”

“If you would allow Agent Prentiss to finish her sentences, you would be less upset,” Hotch says.

You glower at him, but you stay silent.

“We aren’t accusing either of you of anything,” Prentiss finishes. “We’re just trying to gather information with what little we know.”

“I know my rights,” you say, unflinching gaze still meeting Hotch’s. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Prentiss looks at him as well, but his eyes don’t leave yours. “That’s unfortunate to hear, Miss Hartford.”

“You know my name, Aaron. Use it.”

He does, and the letters feel strange on his tongue after so long. “This is a serious matter. This isn’t an accusation—we’re in the early days of this case and we need all the information we can get.”

“Ask away,” you say. “Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss starts. “He’s your brother?”

You nod. “He lives with me.”

He lives with me, not we live together. Makes him think that you pay for the place, he came knocking, and you didn’t have the heart to turn him away.

“Why is that?” Hotch asks.

You look at him, those scrutinizing eyes attempting to peer into his soul the same way they did all those years ago. But Hotch has changed since law school, and he’s much better at guarding his emotions. It seems you are, too.

“He’s a student,” you finally say. “He goes to community college. I’m giving him a place to live while he gets his associate’s.”

“Community college and living with his younger sister at 39?” Prentiss is trying to get information out of you, even if it isn’t in the kindest way. Your jaw clenches, and he knows her words have some effect. You’ve probably heard it more than once, the way things are going.

“He’s getting his life back on track,” you say defensively. “I’m the only one left that can help him, so I am.”

“What about your parents?” she asks. “Surely they’re a better option than this.”

“Both dead,” you answer. “And no one else cares enough to help him. Are you here to do anything other than dig up my past?”

Hotch feels Prentiss’s eyes on him, likely because it’s a step in the right direction for a really shitty reason, but he can’t look away from you.

“Really?”

He knows your parents are dead—it was in your brother’s profile, and by extension it applies to you—but it still hits him.

He met your mother, had countless lunches and dinners with her. Helped her move out of her old house. Spent two Thanksgivings and a Christmas with her.

And he didn’t even know when she died.

You shrug and wrap your arms around yourself, and for the first time you look something other than defensive or standoffish. You look— well… sad.

“Mom went a few years after you graduated,” you say, looking at Hotch. “Dad went five years ago.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Prentiss says.

You nod your thanks, the notion a bit numb.

“You never told me,” Hotch says with a slight frown.

“We haven’t talked in ten years,” you say. “Sorry that I didn’t know you still wanted updates.”

Hotch tries to think of something to say in response, but Prentiss starts getting a call and she stands up. “Excuse me.”

His jaw clenches for a moment as Prentiss ducks into a nearby bedroom, but he’s recovered by the time you look at him again. Your arms are crossed, but your expression is even.

“I take it this was as much of a surprise for you as it is for me.”

Hotch nods. “We came here looking for your brother.”

“Does your team know about our history?” you ask simply.

“No.”

“Do you want them to?”

“...No.”

You huff a laugh, your eyes narrowing a bit. “‘Course not. Probably counts as conflict of interest.”

You wait another beat, then ask another question. “How’s Haley?”

“Good, last I heard,” he says, and then he hesitates. “We’re… divorced.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

He nods. “This job isn’t easy for anyone.”

You look like you want to say more, but once again, Hotch is saved by Prentiss as she walks back in. Her phone is closed in her hand and she looks at him. “Morgan and Rossi have a lead. The chief wants everyone back at the precinct to go over everything we’ve found.”

Hotch nods again and stands up. Prentiss takes her card out of her pocket and holds it out to you.

“Thank you for your time, Miss Hartford. If you find out any information, or want to tell us anything else, please give me a call.”

“Pass that along to your brother, too,” Hotch says.

You reluctantly take the card, but you don’t look at it. “You can see yourselves out.”

Prentiss nods. “Thank you again. Have a good day, and stay safe.”

She leads the way, and Hotch follows after her. He fights the urge to look back before he shuts the door.

Prentiss looks at him as they walk back to the car, and he can only imagine what is going through her mind. But eventually she just shrugs and pulls out her phone again.

“Garcia?” Prentiss asks after she picks up.

“You’ve reached the office of all that is holy.” Penelope’s voice comes out through the speaker, and Hotch can’t help the smallest twitch of his lips. “What’s up?”

“Dig up everything you can find on Lucas Hartford,” Emily says, and her glance at Hotch does not go unnoticed. “And throw in his sister, too. He’s one of our only suspects, and we need to know if she’s in on it.”

“On it,” Garcia says. “I’ll call you back when I’m done.”

“You’re the best,” she says, and then she hangs up. They get back to the car, and it only takes Prentiss all of five seconds after they get in for her to start drilling him.

“Alright,” she says, buckling her seatbelt with a click before she sets her attention on him. “What was that back there? You two know each other?”

Hotch busies himself with his own seatbelt and starting the car, answering as casually as possible as the engine revs to life. “We were friends in law school.”

“Sure,” Prentiss nods. “The way you were around her, that’s not just ‘law school friend’ stuff.”

Hotch is once again reminded of how, sometimes, it was a downfall to constantly be around profilers. It was nearly impossible to keep anything a secret.

“It’s nothing,” he says as he pulls back onto the road. “We knew each other, we fell apart, we’re here now.”

Emily hums. “Is it too far to ask if you were together?”

“Yes,” he says sternly, maybe a bit too hasty. “It is.”

“Fine,” she says breezily, and she looks out the window. “But that tension was thick.”

Hotch knows what she’s thinking. Hasn’t he been with Haley since high school, what kind of history did you and him have, were you together, would he be okay to work this case—

He doesn’t really want to answer any of them. You were a part of his past he hadn’t expected to resurface any time soon—if Hotch is being honest, he didn’t know if he would ever see you again once he graduated. Not after the way he broke things off.

You’ve changed a lot. So has he.

And now your brother is a murder suspect, and you could be covering up for him.

That’s the only thing that should be on his mind.

“For the last time,” you huff as you storm down the stairs, “I don’t want to deal with this.”

“Because you know that Mia is a lying bitch!” Cleo exclaims, following after you. “I’m sick of you stealing my clothes!”

“I’m not stealing your clothes,” Mia scoffs in your wake, just behind Cleo. “They’re too ugly for me to want anyways. I bet I wouldn’t even fit into them.”

“You are! And you’re stealing my fucking jewelry, too!” she yells. “All of my shit is going missing, and I know it’s not Little Miss Law School, so it’s got to be you!”

Mia draws out a mirthless laugh. “You are not accusing me of this.”

“I don’t have anyone else to accuse!” Cleo shouts.

They both look at you, and Mia says your name. “You have to settle this before I kill her.”

“Oh, I’ll kill you first!” she hisses. “At least I’ll get all my stuff back!”

You clench your jaw as your nails dig into your palms, and you’re about to bite back when the doorbell rings. You don’t even try to hide your sigh of relief.

“That’s Aaron,” you say as you grab your coat and your bag from the table. “I’m leaving. If you kill each other, don’t get blood on the furniture.”

You don’t give them a chance to say anything before you rush to the door, open it, and shut it behind you.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” you breathe.

“What’s going on in there?” Aaron asks, amused.

“My roommates are fighting again.” You roll your eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You’re much more interesting.”

“You know this is a study date,” he says wryly, and you cut him off with a kiss.

“Still a date,” you murmur against his lips. “And something seriously needed.”

Aaron chuckles as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side, and the two of you walk to his car. “You’ve gotta get out of this house, honey.”

“I know,” you grumble. “But I can’t afford a place on my own.”

“Doesn’t have to be on your own,” he says as he opens the door for you. “It just has to be away from the girls that are making you miserable.”

“The lease ends at the end of the semester,” you sigh. “Just have to make it until then.”

“You know,” Aaron boxes you in against the car when you lean against the side of it, smiling softly at you, “I do live alone.”

“Oh yeah?” You ruffle his hair with your fingers and grin. “What are you proposing?”

He shrugs, letting his hands linger on your waist. “Just that you hate your roommates, and you don’t hate me. You could spend your time somewhere else.”

“Careful,” you warn. “You keep saying things like that and we might not make it to the library.”

“You keep saying things like that, and I might not mind,” Aaron muses.

You grin as he leans in and kisses you again, once, twice, three times as your back hits the side of his car and you card your hands through his hair. Mia and Cleo are probably killing each other inside, but you don’t really care at this point. They’ve made your life hell for a semester and a half—they can bother each other for once.

“Aaron,” you whisper against his lips, and he gets one more in between words, “I’ve got a test on Tuesday.”

“And today’s Sunday.” He nips at your neck and you laugh, your eyes falling shut as you lean your head back. “You’ll be fine, honey.”

“You have one on Monday,” you remind him, and he sighs. You feel his hot breath against your neck.

“Ruining our fun in the name of schoolwork,” he says. “No wonder all your professors love you.”

“Everyone loves me,” you correct. “Including you.”

You steal one more kiss before you open your door yourself and get in, and Aaron lets out a breathy laugh.

“You’ve got that right.”

He closes your door then gets in the other side, and you’re already rifling through the glove box full of cassettes. You pull out the mixtape you made for him for your six month anniversary and pop it into the player, and Aaron smiles as the first few notes of Stairway to Heaven come on.

“You’re a threat to my grades, y’know.”

“Maybe it’s all part of my plan,” you say. “Distract you with kisses to make sure I’m a shoe-in for this fellowship.”

“A dastardly plan,” he says with mock austerity.

“I’ve been told I have to be more of a shark,” you muse. “Consider this me taking down my competition.”

Aaron laughs, and you find yourself smiling just at the sound of it. You love the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, how they soften just so, how he acts like himself around you, and not some perfected or stoic image that he thinks he needs.

Falling in love with Aaron Hotchner has been the easiest thing in the world.

“Don’t let anyone know,” he says, and he reaches over to intertwine your fingers together. “But I’ll happily fall to you every time.”

“As long as you don’t tell everyone how whipped I am for you,” you tease.

“Looks like we’ve both got reputations to keep up.”

“Looks like it.”

You share a smile, yours just on the edge of a grin as you try to bite it back. You hold hands the rest of the way, just soaking in each other’s presence with songs from bands you introduced to each other floating through the air.

(It is a goddamn struggle to get any work done at the library with that face across from you the whole time.)

You had sky-high aspirations when you were younger.

Ones that would make your teachers offer a smile and tell you to shoot a little lower, that would make your friends’ eyes widen, that your father would scoff at and your mother would humor you on just to get you to move past it.

You didn’t listen. You’ve wanted to be a lawyer since you went on a class field trip to a courthouse in elementary school and saw all the attorneys hustling about, dressed to the nines, making last-minute deals outside the courtroom.

They were just… so confident. So smart, so stoic, always knowing the answer to everything. The good ones had money, sure, but more importantly they had the power to change lives for the better. And as a kid that had to cover up bruises before the school day, nothing sounded more appealing.

All you’ve ever wanted to do is help people.

And as you sit in a cold, empty interrogation room, you can’t help but wonder where the hell you went wrong.

You don’t want to be here, obviously. But you know the FBI won’t stop bugging you until you give them answers—you know Aaron Hotchner won’t stop bugging you.

Because god— what are the odds?

What are the fucking odds of your ex-boyfriend from a decade ago showing up at your door with a badge and an attempted case against your brother?

It’s ridiculous, and it’s such bad luck that you think it could only happen to you. You’ve thought about Aaron Hotchner more than you’d like to admit over the years, especially when you found your old GW crewnecks, and the box of school supplies you used for a decade, and those photo albums from what should’ve been your golden years.

It’s not like any of it matters, though. You only agreed to come in and talk because you want them off your back and you don’t want them poking around your house. You saw it in Aaron’s eyes—he was profiling you and your place the entire time.

If the cops want to invade your privacy even further, they can get a goddamn warrant.

Your thoughts are interrupted when the door opens, and you hold back a mirthless laugh, because of course it’s Aaron. He greets you with your name, and he has a file in his hands. You wonder if it’s on you or your brother. “Thank you for taking the time out of your day to come in and talk with us.”

“Well, you seem to think my brother is a murderer.” You cross your arms as you sit back. “I’m not really gonna let that stand.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked for a lawyer,” he says as he sits down across from you.

“I don’t plan to be here for very long,” you respond tartly. “But don’t worry—that can always change. I know my rights.”

“I’m the last person you need to tell that to.” Hotch sets the file down and looks right at you. Though he’s obviously older—more grizzled, more hardened; harsher, sharper lines that define his face; lips set in a taut, unflinching line—you still see that young man from law school. The passion, the care he puts into everything, the penchant for striped ties.

You wonder what he sees when he looks at you.

“Your last name wasn’t Hartford when I met you,” he says. “Why is it now?”

“Not one for small talk,” you remark.

“I never have been.”

“I remember.” You hold his gaze. “It’s my mom’s maiden name. I changed it to put some distance between me and everything else.”

You can practically see the gears of his brain working, neural pathways branching off with every word you say to make sense of it and reason a thousand different meanings from it. Aaron’s always been like that, but it’s tenfold now.

You suppose one has to be like that, to try and get anywhere with the types of criminals they face.

“How long have you been living in St. Louis?”

“Seven years. I’ve had that house for three.”

“Rent or own?”

“Rent,” you scoff. “I don’t make enough for a down payment, and I don’t want a place tying me down.”

“What inspired the move?”

“Close enough to home to be familiar, far enough to not be.”

“And home is?”

“St. Charles,” you say, and you purse your lips. “Shouldn’t you already know all this?” You nod at the file in front of him. “It’s either on me or my brother, and we share a lot of the same info.”

“We prefer to get our information from the source,” he says.

“Sources can lie.”

Aaron doesn’t waver. “And we can charge you with obstruction if it harms our investigation.”

Your lips twitch for a moment, not entirely without heart. “Ask your questions, Aaron.”

He opens the folder and slides the first picture over to you—your brother’s first mugshot, taken when he was only twenty-one. You still remember riding your bike to the station in the sweltering August heat to drop off his bail and pick him up.

You had to catch the bus home together, you had to pay his fare, and his bail drained everything you’d been saving from your waitress job. But your dad refused to pay it, and you refused to be alone in that house any longer than you already had.

You swallow the memory. It still tastes as sour as the day it happened.

“Lucas Hartford is our main suspect,” he says. “He matches our initial profile—in and out of jail since his twenties, his parents are dead and he has an unstable home life, and he’s got a sister.”

“None of those sound like questions,” you say.

“Where is your brother?” he asks firmly. He’s given you a bit of leniency, but you can tell he’s getting tired of you. Some things never change, you think to yourself bitterly.

“I don’t know,” you admit.

“You don’t know,” he repeats.

“I let him stay with me, and my only requirement is that he goes to his community college classes and stays out of jail,” you say. “He’s done both, so I don’t ask questions.”

“And you’re telling me you haven’t questioned it.”

“I called him the other day after you left,” you say. “He didn’t pick up, and I didn’t get a call back until the next night.”

Aaron’s eyes sharpen. “What did you say to him?”

“I called to see where he was,” you say evenly. “I think you all are wrong, but I wanted to make sure he was okay.”

“You didn’t tell him—”

“No,” you interrupt, “I didn’t tell him about your investigation. If I think you’re wrong, why would I need to let him know?”

He still has that look in his eyes, and you know you’re getting on his nerves with the constant interrupting, the constant backtalk. But he probably deals with much, much worse.

“Good,” he nods. “You could be putting lives in danger if you do—including yours.”

“Please,” you scoff. “He won’t hurt me. He never has.”

“Why do you let him stay with you?” Aaron asks. “You’re straight-edge, he’s a borderline alcoholic that’s been in and out of jail for years. You’ve got a law degree, he never made it past high school. You’ve got your life together, his is falling apart.”

“That’s why I do it,” you say. “Our parents are dead. I’m all he has left, and he’s all I have left. I want him to get better, so I’m trying my best to help him get there. How can Luke put his life back together if he’s got no support?”

“That’s an awful lot of faith to put in someone who hasn’t earned it.”

“I’ve gotten good at that over the years,” you reply.

Aaron stares at you, and you stare back. You let the moment linger. You hope it stings, even fleetingly.

“And you’re wrong, by the way.”

“About what?” he asks. Again, unshaken.

“I don’t have a law degree,” you say. “I dropped out.”

And for some reason, that is what gets him. He frowns, and you wonder what it means that this is the most unexpected thing he’s gotten out of you.

“Why? You were only a year out. You had stellar grades.”

“My mom got cancer,” you say. “Luke was serving his second stint, Dad fucked off to some corner of the country to drink himself to death a couple months before. I was the only one left to take care of her, and I couldn’t do that from DC.”

“I had no idea.” This is the first time he looks taken aback since you’ve met him again. “And she’s—”

“Dead,” you supply without waiting for an answer. “Went a couple months after I was meant to graduate.”

“...I’m sorry for your loss,” he says. He’s just repeating what his agent said at your house, but it feels genuine, at least.

“It’s been a decade,” you say. “I’m just sorry it was her instead of my dad.”

Aaron’s brows knit together again, and less work goes into covering it up this time. “You seem to have something against your father.”

You huff a mirthless laugh. “Excellent profiling.”

“Child abuse is common for serial killers,” Aaron says. “We find it’s typically the root of their problems later in life, or plays a part in their MO.”

You stare at him again. This isn’t just an interrogation with Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner—it’s revealing parts of your past that you never told your ex-boyfriend Aaron.

“Yeah,” you finally say. “Our dad beat us. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“You know th—”

Aaron cuts himself off before he can finish whatever he wants to say, and he lets out a short sigh with a nod. “It’s valuable information for the profile.”

The room feels a lot colder all of a sudden. “Sure.”

He still looks like he wants to say more, but he bites his tongue as he takes the picture back and closes the file.

“I’ll be back,” he says. “Would you like anything? Water?”

You shake your head and remain silent. He takes the folder and stands up, and you watch him the entire way to the door. Just before he can open it, you find words escaping without you thinking.

“Look, Aaron,” you blurt out. He pauses, and he turns to look at you. “I know this is your thing, and this is your investigation, but I’m telling you—my brother and I don’t play any part in it.”

“The profile—”

“I don’t care what your profile says,” you interrupt. “He didn’t do it. He couldn’t have done it.”

“He’s rough around the edges, I know. In and out of jail isn’t good for anyone.” You hold onto the edge of the table as you continue rambling, needing something to do with your hands. “But he’s working to get better, and he is not the kind of person to do something like this. If you believe anything I say, believe that.”

“I suppose we’ll find out,” he says evenly.

He leaves the room, and your hands fall into your lap as your nails dig into your palms. You don’t mean to be desperate, but you feel it. You’ve been defending Lucas at every chance, but you’re terrified of being wrong. You’re terrified that Aaron might be right—that he might be behind all of this.

For his sake—and your sake, honestly, because you think you deserve to be selfish when he’s all you have left—you hope you’re right.

You have to be right.

The room feels even colder.

Your stare drifts to the one-way mirror, where you know his team is watching. You saw the way Agent Prentiss watched Aaron when they came to your house—he said he doesn’t want them to know, but you think they already do.

You wonder the kind of things they’ve come up with about you and him.

Morgan whistles when Hotch walks out of the interrogation room.

“She does not like you.”

“Did you gather anything else?” he asks placidly. He sets your brother’s file down so he can fix his tie.

“Abusive dad, dead parents, criminal background,” he says. “Lucas is looking like a stronger suspect. Oh— and she really doesn’t like you.”

“If you don’t want to go back to building a file on your suspect, move on,” Hotch demands.

Morgan shrugs, clearly unfazed, but he keeps his mouth shut. Reid, meanwhile, is still staring through the glass at you. You haven’t exactly relaxed, but you’re not as tense as you were while talking to Hotch. You pick at a loose strand of thread on your sweater, and when you pull it out, you let it fall to the floor.

“Her brother feels like a prime suspect,” Reid murmurs. “I feel like I could just figure it all out if I could talk to him.”

“I told Penelope to keep an eye on him,” Prentiss contributes. “She’s tracking his cards, the car registered in his name, even called the person in charge of the AA meetings he goes to to keep an eye out—everything. We’ll know if she gets anything.”

“Serial killers want to see the damage they’ve done,” Reid says. “Things are falling apart here—the whole city is terrified. He’s gotta be in St. Louis still.”

“You’re sure that he’s still in the running.” Hotch glances back at you, and he knows he has to at least ask, for your sake. He doesn’t want to put you through anything more than he has to—not after what you’ve told him.

And Hotch knows your past is your business—he just can’t believe you never told him.

He’s turned over your relationship in his head just as many times in these past few days as he did the months after he ended things.

“I’m sure, sir,” Reid says. “I’ve read over both their files, and Lucas matches with our preliminary profile. His stressor could have been his father dying.”

Morgan frowns. “Explain.”

“Family annihilators typically go after their own family for a myriad of reasons,” he says. “Paranoia, to cover up their lies, to free themselves from what they see as oppression, sometimes just pure jealousy.”

“He’s killing the parents but leaving the children alive,” Hotch says. “Sounds like a liberator to me.”

“That’s what I think,” Reid nods. “If Lucas has been banking on killing his father for that attempt at freedom, and then lost the chance?” He shrugs. “That could be why he started going for other families.”

“Other fathers to take his place,” Morgan realizes, and he nods again.

“You should talk to her, Spence,” Prentiss says. “You’ve got a handle on the profile, and you’re pretty good at conveying info. She seems like a reasonable person—just can’t accept her brother doing something like this.”

“It’s typical for someone to deny their family member’s involvement,” Reid says. “No one wants to think their sibling is a murderer.”

“If you lay it all out for her like that, with facts and the profile, I think she’ll listen.” Prentiss looks at Hotch. “She’s too closed off with you.”

“That’s how she is,” Hotch claims.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, “but it’s much easier to hate you than it is to hate Reid.”

Hotch glares at her, and Reid clears his throat to insert himself back into the conversation.

“I’d be happy to talk to her,” he says. “I know what it’s like to be in this kind of position—I can put her at ease, sympathize with her.”

They all look at Hotch, and he wants to say no. He wants to be the one to get this out of you—some part of him wants as much time with you as possible. But he decides to swallow his ego.

“Fine.” He nods, and he hands the folder to Reid. “I trust you to handle it.”

Reid nods too, far too many times, and he takes the file. “Thank you. Uh— sir. I appreciate your trust.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, but it has no bite to it, and Reid walks inside.

He says your name and sits down across from you. “I’m Spencer Reid. I know we’ve already said it, but thank you for talking to us. It may not seem like it, but it goes a long way towards figuring out this case.”

You nod. You already seem more at ease than you were with him, and it makes Hotch…

Not jealous, because that would be insane. But it makes him upset that he doesn’t understand you the way he used to—that he doesn’t hold that key to you anymore. God, it feels like he doesn’t know you anymore.

Hotch doesn’t get why a side of his brain still thinks this way about you.

“They sent a new one in,” you say.

“You looked like you needed a break from Hotch,” Reid says. “Don’t worry. We all do sometimes.”

You huff a slight laugh and your posture eases, your expression softens just so. Reid was right, as usual.

“I can imagine.”

He starts talking to you about the case, laying out all the facts, and though you don’t look happy, you don’t cut him off like you cut Hotch off.

“She’s pretty,” Morgan offers, glancing at Hotch. “And stubborn. I see why you like her.”

“Shut up, Morgan,” Hotch mutters.

He chuckles and holds his hands up, and focuses back on the interrogation.

The rest of it passes in silence, save for the occasional input from Prentiss or Morgan to elaborate on a point. You talk much more with Reid than you did with Hotch, and you don’t stare daggers at him the entire time.

Time doesn’t always heal all wounds, he thinks.

When Reid is finishing up inside with you, Morgan glances back at Hotch. “You think she’s part of this?”

He shakes his head. “No. She has no reason to kill, nothing to gain. She talks about her past too plainly—it hurt her, obviously, but it hasn’t taken over her life.”

“What about her brother?” Prentiss asks.

“The more we learn, the more I suspect him,” Morgan says.

She nods in agreement. “We just have to find him.”

Hotch isn’t sure yet.

But for your sake, he hopes his gut feeling is wrong.

Spring has finally sprung in DC, and you couldn’t be happier.

It’s hard to feel down on your walks to class when the birds are singing and the sun is beaming down on you, when you see students sitting on blankets reading and talking and actually enjoying life for once.

You’re two years into law school, and it feels like you’ve spent 90% of your time studying in either the library or your room. A bit of a sad existence, but it’s made better with Aaron.

You’re laying down on a blanket—one you crocheted yourself in undergrad—resting your head on Aaron’s chest as he reads a book, the spring sun shining down on you. It feels like the first moment of relaxation either of you have had since classes started, and you chose to spend it together in the University Yard.

You should probably be studying or doing some kind of homework, but you don’t care. It has been too damn long since you’ve gotten to just sit around and exist with Aaron, and you’ve got at least a couple days until your next quiz. That’s far enough away for you.

It’s been a rough semester for both of you, between classes and endless homework, between your internship and your endless family issues—Luke is two years in, and his parole was denied, and your dad still insists on being the reason you stay on campus year-round.

You don’t think you’re pushing it when you say Aaron’s support has been the only reason you’ve gotten through it, your grades—and your mental state—relatively unscathed.

Aaron says your name, and you hum.

“Are you listening?” he asks.

“Of course,” you say.

“Your eyes are closed.”

“I don’t need my eyes to listen,” you say wryly. “What’s up?”

You feel him tense for a moment, feel him adjust his position slightly.

“I got a call from Haley,” he says carefully.

Your eyes open and you frown.

You know the name, but only in the way that you talked a bit about your past relationships while you were still getting to know each other. She was his high school girlfriend, and it was a big deal then, but they broke up before college because they both wanted different things.

It shouldn’t be a big deal now. But he’s treating it like one, and that makes you hesitate.

“Yeah? What’d she want?”

“…She’s in DC for the weekend,” he says. “Some conference for school. She asked if we could grab a coffee or something and catch up.”

You finally sit up, his hands falling from where he’d been playing with your hair, and you look at him.

“Your high school girlfriend wants to catch up.”

“An old friend wants to catch up,” he corrects. “I haven’t really talked to her since we graduated high school.”

“...Okay,” you say slowly. “Do you want to see her?”

He shrugs. “I thought it would be nice.”

“Do you think she thinks it’ll be more than nice?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t even know how she got my landline. I think my mom might have given it to her.”

Your eyebrows rise. “Your mom gave your ex-girlfriend your number?”

“It’s the only way I can think of her getting it,” Aaron shrugs. “Like I said, I haven’t talked to her since graduation.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to think as you look at Aaron.

You’ve met his mom a dozen times. You’re insistent that she doesn’t like you, despite Aaron’s assertions towards the opposite—it wouldn’t surprise you if she gave this girl his new number in an effort to push him in a new direction.

But that train of thought feels a little crazy. You’re confident in your relationship with Aaron—you love him, and he loves you. God, he made an off-handed comment about marriage the other day. You’re not threatened by a girl from his past wanting to catch up.

“Go for it,” you finally say.

He frowns, like he was expecting the worst. “Really?”

“I trust you, Aaron,” you say. “You say she’s just a friend, I believe it.”

You lean forward to kiss him, your eyes fluttering shut, and it lasts much longer than it should. When you pull away, Aaron’s smiling softly at you.

“Thank you,” he says.

“‘Course,” you say, tipping a shoulder. “I’m known to be rational from time to time.”

He chuckles, and you smile as you lay back down on his chest. Soon after, you feel the weight of his hand on your shoulder.

“I love you,” he says. It feels more like a reminder than anything.

You entangle your fingers together and press a kiss to the back of his hand.

Sometimes you need reminders.

“I love you too.”

“Four more bodies,” Prentiss mutters. “God.”

“You can say that again,” Morgan murmurs.

Hotch is silent as he examines the father’s body. They’ve been so busy the past few days trying to nail down the profile, both on their unsub and geographically, that this happening again hadn’t been at the top of their list. There was a month between the first two, and two weeks between the second and third.

No one expected this to happen so soon.

The entire family was killed this time, and once again, the parents look similar to the other victims. It’s the work of their unsub, no doubt.

Hotch and the team had already been at the precinct for an hour going over all the information they’d found when they got the call at 8 in the morning, the bodies discovered by the family’s maid when she arrived for work.

An entire family, parents and children, senselessly slaughtered for one man’s deranged quest for liberation.

Hotch has been in this business for a long time, seen things that most people only imagine in nightmares, and he still has to take a step back when children are involved.

He sees Jack in every single one. He can’t help it.

Hotch took Prentiss and Morgan with him to the crime scene—JJ has a kid, Rossi had a kid, and he just didn’t want Reid to see it. They’ll all be more valuable working together back there anyways, and it’s imperative that JJ controls the narrative before this can break to the press.

Again, Prentiss talks to the officers at the scene and Morgan helps him examine the bodies. After all, there are double the amount.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Morgan says as he stands back up. “Our guy is killing surrogate parents to get back at his own, fine. Dad was tortured again, mom was killed with a bullet. But bringing the kids into it isn’t his thing.”

He uses a gloved hand to gingerly lift the father’s arm away from his body so he can examine the underarm. “Look at this. He’s been stabbed at least ten times, and his arm’s nearly severed from his body.”

“And his neck,” Morgan mutters. “He’s half decapitated.”

Hotch sets the arm back down. “The unsub always wants the father to suffer, but this is a new level.” He looks up at Morgan. “I don’t think he has a reason for killing the children. I think he’s getting sloppy—he’s getting overwhelmed by his anger.”

“You think he’s devolving,” he says, catching on.

“Something tells me we’re coming to the end of the line,” Hotch says. “Whatever he does next, he’s going out with a bang.”

The mood in the precinct has fallen dramatically since the last hit. The uniforms aren’t happy that they’re working around the clock, the chief isn’t happy that the BAU hasn’t figured everything out yet, and the city isn’t happy that ten murders have been committed with what they think is no end in sight.

JJ and Rossi have gone out to bring in the suspect that he and Morgan found together for the sake of covering their bases—they still haven’t been able to find Lucas, despite Reid calling you every day to check in and upping police presence around the city.

The rest of the team sits around a conference table, over a dozen coffees between them, going over everything and racking their brains for information.

“This just isn’t matching up,” Reid complains. “Lucas has just been at home for the first two, but for the third and the fourth he’s got alibis.”

“What are they?” Hotch asks.

“He was on the road all night when the third happened,” Reid says.

“And how do we know?” Prentiss asks.

“Garcia picked up his debit card being used a couple times from Des Moines back to St. Louis when the third set of murders happened,” Morgan contributes. “Must’ve been a road trip, because there are stops at a gas station, a restaurant, and a rest stop.”

“The last one happened during an AA meeting he was supposed to attend,” Prentiss says. “I called the leader and she said he was there.”

“Do we have footage from any of those places?” Hotch asks. “We need to make sure.”

Reid nods. “I asked her to check it all this morning, including the AA meeting. She must still be going through it—I can’t imagine it’s easy to get all that access.”

“What about a second unsub?” Morgan suggests.

Hotch shakes his head. “These are all meant to be personal for liberation—catharsis. Involving someone else would take away from the feeling.”

“What about your suspect?” Prentiss asks, looking at Morgan. “Could he be the unsub?”

“Patrick Fenton,” Morgan says, and he shrugs. “He fits it—dead parents, jail time, child of abuse. But he’s got two sisters, and his parents died when he was in his twenties from a car accident. I don’t see why he would start killing almost twenty years later.”

“Maybe we’ll figure something out in questioning,” Reid says hopefully.

Morgan’s phone suddenly goes off, and he hits the button to answer. “You’re on speaker, babygirl.”

“I found the security footage from those three places, the ones that Lucas was at on his supposed road trip when the third family was hit,” Garcia says, voice slightly tinny through the phone.

“And?” Hotch asks.

“I was getting there,” she says. “Lucas wasn’t there. He wasn’t on any of the footage—his sister was.”

Hotch frowns. You?

“You’re sure?” he asks.

“I’m always sure,” Garcia responds. “And I don’t know if Spencer is there, but he also wasn’t there at the AA meeting—I combed through the whole meeting, and he didn’t show up at any point. Just another guy that looked like him.”

“And you’re sure about that, too?” Hotch asks again.

“What is with this questioning of my abilities?” she asks, offended. “Yes. I’ve stared at so many pictures of Lucas Hartford over these past few days that I’ve got him burned into my brain.”

“Thanks, babygirl,” Morgan says. “We’ll call back if we need anything.”

“And you’re always welcome in this house of miracles,” she muses. Morgan chuckles before he hangs up.

“Lucas gave her his card,” Reid realizes. “It’s an easy alibi, but it falls apart when you look into it even a little bit.”

“Probably seemed solid to him at the time,” Morgan says. “He doesn’t seem like a detail oriented guy.”

Prentiss frowns. “That means he’s back on the chopping block. We can put him at the scene of every murder.”

Hotch leans over the table and grabs Lucas’s file, and he pulls out the page compiling his family. “His father died five years ago from liver failure. Hartford got out of jail last year.”

“If he’s been plotting some elaborate murder of his father for years, just to get out of jail and find out he drank himself to death?” Morgan shakes his head. “He’d snap. It doesn’t feel like justice.”

“He thinks he’s saving the kids of these parents that he kills,” Reid says. “He sees himself in them—he can’t look past his own childhood, and he assumes those kids must want their parents dead too.”

“He’s trying to get back at his dad,” Prentiss says. “We know that.”

“But that’s not his main goal,” Reid insists. “If his dad died when he was a kid, the abuse would have stopped. His mom wouldn’t be the battered wife anymore, and he wouldn’t be the battered kid.”

“His goal has always been protection,” Hotch realizes. “Yes, he’s getting his revenge by killing his father over and over, but ultimately, he’s trying to save himself.”

“But he didn’t anticipate the kids being home this time,” Prentiss says. “He had to kill them too.”

“If he‘s seeing himself in these children, recreating what he never got to do, then that means that he effectively died in this scenario,” Reid says.

“He didn’t get what he wanted,” Morgan says. “That’s gonna take a toll on him.”

“He’s coming to the end of the line,” Prentiss nods.

Hotch’s brain is working overtime as they work information off of each other. They’re so damn close—they just need the last piece of the puzzle. If they find Lucas’s next victim, they find him.

“His next crime will probably be his last before he goes out himself,” Reid says.

“You think it’ll be a murder-suicide?” Morgan asks.

“It’s common with family annihilators,” Reid says. “Hell, it’s common with anyone who sees no future beyond their murders. It’s their way out.”

And then the answer hits Hotch like a ton of bricks. Reid is still rambling next to him.

“If his dad was still alive, I’d say he would be the target. But the only one left—”

“—is his sister,” Hotch grits out, and he’s dashing out of the conference room before anyone can stop him.

“Hotch!” Morgan yells, and he turns to Prentiss with wild eyes. “Where the hell is he going?”

“The last victim,” she says as she starts following him. “The one person he never managed to save.”

“Goddammit,” Morgan curses, and he grabs his phone from the table, dialing Garcia as fast as she can while he runs. Reid is close behind him.

“What’s up, sugar?” she asks. “Got anymore leads?”

He laughs dryly. “We’ve got a big one, babygirl. Lucas has finally reached the end of the road — he’s going for his sister. I need you to call JJ and Rossi and—”

“Send them the Hartford address and fill them in on everything?” she interrupted, and he could hear her fingers flying across the keyboard. “Already on it.”

“What would I do without you?” he asks.

“Be half the man and twice as sad,” she says. “I’ve got to call JJ. Be safe, my love.”

“Always,” he responds, and he hangs up.

Hotch distantly registers Prentiss stopping by the chief to alert him of what’s going on, because he’s in the fog of a rampage. He’s in the driver’s seat before he knows it, starting the car, and he sees Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid running out after him.

Prentiss takes shotgun and Morgan and Reid file into the back, and they’ve all got Kevlar vests in their hands. He didn’t really think of that through his haze.

“We’ve got an extra one for you,” Reid says, reading his mind.

“Thank you. I— I know what you’re all thinking—” Hotch starts, but Prentiss shakes her head.

“Just drive.” Her lips set themselves in a taut line. “We’ve got a murder to stop.”

And he does.

You sit on the curb, surrounded on either side by a box of your things. Packing up everything made you realize how little you had at his place. You thought you’d integrated yourself into his life fully, but it really just took an afternoon while he was in a lecture to disappear.

Summer has fully turned to winter, and you’re as morose as the weather. This side of town looks so depressing without the warmer months to pick it up—the sidewalks are lined with dead trees, the grass is shriveled up and yellowing, and you feel like you’re living in grayscale.

A shiver runs through you, the weather only partly to blame.

Amy is supposed to pick you up, but as usual, she’s running late. You don’t know if it’s a personal issue or DC traffic has just struck again, but it doesn’t really matter. Either way, you’re stuck here, and your bad luck seems intent on making it worse, because you watch a familiar car pull around the corner.

It parks a distance away—there’s no space in front of the complex, and he always complained that they didn’t do assigned spots—and you have to hold back a scornful scoff.

Of course you have to deal with this now.

Aaron picks up his pace when he gets out of the car, surprise—and what you think is shame—painted on his face. He says your name when he slows down.

“You’re already packed.”

You shrug. “I’m nothing if not efficient.”

“I could’ve helped you with all this,” Aaron says, frowning.

“Why do you think it’s done already?” you ask.

His throat bobs and he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Let me save you the pain of chivalry,” you say. “I’ve got a friend coming to pick me up. I’ve already found a place. I called your property manager the other day and argued my way out of the lease, but I still paid my next month. You’re welcome.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says.

“You know what they say about a clean break,” you intone.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron tries again. To his credit, he looks like he means it. Against his credit, it’s about the fiftieth time you’ve heard it from him in the past two weeks.

“I shouldn’t have let you get that coffee,” you say with a grim smile, “should I?”

His lips pull into a taut line. “I didn’t cheat on you.”

“I know,” you say. It’s the one thing you do believe. “I just don’t think you ever fell out of love with her.”

Mercifully, you see Amy’s car pulling up in the distance. She’s your only friend with an SUV, so at least your boxes will fit.

“My ride’s here,” you say as you stand up, and you pick up one of your boxes. Amy throws on her hazards and she gets out to open her trunk.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she breathes. “Traffic was awful, and Jake has been so annoying—”

“Don’t worry about it,” you say with a slight smile as you put your box in the back. “You’re already doing me a huge favor.”

“I want us to still be friends,” Aaron calls. When you turn back, he has your other box in his hands, his expression shamelessly desperate. Amy glares daggers at him.

“Why?” you ask innocently. “So I can go without talking to you for ten years, ask you for a coffee when I’m in town, and then get you to leave Haley?”

“That’s not what happened,” he says, but you’re already shaking your head.

You take the box from him and smile thinly.

“Have a good rest of your life, Aaron. I hope it doesn’t involve me ever again.”

You let out a noise of frustration as you struggle to get the key into the lock, gritting your teeth as you try to fit it in. It’s always been finicky, but you just don’t have the energy to deal with this tonight. Thankfully, just when you start getting annoyed, you get it open.

You get a few steps in before your eyebrows rise, the sight of your brother at the kitchen table a surprise. He’s got his head in his hands, and your surprise turns to concern.

“Lucas,” you say with a slight smile, shutting the door behind you, “I didn’t know you were gonna be home tonight.”

His attention shoots to you immediately as he says your name, and he looks slightly out of it. “I was wondering when you were gonna get back.”

“Stole the words right out of my mouth,” you say wryly, and you ruffle his hair with your free hand as you walk past him. He swats your hand away in brotherly protest, and you snort. “This place has been quiet without you. Well— except for the cops. They were pretty loud.”

“They haven’t been back, have they?”

You look back at him and notice his leg is bobbing up and down insanely fast, and he keeps scratching at the soft wood of your table with his nail.

Your smile fades. “Don’t tell me you’ve been drinking.”

“Of course I haven’t,” he insists, but you turn on the kitchen light, then move closer to peer into his eyes against his protests.

“At least you’re not high,” you murmur, taking one last look before you pull away. “And stop ruining the table. I need it to last for the next ten years.”

He huffs, and you can practically hear him roll his eyes, but he stops.

“Did you go to class today?”

“You don’t have to act like Mom,” Lucas says, crossing his arms again with another huff.

“And you don’t have to act like a child.” You roll your eyes as you set your tote bag on the countertop and begin unpacking the groceries you bought. “I’m asking you about your day—that’s definitely not acting like Mom.”

“Yes,” he mocks. “I went to class.”

“Good.” You glance back at him. “I’m proud of you, Luke. You’ve been making progress.”

His smile is a bit thin, but he nods. “Thanks. How was work?”

You scoff and shake your head as you put a couple things in the pantry. “Don’t even get me started. I swear, Marie’s going to get me fired someday if she keeps her bullshit up.”

“She’s still on it?” Luke asks, and you can’t help but smile a bit.

“Don’t act like you know what I’m talking about,” you say. “Just agree with me.”

“I agree with you,” he says.

“That’s it,” you muse.

Your eyes fall back on your bag, and you’re reminded of what you meant to do next time your brother showed up.

“Oh—” You go back over to the kitchen table for your bag and pull out your wallet. You slide a debit card out and hold it out to your brother. “Thanks for letting me use it while I was up in Des Moines. I finally got my bank to get rid of the freeze on my card.”

“...Of course,” he says, and he takes it back. “Glad I could help.”

“I’ll pay you back, obviously,” you say as you get back to your groceries. “I just have to wait to get paid again.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “And uh— you never answered me. Did the cops come by again?”

You huff a mirthless laugh and shake your head. “You have nothing to worry about, Luke. I think they finally realized they were barking up the wrong tree.”

“…Good,” he says. “I can tell they’ve stressing you out.”

“Like that looks any different than my normal state,” you say wryly. “Besides, it wasn’t that bad.”

You recall the shock you felt when you opened the door to Aaron, and how nervous you were on the drive to the precinct. It’s almost been a decade, and yet he still has an effect on you that he has no right to.

“You remember that guy I dated when I was still in law school? Aaron Hotchner?”

“I think? I was in jail, so.”

You roll your eyes. “I know I told you about him when I visited you while we were together.”

“I remember you telling me how he broke your heart,” Luke says.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“That he’s with the FBI now. The BAU,” you enunciate, and you huff. “He’s one of the guys on this case, coincidence that it is. They came here—they even brought me in for an interview.”

He frowns. “What’d you say?”

“The truth.” You pull your cutting board and a knife out of a drawer and get to work washing your vegetables. “That I didn’t know anything, and neither of us are involved in either way.” You shake your head with a sigh. “They must believe it, because they haven’t come back.”

“What have they said about me?” he asks.

“I’m not supposed to say.” You roll your eyes. “I think you’re innocent, but I could get charged with obstruction, and I really don’t feel like dealing with that…”

You trail off into a sigh as you finish washing the peppers and set them on a towel. “I hope they find whoever’s doing it, though. It is freaking me out that there’s a murderer out there.”

You pick up your knife and start cutting them up—they’re not the freshest, but it’s all Kroger had after work—and you glance back at Luke. “You really shouldn’t be going out so often with this going on, y’know. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m careful.”

“I doubt that,” you say wryly. “Still, though. I worry about you.”

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” he asks. “I’m your older brother.”

“I worry about everything,” you say. “It’s my thing.”

You hear him huff a laugh and you smile a bit to yourself. You get through your first pepper before you remember what’s been nagging at you your whole ride home.

“Oh— can you get the TV?” you ask. “Channel 8, I think. Marcy is getting interviewed for something with her nonprofit, and I told her I’d record it for her.”

Lucas doesn’t respond, though you hear the scrape of the chair as he gets up.

“Thank you,” you say. “I think they have a fundraiser coming up or something…” you trail off and shake your head as you scrape the cut peppers onto a plate. “God. I need to start paying attention in the break room.”

Another few seconds pass, and you don’t hear the television switch on. You huff and turn your head slightly. “Luke, I’m making dinner tonight. This is the least you could do.”

“I’m sorry.”

The words come out as a murmur, but you can tell he’s much closer than he was before.

You don’t even get the chance to turn around before something crashes against your head and your vision goes dark. You feel yourself fall to the ground, and your head hits the floor hard.

Then, there’s nothing.

Hotch has been breaking every speeding law there is.

The station isn’t too far from your house, but it’s still too far. All he can see is your body, crippled and lifeless just like every other victim they’ve had to look at.

It should never have gotten to this point. Lucas has been a suspect for the first day, but they looked to other suspects, got caught up in statements from neighbors and the kids of the victims.

If Hotch just found him and booked him on the first day, this wouldn’t be happening. Your life wouldn’t be in danger.

His hands tighten on the steering wheel.

“I seriously think we’re looking at a murder-suicide if this gets to play out,” Reid speaks up from the backseat. “This is his way of ending this for both of them—the ultimate protection of his sister.”

“No one can hurt her if she’s dead,” Morgan mutters.

“Hotch,” Prentiss starts, treading carefully, “are you sure you’re okay to lead this?”

“Yes,” he says, though he wants to say what kind of question is that?

You were together a lifetime ago in law school, yes, and he might still have feelings for you that he didn’t even realize were there, yes—but he’s an agent and a professional before all of that.

It doesn’t matter that you have history. It doesn’t matter that you likely hate him.

It doesn’t matter that he thought he was going to marry you one day, and then was watching you drive out of his life after he got back with his high school girlfriend another day.

Aaron Hotchner is not going to let you die. It’s as simple as that.

Hotch’s phone rings and he picks it up and flips it open immediately. “Talk to me, Garcia.”

“JJ and Rossi are on their way,” she says. “Are you headed to their place?”

“Yes,” he says, and he puts it on speaker. “I’ve got Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid with me still.”

“Do you think there’s anywhere else he could be?” Morgan asks. “If he’s going to kill her, he might not want to do it in this house.”

“Already a step ahead of you, my love,” she says, and he can hear mouse clicks through the phone. “They grew up in a house in St. Charles—it’s abandoned, from the looks of it, some place on the outskirts. Never got another buyer after the past owners moved out. I’m sending the address to Emily right now.”

Prentiss gets a buzz on her phone and she nods in confirmation after flipping it open. Hotch immediately switches lanes and makes a U-turn, his jaw clenching.

“Tell me how to get there, Prentiss,” he says. “He’s there.”

“You need to get on I-70,” she says, and then her brow furrows. “How do you know?”

“He’s killed everyone else in their homes because he sees it as the source of it all. His sister’s rented place isn’t personal enough.” Hotch shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t he want to go back to theirs to end it all?”

“Hotch.” Penelope’s voice rings out in the car, and he doesn’t even realize he forgot to hang up.

“What?”

“Be careful,” she says, and he rushes to turn it off speaker and press it to his ear. “I… I know how important this is to you.”

Hotch’s throat bobs and his eyes burn with the beginnings of tears. He blinks them away—he can’t be weak now. He can’t let his team see him be weak now. “Dare I ask how?”

“I found an article about GW’s mock trial team,” she says. “Kind of went down a rabbit hole from there.”

Somehow, he huffs the slightest laugh. It feels like a lifetime ago—it honestly is, at this point. Before he saw carnage and gore on a daily basis and tried to solve it, when he thought the DA’s office was the endpoint, when he came home to your smiling face every night.

And now…

Hotch’s spine somehow stiffens, and he knows the other three in the car are watching him. He can’t decide whether he cares or not.

“Thank you, Garcia.”

“No problem,” she says, and he can almost hear her blink in the pause. “Uh— for what, exactly?”

For the memory, he wants to say. But he doesn’t. He can’t, not right now, so he tries his best to snap out of it.

“Keep a watch on the patrol cars,” he says instead. “Update JJ and Rossi on our plan, but tell them to stay on their path. I’m sure I’m right, but we need to cover our bases.”

“Of course, sir.” He hears her fingers flying across the keys. “I’ve got yours and the squad cars’ locations up—I’ll call them now.”

“Thank you,” he says.

“Good luck, Hotch,” Garcia says softly.

Hotch hangs up before he gets too emotional. Penelope has a way of bringing that side out of him.

“We’ll get him,” Prentiss assures. She’s been watching him this whole time, he can feel it—she’s been attuned far too keenly on this entire part of the case involving you and him. “And we’ll save her.”

His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, and for once, Hotch can’t find the words.

It feels like your head is slowly being cranked in a vice when you eventually wake up, a dull but insistent pain. Your arm stings too, but you don’t know why.

You blink a few times as you try to figure out where you are, a low groan slipping out as you fully come back into consciousness, and you move to rub the grogginess out of your eyes.

Your arms don’t move. You try again, panic spiking your heart for a moment, and that’s when you realize you’re in a chair—tied to a chair, your wrists bound together behind you and your ankles bound to the chair legs.

Now the panic fully sets in. There’s a murderer in St. Louis, but you don’t fit the victimology from what you’ve seen, but does any of that fucking matter when you’re stuck in something out of a horror movie?

Lucas was the only one there with you. So either he’s in the same situation, or he—

“You’re finally awake,” a voice murmurs. When he comes into view and sits down across from you, your heart stops.

For a moment, all you can do is stare at your brother with wide eyes. You see the gun in his hand through your peripherals, but you don’t look away from his gaze.

“I was worried I was too rough,” he says softly. “But you’ve always been resilient.”

“Lucas,” you breathe. “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s finally going to be over,” he says, ignoring your panic. “We’ve been hurting our whole lives because of that bastard of a father, and I can finally make it all stop.”

Your brother is fucking crazy. He’s fucking crazy, and he’s going to kill you.

You’ve spent two weeks telling Aaron he was crazy and your brother was innocent, and now he’s going to be proven right when he finds your dead body.

You try to tamp down on your panic. You don’t have a law degree, sure, and you never officially practiced, but you’ve been a good speaker, a persuasive one, all your life.

And if there’s ever been a fucking time to be persuasive, it’s now.

“You don’t have to do this,” you whisper. “We— we can talk if you want to talk.” You tug at your ankle restraints. “This is unnecessary.”

He shakes his head. “I know you. You’d run.”

“Come on.” You manage as much of a smile as you can. “I’ve always been there for you, Luke. Why would this be any different?”

“...You’ve always been too nice,” he says, and he sets the gun down on his leg. At least he doesn’t have his finger on the trigger. “Anyone rational would’ve kicked me to the curb when I asked you for help.”

“You’re my brother,” you whisper. “I— I love you, Lucas. I’d never do that to you.”

“Family��s supposed to be everything, right?” He shakes his head. “You were the only one of us that understood that. You were there to pick me up every time my sentence was up.”

“I’ve always believed in you,” you say.

He huffs a monotone laugh as he stares at the ground. “You’re definitely the only one.”

You shake your head. “That’s not true.”

“Mom didn’t care enough to stop anything,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “And Dad wished I was dead every goddamn day. He didn’t have the guts to do it himself, but he definitely tried.”

You can’t defend your parents. Your dad’s a piece of shit, and your mom didn’t stop anything he did—but you could never find it in yourself to fully hate her because he hurt her too, with more than just bruises.

“I’ve dreamt of killing our dad every day for twenty years,” Lucas says. “And that old bastard had to fuck me over one last time and die while I was in jail.”

You remember when you got the news. You were next of kin—your mother had divorced him by then, and your brother was incarcerated—so you got the call from the hospital. You deliberated for hours before you bought a plane ticket to Montana—apparently that was where he fucked off to drink himself to death—and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt more numb than when you were sitting in some lawyer’s office, listening to him drone on about his will and how his estate would be divided.

“So you killed all of those people?” you asked. “Because you didn’t get to kill our dad first?”

“I was saving those kids!” Luke yells, and you shrink in on yourself. “Saving them before their parents could fuck them up like ours did to us!”

“You don’t have to do this,” you repeat. “You’re just letting Dad win. Proving every shitty thing he said about you.”

“And that’s the zinger, isn’t it? Luke laughs and shakes his head. “He was right. We’re a whole family of fuck-ups. An alcoholic abuser, a battered wife, a nonstop jailbird, and you…” He shakes his head with a sigh. “You should be out there prosecuting people like me.”

“He ruined us,” Luke murmurs. “And I’m finally going to fix it.”

All you can do is stare at your brother, wide and teary eyed. You can’t find the words, but you don’t have to.

Police sirens begin to filter through the air as they get closer, and Luke huffs. “Of course.” He eyes you. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” you say weakly.

When he leaves to peer out the front door, you take a second to look at your surroundings. It takes a second because they’re so decrepit, but you could never forget.

Luke brought you back to your childhood home—the place in St. Charles, rotten down to its bones. It’s abandoned by now, but the atmosphere is nothing less than oppressive. There’s a reason you graduated high school a year early, why you never came back once you got to college—except with Aaron, to help your mom move her things out.

You refuse to die here. Even if you have to claw back through the gates of Hell inch by inch—you will not die here.

You hear footsteps, and when Lucas comes back in, he has a crazed glint in his eye. He shakes his head as his finger returns back to the trigger, and you can’t help but flinch. He won’t. Not now.

“Looks like your friends the FBI are here,” he drawls. “You said you didn’t tell them anything.”

“I didn’t,” you insist. “They’re profilers—they figure things out.”

He shakes his head. “They don’t realize that I have to do this.” Luke kneels down in front of you and takes your chin in an iron grip. “This is the only way to end our pain.”

He lets go of you then stands up, moving behind you—you want to protest, but you don’t get the chance. He presses his gun to your temple and then the door is broken down. Four agents rush in, guns at the ready. Aaron leads them, and he’s got fire blazing in his eyes.

“FBI,” he barks. “Hands up.”

Lucas doesn’t seem fazed, his breathing staying the same. You stare right at Aaron, unfiltered fear in your eyes, and you feel torn bare. He’s going to watch your brother put a bullet in your head.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he says smoothly. “This is a family matter.”

“Put the gun down, Lucas,” Aaron says.

“You know my name,” he says. “I know yours too, Aaron Hotchner. My sister told me you were with the feds. She also told me you broke her heart.”

“Put the gun down,” he repeats.

“I don’t think I will,” Luke says. “You see, I don’t go around just kidnapping people for fun. I have a purpose here.” He tilts his head to the side. “But you know that, don’t you? You’re all profilers.”

“You’ve been targeting families that look like your own,” he says. “You think that killing them will end the pain inside you, and protect those kids in a way that you never got.”

“I don’t think it,” he bites, “I know it. If my dad had been shot thirty years ago, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“This isn’t going to bring you peace,” Aaron says. “Your sister has been the only person to stay by your side through every part of your life. Do you really want to lose that?”

“Trust me,” Luke says. “I’m not losing her.”

He flicks the safety off and you flinch. He’s going to kill you.

“Put the gun down,” another agent warns.

“If you all don’t leave right now, I’ll shoot her.” Your whole body stiffens as he presses the gun harder into the side of your head, your breathing going off kilter. “Except you, Aaron Hotchner. You can stay.”

“We’re not doing that,” the woman says. Agent Prentiss, you think.

“Really?” Luke chuckles. “You think you hold the cards here?”

“It’s okay,” Aaron says. “Go.”

Agent Prentiss frowns, and the other two men look different levels of puzzled. They obviously doubt the decision, but they don’t doubt Aaron, because one by one, they leave.

“Wow,” Luke muses. “They really trust you.”

“Because I know you don’t want to hurt her,” Aaron says. “Deep down, you know you’re not protecting her. Not by hurting her.”

“I’m not hurting her,” he says. “She’s always been the one to keep me safe over the years—I’m finally paying the favor back. I’m finally taking her pain away.”

“You were abused as children. Both of you.” Aaron looks at your brother. “Your sister always tried to protect you, but it never worked. It just made it worse for her, and it made you feel worthless. You’re her older brother. You’re the one that was supposed to protect her.”

“My sister said you’re profilers,” he says, and though his tone is lazy, you know your brother. You can tell it’s starting to get to him. “Is that what you’re doing right now? Profiling me?”

“You would never be good enough for your father, and your mother would never do anything to stop it,” Aaron continues. “All you had was your sister, and even that wasn’t good enough—you hurt her just as much as your dad did. At least your dad didn’t think he was a good person.”

Luke growls, and he puts a hand on your shoulder to pull you closer to him. “Shut up.”

“Your sister has told me you can be more than this,” he says. “And I think she’s right. You’re better than this—better than living between the margins and jail.”

“I’ve had a hole in my chest since I was born,” Luke mutters. “And I’ve tried to stop it, but it’s just grown and grown and grown. This— this aching pit of pain, and he caused it. You’ve got it too— I know it.”

“I— I do,” you say. And you’re not lying. You’ve had a pit of despair in you for as long as you can remember. The only difference is that you’ve fought every goddamn day of your life to keep it from consuming you. “And it hurts, Luke. Trust me, I know. It took me so long to even be able to deal with it, but I know how to. I can help you—we can both walk out of here.”

“No,” he whispers. “No—we can’t.”

“Yes, we can,” you plead. “I love you, Luke. I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life helping you if that’s what it takes to get rid of that hole.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. For a moment, you think you’ve gotten through to him. Aaron never takes his eyes away from you.

“I’ve never been able to protect her,” Luke murmurs. “Not from our dad, not from the world, not even from you, Aaron Hotchner.” He presses the gun harder than ever into your head, like he wants to bury the metal in your skull along with the bullet. “But that all ends now.”

You screw your eyes shut. You don’t want to see Aaron’s face when your brother kills you.

And then it happens so quickly you barely process it.

There’s two gunshots, almost at the same time. You scream, first because of the gunshots, then because of the sudden roaring pain in your side. There’s a thud next to you, your eyes shoot open, and you see your brother’s lifeless body fall to the ground.

You scream again—you can’t even control it, it just rips out of you at the sight of the hole in his head and the blood pooling beneath it—and Aaron drops his gun to rush forward. The rest of his team thunders in after him, all in guns and bulletproof vests, and they’re talking, but you can’t focus on a single goddamn thing because your brother’s dead body is right next to you.

Aaron pulls out a pocket knife and begins to cut through your restraints, and the instant he finishes you collapse. He catches you without a second thought, and you immediately wrap your arms around him.

Torrential sobs wrack your entire body as you bury your face in the crook of his shoulder, every part of you shaking as the reality of it all hits with full force.

Your brother is a serial killer. He killed ten people, he tried to kill you. And now he’s dead.

The only part you had left of your family—gone, just like that, with four other families ruined in his wake.

Aaron’s soft voice in your ear is the only thing bringing you back from the edge of hyperventilation, his own hold on you the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs and he shrugs off his windbreaker to wrap it around your arms. “You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

“He’s gone,” you choke out, voice muffled as you speak into his chest. “He’s gone, and he tried to—”

A fresh round of emotions hit you, unable to get the words out, and you fully break down in Aaron’s arms.

“I know.”

Aaron’s fingers linger on your side and you feel some dull pain, but you feel his breath still for a moment.

“You were shot,” he says with your name. “We have to get you to a hospital.”

You don’t even feel it. God, you don’t feel anything. There’s a distant ringing in your ears, an insistent pain in your skull, and you finally realize Aaron is right when you pull away and see the blood on his fingers.

But black spots start to fill your vision. You may not feel it, but your body holds the score. The pain intensifies in your side as your adrenaline starts to slow down, and you collapse against Aaron.

“Get an EMT in here!” he yells, keeping an arm wrapped around you. “We’ve got a GSW— she’s losing blood fast!”

You can feel Aaron’s rapid heartbeat, can feel his steady arms as he keeps you propped up. You feel the warmth of his body, feel the warmth draining out of yours.

“Aaron,” you whisper, your strength fading. You don’t think he hears you.

He helps you up and you’re suddenly hoisted onto a stretcher, and he’s beside you as the EMTs run you out of your childhood home. The night is a blurry canvas of red and blue lights, and your eyelids feel like they’re made of concrete.

“Aaron,” you try again, and you have enough left in you to grasp his cheek. “Thank you.”

And as the world goes black around you for the second time, you see his lips form your name.

It’s not a bad thing, you think before darkness overtakes you, for Aaron Hotchner to be the last thing you see before you die.

You wake up in the hospital alone.

You don’t know what you expect. You have few acquaintances, fewer friends, and the last part of your family is dead after he tried to kill you.

The real surprise is that you wake up at all.

Lucas is dead.

He tried to kill you. You thought he succeeded.

You let out a slow, even breath, accompanied only by the sounds of beeping machines. It still doesn’t exactly feel real.

You’ve spent the last two weeks defending your brother against every accusation, and you ended it in the hospital—well and truly alone for the first time in your life.

You look at the television. Some muted soccer game is playing, and you’re thankful. You were worried that you and your brother would be the topic of the day.

Who are you kidding? You’re going to be the topic of the year. He killed ten people. He tried to kill you, and you think he nearly did. He shot you, after all.

You let your head fall back against the pillow. All of your limbs feel insurmountably heavy, your side aches like hell, and you’ve got the worst headache of your life.

And you can’t stop playing it all over in your mind.

He was going to kill you.

Your own brother, your flesh and blood, the only person you had left, tried to kill you and would have killed you had it not been for the BAU.

Had it not been for Aaron Hotchner.

The door opens and someone walks through, your eyes following the movement, and when he sees it, he pauses. And so do you—apparently the devil appears even when you think of him.

“You’re awake,” Aaron says after a moment. It’s the third time he’s sounded surprised since you’ve met him again. Seeing you, finding out your mom is dead, seeing you.

But there’s relief there, too.

He has a coffee in his hand and his tie is undone, the sleeves of his white undershirt rolled up to his forearms. It makes you realize his suit jacket has been slung over the back of the chair near your bedside.

“How long have you been here?” you ask, your brows furrowing ever so slightly.

Aaron closes the door and sets his coffee on the table before he answers you. “Three days.”

“And how long have I been here?”

“Three days,” he says. “You suffered head trauma, they discovered drugs in your system, and… you were shot. You had to go into emergency surgery.”

You frown, and he answers before you can ask any of them. “…Your brother. After he knocked you out, he used something to… keep you out. And after I shot him, he still got one off—thankfully, as he was falling. The bullet hit you in the side instead of the head.”

“How bad was it?” you ask.

Aaron glances away. “You died on the table. They managed to bring you back, but…”

“I guess Luke did succeed,” you say absentmindedly. Aaron doesn’t laugh, and you glance away too. “Sorry. Bad time for jokes.”

He shakes his head. “If anyone’s allowed to joke about this, it’s you.”

Your lips twitch for a moment, but then you look back at him as he takes a seat at your bedside again. He looks— god, he just looks tired. Tired and ragged and downtrod, and you can’t imagine you look much better.

“You were out for two days after,” he explains. “This is the first time you’ve woken up.”

“Why are you here, Aaron?” you ask quietly. “Why have you been here?”

Aaron frowns. “Where else would I be?”

Your throat feels like it’s closing up, and you feel the telltale pinpricks of tears. You blink them away before they can start.

“My brother was a serial killer, Aaron.” Your hands clench into fists as you stare at the wall. “He killed ten people while he was living with me and I— and I didn’t even fucking notice.” Your gaze moves back to him. “I went against all of you because I thought I knew him, and look where it got me.”

“It’s not a crime to want to see the best in people,” he says. “Especially your family.”

“It’s a crime to fucking murder people,” you huff, and it’s only slightly unhinged. “I— I thought I knew him, and I didn’t. And if I did, maybe none of these people would’ve had to die.”

“Don’t blame this on yourself,” Aaron demands. “Lucas was lost. Mentally ill. He was on a path for revenge, for his deranged idea of protection—nothing you could have said or done would have stopped him.”

You shake your head. “It might be easy for you to say that, Aaron, but I— I can’t. He’s my brother. I gave him a place to live, I gave him easy access to families— god, I fought with you all for two weeks about his innocence, all while he was planning his next fucking murder!”

“It is not your fault,” he repeats, slower and enunciating the words. “He was the only member left of your family, and you loved him. You were just stubborn, and that’s nothing new.”

“I just don’t know what to do.” You’ve had these walls up for so long, especially this past week, and now that everything’s come to a head and you’re in the hospital and your fucking brother is dead, the floodgates have opened. “I have to plan a funeral because I’m the only one left to plan one, but— but does he even deserve one? He’s a serial killer, and he tried to kill me for god’s sake, but he’s my brother and even though he’s gone he’s still all I have left and—”

You break off as you suck in a huge breath of air, the notion shaky as you clench your hands into fists to keep the rest of your body from doing the same.

“And I just don’t know what to do,” you repeat, barely a whisper.

You meet Aaron’s eyes, almost desperately. You feel like you’ll shatter into a million different pieces if you even breathe wrong and he might be the only solid thing in your life.

“Whatever you do,” he says, “you don’t have to do it alone. Not if you don’t want to.”

“Aaron,” you start shakily, but he continues.

“I know what you think, and that’s not what I’m suggesting.” Aaron pauses for a moment, and it’s obvious how carefully he’s crafting his words. “I’ve… always regretted how we left things. And I regret losing touch with you. This isn’t the way I would’ve liked to meet you again. But I’m thankful I have.”

He pulls a card out of his shirt pocket and holds it out to you. You realize it’s his business card, and it’s got his number.

“I’m sorry for the formality,” he says dryly, “but I don’t exactly go around prepared to give out my number for purposes other than work.”

You take it without giving yourself the chance to think about it. You run your finger around the sharp edge of the cardstock, pressing the pad of your thumb against the corner.

“Years ago, you wished me a good life, and that you didn’t want to be involved in it,” he says, still treading carefully. You can’t believe he remembers the last thing you said to him. “But— but a lot has changed since then, and I hope that has as well.”

“I’d like you to be a part of my life again,” Aaron finally says, “if you want to be a part of mine.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Two and a half years of law school flash behind your eyes—coffee shop dates and endless hours spent studying at the library. Movie nights cuddled on his couch, hauling boxes out of your house at an ungodly hour to get away from your roommates. An unhealthy amount of all-nighters immediately followed by going out to celebrate a miracle of an A on an exam. Getting through every soul-sucking part of earning a J.D. together, falling apart before either of you could make it to the other side, and somehow…

Somehow, you’ve ended up on a completely different side together.

“My life isn’t going to be easy,” you say faintly. “Especially… moving through this.”

“My life isn’t easy either,” he says. “I’m divorced with a kid and I try to solve murders every day.”

“It’s not a contest.” An attempt at a joke, but it falls flat for you. Aaron’s lips still quirk at the edges the slightest bit.

“Getting through this certainly won’t be easy,” he agrees. “But I have more experience than most in these sorts of things. So if you ever need anything, call. Please.”

“I imagine you’re pretty busy,” you murmur. “Unit chief and all.”

Aaron shrugs. “I make time for the things I care about.”

Thankfully, you don’t have to figure out how to respond to that, because there’s a knock on the door, and a nurse walks in after you call a come in.

“It’s good to finally see you awake, sweetheart,” the nurse says with a smile. It warms you from the inside out.

“It’s nice to be awake,” you say. Her smile widens and she moves over to the computer in the side of the room—to add some things before she makes her checkup, you assume.

“I’ll give you some time alone,” Aaron says.

Before he can stand up, you grab his hand. It’s fully on instinct, and he looks just as surprised as you feel.

“Don’t go,” you plead, and it’s almost a whisper. “I— just— please.”

Aaron stares at you for a moment, that shock glinting in his eyes before it transforms into something a lot warmer. He nods and sits down.

“Okay.”

And he stays.

This time, he stays.

#i was truly possessed while writing this i can't understand it #i wrote 15k words in 5 days #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner imagine #sadie writes

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cartierre · 1 year

Text

LOVE ON ICE | ms47

SOCIAL MEDIA mick schumacher x fem!ice figure skater!reader

side note: the title for this is the most basic bitch i've ever created but i couldn't come up with anything better so we all have to live with it now. sue me! (please don't) side note pt2: also i have no idea how the winter olympics work, all of this is probably so inaccurate but it is what it is.

♡ liked by mickschumacher, beijing2022, olympics and 45,932 others

tagged: beijing2022

yourusername see you in a year beijing2022 ! until then, lots of training and minimal distractions!

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beijing2022 congrats!! looking forward to see you here with us ⤷ yourusername absolutely blasted

mickschumacher that means not seeing you at any of my races? :( ⤷ yourusername talk to my trainer ⤷ yourtrainer no

user1 omg congratulations! we love to see you succeeding!

user2 she's literally so much more talented than mick ⤷ user3 i don't think you can compare racing in formula one to being a figure skater. two completely different things, makes no sense ⤷ user4 at least she isn't a nepo baby

♡ liked by 19,203 people

tagged: yourusername, mickschumacher

f1wagupdates Mick Schumacher and girlfriend Y/N Y/L/N arriving together at the Bahrain International Circuit for the first grand prix this season! This marks the official F1 debut of the son of 7 times world champion Michael Schumacher.

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user5 omg i love that she came even if she's training for the olympics right now! ⤷ user6 kind of selfish of him to have her there even though she's literally training to become a champion herself ⤷ user7 i don't think mick forced her to come...

user8 she's rocking the paddock fashion game as she did back in f2 already! ⤷ user9 effortlessly beautiful, i'm envious :(

♡ liked by mickschumacher, gina_schumacher and 43,492 others

tagged: mickschumacher, haasf1team

yourusername you really think i'd say no to mick in fireproofs? and for free? also, congratulations baby for fulfilling part of your dream! mick wdc when?

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user10 y/n going against her trainer and supporting mick for his f1 debut makes me giggle and wiggle my feet ⤷ user11 when is it my time to have an athlete boyfriend who i can support unconditionally?

mickschumacher i bet your trainer hates me now ⤷ yourusername she loves you ⤷ yourtrainer do i? ⤷ yourusername she's just joking ⤷ yourtrainer am i?

user12 why is y/n's trainer so funny for no reason ⤷ user13 the way she's just completely violating mick has me rolling on the floor

user14 can we please talk for a second how cute of a couple they are? ⤷ user15 lily and alex are having some serious competition right now

♡ liked by mickschumacher and 39,904 others

tagged: mickschumacher

yourusername winter break with my favourite person (myself) and mick is there as well, i guess

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mickschumacher you're a terrible ice skating teacher ⤷ yourusername just because you're a loser on ice ⤷ mickschumacher i'm offended to my core ⤷ yourusername ice skating is offened by you

user16 sometimes i come to y/n's profile just to read through the little banters her and mick have in the comments ⤷ user17 free therapy

user18 i hope next season will be better for mick since y/n is then able to join him again after the olympics

user19 you're so cute you disgust me with your couple stuff

♡ liked by mickschumacher, beijing2022 and 49,392 others

tagged: beijing2022

yourusername breathtaking experience and an absolute honour to have been able to perform for my country at the winter olympics 2022. the silver medal will definitely look good on my shelf. lots of love to everyone who supported me along my way!

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user20 so sad to not have you seen with a gold medal around your neck, but you were absolutely beautiful on ice!

user21 well deserved girl, very proud of you!

mickschumacher my little vice champion ⛸️🥈 comment liked by yourusername

user22 you were so robbed from first place.... ⤷ user23 she's just warming up, her career has a lot to offer for the future

user24 my whole tiktok is full of your performance, i love it

♡ liked by yourusername, dennis_hauger and 293,408 others

tagged: yourusername

mickschumacher couldn't have a more talented girlfriend than you ❤️🖤

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user25 we love an equally supportive boyfriend ⤷ user26 mick keeps on continuing raising the bar over here ⤷ user27 i'll never find a boyfriend because no one else is mick schumacher

yourusername still baffled you were able to clear your schedule to see me perform ⤷ mickschumacher i'd never miss a chance of seeing you gracefully capture various emotions on ice

user28 i'm down for this man so bad ⤷ user29 fr y/n i want a lil piece of mick as well

#mick schumacher #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher imagines #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher fluff #mick schumacher fanfiction #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #mick schumacher x y/n

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kaizdreamz · 28 days

Text

thats actually all I have for a title. Aventurine x afab! reader

Also, I love his voice so fucking much holy shit can I JUST SAY. I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF A SMUT AND THIS SONG CAME ON AND PHONE SEX. ANYWAY

MDNI 18++++ LEAVE THIS NOW. THIS IS ACTUALLY THE SLUTTIEST THING IVE WRITTEN IN YEARS.

CW: petnames, VERY VERY DESCRIPTIVE PHONE SEX, LIKE. REALLY BAD, Mutual masturbation, moaning, voice kink, IMAGINATION, clit/cock terms, sexting/pictures/phone sex, literally as far as you can think.

"hey baby..." his voice was low and deep through the phone.

"hi love, what you doing awake? Isn't it late there?" You lay on your bed, fidgeting with your sheets.

"missed you so much, had you on my brain all day." You can hear a smile through his voice, you smile softly.

"mm, that's sweet. I'm sure those meetings were really boring.." you mumble, listening to his hum in response.

It wasn't often you two were together, he was always busy with IPC meetings and plans. When he was with you it was almost as if he never left.

"what have you been doing?" He asks, his voice going to a low whisper. You think back on the day on anything notable.

"hmm... nothing much, I did some work and cleaned around the place."

"that's good, 'm proud of you." Your cheeks burn from the praise, Everytime he gave you a compliment or praise it always made your heart flutter. "God, I miss you so much. I wish you were here with me."

"me too, maybe one day they'll let me tag along haha." A soft chuckle echos through his line.

"haha, maybe. I'll have to ask though- I'm sure I'll get no extra work done with you around..." aventurine purrs through the phone.

"yeah.. I'll take up all your time."

"..."

"Aventurine?" You check to see if the line disconnected but it seems to be fine. Suddenly you hear a soft groan.

"baby, I wish I could taste you right now..." your eyes widen as you realize what's happening. Your face turns completely red, his moans echo through the phone.

"are you..—"

"ah.. fuuck." He slides his hand over his aching bulge. The silk pajamas restraining him tightly. "Fuck, sorry.. I just— hearing your voice after so long. Drives me insane.."

You slide your hands down your own body, dipping past your waistband and touching yourself. A small gasp escapes your lips as you throb against your hand. "Ha.. Imagine how I feel, every little emphasis— every gasp of air you take. You make me crazy.." you mumble, eyes fluttering close as the pleasure washes over you.

"baby, can you do something for me?"

"mhm.."

"tell me what you're doing.. describe it to me.." he pleads, squeezing his cock and letting out a moan.

"ah.. 'm touching myself— rubbing my clit.. thinking about you touching me." You whimper.

"are you still wearing pajamas?" He whines, you hum. "Take them off, undress for me angel." You comply and slowly begin to undress the cold air of the room hitting your skin and makes a pleasant shiver go down your spine.

You hear a shuffle on the other end as you lay down on the soft bed, a sigh emits from Aventurine's mouth. "Can you tell me what you're thinking about?" You whisper, he groans before letting out a soft chuckle and a soft "mhm".

"thinking about rubbing that soft clit of yours in gentle circles, or maybe eating you out until you're a moaning mess. Stare into your eyes as I slowly push inside." He throws his head back as he strokes his cock slowly— teasing himself.

Your breathing increases, your fingers dip into your dripping cunt. You let out a moan as he whimpers into the phone, his voice shaking "go on baby, touch yourself while you think of me doing so many things to you."

Your body burns, you spread your legs further apart and slowly start pushing a finger inside, it's been so long since he's touched you. Your stomach erupts in butterflies as you think of his hands guiding you to your heat.

"you're so good for me, so perfect, so beautiful." He praises as you moan as you speed up. You put the phone on speaker as you rub your clit along with fingering yourself.

"ah- aventurine, fuck... I wish you were here. Oh... I wish you could touch me."

"oh fuuck." He whimpers as he speeds up, low groans and moans echo his hotel room as he drips precum all over his hand. "Wish I could fuck you so good right now, make soft love to you. Make you orgasm and cum all over me, all over my cock."

You left out a high pitched gasp, your walls tighten around your fingers as your back arches, a moan draws out of your throat.

"your noises are so fucking cute, so needy. Ah- I can only imagine how wet you are... can I have a picture please baby?"

You whimper as you grab your phone and flip the camera to face yourself, taking a picture of your fingers deep in your cunt, arousal dripping out. You send it to him and a few seconds past and you hear a loud groan.

"oh fuck.. look at you," he moans in between his words, his legs go weak as he looks at you touching yourself. "Fuck, baby- fuuck.." he moans, biting his lip and speeding up.

"i- I'm so close.." you whine through the moans, "oh fuck, baby- I'm so close." You moan into the pillow. "Aah.."

"I'm close too," his voice is shaking as he strokes himself in full strokes. "I'm thinking of stretching that pretty pussy out, going so slow for you, make you take all of me. Make you feel so full inside," you bite your lip, whimpering out bables.

"aventurine.." you moan out his name. He lets out a loud groan.

"say my name again, please baby- I'm so close"

"Aventurine..." You speed up even faster, rubbing your clit— the pleasure going to your head as you reach that high you've been craving. "Aventurine, oh– I'm gonna cum"

"cum for me baby, let yourself go, I'm right here." He whines, hips twitching as he reaches his high too, his cock pulses and twitches in his hand as he lets out a wobbly moan.

your back arches and your legs shake as your orgasm crashes against you so hard, you bite your lip to stop yourself from being too loud. You can only think about him, how he feels against your skin, how he would touch you— Him, Aventurine.

"I love you, I love you so much." He whispers, catching his breath.

"mm... I love you too, Aventurine," you hum sleepily, reaching over the nightstand and wiping cum off yourself. Hissing at the sensitivity, he laughs.

"I made such a mess." He sighs. "Thank you— for being so goddamn perfect..."

"thank you for having the sexiest bedroom voice" you tease, your heart swells in adoration as he lets out a breathy laugh.

UH I DONT WANNA WRITE ANYTHING ELSE SO HERE AHAHA

#female reader #Afab reader #hsr aventurine #Hsr smut #Smut #Phonesex #Aventurine smut #Hsr x you #aventurine x reader #honkai star rail smut #Spotify

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radiant-reid · 1 year

Note

Single mom reader x daughter (5 year old) and Spencer misses her dance recital and when he goes to make it up to her she calls him dad “daddy…I looked for you in the crowd” “why did you have to leave again”

One of the first things you learned about Spencer was how his job worked. It was something he was very clear about being on his list of cons when it came to dating. Honestly, it didn't phase you. Not when there were some men who lived in the same city that would spend less time with you than Spencer. He was dedicated, loyal, kind, funny, romantic, witty, and not at all put off by your daughter.

Maisie fell in love maybe faster than you did. He's so great with her. Always willing to read her stories and listen to her chatter.

At five, she's a little worse at understanding his schedule than you are. Sometimes he'll be at dinner three nights in a row, and other times, you won't see him for a week.

It's why she sobs into your shoulder on the way to your car after her dance recital. "I looked and he wasn't there." She complains.

You bounce her up and down, soothing her. "Baby, it's okay. We talked about how Spencer can't always be here with us, and momma was there."

She nods, letting you buckle her into the car seat. "I know, and he always comes back."

You tap her on the nose. "You're my smart little girl. Should we get ice cream on the way home?"

"Please, please, please!" She cheers, already forgetting about her disappointment. Oh, to have a five-year-old's brain.

She's happier with ice cream, but it might not have been the best time to pump her full of sugar, so you let her race up the stairs to burn off some energy.

She squeals when you round the corner to your apartment door, and you're immediately concerned, quickly speeding up to catch up with her to see what's wrong.

It's not a bad squeal, it's a Spencer's-here squeal.

He looks like shit if you were being honest, sunken features from not sleeping, but he's smiling, and he's got ice cream.

You greet him with a quick kiss after he's finished hugging Maisie before unlocking your apartment. She keeps looking between the snacks he brought and you, gaining the confidence to ask. "Can I have a second ice cream?"

It's already nine, so you shake your head. "You can have some for breakfast tomorrow if you're in bed in 10 minutes." You challenge her.

"Can Spencer read to me?" She asks hopefully, looking up at him with puppy eyes. You can't say no to them usually, and he definitely can't.

"Of course." He jumps in to say. "I missed it."

She beams at him for a second before she races off, leaving you with him, your perfect boyfriend. "Hi." You say, chest to chest with him as he pulls you closer to him by your waist.

"I've missed you, too." He tells you. "And this." You don't have a chance to ask what he means before his lips are firmly on yours.

"They'll be more of that to come after you've had a long sleep." You tell him, winking at him.

He grins happily, nodding. "I'm going to go read a very quick story then." He says.

You go with him after putting the ice cream in the freezer, kissing Maisie on the forehead and telling her you're proud of her and that you love her before leaving Spencer with her for a story.

"Can I ask something?" She asks him, pulling her covers up to her chin. It's after her bedtime story, and he half assumes she's doing it to stay up later.

He nods, sitting on the edge of her bed. "Anything you want, little one."

"Why do you always have to go working?" She asks with a pout. "I wanted you to come to my dance, and I looked for you in the crowd, daddy."

She doesn't even realize what she's just said, and she definitely doesn't understand the enormity of it for him. It's one title he hasn't had, until now. With the perfect child of his perfect girlfriend, life has never been better.

He's tearful at that one word, but he avoids showing it too much to her. "I know, and I'm sorry. Maybe I can get a special showing tomorrow?"

"Yes!" She agrees, like it's the best idea ever she's ever heard. Her little face lights up and it's one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen.

"I can't wait." He tells her. "But you've got to sleep so you'll have energy tomorrow." She nods in agreement and he leans down to kiss her forehead. "Sleep well, princess."

Spencer's upset, almost sleeping already, and he tiptoes out of her room before heading to yours.

Something's wrong when he walks in. He's teary-eyed with a wide smile, looking like something big has just happened.

"What's up?" You ask curiously.

"She called me dad." He says, still in shock.

You open your mouth, mirroring his shock before smiling. "Spencer... thank you." You decide on saying. "You're the best thing to happen to her."

He shakes his head. "No, you're both the best things to happen to me."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds

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faebaex · 8 months

Text

Tangled in Wonderland - Leonotis Leonurus

author note: second poll's winner! also a plant pun for the title, just because (￣▽￣) i feel like Jade would be proud. speaking of, he has a teeny tiny cameo in this fic, simply bc he just fit the situation so well. so far, its been a housewarden clean sweep on the polls, with Azul winning the Octavinelle poll! new poll is up right now, a bonus one this time! who will be the comeback king? go vote if you haven't already! enjoy~

characters: Leona Kingscholar x GN!Reader

The library was your turf.

By this point, you were on a first name basis with all of the library ghosts, and you had a fairly good working knowledge of every section of the library, with Ace and Deuce often seeking you out at your usual table to ask you if you had any idea where a certain book would be. Of course, more often than not that meant that they would then sit at your table and you wouldn’t really get any meaningful research done, not with all their squabbling and general freshman catastrophic energy. When Grim tagged along, it was even worse, but at least you could keep an eye on him and make sure he was actually doing the assignments he was supposed to.

Despite all the time you had been spending at the library, you were still no closer to figuring out how to get home. Crowley was nowhere to be found, taking avoiding you to an entirely new level. The books and reading list that Riddle had provided you, however, had been very insightful. His recommendations were much easier to read than the previous tomes you had been torturing yourself with, and you were starting to see connections between theories, it becoming easier for you to source further reading without having to consult Riddle first. So yes, the library was your turf.

The botanical garden, however, was not. And you were well aware of who it belonged to.

Leona Kingscholar was one of the students at the top of your list to avoid. And considering his personality, the feeling was likely mutual. So you made a conscious effort to avoid places where you could run into him, not wanting to tempt the already volatile nature of fate to thrust you into his trajectory. You were even doing well avoiding conflict with the Savanaclaw students, especially considering they were always looking for a fight and the school’s only magicless student was definitely high on their lists to torment. But unfortunately for you, you couldn’t always avoid some of Leona’s favourite haunts, because what Crewel wants, Crewel gets.

You grumbled to yourself as you picked through the botanical gardens, a basket on one arm and a list in the other. Crewel had kindly brought it to your attention with a lash of his pointer that good ol’ Grim had been using ingredients from the potionology inventory for his lab work and assignments instead of collecting his own before class, as student handbook guidelines demand. With Grim nowhere to be seen and you being in the wrong place at the wrong time, Crewel had handed you an extensive list of every ingredient that Grim had used since the two of you became a joint student, and ordered you to the botanical garden to retrieve every single one of them, or face the consequences. And with Crewel swinging that pointer around, you didn’t wait around to find out what those consequences would be.

Being so unfamiliar with the botanical gardens made this job harder, and the sheer size of the list had you running around in circles, picking one ingredient only to realise that you needed something similar that was back the way you had just came. It was incredibly frustrating, and you found yourself huffing under your breath as you traipsed around the botanical garden. To make matters worse, you had to keep yourself alert, lest there be a certain lion’s tail draped carelessly on the pavestone.

You were well aware that in the game, the poor main character had accidentally stepped on a certain stroppy lion’s tail, and he had retaliated by threatening to knock their teeth out. You’d rather not find yourself in the same situation. You’d briefly considered moving his tail out of the way with a stick or something, but decided that Leona was hardly worth the effort and would likely get offended at you poking at him either way, so instead you had to dutifully watch your feet as you continued on with your laborious task.

You had been hunting for ingredients for about an hour and a half by now, and clubs were starting to wrap up their activities and head back to their dorms. You, however, still had half of your list to go, so there was no such reprieve waiting for you. You wondered if you would be able to drop the basket back to the potionology lab with your half-completed list and promise Crewel that you’d finish the job tomorrow. Surely he wasn’t willing to wait around for you to find all these ingredients? If there was any professor at Night Raven College who you expected to have evening plans, it would be Crewel.

As you pondered your next course of action, you caught a flash of teal out of the corner of your eye. Walking towards you down the pathway was Jade Leech, and you fought the urge to do something stupid like show weakness by tensing or throwing yourself into the bushes. With his usual contrived smile affixed to his face, Jade eyed you in a way that really did make you feel like a shrimp, suddenly giving you a whole new understanding as to why his twin had dubbed the main character with such a pet name. Him being here was an oversight on your part, clearly you had thought that Leona was the botanical garden’s biggest threat, not even factoring in that Jade would use this place to fawn over his mushrooms. Thankfully he didn’t stop, passing you with an elegant stride that you could only appreciate, considering he had only been on legs for two years.

“Good day, prefect. Lovely weather we are having.” Jade greeted as he passed you, with you only responding with a small, tight-lipped smile back. No sooner had his footsteps faded away did the heavens decide to open up, a surprised cry erupting from your lips as you quickly found yourself becoming drenched, the sprinklers dousing the entire area and you in water. That could not have been a coincidence.

The sprinklers stopped as quickly as they had started, but by that point the damage had already been done, your clothes and hair dripping. The list in your hand was sodden, the ink running and quickly making the contents illegible. You growled in frustration, throwing the soggy list to the floor with a wet thump as you tried to squeeze out your clothes in vain. You were so busy trying to sort yourself out, to scrap back any shred of dignity you could that you almost missed the rustling of bushes next to you. Even if you had, there was no way you’d miss the soaking wet beastman emerging from the foliage, ears flat to his head and tail whipping behind him aggressively.

And he was glaring straight at you. Great.

“You got some nerve, herbivore. You got a death wish?” Leona snarled at you and you found yourself prickling up. “This wasn’t me!” You argued, gesturing to your own dripping form before glaring right back at him, “I might be magicless, but that doesn’t make me stupid! If I was going to set the sprinklers off, I’d make sure I wouldn’t get caught in it.” You huffed, once again trying to squeeze the excess water out of your clothes. Your words seemed to pique some interest in Leona, as he was suddenly all up in your space and sniffing you.

“Hm, you’re right. No magic at all, just wet herbivore.” Leona remarked, scrunching his nose up as he stepped back, as if the smell offended him. “Do you mind? You smell like wet cat.” You said flatly with an unimpressed expression, throwing your basket back over your arm with perhaps a little more force than necessary. You swear you could see an amused glint in Leona’s eye as he stooped down, picking up the soggy list that you’d thrown to the ground just moments earlier. “What’s this?” He enquired, holding the list away from him between his thumb and forefinger as if it was toxic, yet still holding it out of your reach when you tried to swipe it back.

“That is mine.” You said with exasperation, your dignity already running down the drain without Leona making you jump to get your list back, “whatever, its ruined anyway. Have it.” You huffed, resigned to having to go back to Crewel with your metaphorical tail between your legs and plead for a new list. Leona eyed you up for a moment before he stepped towards you again, tugging at the basket on your arm to get a look at the contents before dumping the ruined list into the basket.

“C’mon, prefect,” Leona droned over his shoulder as he started walking up the pathway, “I’ll get you some ingredients. First year ingredients are simple.” He scoffed as he navigated the garden like a seasoned pro, his gait lazy and leaving you no choice but to trail after him with a suspicious expression on your face.

“You’re… Helping me?” You questioned, the corner of your lips downturning warily. The Leona you knew was never helpful, only interested if he had something to gain, usually foisting off any inconveniences to Ruggie. “What’s in it for you?” You asked carefully, watching as he picked some stems from a bush and lob them into your basket, making you sigh as you attempted to tidy up his shoddy packing. Leona’s smile was all fangs as he caught your eyes before continuing along the path, “I’m always in need of another gopher. Having you owe me could come in handy, Ruggie has been nagging me lately and you could be just what I need... Plus, the quicker you’re out of the botanical garden, the more peaceful sleep I’d get without having to listen to your huffing and puffing.”

Ah.

Well, you suppose the original main character was truly onto something when they’d stayed up all night screaming outside Leona’s room in chapter three.

Leona had made short work of finding ingredients, and soon your basket was filled to the brim. “Those are all the common ingredients in first year potions. Any missing ingredients are on you.” Leona drawled as you both walked together towards the exit of the botanical garden, his hands behind his head as he yawned leisurely, “you owe me, prefect.”

“How do you even know what ingredients to look for?” You asked, your curiosity getting the best of you as you both left the garden, about to split off on your own paths as you planned to deliver the basket of ingredients to Crewel, whilst you assumed Leona would head back to his dorm. Leona simply kept walking, and you assumed he’d grown tired of you. But then he paused, looking over his shoulder at you with a smirk that you’d dare to describe as cheeky.

“Because I had to search out ingredients for Crewel in my first year, too.”

Huh. Perhaps Leona wasn’t that bad after all, you thought to yourself as you watched Leona’s retreating back, before setting off yourself to hand the ingredients in to Crewel, praying for fate to grant you some mercy for a change.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar #twst leona #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar x y/n

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ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes · 6 months

Text

"Do they end up together?"

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

genre: fluff

el's thoughts: it's a bit rough but super cute!! it's been wayyyyy too long since i've written for him haha

The sound of rain echoed through the windows into the Gryffindor common room while the warmth from the fire fought off the cold draft. Y/N lay on the couch in front of the bright flames with her blanket tossed over her outstretched legs, her mug of tea had long gone cold sitting on the table beside her.

“Whatcha reading there, Dove?”

Y/N jumped in her seat and stuffed the book behind the pillows on the couch. “Nothing,” she smiled up at the tall boy as he walked to stand in front of the fireplace. “Nothing.”

Remus eyed her suspiciously with a smirk and hummed. He threw himself on the couch beside her, moving his body to lay his head on her lap. He snatched the book from behind the pillows at his side and held it out of her reach. He chuckled when he saw the title, “It only took you how long?”

Y/N threw her head back and groaned while trying to shove him away from her. “I know I knooow, Rem. It really is a good book.” She could feel him roll his eyes. “Okay fine, you were right. You were right all along. Happy?” She looked back down at him only to find him already watching her.

He said nothing but smiled before he sat up and lifted her feet to place on his lap. “Very. Now, what part are you at?”

Y/N started explaining the scene, describing her favorite characters. Remus watched with a fond smile. “Who’s your favorite character?” she asked him when she finished her rant.

She stared at Remus, dazed while she listened to him talk about his favorite characters and explain why all the while carefully avoiding spoilers for her.

Her best friend since their first year and the only other sane person in their tight group of friends. Her fellow lover-of-books. Her confidant and shoulder to lean on. There isn’t a single problem she had had that Remus didn’t already know about. It would be a safe bet to assume that he knew more about her than she did.

“I guess in summary I really like her as a character ‘cause she reminds me of you.” He grinned up at her smugly.

“You cheeky bastard,” she muttered, trying to hide the blush crawling its way up her neck.

“Only for you, Dove.”

His eyes bore into hers, bearing nothing but his playful and teasing nature. The warm glow of the slowly dying fire reflected in his chocolate eyes. Y/N knew she had to look away soon, she’d been staring for a few seconds too long now and time only continued to make its way by, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away.

Remus slowly leaned closer to her, moving his hand to rest by her side to support his weight.

“Does she actually remind you of me?” Y/N asked almost breathlessly, referring back to his favorite character.

“I wouldn’t say so if the truth was otherwise,” he whispered back.

She leaned closer to him and time seemed to lay still, the background noises of the few students still awake instantly became muffled in her ears. The fire’s warmth seemed to grow tenfold as she felt her face heat up. “Tell me, do they end up together?”

She was mesmerized as his lips curled into a smirk. “Who are we talking about now? You’re gonna have to clarify.”

“Oh shut up.” Her hands came up to hold both sides of his face as she finally brought her lips to his. The kiss was soft like they were testing the waters, but when neither of them pulled away Remus placed his hand on his waist and pulled her closer. Their lips fit together like a puzzle.

Y/N hummed and moved her hands to the nape of his neck to pull gently at his baby hairs.

“Finally!”

The pair jumped apart as if they were burned by each other’s touch. They turned to see James, Sirius, and Lily standing there with wide smiles and proud smirks.

“I’d say it’s about time,” Lily laughed.

Y/N groaned and buried her head in the cushions. “Lily…” she dragged out her friend's name purely out of embarrassment.

Remus chuckled, “I’d have to agree with you, Lils.”

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagines #ellora.writes

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tripleyeeet · 2 months

Text

THE BOOK

SUMMARY: After stumbling upon an old journal, Lelia realizes it's that time again.

PAIRING: Astarion & Original Female Character (Lelia belongs to @gunslingerorchid!)

WORD COUNT: 4,629

WARNINGS: 18+ sexual content, vaguely described heat cycles in elves, teasing, penetrative sex, creampie.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Finally managed to finish something after weeks away. Promise I'll be more active as soon as my back heals up! <3

MASTERLIST

It starts with a book. An old tattered thing, barely bound and sitting inside the drawer of an abandoned desk. Coated in maroon leather and gold leaf lettering, it immediately piques Lelia’s interest. Pulling her attention away from all the items she should be seeking —forcing her eyes to narrow at the cover curiously.

Attempting to make out the script on the front, she knows it should be easy to decipher but somehow her mind can’t quite focus thanks to the heavy breathing that hits the back of her neck and how it rhythmically puffs against her skin, prompting her eyes to peer behind her.

“Can I help you?"

“What’s that?” Looming over her shoulder, Astarion slips against her side without warning and reaches for the book, feeling a hand grasp his wrist before he can fully take hold of it.

“You know the rules, Astarion: finders keepers,” she grumbles, and immediately he rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t realize we’d reverted back to acting like school children.”

In response, she offers him an annoyed sound and bumps her hip against his, grabbing the book in tandem before scurrying off. Distractedly, leaving him alone to claim whatever else she may have left behind. Hardly caring about whatever inkwells or parchments he might find she focuses back on the book, noticing just how much it’s deteriorated.

Very carefully she runs her fingers along the cover, brushing back stray pieces of leather —attempting to make the title more visible as she wanders through the deserted house they now find themselves in. A feat that proves rather difficult at first, testing her patience and curiosity all at once. Making her faintly regret grabbing the damn thing as she glances over at Astarion picking one of the desk’s locks.

Swallowing hard, she can’t help but stare as he does it. Noticing the dexterous way he tilts his hands, moving his fingers with such ease it feels almost unnatural. As if this skill of his is something no mere mortal could ever do.

Almost immediately, it makes her cheeks warm at the thought of what those fingers might be capable of elsewhere. For example, how they might look caressing one’s cheek or thigh. How they’d easily slip across skin or through hair. How they—

Before she can continue she shakes her head to get the thought out. A low scoff escaping her lips as she turns away, wondering where the hell that came from. Or why she suddenly feels uncomfortably warm.

“You alright over there, darling?”

His voice sounds unnecessarily smug —an observation she quickly confirms when she blinks and looks his way, noticing the smirk plastered across his face. Focusing on the smallest twitch that occurs when she awkwardly nods.

“You sure?”

“Mhm, all good,” she mumbles back, but in reality she’s anything but.

In fact, the longer she stands there, staring back at him —memorizing the sections of his face with far more focus than needed— she’s left wondering what it’d feel like to press herself against it. To feel that overly proud set of lips suctioned around her. To experience the brush of his tongue and nose—

She practically chokes on her spit before she can finish. Reaching up to grab her throat, she quickly turns away, ignoring the airy sound of Astarion’s chuckle as she leaves the room, trying her best to focus on something other than riding the rogue’s face. Something that proves rather difficult until she remembers the book in her hand. Then she’s a bit more stable. Her mind roaming a bit less as she opens it up, feeling the worn-out pages shift beneath her hand.

Unlike the cover, she can read its contents pretty easily. Despite the scrawl being a bit messy, with far less effort than before, she can make out almost every word. Quickly discovering that it’s someone’s diary. Specifically, an eleven woman, tracking the course of her life. All of her experiences reduced to nothing more than the pages now tucked into Lelia’s curious hands.

It shouldn’t intrigue her as much as it does, but even long after she and the rest of the party have returned to camp, Lelia’s still reading. Wedging her nose further and further inside the pages, absorbing every last sordid detail.

“You seem awfully entranced over there.”

The second Gale’s elbow meets her own she jumps in surprise, slamming the book shut with a quiet gasp. All while staring into the wizard’s confused eyes as he glances at Wyll across the fire.

“Good book?”

“Mhm, yup.”

“What’s it about?” Wyll chimes in, prompting Lelia to awkwardly laugh and shrug her shoulders, causing both men to share a look. One that has Lelia immediately excusing herself at the same time Astarion wanders over, watching her dart off towards her tent.

“Gods, is she still—“

“Acting strangely?” Gale cuts Astarion off with a smirk, prompting him to raise his brow.

“She’s been jumpy ever since she found that thing.”

“What? The book?” Wyll asks, and Astarion nods.

“I would be too if I was publicly reading elven smut.”

Almost immediately, both Wyll and Astarion look at Gale with interest. Both of their mouths pulling into odd smiles that have Gale snorting in response.

“I’m sorry, did I just hear you say elven smut?”

This time Gale merely shrugs his shoulders, holding back a mischievous look that has Astarion practically sprinting to his lover’s tent. His mind racing with all kinds of relentless ideas that quickly form into a full-blown plot that’s set into motion the second he sees her lying there, still reading.

“You know, darling, I’m a bit offended.”

Like earlier, she jumps dramatically, clutching her chest as she tucks the book beneath her pillow. Prompting both her and Astarion to share a moment of silence before he’s kneeling between her legs, slowly crawling to press a hand to her heated face.

“The day’s nearly ended and you’ve barely given me any attention,” he states, offering a pout. Focusing on the way her whole body shifts with every breath that stirs beneath him. “I mean, honestly, what’s so special about that damned book anyway?”

At first, she hesitates to do anything but lay there, but eventually, her hands move to cup his cheeks, carefully caressing the highest points —telling him it’s nothing even though her tone says otherwise.

Coming out more like a guilty squeak than a proper string of words, as soon as he hears her response Astarion knows that she’s hiding something. Something bigger than he first assumed based on the way her eyes keep moving toward the pillow beneath her head —a bright blush creeping across her face. Or how her skin feels scarily similar to Karlach’s on a good day.

“So, you wouldn’t mind if I just…”

Immediately, his fingers creep towards the pillow, prompting her to suddenly grab his hand and pull him down, capturing him in a rough kiss. Most likely as an act to distract his mind as the two of them all but melt into each other’s embrace. That familiar jolt of admiration striking his heart in ways that stupidly have him faltering for a moment before remembering why he’s here.

He wants that book. Or more specifically, wants to see what’s so special about its contents. So, instead of asking he just continues to kiss her. Using all the usual tricks, he takes a few moments to soften the pressure of his mouth, allowing her breath to grow desperate against his before eventually pulling away with a grin. “Seems you needed that more than me.”

Before she can even think of a clever response there’s already an angered huff slipping through, prompting Astarion to chuckle as he positions himself against her side, resting his head on her chest. “Gale told me you were reading smut,” he then says bluntly, feeling her tense beneath him. Every muscle in her body tightening to the point of combustion as she pushes him aside and scoffs.

“It is not smut.”

“No?”

As he turns to face her, now lying on his side with a wicked grin, she can’t help but falter. Her lips twitching in response to his question —her eyes shifting towards the book that still rests beneath her pillow, causing Astarion’s lips to pull even further knowing that he’s caught her.

“What is it then?”

“A diary.”

He raises his brow. “About sex?”

Once again, she pauses. Her lack of attention betraying her case.

“Is it at least good sex?”

When she fails to respond a third time, Astarion begins to grow impatient. His mind reeling with thoughts of her and what might pique her interest in regards to the subject. How she might feel when one does certain things versus others. How she’d react to different sensations depending on the placement.

Perhaps how it’d feel to have his cock inside her mouth.

As his mind begins to fill with more curious thoughts, he starts to slip over top of her again, bending down to peck her lips before suddenly denying her any further pleasure as he stands up with a sigh, telling her to enjoy her book before leaving the tent altogether.

Which ultimately leaves her confused. And frustrated, seeing as the space between her legs is suddenly aching with need. The desire to be touched heavy on her mind as those same thoughts of her and Astarion from earlier in the day become increasingly vivid the longer she lies there, staring up at the fabric of her tent. Wishing just once that instead of becoming easily flustered she could just admit that she’s definitely going into heat. And with that, wants to fuck him more than anything.

Which is a concept she’s unfortunately all too familiar with. Having experienced a few waves of heat already, as the moments pass she’s quickly reminded just how distracting it can be. With an endless stream of filthy thoughts and the physical sensations of someone who’s far too wound up to be deemed useful, she can tell that, as the days pass, it’ll only become more of a problem. That the needs of her body will far outweigh the words of her mind telling her to calm down.

It’s what always happens when she doesn’t deal with it —an unfortunate circumstance considering they’re far too busy with the Absolute to merely stop for a few quickies on the way to ease the heat.

So, instead of giving in, she merely suffers through the night alone. Using whatever she can to distract herself from the itch that creeps through her mind, telling her to go to his tent. Forcing herself to eventually fall asleep in order to wake up thoroughly refreshed and—

“You alright, soldier?”

Lazily, Lelia blinks and turns to Karlach the next morning at breakfast, feeling her stomach churn with anxiety. “Sorry?”

“You look hot.”

Dropping her jaw, she feels her heart rate double almost instantly. The embarrassment of her ongoing problem causing her chest to heave up and down beneath the fabric of her top —everything feeling slightly more damp as she turns away uncomfortably.

“You breaking out in a fever or something?” Karlach asks. Then, out of habit, she shuffles away from the elf, immediately assuming that she’s the cause of her friend’s heated expression, prompting Lelia to shake her head and fidget with the fabric of her skirt.

“I uh… maybe, yeah. Perhaps I should lay down before we go out for the day.”

Raising her brow, Karlach shakes her head. “To hell with going out, I can feel the heat coming off your body from here.”

“It’s fine Karlach, really, I—“

Almost immediately the tiefling cuts her off with an angry stare. The kind a mother would give to their defiant child, causing Lelia to merely give in with a sigh, wandering back to her tent without another word. Falling into her bedroll with a groan before rolling onto her side, knowing that Karlach’s right. She should just rest instead of pushing her body —pretend to be sick so that she can sleep things off for a couple of days.

It’d certainly work if she played up the symptoms. Considering everyone’s far too involved in their own problems to get sick, they’d probably leave her alone. Maybe check in on her at the beginning of the day to see how she’s fairing, but nothing too overbearing.

Which is exactly what she needs to get through this. So, that’s exactly what she does. Using her years of performance experience to cough up a storm —moaning and groaning until she inevitably hears the crew pack up for the day and leave. Granting her the opportunity to once again leave her tent, journal and songbook in hand, as she wanders to the nearby creek, feeling a wave of calm rush over her.

Because it’s been ages since she’s had any sort of alone time. Thanks to the endless travelling and ever-increasing supply of friends to keep her company, at this point, the only time she’s spent alone is when she’s pissing or sleeping. And even the latter sometimes gets interrupted by a starving Astarion unwilling to feed on anyone else.

So, despite the feeling of heat that continues to spread across the surface of her skin and the thoughts that keep trailing back to the aforementioned vampire, she feels pretty good. The distractive sound of the running water becoming the perfect backdrop for her to pull out her songbook and brainstorm.

Opening it to the last used page, she reads a few previous ideas, humming lowly to herself while tapping her hand against her hip. Using the beat to time her steps as she paces back and forth, trying to wrap her mind around what the strings might sound like. Particularly how they might rise and fall with each line, conveying the image of the tides she references in the lyrics.

“I suppose I could change that…”

Grinning to herself, she writes a few notes along the edges, reminding future her to change this and that —adding a few potential options for other lines she might like to use. All while still humming and moving, using whatever tactic she can to erase the increasingly sick part of her mind thinking of Astarion and his beautiful hands and face and—

“I see you grew tired of the sex book.”

As if on cue, he appears behind her. Flashing that usual smug look as he eyes the songbook in her hand, watching as she protectively clutches it to her chest and frowns.

“Why aren’t you with the others?”

Without hesitation, he raises his brow knowingly. “Why aren’t you?”

“I’m sick.”

“Are you now?”

“Mhm.”

Slowly, he takes a step closer toward her, watching her eyes dart around the forest guiltily. “But you’re upright.”

“Yes.”

“Hm.”

By now her breath is practically non-existent. Nothing but a fond memory as she struggles to maintain any sort of composure, watching him slither up to her frame, pressing the base of his chest against the edge of her arm. Making her realize just how delirious she feels the second he snatches the book from her hand, taking a step back.

“Playing hooky to write some sonnets, are we?”

Helplessly reaching out to snatch it back, she’s instantly met with his hand around her wrist. His fingers tightening around to keep her still as he reads out loud, butchering a few of the lines on the way.

“Rather cliché, isn’t it? A love song referencing the sea?”

Grumbling in response, Lelia tries again to grab it, only to fail a second time, causing Astarion to laugh and release her from his grasp.

“I mean honestly, not one sordid little lyric about yours truly?” He offers an offended scoff and begins flipping through the pages, looking over a couple of lyrics before he lands on a particular page, stopping in his tracks. Narrowing his eyes before another smirk pulls across his lips, prompting Lelia to swallow.

“Hey, that’s private—“

Before she can finish, he’s clearing his throat and changing positions, moving closer to her frame —reaching out to cup her cheek with a tenderness he doesn’t often exude. Pressing his fingers gently into the plushest part of her face, she can feel him exhale deeply. A rush of air running across her skin before she hears him speak, reciting words she knows all too well but in a tone completely different from the one she initially had in mind.

Almost immediately, it makes her itch with need. The combination of the proximity and the building heat within her working against the defiant thoughts within —forcing her to slowly inch closer as her hand creeps up towards his chest, debating whether or not to push or pull the longer the moment builds.

“Hm, didn’t realize you liked all that.”

Blinking, she foolishly opts to push him away after he’s suddenly finished, scowling as she rips back her book. Scoffing at the constant games she��s forced to participate in while he laughs. “Yes, well, as I was saying, it’s private.”

“Is it now?” Astarion, still riding off the high of making her flustered, merely hums and looks around after that. His eyes wandering across the exposed parts of her skin, noticing the unnatural glow. “Then how come you like it?”

“I’m sorry?” She looks at him confused, prompting him to invade her space again. Shifting chest to chest as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“When I tease you,” he clarifies, dipping his head. Moving his mouth to graze the shell of her ear. “You seem to like it a bit more than usual as of late. Why is that?”

Opening her mouth to respond, she quickly closes it and cranes her neck back, watching his gaze explore her own. His pupils shifting from edge to edge; his tongue darting out to wet his lips —every movement feeling far too calculated to be deemed anything but planned.

It makes her wonder if he knows. If perhaps, instead of remaining fully in the dark about her little problem, he’s already made his way towards the light. Noticing the changes in her behaviour. Recognizing the undeniable need that circulates throughout her system every time he’s around.

It’d certainly be possible, considering before Cazador he probably experienced at least a few other elves in a similar position. Having grown up amongst them, his knowledge of heat cycles is at least minimal. If not more when you take into account his flirtatious nature. So, it’s entirely possible that this whole book-stealing nonsense is just a way to get to her to admit it:

That for once, she truly does need him.

“You should probably get back. Wouldn’t want you to catch whatever I’ve got.” Chuckling sheepishly, she raises her hand to his chest once more, attempting to create space. Forcing him a couple of centimetres back before he somehow maneuvers himself closer than before.

“Pretty sure I can’t.”

“What? You think just because you’re a spawn you can’t get sick?”

“Well yes, actually. I suppose I am immune to all that but—“

“But what?”

By the time their exchange is over he’s fully pressed against her. Both his chest and hips digging into her flesh as his hands tightly hold her waist in place, refusing to let go. “You really think I don’t know?”

“Know what?”

All he does is snort while she wonders if she can withstand it —all the symptoms working against her, doubling with each passing moment she’s unable to break free. Up until now it hasn’t been too difficult. Annoying? Sure. Frustrating? Absolutely. But unavoidable?

Deep down, she knows the answer is the same as the others. Regardless of how much she pretends this moment won’t end up exactly where it’s supposed to, she’ll inevitably wind up on her knees, begging for relief while Astarion smugly stands above her. An image that simultaneously makes her angry and needy. The base of her pelvis unknowingly twitching forward, feeling his length. Suddenly noticing how hard it is against her.

“So, when did it start?”

Giving in, she releases a hefty plume of air through her nose while frowning. “A couple of days ago.”

“Before the book?” He raises his brow.

All she does is shrug, unable to respond on account of the fact that she’s burning up. Hot flashes of pain writhing through her system, wreaking such boisterous havoc on her flesh that she can’t help but gasp when his fingers flex against her.

“Would you like me to help, darling?” Offering her a pout, he looks down at her hands, noticing how red they are. The subtle stench of her nerves wafting through the air, ripping through his nostrils like the most delicious scent he’s ever encountered. “To ease the pain?”

Even before he’s finished asking she’s gripping the fabric of his shirt, desperately trying to hold on as the burning travels down, rushing through her chest and stomach, gathering between her aching thighs only to slip over her dampened folds.

At which point, the only thing she can think about is him. However he wants to have her, whether it’s on her knees or pressed up against a fucking tree. It doesn’t matter.

“Come on, darling. Use your words.”

She feels the edge of his thumb brush across her lips. A small touch with hefty consequences that leave her heaving for air, unable to properly think as she shakily mutters out the softest please before feeling him move. Both of them ignoring the sweat that coats her skin as he cups her face with both hands, smiling one last time.

“Should’ve said something sooner.”

Even though she knows he’s right, she fails to care. The second that their lips are locked, it’s as if the mere concept of time ceases to exist. The only thoughts inside her mind being him and her and the cold brush of his lips starting to smother the fire.

Which makes every salacious image she’s conjured over the last day or two come to the forefront. Every one of them becoming an amalgamation of desire feeling Astarion’s hands lower to the buttons of her blouse. How they rapidly work to pull the fabric apart to expose her breasts. Hardly caring about the garment when he inevitably chucks it away before lowering his mouth to her neck.

“Mm, it’s been a while since I’ve had you like this, hm?”

His voice is low, almost like a growl, and despite knowing that she should at least fear it a little, all Lelia can think about is how it might feel against her cunt. The reverberations of lusty proclamations spoken between her thighs. The waft of his breath mixed with the movement of his lips and tongue.

It’s all too much. A mixture of far too much and not enough, forcing her to push Astarion away, taking a moment to breathe. “Wait… hold on… wa—“

“Are you alright?”

She is, in some cases. For example, she’s fine with the fact that this is finally happening. That the reprieve she needs is on the horizon, but gods, she cannot stand the pace. Not right now.

“Can we… can we cut the foreplay, maybe? Or…” She wipes a shaking hand across her face, sucking in enough air to regain control of her lungs. “Sex now, foreplay after?”

All it does is make him laugh and concede, giving her a nod as he begins to untuck his shirt, prompting her to take off her pants. Neither one of them commenting on the way she nearly falls over in the process before she rushes to help him out of his.

“You’re really having quite the time with all this.”

This time there’s no smugness in his voice as he towers over her. In fact, as she guides the fabric down his legs, kneeling to help him take off his boots, all she hears is kindness. Subtle hints of sympathy laced throughout the touch of remorse eventually pressing into her hips, lowering her down to the forest floor. Maneuvering her into the perfect position before he’s running his fingers across her slit, feeling for the first time how wet she is.

“Apologies for the wait,” he tells her then, forcing back a grin that has her breathing so hard she’s certain she’s going to pass out.

“Astarion, please just—“

He lowers his mouth to her breast at the same time he lines himself up, teasing her for only a second or two before he’s pushing inside, hearing the loud groan she lets out. Savouring the shudder of her chest as he bites her nipple and begins to shift his hips.

And at first, it feels good. Every ripple of movement filling the space within her. Every jolt of pressure as he hits that particular spot resulting in the heat throughout her skin to settle. But quickly it becomes insufficient. A sequence of movements too predictable to force her over the edge.

It makes her whine under her breath. The kind that makes him slow down and stare with concern, wondering what’s wrong until she’s pushing him away and tucking away loose hairs —taking a moment to regain her thoughts before she’s desperately looking at him.

“I think I need to go on top.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t argue. Instead, he just laughs and settles back into the grass, allowing his partner to mold him to her liking. Feeling her hands push apart his thighs before she carefully sits on his cock.

“Oh, fu—"

Almost immediately her head falls forward. As his calves tighten around her waist to hold her steady, he can’t help but revel in the feeling. How she twitches around him, fluttering across his skin before she begins to move up and down, carefully grinding.

It makes both of them breathless all over again as they work in tandem, bouncing and balancing. Neither one of them able to deny the pleasure they’ve sought out in this moment.

Too focused on completion, Lelia’s head’s completely empty. Her mind becoming an endless abyss of commands telling her body to grab his throat and squeeze. To lightly scratch patterns onto his stomach as she tries to push herself to the brink. To ignore the world in favour of Astarion’s cock providing the friction she needs to calm herself down.

Even her voice, begging to sing the praise of her efforts is all but lost. A quiet echo that fails to reach the air as she feels the pressure in her building —the band nestled within her working to snap until—

She feels the brush of his knuckles against her clit before she finally loses herself. The softest graze of flesh finally acting as the tipping point of her pleasure, resulting in her doubling over.

Pressing her hands against her partner’s chest to stabilize herself as he continues pumping, she struggles to ride the waves. Each push becoming more intense than the last, prompting her to cry out, feeling him come. A feeling that takes a while to wind down from. Both of them gasping for air, unable to move as she feels the spill inside her start to slip out.

“Gods, that was…”

He interrupts her with an airy laugh. “Exactly what you hoped for?”

Nodding almost furiously, she feels her leg cramp up, resulting in her rising upwards only to fall beside him, the image of the afternoon sky there to greet her before she turns to face him, wondering something.

“How did you know, by the way?”

Looking back at her, he shrugs his shoulders but ultimately gives in, saying, “I took a peak at your book when you were sleeping,” before hearing her snort and shake her head, guessing as much.

TAGLIST:

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjfchk @idiotsatan @bluestuesday @bloopthebat @art-by-greenie @heneralmoon @sukunababe @dreamingaboutyousworld @ranfithegood @haniscrying @liadamerondjarin @the-lake-is-calling @marina-and-the-memes @rookieoftheyear @zraloci-cpr @kaetmo @snickerdoodle-daydream @wowowwild @d1anna @raswiet @conniesbbymama @venus-wrts @demonicthorns @kihten @sanscas @spammypasta @leighsartworks216 @rose-gold-blue @p1ssmagg0t @hellish-writes @ghostinvenus @otayz @sexysquatch @sleepyeclair @colorful-anxieties @alina-exe @lillifer @girlwiththepapatattoo @acelin-ginsberg @pinkuranium @catrad0rable @scarletrosesposts @qwnamidala @itsrosebabe @bunnyperi @queenofcarrotflowers-s @tatumadams20 @spkyxszn @chlort @f3v3rs @awkwardwookie @joy-the-reader @warm-milk-with-honey-blog @vertigocrime @iyis @wildpiper @pebblethestone @tillywasneverhere @bex-03 @revemiya @staticspouse @itzagothamcitysiren

(taglist continued in reblogs)

#the book #astarion x female original character #astarion x female oc #astarion x fem oc #astarion smut #summer writes

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loving-barnes · 3 months

Text

LOGAN HOWLETT - SPARK

A/N: This one is a bit shorter. I needed to end it where it ends because the next one will be 'so much fun'! This is chapter 3! Also, I suck at creating titles or summaries.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: none

Summary: Charles reveals something more about Y/N's mutation.

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story is suitable for mature audience.

Words: 3800+

Important note: Again, Logan is a tall MF, because they fucked up in the movies. Also, Hugh Jackman!Wolverine.

A TOUCH OF HOPE MASTERLIST | Chapter Two

LOGAN HOWLETT - SPARK

Y/N fell to the ground with a loud thud, groaning. Every bone in her body ached. The first deep breath was hard to do. The second was better. Why did it have to hurt like a bitch? Luckily, she didn’t smash her head against the floor. Concussions were not fun.

“Get up,” she heard Logan’s rough voice. When she opened her eyes, he was standing above her. From the ground, he looked like a giant. “There is no time for napping.”

“Very funny,” Y/N muttered. She sat up, blinking a few times, and then got up. “That hurt.”

“Get used to it,” he said. Logan started to circle her, eyeing her figure. He needed to be sure she wasn’t hurt more than necessary. “What’s goin’ on with ya, kid? You seem distracted.”

Y/N closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Fuck, he noticed. Little did he know it was all his fault. She looked at him through her dark lashes. He stood before her, fists clenched, but the claws weren’t present. While Storm or Kitty usually wore combat outfits for training, Logan would do it in jeans and that damn white tank top. She had a perfect view of his beefy arms and that damn chest.

Of course, she wanted to get the boy back. She kept thinking about it every waking hour. However, this time, it was Logan who engulfed her mind. His scent lingered around her.

She lunged at him, trying to hit his smug face. He was able to grab her whole fist and twist her wrist. Y/N roared from the pain. They were training. Of course, he wouldn’t be hard on her like they would in the real world. Still, it had to hurt.

“Come on, Y/N, concentrate,” he frowned at her. “Last training was better than this.”

Thinking fast, she devised a strategy to help her put him on the ground. However, she didn’t know if it would work. She spun on her heel, wanting to hit his chest with her elbow. As predicted, Logan wrapped his arm around her chest tightly. “Now you are trapped, kid.”

“Maybe,” she hissed. Y/N swung up her legs as high as she could. She used all her strength to yank her feet forward. She could feel how heavy this man was. Luck was on her side, and she threw him over her shoulders and on the ground. This time, he was the one who groaned out of pain.

She held her balance. It was necessary to stay on her feet after a move like that. Losing balance would make her seem inexperienced.

“Fuck,” he cursed, catching his breath. “I was not expecting that.”

“Look how the tables have turned,” she laughed at him. The smile was gone when he tripped her legs, and she ended up again on the floor. “Fuck!”

Logan crawled on top of her. He held her wrists tightly in his grip above her head. “Look who’s laughin’ now. Instead of being amazed and proud of what you did, keep your head in the game and stay focused. Otherwise, you’d end up under the enemy, dead.

Silence surrounded them. Their eyes met. Logan didn’t move away, and she didn’t protest. They stayed like that for what felt like hours. The air got thick. You could cut it with a knife. It was harder to breathe.

His eyes were a darker shade of green with a hint of brown sparkling around the pupil. It reminded her of the woods on a sunny day. Logan was so handsome that she wanted to reach for his face and trace his features. What the fuck was happening?

“Who taught you that?” he asked after a while.

She came back to reality. “Some dudes back in the day,” she made a face. “It’s a long story. Truthfully, I didn’t think it would work, considering your whole skeleton is pure adamantium.” Her eyes travelled lower to his chest, scanning the popping veins on his neck and arm.

Last training, Logan revealed something more about himself. When he told her about the adamantium in his bones, her face turned into something he found adorable. He couldn’t help it. The fascination radiating on her face got him. You are practically indestructible, she commented.

“You sayin’ I’m heavy?” he raised one brow. When Y/N made a face, he rolled his eyes. “Rude.”

“What?! I didn’t say anything,” she protested. Accidentally, she smashed her head against the floor, gasping from the mild pain. “Ouch, that hurt.”

“That’s what you get for being rude.” Logan laughed at her. He got up, holding a hand to her. “Get up before you hurt yourself more.”

She took his hand and jumped up on her feet. Her hand rubbed the spot on her head that she had banged. “Yeah, karma is a bitch. Fucking hell.”

Logan put a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong, kid? Seriously. You have been distracted the whole day. And it showed during training. It is the boy?” His eyes filled with concern.

She took a breath through her nose. “Yes.” It was half true. He didn’t need to know. “It’s nerve-wracking when we still haven’t found much information about JJ. It’s been over a week. How hard can it be?” That last sentence was unnecessary.

“I told you it might take some time,” he said. “We need to be sure no one would die or get hurt,” he continued. Logan kept his voice calm. “You got out. They will do anything to keep the boy there if he’s still there.”

She groaned, annoyed by that answer. It felt like things weren’t going as fast as she’d hoped for. They had superpowers. They could do almost anything they wanted. Why wait? “What if he dies? You know damn well what they do to us. I know what they did to me.”

There was no arguing that. Logan saw how beaten up Y/N was when he met her. People did horrible things to mutants just to find out more about the mutation and how to destroy it. Some would call it a modern genocide.

The door to the Danger room opened, and Rogue walked in with a blue mutant. He had a tail and hoofs. He had a long beige coat and a hat on his head. Why was she that surprised? Hank was a big blue furry beast. This one looked like a blue devil.

“Y/N, this is Kurt,” Rogue introduced her to the mutant. “You haven’t met before.”

“How was Europe?” Logan asked him when he approached the couple.

“I was able to find smugglers who kept mutants in cells and sold them to labs and influential people,” he said with a heavy German accent. “There is a whole underground net operating around Europe and Russia.”

Logan glanced at Y/N and made a face. It was a sign to tell her that there were more of them suffering without any help. Would it be immature if she showed him her tongue?

“The Professor wants to talk to you, Y/N. It’s urgent,” Rogue informed her.

With a nod, she left the Danger room without a word. At least her heart would calm down for a minute. She glanced down at her clothes, leggings and a t-shirt. She sparred with Logan for an hour. You’ll have to wait, Professor, she thought.

One quick shower later and a change of fresh clothes, she knocked on his door and stepped in. Charles was there alone, reading a book.

“Take a seat, Y/N.”

Again, she couldn’t read him. He always kept his face stoic, not giving away anything, not even showing anger or excitement. Her eyes followed his every move.

“There is one urgent matter I need to discuss with you,” he started to talk. “I needed some time to be sure that what I’m about to tell you is true. I couldn’t explain it for years, and I think I might have the answer now.”

She leaned against the backrest and listened to him. There was no point in questioning him.

“I have talked to the rest of the staff about it, but they don’t know the result. I wanted to tell you first before I tell them.” When she didn’t give him any reaction, he continued. “I knew about your existence for years. When you were a teen, around the same time when you discovered your mutation, I found you through Cerebro. The plan was to bring you here, where you would become a student and study.”

It felt like a knife to her heart. Charles knew about her, and they didn’t bring her here? “Why didn’t you?” she whispered.

“I wanted to. The plan was to send Hank to get you. All I needed to do was give him exact coordinates. But,” he stopped. Charles took his time to gather his thoughts. “When I wanted to find you, I couldn’t. As if you stopped existing. I didn’t find you as a mutant or a human.”

“What do you mean?”

“For years, you kept slipping. One day, I’d stumble upon you, and a moment later, you didn’t exist. That’s why I couldn’t bring you here. I couldn’t find you.”

She shook her head. “I don’t get it. I never died. I didn’t do anything unusual.”

Charles smiled. “For some time, I thought you were also a strong telepath. That would be the only explanation for why you kept slipping off. Since you came here, I’ve been observing-”

“You looked in my head without permission,” she stated.

“It’s not as it seems, Y/N. I looked when your thoughts were screaming. I never look unless I don’t have to.”

“Then what? What did you find out?”

He sighed. “You are not a telepath. You keep closing your mind, protecting it, like you do with your forcefield. No one can get inside your head unless you want them. That is the reason why I couldn’t find you.”

She laughed awkwardly. “That doesn’t make sense. How could I possibly do this?”

“Your mutation is about protection that keeps evolving with time. We don’t know what else could happen with your training. It’s been trying to protect your brain since the beginning. For example, if there were a mutant with the ability to hypnotise you, it wouldn’t be possible. Your power would protect your brain.”

Her mouth was open, and she didn’t flinch. It was a ton of new information for her. “Holy shit,” she mumbled. Y/N leaned her elbows on her thighs and put her head in her palms. “Oh god, oh no. Oh, this is bad.”

“Y/N?” Charles said her name gently.

“All this time, I thought I got manipulated, and it turned out I did it because I was stupidly in love with that douche,” she said into the aether. Her eyes met the Professor’s eyes. “I did so many bad, stupid things in my life.”

“I’m not going to judge you, Y/N. We all make mistakes and do things we are not proud of.”

Y/N closed her eyes. “I was seventeen when I ended up with a group of people who did some awful things. Some of them were mutants, and some were humans. To survive, we would steal and ransack houses and apartments to get anything valuable out of there. There was a mutant who kept everyone under control. His mutation was hypnosis.

“I did everything he asked. I never questioned him once. He told me he loved me. He told me I was special. Before I ended up locked up, I found out about his mutation. My heart broke. He manipulated me. It turned out to be his hypnosis. Everyone used to be under his spell. After what you’ve told me, I can officially pronounce that I was madly in love with him and did all those things out of love, willingly.”

“Love makes us do odd things,” Charles said.

“Love makes us do stupid, fucked up things, Professor.”

“I will not ask further. I will listen when you are ready to share your life.”

“Honestly, I’d like to erase most of my memories.”

Charles wheeled closer and grabbed one of her hands, patting it lightly. “I know how to do that. It’s your mutation that won’t allow me. Although, I’m not saying I would erase your memories if I had the possibility. The more you train here, the more powerful your mutation is.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back again. “Scott was right. You know nothing about me. How can you trust me?”

“I simply do. I was able to glimpse inside your mind to gather some information about you before your brain blocked me from entering,” Charles admitted. “But you’ve told me you want to turn your life around. I believe you.”

He believed. Would it be enough? What if the others wouldn’t be as understanding as Charles? The thought of seeing Storm’s or Kitty’s faces, disappointed and disgusted by her, made her stomach turn unpleasantly. What would Logan think?

With a shaky breath, she glanced at Charles. Tears filled her eyes. It was hard to say it out loud. “I want you to read my mind,” she whispered. It was scary to let a telepath inside her head.

“Are you sure?”

She wiped the first fallen tear with a finger. “I did some terrible things, Professor. Things that should be punishable by prison or death.” He opened and closed his mouth like a fish. “Look inside and decide if you want to trust me. Look and tell me if you still want to have me here. I want this. I want you to see. I give you my permission.”

Charles stretched his hands to Y/N’s head. He pressed two fingers on both of her temples and closed his eyes. She could feel him travelling inside her mind, wandering to places she hated the most. More tears escaped her eyes. More pain came back to life. She needed him to see, to know her, and to understand what she felt. He must know what that boy means to her, why she wanted to save him.

He exhaled loudly and opened his eyes once he finished. Was it fear reflecting in his eyes or disappointment? She didn’t know.

“It was not your fault, Y/N,” he said after a while.

She shook her head, shaking. The tears were hot on her cheeks. “It was. I did all those things.”

“No,” he said firmly. “You didn’t know what you could do. Many young mutants, when they come into this school, they experience something similar. It’s not your fault.”

Y/N sniffled and hid her whole head in her arms, trying to shield herself from the world. “How can you trust me when you saw it all? There is blood on my hands.”

Charles thought about it before he said: “You let me in. You let me see your past, the darkest days of your life. I could feel your pain, your fear and your anger. You think you are damaged, but you are not, Y/N. I saw what you dream of. You want peace. You want to experience happiness and freedom. You can have it now, here.”

“When Scott learns it all, he’ll hate my guts to the maximum,” she stated.

“Scott doesn’t hate you. He’s overprotective, I’d say.”

Y/N bit her tongue. She didn’t want to be rude in front of the professor. They took her in and gave her a roof under her head. It would be disrespectful to talk badly about Scott Summers.

Fuck, but did he get on her nerves.

. . .

Logan was in the lab, looking at floor plans of the facility in Salem. He had his arms crossed over his big, hulking chest. His mind was elsewhere. His eyes were maybe staring at the screens, but something else was going on inside his head.

Storm was observing him the entire time. She noticed he started to spend more time with Y/N. He agreed to train her, to make her stronger. They shared the same wit. It was funny to watch their conversations. She had to admit it was nice to see him like this. She heard him sigh and shake his head.

“You okay?” she asked him. Her legs brought her closer to him.

He spun his head to the side, raising one brow. “Why wouldn’t be?” he said roughly.

“I just wanted to be sure,” she shrugged. “I’ve noticed some changes, you know?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Logan, and turned his head back to the screens.

Storm had to laugh. “Come on, Logan. You used to be stand-offish, grumpy and now, well, I can’t say you are a rays of sunshine, but there has been a change. Why could that be?” she teased, grinning at the man. She brushed a strand of her white hair away from her face.

Logan frowned at her. “Come on, Storm, what are we, five?”

“It’s nice, you know?” her lips turned into a smile. “You care for her.”

He sighed. “I’m going to leave for a day,” he announced, skipping the other topic. “I need to go back to Salem. I need to take a look at the facility.”

“No,” she turned to him, pressing a hand on his chest. “We’ve talked about this. We’ll go as a team. It is not a solo mission.”

He rolled his eyes. “I am not saying I’ll do it alone. All I need is to get a better look at the whole place. Maybe sneak in and try to locate the boy. I have to do something to get this mission going. It’s taking us longer than usual. What if I discover something that will help us? Or worse, what if I find the boy dead?”

Storm shook her head in disbelief. “We do these things as a team, remember?”

There was no point in arguing. When Logan set his mind on something, he wouldn’t stop. He stopped at the metal door to the lab. “If someone asks, I’ll be back tomorrow.” With that, he was gone.

He thought Storm would stop him. He thought she would call the Professor and the rest of the team, forbidding him to go. Nothing happened.

Logan went to his room, grabbed his brown leather jacket, and ran back down. The sooner he’d leave, the better. Logan was never the one to sit and wait. He was tired of waiting. They sent him once to get the kid and failed. This time, he wanted to do more.

His eyes found Y/N walking from Charles’s office, looking like a bag of unhappiness. He could smell the dry tears on her face. “You alright, kid?” he had to ask.

Y/N’s eyes lifted. She brushed her hair away from her face. “Oh, yes, I’m fine,” she said plainly.

“What’s with the tears?” he pointed at her face when he approached her.

She noticed the jacket on him. Was he leaving? It gave her a perfect opportunity to change the topic. “You going somewhere?”

“Uh,” he scratched his nape, trying to come up with something. “I need to take care of some things.”

There was something fishy about it. Y/N squinted at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to be nosy, but what kind of things?” He would have mentioned something to her during training, right? Why was she thinking like this? He didn’t owe her anything, not even an explanation. He could do whatever he wanted.

Logan realised he couldn’t lie to her. Not now, with those red eyes and puffy cheeks. “I’m going back to Salem.”

Her mouth opened. “I’m going with you.”

“No,” he shook his head. “I’m doing this alone.”

She put her body in front of his, not letting him go anywhere. Her soft and worried features hardened. “Logan, you promised,” she pressed her hand firmly against his chest. “You promised me you’d take me.”

He sighed. He knew he should have taken a different way out. “Look, Y/N, I promised to take you on a mission with us. It is something I have to do alone. I need to get us more data to move on. Understand?”

“No,” she stood her ground. “You are going back to Salem. You are going to the lab. I’m going with you. I know the place. I can help you, Logan.”

“Y/N,” he warned her. “You are not ready-”

“Bullshit, Logan. I know I’m not the best. I know I need more training. But, fuck, you know damn well I am ready to do anything to get JJ. So, for the love of god, take me with you.”

“Fuck. Fuck!” Logan cursed under his nose and brushed his wild, dark hair with his fingers out of frustration. “You are a stubborn woman, Y/N.” He didn’t like this one bit. Plus, he knew the team would get angry when they found out where they went.

“It was time for you to learn something new about me,” she smirked at him.

Logan sighed, defeated. “Fine, I’ll take you with me. However, you will listen to what I say. You will do as I say, you hear me, kid? I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Y/N winked at him, and a big, bright smile appeared on her lip. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“It’s going to be a long night. I’ll meet you at the garage in five minutes. Hurry up before anyone knows,” he said. “Put on something warm. The nights are colder.”

She saluted him and ran as fast as possible up to her room to put on something comfortable. Y/N packed a denim jacket and put on a warm hoodie. The jeans she wore were stretchy. Also, the sneakers were a good choice for that day. There was no time for anything else. The last thing she was able to grab was a few dollars.

Afterwards, she ran to the garage as he said to meet her. Her heart was out of control. She could feel it in her throat. Things were moving forward. Fucking finally! No matter how it all would end, at least she was doing something.

Y/N got to the garage and looked around. She found Logan standing by a black Audi. It wasn’t new, but it would do. Who owned all those cars? There were many in the garage. “You are on time,” he said.

Y/N found a motorbike near a wall. It was a black and brown Harley. It looked familiar. “Wait,” she pointed a finger. “Didn’t I fall from the bike?”

Logan opened the door to the driver’s side. “Twice,” he said. “Come on. We have to move.”

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