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#pulling glass out of body parts is never fun though gotta stop breaking shit
moxfirefly · 3 years
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Hello~ From your smut prompt list. Numbers 2 and 44 for TMNT Bayverse? I’d say either Raph or Donnie. Raph would prob be more fitting but I’m curious to see what Donnie would do 🌝
Listen a jealous Donnie is something that I’m all for cause it’s a different type of jealousy compared to what Raph’s would be
So I’m going with him 👌
Rated Explicit (18+ Only)
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It’s illogical, Donatello thinks.
To have this little nagging fire inside of his chest, this is expected after all. You’re beautiful, absolutely breathtaking in every sense of the word.
And yeah you’re his, and he is yours but that nagging little pin prick of self deprecation won’t leave.
He remembers staring at the comment on a harmless photo you had posted.
‘You’re so fucking hot’
It had read, the guys profile screams basic, he didn’t have much going for him aside from doing shit like this on any girls profile. Still it nags him, cause it’s not the only picture and the comments don’t remain as ‘tame’ as that one.
That same day you had walked into the Lair in nothing but short jeans and a flannel that often dipped off your shoulder. Donatello doesn’t like this twisting and churning in his stomach.
He doesn’t like jealousy.
Doesn’t like how his brain goes into primal mode and how willing he is to fight god himself if it looked at you funny. It’s worse cause now he’s hyper aware that everyone including his own brothers have stared at you at some point. Even if Leo shakes his head and shamefully adverts his gaze back to his book. Irritation doesn’t begin to cover his feeling when Raph clearly can’t keep his gaze away from your ass and Mikey still actively (if albeit friendly) flirted with you.
Maybe he’s reading to much into it. Still he goes a little harder on them when they spar. Sleep is definitely extremely needed after he blocks all the creeps from your page. Going to the garage had been a good idea, he could take out whatever frustrations remained in his body on repairs, soldering hell maybe even breaking apart things with a hammer.
He doesn’t expect to quell his jealous frustrations with you...
Against the truck...
With one finger deep inside of your heat and the other shoved a little too roughly into your mouth.
But this is kinda helping a lot, like way more.
Because he knows his comment was stupid, like sexist possessive boyfriend levels of stupid. Donnie has never once had an issue with your clothing choices, has never told you to not wear this or that but it’s the outfit from the picture that garnered so many disgusting men to say so many unnecessary and disrespectful things.
The second the words ‘You shouldn’t wear that’ leave his mouth he’s already wishing he could backpedal and explain that it’s not you, it’s the creeps. And yes words like ‘too revealing’ ‘not appropriate’ leave his mouth in word vomit and god why can’t he just shut up he thinks to himself.
You’re stunned nevertheless, brow raised and arms crossed and can’t you see your breast are barely in the short summer dress! Donnie swallows, fist clenched.
Then of course you had to go and say it, defiant little brat that you are.
“Make me”
Donnie bit the inside of his cheek, he took off the goggles (he hadn’t even started his repairs) and calmly walked towards you.
“Okay then” His voice was low, even, just too collected for how it had been seconds before.
And thus here you both find yourselves. On the side of the truck where no one can see either of you but fuck if they walked around the sight would be too much. Your back against his smooth plastron, he’s gotta hunch a bit due to his stature but that means his mouth is close to your ear. “You want to be a brat? You want everyone’s eyes on you?” The tone of his voice makes your skin break out in goosebumps, wow he’s actually angry.
You clench harder around his finger, he’s finger fucking so hard the palm of his hand smacks against your clit. Each resounding wet noise drives you closer to cumin. “They can all look, fuck it they can all ogle and fantasize and maybe even hope...” He lets the digit in your mouth slip out in order to gently grip your chin. He moves your face to better look at him. Then your eyes go so impossibly wide at his words.
“At the end of the day, this-“ He emphasizes with a hard thrust of his hand. “This pussy, is mine and mine alone, yeah?” You somehow nod, legs already shakey and unable to keep you up. If a stupid little dress caused this then, you guess you’re gonna have to wear this a little more often. “Don-I can’t,” Your legs are officially checking out and he knows, he wraps an arm around your waist and holds you close to himself as the first orgasm is pulled out of you via his finger.
Donnie doesn’t let you rest, he doesn’t even let your brain boot up again when he’s hauling you towards the table he has for working on parts of the truck. He sweeps everything out of the way, the clatter echoing and you’re sure somebody has to have heard that. Regardless of, he doesn’t seem to care, he bends you over the table, nearly rips the dress when he pushes it up passed your rear and yanks down your underwear. You grip the edges of the table, hearing things behind you, watching Donnie’s glasses roughly be chucked onto the table and the snap of suspenders.
You stick your rear out for him and hear him groan makes a spike of cockiness but it’s short lived when Donnie pushes into your sopped heat. You rest on your forearms, mouth open but no sound can come out that isn’t a choked breath. Donnie bottoms out with a lengthy ‘yeessss’ that’s growled out. It doesn’t seem to be enough though, because he bends down, arms trapping you and he holds the end of the table. He’s so close, suffocatingly close and god do you love it.
The angle adds a burn to your cunt, Donnie loves it. He feels your heat tightly squeezing his cock and he hasn’t even moved. “They wish they could, they wish they could do this” He says it right against your ear, every syllable tickling you and making you shiver. “If only they knew that at the end of the day, you walk around with my seed in you” He licks the shell of your ear before biting down on the back of your neck.
Hard.
Hard enough you yelp, hard enough that your hand reaches for his and he cups it. “Please, please...” You surprise yourself by actually stringing two words together when overwhelmed and heated to this point. Donnie makes sure to drive into you hard enough the table rattles and you yelp and squeeze your eyes shut. He slams again and you both moan together. You want to turn your head, you’re still worried somebody might walk in.
Donnie’s amused by that.
“Scared? Scared you’ll be found like this?” He gets up from your back and grips your waist, you know he’s giving you more room to look, to watch with baited breath and the possibility of it all only makes you wetter. You wanna play along, he’s been nothing but a jealous fuck this entire time, so why not hit him with one little blow and get his gears truly going.
“I hope Raph walks in” You say, voice shakey but teasing. Donatello’s thrust still, he glares down at you.
“I hope Raph gets to see me like this” You bite your lip before licking them slowly.
Donnie literally growls. He doesn’t give you enough time for another taunt when he drives into you quick and deliberately. He fucks you, he honest to god just fucks you like you’re his favorite toy and he’s been having a bad day, which he kinda has. He drives into you and doesn’t stop until he’s pulled three more orgasms out of you. He doesn’t stop, the sight of your sweaty, overstimulated body and barely able to scream anymore voice keep him going.
For good measure, just to reassure you, he manages for you to cum one more time. His muscles burn, he’s breathing to hard, delaying his own release always felt good but this? This was something entirely different. “Say it, say it or I’m giving you another one” He demands and you squeeze him because part of you wants to but another logical point is telling you that won’t walk right for the next few days. “I’m yours! Fuck Donnie I’m yours!” You feel him kiss the back of your head before pulling out. The daze isn’t enough to not make you look behind, he hasn’t cum’d yet so why...?
Donnie wraps his hand around his stiff length and pumps fast, he wants to mark you like this, it doesn’t take him long to cum. He finishes on your rear with a low lengthy moan, some of it shooting far enough to get the back of your dress.
“Jerk” You barely find enough strength to glare, even if his tired grin makes your stomach fill up with butterflies. “I’m gonna apologize but not right now” He wipes the sweat from his face with the back of his forearm. “You can start by cleaning me up” You hear several pops when you stretch a bit.
Nothing prepares you for Donnie kneeling and licking his own seed from your left cheek. You watch entranced as he pushes down the hem of your dress to cover your modesty. “I like jealous you” Comes your soft and honest voice. “Don’t, it’s not fun” He’s feeling all manner of things, even the gooey chemicals his orgasm brought but there’s still shame. You manage to stand back up on wobbly feet, you reach up and pull his face down and kiss him, literally tasting him.
Kiss him in a way that quiets all those negative thoughts and jealous images.
“I am, irrevocably so, yours” You caress his jaw, letting him close his eyes and hug you so tightly to himself.
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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years
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Twisted 19 - Chasing Silhouettes [Spencer Reid x Reader]
A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤
Series Masterlist
Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, blood.
Word Count: 3800
Summary: Truce can be inevitable. 
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It was safe to say that you were officially off your rocker after the break up. Stress? Check. No sleep? Check. Getting drunk mid-day? Check.
Looking a serial killer in the eye and threatening him?
Also check.
The constant anger was gone though. That blinding fury was gone, the fear was gone, the only thing you felt was numbness. It was as if you were watching everything happening around you from behind a glass, it was there but you couldn’t touch it or feel it.
With one exception; you missed Spencer each and every minute of the day, so you at least knew there was something left inside of you that wasn’t broken. But after what had happened, it wasn’t like you could call him. You had already left him multiple voice messages whenever you got too drunk anyway, and you were sure he had deleted them without even listening.
Not that you could blame him. He had already told you he wished he had never met you, and there was nothing you could do to change that.
“You guys will get back together,” Kenzie assured you like the hopeless romantic she was, “This is just temporary. I just know it, it’s like me and Mina. You can’t stop true love.”
“I doubt Mina ever told you she never loved you,” you stated, exhaling the smoke of your cigarette. “Or that you told her you wish you had never met her.”
She stole a look at Mina who was waiting for your lattes by the counter and turned to you.
“Well alright, maybe you and Spencer are having a more intense fight than we did, but—“
“This is not a fight, Kenz. We broke up.”
“You broke up with him,” she corrected you, “And you’re still in love with him.”
“Doesn’t matter,” you shrugged your shoulders, “I burned that bridge, okay? After this whole case is over, he will want nothing to do with me—hell, he wants nothing to do with me right now and I don’t blame him.”
“Okay,” Mina said as she came to your table and handed you your latte before sitting down, “What are we talking about?”
“Her and Spencer.”
“Yeah no, fuck that guy.”
Kenzie gasped, “Babe!”
“Kenz, he’s in the FBI, okay? He was there when they brought her into that interrogation room.”
“He wasn’t there when they took me to the station.”
“Fine, he came later on but did nothing to stop his beloved team from hounding you.”
“Mina, he was in another room.”
“You can’t possibly believe he didn’t know what was happening in the interrogation room,” she insisted and Kenzie pulled her brows together.
“Wait, didn’t you say he was the one who called you? For the lawyers and everything?”
Mina shrugged, “Yeah, so? That was just because this one,” she pointed at you, “Was too much of an idiot to ask for a lawyer. What, did you never watch a movie? You always ask for a lawyer.”
“But think about it, it means that he was trying to protect her from that whole interrogation process before he even landed,” Kenzie stated, “He knows how that whole thing goes, he made the calls, he gave his professional opinion to the police, he sent his team because they wouldn’t let him in there, it wouldn’t surprise me if he thought they’d go easy on her.”
You held the warm cup in your hands, listening silently.
“Or he just wanted to play the nice guy so that he could manipulate her more.”
You pulled your brows together, “Dude, he’s not manipulating me.”
“Not right now.”
“Not ever,” you said, “That’s not… that wasn’t the reason. Kenzie has a point, he was trying to get me out of there with minimum damage, and he knows how the system works.”
“Yeah, and that’s exactly why you need to talk to him and explain—“
“Enough people got hurt because of me,” you cut Kenzie off, “Died, even. It would destroy me if it was him, okay? Me staying away is better for him, at least he will stay alive.”
Mina scoffed, “Not that your heartbreak is not important, but I need to bitch at you before I forget,” she said, “How could you not tell me Nolan was planning to propose mom?”
Kenzie smiled, “I think it’s sweet.”
“I think it’s a fucking disaster.”
“Oh come on,” you murmured, sipping your coffee, “You’ve seen them together, haven’t you? It’s bound to happen, he’s head over heels and mom can’t stop talking about him.”
Mina let out a whine, “I’m a good person,” she murmured, “I give to charity and stuff, I don’t deserve this.”
���You’re not ten years old you idiot, a stepfather will not disturb any dynamics you have.”
“He will though!” she protested, “To repeat, he is basically my boss, okay?”
“He’s a lot of people’s boss.”
“Yeah, do you know what people will think when I finally make partner?” she asked you, “That my brand new stepdaddy pulled some strings.”
“Please don’t call him stepdaddy, that’s just disturbing.” Kenzie made a face and Mina heaved a sigh.
“How are you so okay with this?” she asked you and you tilted your head.
“Mina, there’s a killer who’s going after people I know and making sure I see that,” you started, counting with your fingers,  “I’ve been drugged at my own apartment—in my own bedroom only to find my ex boyfriend’s dead body in my kitchen. I’ve been accused of murder, been handcuffed, interrogated and broke up with the love of my life. The last past week, I got maybe five hours of sleep and oh, before I forget, I also threatened our original serial killer father with death just a couple of days ago. Does it look like I’m in the right mental state to worry about getting a new stepdaddy?”
“To repeat, can you guys stop calling him stepdaddy?”
“What did you tell him when he asked for your blessing?” you asked and Mina rolled her eyes.
“I told him that mom is a grown woman,” she said, “She doesn’t need our permission to do anything. If she wants to get married to the guy who has apparently loved her for decades… who am I to say no to that?”
You tilted your head, “You were nice?” you asked in disbelief, “You’re never nice.”
“Eh, I have my moments.”
“What’s the real reason?”
Mina pointed at Kenzie with her thumb, “She said to be nice.”
“You’re so whipped.”
“You are seriously going to sit there and call me whipped when you’ve been wailing for the last month, miss I shall suffer forever after my lost love even though he was two seconds away from handcuffing me and not in a fun way?”
“He wasn’t-“
“Both of you are being too cynical about Nolan,” Kenzie interrupted you and grinned wide, “I mean come on, doesn’t it make you believe in love all over again?”
“It makes me want to get booze because I’ll never have that, Kenz,” you murmured and she pulled her brows together.
“Oh don’t be like that.”
“Kenz he was the love of my life and I lost—“
“I’m leaving if you start crying into your latte,” Mina deadpanned, “And please don’t say that you’ll plan Nolan’s proposal or God forbid, their wedding.”
“My client list is full.”
She let out a laugh, “You realize we all know that’s your favorite excuse when you don’t want to accept a client, right?” she asked you and you shrugged your shoulders.
“I think I’ll sit this one out,” you said and checked your wristwatch, “Well, I gotta get back to the office, I have this meeting and then I have two other meetings with these new pastry shops.”
“Hey, brat?” Mina stopped you as soon as you stood up and you tilted your head.
“Yeah?”
“You’re okay, right?” she asked, “Besides this whole mess?”
You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to smile, “I’m not but I will be.”
“Will you?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, “I mean I have to, right? There’s not much of an option there.”
Mina looked like she wanted to insist, but Kenzie squeezed her hand, silently telling her to drop it before you made your way through the street to approach the building your office was in. You nodded at the security guards then got in the elevator and pressed the button.
When the elevator got to your floor the doors opened but your assistant rushed to you as soon as you stepped outside
“Y/N, hi! You haven’t been answering your phone.”
“Shit, I forgot it on silent,” you murmured and checked it to see five calls from her, “Five calls? Erica, did you guys catch fire or something?”
“I was actually thinking maybe you would want to come to the balcony with me, you know, to get some fresh air before your meeting?”
You pulled your brows together, “What’s going on?”
“We didn’t know if we should call you or left them downstairs but…” she said, making your heart skip a beat.
“What is it?”
“Remember the time you said you were allergic to jasmines?”
You could feel the goosebumps rising on your arms, “Yeah?”
She pointed at something over your shoulder and you turned your head, your breathing catching up in your throat as someone opened the glass door to go outside.
There was a bowl full of jasmine flower petals but you could still take the overly sweet scent. Bile climbed up your throat as you walked through the door to approach the reception desk, and as soon as you saw what was in the middle of the petals, the room started spinning.
A vial of blood.
“Are you dating like a goth guy?” Erica asked as you took a step back, the walls closing in on you.
“Call the FBI,” you gasped as you rushed to the balcony, desperate for air, “Now.”
                                            ***
Panic attacks were a big part of your childhood, and even if you weren’t completely unfamiliar with them as an adult, they still managed to take you by surprise.
It took you nearly an hour to pull yourself together. An hour of sitting there in the balcony, your knees drawn up to your chest as your mind desperately searched for something to focus on, something to hold on to.
Some happy place.
By the time FBI had gotten there, your makeup was smudged around your eyes due to the excessive crying, your whole body was shaky and you were so exhausted that you could barely will yourself to get up and walk to your office.
The jasmine scent still clung to the air though.
You didn’t even have any energy to keep your eyes open, your whole mind wrapped in that numb haze that kept pulling you deeper and deeper into the absolute nothingness as you sat there on the couch, multiple agents coming and going into the office, into the reception, into your floor.
Dr Tara Lewis, Spencer’s coworker had given you a small bottle of hand lotion so that you could take in a scent other than those flowers before she had shot you a sympathetic smile and left your office to talk with the reception.
Even raising your hand to wipe at your nose with the tissue balled up in your palm felt way too tiring for you, but you wiped your nose, your eyes still fixed on the wall as the glass door to your office opened once again and footsteps came closer.
You didn’t even have to raise your head as Spencer approached you before he knelt down to look you in the eye.
“Hi.”
You blinked a couple of times, “Hi,” you sniffled, “Is it okay if we don’t do this today?”
He raised his brows, “Don’t do what?”
“I’m too tired to fight,” your speech was almost slurred at this point but you pulled your brows together, forcing yourself to focus as much as you could. “So can we do that tomorrow please? Like truce for a day?”
He offered you a tight lipped smile, “I’m not here to fight,” he said gently, as if trying to pull you back to the reality without scaring you, “Truce for a day works for me.”
You picked at the crumpled tissue in your hand, “Thank you.”
“Do you think you can talk to me though?”
You nodded silently, wiping at your nose again. “Yes.”
“Great,” he said, his calm voice washing over you, “That’s good. What’re you thinking about right now?”
“I’m thinking…” you tried to put your thoughts in order, “Tara gave me a peach hand lotion, can you give it back to her after you’re done here?”
“Sure,” he said, “That’s a good thing to focus on. What else?”
“It’s not my dad,” you said, “My dad wouldn’t dare to fuck with me, not after- it’s not him.”
“Tell me something other than the case.”
You willed yourself to concentrate on his handsome face, “Do I look like a horror movie corpse right now?”
He scoffed a chuckle, shaking his head. “You look beautiful Y/N. You always do.”
“The only person who’s a bigger liar than you is that makeup artist that told me this eyeliner was waterproof.”
He reached out to tilt your chin up so that his hazel gaze could study you better, and even in your numb state you could feel the warmth spreading through your body with his touch, “How long have you been awake?”
“I dozed off for like an hour last night,” you murmured, “I have this new apartment but I can’t sleep in my bedroom because I keep thinking there’s some noise coming from the kitchen, like… like it’s going to happen again. It’s impossible though, there are like five different locks on that door, someone would have to come with a battering ram to open the damn thing but I still don’t feel safe enough to—to sleep.”
He thought for a moment, “You can’t sleep because you don’t feel safe,” he murmured and you heaved a sigh, your head dropping before you forced yourself to raise it again, making a face.
“I’ve never tried peach lotion before, it smells nice…” you mused, your gaze fixed on the wall while the black spots flew in your vision “Have you ever tried it? Also hypothetically speaking, what happens if you eat lotion? Like do you think—“
“Y/N,” his clear voice shot through the haze again, “Sweetheart, look at me.”
If you weren’t too goddamn tired, the pet name would make you snap out of it and even give you a spark of hope, but you could barely concentrate on what was happening.
“Can you do something for me?” he asked and you nodded.
“Yeah, anything.”
“Lie down.” he said and you pulled your brows together.
“Why?”
“We’ll try something,” he said, stealing a look outside to the reception crawling with agents before turning to you as you curled up on the couch, still holding the tissue tight in your hand, your eyes getting heavy the minute your head hit the small pillow.
“What are we trying?” you managed to ask through the fog and he smiled softly.
“Close your eyes, for thirty seconds,” he said, “Just focus on your breathing. I’m right here, okay? Can you do that for me?”
You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, counting in your head.
You didn’t even reach fifteen before the sleep surrounded you.
                                                      ***
You were pulled away from the bliss when someone shook you by the shoulder gently.
“Y/N,” Erica’s voice reached you, “Y/N, wake up.”
You opened your eyes groggily, frowning. It was already dark outside and there was nearly no one in the office except for her and you. You attempted to sit up but stopped as soon as Spencer’s cologne filled your nostrils and you looked down at the jacket covering you.
He must’ve left his jacket on you while you slept in order to keep you from getting cold.
You could feel the small spark of peace shooting through you, the warmth spreading through your veins as you hugged the jacket tighter around your body and cleared your throat.
“What time is it?”
“Eight,” she shot you a small smile, “Um, everyone left and I figured you’d get a stiff back if you sleept on the couch any longer.”
“Erica,” you said, “You didn’t have to stay.”
“Come on, I wouldn’t leave you here alone after today,” she said, “Besides, I told that tall handsome agent that I’d drive you home. His team was called back to the FBI, some clue or whatever.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it, I’d be a lousy assistant if I didn’t.”
“No, I mean—“ you swallowed thickly, “Thank you. It means more than you know to me.”
She grinned at you as you grabbed your purse and both of you made your way to the elevator.
“So I take it there’s no goth boyfriend but…” she said as the elevator went down, “Maybe a tall handsome flirt?”
“We broke up,” you murmured and she scoffed.
“Yeah no.”
You blinked a couple of times, “Erica, I’m pretty sure we broke up. I was there—“
“No I mean,” she huffed while you left the elevator to approach her car, “I have a talent to sense these sort of things you see. He doesn’t look at you like you broke up, and that jacket over you certainly doesn’t say you broke up.”
You got in the car with her and she started it.
“Is it because of your dad?” she asked you and your head shot up.
“What? How did you-?”
“It’s a small office, people talk,” she said as if apologizing, “But don’t worry, we all know that’s not the kind of person you are. I even had a fight with my boyfriend about it, but I told him that I knew you, you would never be able to do something like that. He was like you don’t know what people are capable of and I was like well...”
You were way too tired to answer her, so you let her talk about the time how she was great at sensing people’s true motives and how her boyfriend thought you were capable of murder while you sat in her car as she drove you to your place. You thanked her, your mind still fuzzy with sleep and made your way to your apartment.
After checking if all five locks were in their places and counting them in your head, you kicked off your heels and made your way to the fridge to get the bottle of whiskey. You took a swig of it and went to the couch, turning on the TV and leaning back to the soft cushions. You slowly took the jacket off and pulled it over your body, closing your eyes and inhaling his scent.
Maybe you could just imagine that you two were together, just for tonight.
You managed to distract yourself for a couple of hours, just sitting there and staring at the TV, barely paying attention to what was playing. By the time it was midnight, you had reached the half of the bottle and looked down at your phone for a couple of seconds before finding his name in the contacts.
You didn’t have to wait for long, and for once it didn’t go to voice mail.
“Hi.”
“Hey,” you smiled, “Um… is the truce still on? Or should I— should I hang up?”
“No,” he said almost too quickly, “No, don’t. We have today, don’t we? Might as well use the truce until the end.”
“Okay,” you whispered, “Thanks, by the way. For today. I can imagine how hard it is for you—“
“No,” his voice was soft, “No you really can’t.”
A silence fell upon you and you grabbed a tissue, wiping at your eyes,
“Professor?”
“Hm?”
“What does science say about heartbreak? Hypothetically speaking?”
“About heartbreak?”
“Yeah.”
He cleared his throat, “Considering the stimulation that increases dopamine and-“
“In a way that I will understand while I’m half drunk?”
“Addiction.”
You pulled back to look at the phone, “Addiction?”
“You know the areas of your brain that are active when you’re in love? Those areas are also active when you use…well, you name it. Cocaine. Drugs. Nicotine.”
“So that means heartbreak means-“
“Withdrawals,” he finished your sentence for you, “Exactly.”
You grabbed another tissue from the box on the coffee table, wiping at your nose.
“Spencer, what if it goes on like this forever?” you rasped out, “This whole heartbreak. What if I feel like this forever? What if I… What if I’m like seventy and I still—“
Love you.
“Miss you,” you changed your mind mid-sentence, “What if I’m old and gray and still using your jacket as a blanket?”
“That’s what you’re doing right now?”
“Yeah,” you murmured, “Pathetic right?”
“I recorded that show you liked and still can’t bring myself to delete it,” he admitted, “I don’t even watch it, it’s just there. You sure you want to talk about pathetic with me?”
You let out a bitter laugh, “Nah, still no competition professor. I still call you whenever I’m drunk, remember? You’re handling this way better than me, you still have your dignity.”
“I saw a fridge magnet in a store a week ago and I actually walked in there to buy it before I remembered I couldn’t give it to you,” he paused, “I’m not handling anything, Y/N. I’m a mess, it’s like…”
You held your breath, waiting for him to continue.
“You took something with you on your way out,” he said slowly, “And I don’t know what to do with what’s left, to be honest.”
“My chest actually hurts when I see you, you know?” you murmured, “And I still haven’t deleted the pictures.”
“Me neither.”
You picked at the tissue in your hand, “So much for Dante and Beatrice huh?”
“All things considered, they’d handle it worse than us.”
“I doubt anyone could handle it worse than us, professor.”
“No think about it,” he said, “We had….we had each other, at least. They didn’t technically lose each other, because they were never together.”
“It’s still romantic.”
“Dante saw Beatrice twice in his life,” he told you, “Once when they were nine, once when they were both adults. Twice in his whole life. Ignore the poems, what would you do if a guy you saw when you were nine showed up years and years later, proclaiming his undying love for you?”
“Call the police?” you said, making him chuckle.
“There you go.”
“When you put romanticism aside, Beatrice should’ve gotten a restraining order.”
“They didn’t have those back then, Y/N.”
You let out a small giggle, “Yeah yeah…” you murmured, “So what does that mean then? We’re more tragic than Dante and Beatrice?”
He sniffled and cleared his throat, “Yeah,” he said, “I think that’s what it means.”
You could feel the tears burning your eyes, “It’s not going to get easier, is it?” you croaked out after almost a minute of silence and he thought for a moment.
“I don’t think so,” he said, “Not for me anyway.”
“Not for me either,” you murmured and wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand, burying your nose to the collar of his jacket draped over you.
If you closed your eyes, maybe it would stop hurting this much. You touched your screen to get to your gallery, then found your picture together, both of you smiling at the camera, unaware of the heartbreak that would hit you both very soon.
“Good night Dante,” you whispered and Spencer exhaled a shaky breath, as if he was craving the addictive high of your presence as much as you did his.
“Good night Beatrice.”
Chapter 20
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lastxviolet · 3 years
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Madripoor is for Lovers (Zemo x F!Reader) - Ch. 3
Summary: Y/N is a SWORD agent recruited to help Sam and Bucky track down Karli and the super-soldiers. When Helmut Zemo joins the team, he takes a special interest in her. The friendly union is wrought for disaster, but then things take a turn for the worst when Y/N is taken as collateral. Will Zemo keep her forever? Does she even want to escape? And what happened in Madripoor that made the whole thing so complicated?
Warnings: 18+ / smut / oral sex / f receiving
https://archiveofourown.org/works/32878015/chapters/81589774
The hypnotic bass and Zemo's enthusiastic dance moves almost got you carried away. But over the bouncing crowd, you saw Sharon, Bucky, and Sam on the stairs, looking for you.
“Shit,” you mumbled, breaking the trance. “We gotta go.”
Zemo followed your line of sight and turned to lead you back to the group in silence. You try to hide the disappointment on your face.
“We found him,” Sharon yelled over the music upon your approach.
The five of you went over the plan for tomorrow back in Sharon’s suite. You doubted that even with your experience, you could’ve found Dr. Nagel without Sharon's help. In the states, it was easy to pick a needle out of a haystack, because you always knew what you were looking for. But here, everyone was a criminal. Uncharted territory where you had to find the sharpest needle amongst thousands.
“You good?”
Sam’s voice cut through your thoughts. You looked up and noticed the dissipating group. Sharon showed Bucky to his room, and Zemo sat with his eyes glued to a book on the couch. Only Sam remained standing in front of you, looking like he was about to pass out.
“I’m fine,” you assured him. “Go get some sleep. You look terrible.”
He chuckled and nodded in agreement. “We gotta get the hell out of here. Madripoor has aged me at least ten years.”
“Me too. I miss places where being a criminal makes you the odd one out, not the other way around.”
“Goody two-shoes,” he teased before turning to find his room.
Sharon waved him on from down the hall and they got back into it about her pardon and what she’d missed in the states.
Your attention shifted to the only other person in the room. Zemo’s eyes wasted no time abandoning his book and landing on you as soon as you were alone.
“The Odyssey,” you asked, pointing to his book. “I didn’t take you for someone who enjoys fiction.”
He smiled at the attention and made room for you on the couch.
“I often find that there are elements of truth in every fantasy. The human spirit is sometimes better examined by poets than by professors. This, for instance, is a brilliant study on heroes.”
“Hmm, studying heroes? An attempt to know thy enemy?”
He laughed and turned to you with his elbow up on the back of the couch, bringing him less than a foot away from your face. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the lights down the hall go out. There were no interruptions, or easy outs, now. All that was left was you, and the only man who’d ever made you truly nervous.
“Y/N, if you were in Odysseus’s place, content and immortal, would you give it up to go back home?”
“You’re asking me if I’d abandon my legacy and family to shack up on an island with some mistress?”
He chuckled and nodded in approval. “Very wise. But what does he gain by leaving? Struggle? Hardship? Mortality?”
You tilted your head to match his. “Are you telling me that you’d stay on the island?”
His expression shifted for the first time since you’d stepped foot in Madripoor. The overconfident, smirking Baron dissolved into a man.
A man who hid the sense of riotousness that he carried with dramatic flair. A man whose charm and wit seemed fabricated.
This man now, fighting off sleepy eyes and grappling with the moral quandary posed, seemed burdened. You wondered if his quest for justice would ever get to be too much. After all the destruction he’d caused, could he still see himself as the exactor of fairness? Were the Avengers still his enemy? Were you?
“No,” he confessed looking down at the copy in his hands.
Your lips twitched but you didn’t smile. “You’d make the hard choice — the hero’s choice if it came down to it.”
He looked almost somber at your words and nodded.
“In another life…perhaps.”
His voice wavered, almost as if he regretted saying it out loud. The briefing that Sam and Bucky had given you about him flashed in your mind.
A hero's choice was the right thing to do; the hard thing to do. You knew that he was a soldier before everything happened. Just like you.
Was that not a hero’s choice?
He tore the Avengers apart in an attempt to stitch up his own heart. An eye for an eye. Avenging his country because its destruction had been glossed over by the world. His loss fueled his anger but he was more capable than most. A man without armor, or mystical abilities was able to wreak havoc on those who had wronged him.
Was that heroism?
If losing those you love didn’t permit revenge, you weren't sure what did.
He broke the silence by tapping his knuckle on the book.
“It is the perfect testament to the valiance of heroes,” he continued. "But, I must say that the wisest thing Odysseus did was marry his wife.”
You laughed and nodded, remembering how she saved the day. Without her, Odysseus’s homecoming would’ve been much more perilous for him.
“I often find that behind every great man is an even better woman.”
He smirked and didn’t miss a beat. “Like you with…your Avengers.”
“I stand beside them,” you corrected.
He raised an eyebrow and waved a hand. “Semantics."
You gave him an eye roll in return.
He smiled then, wider than you had ever seen. It almost made him seem shy. Perhaps it was because he was making a genuine point, masked in humor.
You were well aware of your importance to this mission and yet burdened by the fact that it didn’t make you a member of their special club. When this was all over, you wouldn’t be an Avenger, or anywhere close. You’d go back to S.W.O.R.D to wait until called upon again. It hadn’t occurred to you before, but there was a pang of sadness there where the thought rested. It’d be a mistake to let Zemo know but it seemed to be too late.
“You’re making fun of me.”
His hand brushed yours. “No. I am merely expressing my concerns about your allegiances.”
Still aware of the small amount of alcohol left in your system, you looked away from his quirked moving lips.
“Enlighten me, Baron. What wrong decisions do you think I’m making?”
Frozen in place, you let him brush his fingers along your wrist to your arm. He took his time, tracing patterns on your skin and inspecting his work with an unwavering gaze. Only when his thumb caressed your cheek, and his hand landed on your neck did he look you in the eyes again. The air in your lungs was gone and your body betrayed you with a furious eruption of butterflies.
“Living a hero’s life,” he said somber-eyed and serious.
Your heart rate quickened. As if you’d learned nothing in S.W.O.R.D about manipulation, you were back to watching his lips. They parted slightly, as if he had something else to say but thought better of it.
A hero.
You didn't feel like one.
A sidekick, maybe. But even then, no one knew your name. No one sang your praises at home or breathed a sigh of relief knowing you were out there in the world fighting evil. It seemed that the only one who thought of you as more than an assistant was Zemo.
Your heart felt heavy then. The two of you were impossible. An inconceivable pair brought together by chance.
But that didn’t make his dark eyes any less enticing or his words any less intoxicating.
That didn’t make you any further from his lips.
He was a breath away, but so was your own destruction.
In another life, the island might tempt you.
“Look,” you said glancing past him to find something to change the subject. “It’s a full moon.”
Without sparing him another glance, you crossed the floor in four quick steps to the large windows. Never one to give up easily, you heard him follow close behind.
He beat you there and pushed open the glass door before gesturing towards the balcony in silence.
You looked down at your feet until the skyline drew your eyes. The plan to diffuse the tension had not worked in the slightest. The moonlit balcony overlooking the beautiful city had only made it worse.
You heard him stop a few feet from you and then settle on the lone armchair. The reality of the situation hit you like a train. Away from the windows, you had privacy. This high up no one would see you and everyone else was in bed. You'd meant to creep out of the lion's den but instead, you'd locked yourself in.
“The moon is a friend for the lonesome to talk to,” Zemo mused from behind you.
“Carl Sanburg,” you confirmed, so he knew you didn't think he'd made it up.
Both of you were silent then. Swaying in the tension you'd built. Sanity pulling you back inside, inexplicable hope keeping you planted in place.
“Are you lonely, Baron?”
The words fell from your lips more delicate and intimate than you had meant them to. You let slip that you cared about his answer. That you might even care to cure him of the ailment.
“Me? No.”
You turned and scoffed.
“Liar. You were in a cell for years and you hardly talk to anyone now that you’re out.”
He leaned back in the chair, arms on either rest and a leg crossed with the ankle of his right knee. His demeanor was harmless in the same way that a predator poised to pounce was. Elegant, still, and ready for the kill.
“Not true,” he corrected. “I talk to you.”
“One person isn’t enough,” you said, taking a step closer.
Were you walking into disaster? Or being pulled? You couldn't tell the difference between his seduction and your own reckless desires any longer.
“The right person though…can be,” he half-whispered. “And you, Y/N, are more than I deserve.”
He gazed up at you from the chair. Kings throughout history, in war-won golden thrones and elegant capes, paled in comparisons to how regal he looked. Anointed with a crown of moonlight, ruling over whomever he pleased.
Your eyes widened with the admission. “Baron — ”
“Helmut, please.” He stood then and met you near the railing, his hand grazing your hip. “Only if for tonight.”
You shook your head, knowing this was a bad idea. His hand made its way to your waist regardless. He pulled you against his chest before searching your eyes for any signal that you were going to run. You knew he’d find nothing. You knew you mirrored his look of lust with blown pupils and flushed cheeks.
“Have I gone too far,” he whispered, bringing his other hand to brush loose hair behind your ear.
“No,” you sighed, letting him pull you closer and brush his lips to your cheek and jaw.
“Tell me if I do,” he whispered again before finally capturing your lips with his.
You uttered no complaints as his tentative kiss turned bruising and possessive. His arms wound around your waist, crushing you into him. But you needed to feel closer. He grunted as you sprung to action, flinging your arms around his neck, deepening the desperate kiss. He tasted like whiskey and something sweet. A cool breeze brushed against the exposed parts of your body. You let your hands wander beneath his coat, chasing warmth and proximity. He let you do as you please, only insisting that his lips stayed on yours.
You let out a whimper as his hand explored the front of your dress. He stopped to press his warm hand against your breast, before holding your face.
It was then that he pulled away, steadying your searching lips with a grip on your chin.
“Ich esse nicht,” he sighed, kissing a pattern to your ear. “Ich schlafe nicht, ich tue nichts anderes, als an dich zu denken.”
His teeth grazed your pulse point, leaving you gasping for air.
“I don’t speak German,” you managed to stutter out.
A hand slid up the back of your dress, gripping the zipper before undoing it in one swift motion and the fabric fell to the floor. The cool air seized your naked torso for only a moment before Zemo pressed himself against you again. The coat you’d complained about before, now provided warmth and security. You tipped your head back, almost over the edge of the balcony as he continued worshipping your neck and chest.
“I don’t eat, I don’t sleep,” he said between wet open-mouthed kisses on your breasts. His hot mouth left purple spots that cooled instantly in the chilly night air.
“I do nothing but think of you,” he finished before toying with your hardened nipple between his teeth.
You moaned then, louder than you should’ve, and let your eyes flutter open. The world was upside-down but you made no motion to move. You were making Madripoor proud by being pressed up against a balcony by an international criminal.
Utterly pleased with himself, Zemo raised his face back towards yours, leaning you both over the edge.
“Shhh liebling,” he cooed.
He pulled you back over, kissing your shoulder before removing his jacket and draping it over you. Each brush of his lips feeling more improper than the last.
“We would not want your friends to see you like this.”
In the next second, he swept you off of your feet and hoisted you into his strong arms. You watched the world sway around you and then settle when he placed you on the lounge chair, letting you get some warmth back from the coat and cushions.
He draped one of your legs over an armrest, exposing you to him except for a thin pair of underwear.
“Not with you spread open for me,” he growled. He towered over you for only a moment before kneeling between your legs. The man whose stature made him the tallest amongst giants; the most important in any room he chose, knelt before you.
“What would they say,” he mumbled in a trace. His hands gripped both of your thighs, causing an eruption of goosebumps across your whole body. “If they saw you like this, with me?”
He looked up at you then, raising an eyebrow, and tracing the inside of your thigh with his thumb.
You answered him breathlessly. “They’d tell you to stop.”
“And what would you say to that?”
His voice sent shockwaves through your system. Dark and sultry, with a hint of danger. You threw your head back again, barely able to keep a single thought straight. Your body shuddered but you couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or the need for his touch. When you looked back to him, he was surveying your body with the hunger of a starved wolf.
“Would you want me to stop?” His voice was gentle and sweet then, asking in earnest.
“Meine Liebe," he taunted you for consent as he flashed a smirk and pulled something from his pocket.
Cold metal grazed your thigh. A moan escaped your throat as he unsheathed a serrated knife and caressed your skin with the dull side.
“I wouldn’t want you to stop,” you gasped, almost vibrating with anticipation. “I don’t want you to stop — Helmut — please don’t stop.”
He chucked again, before focusing his attention on the area between your legs. You bucked slightly as the icy knife slid underneath the fabric. He made one strong slash upwards and you felt the fabric fall away from your wet core. One of his hands gripped your ass, but only for a second before he tore the rest of the fabric from your body.
“How could I ever withhold something from you, liebling?” His nose grazed your inner thigh, inching closer and closer to where you needed him most. It was only a moment before you felt his breath between your legs.
“How cruel it would be,” he growled. You moaned and slapped a hand over your mouth as he kissed your sensitive bundle of nerves. “To not give you everything.”
His tongue swirled against you in a tantalizing pattern, stroking you deliciously. He licked you methodically like he was reading the blueprint of your body right then and there. He held each thigh in a punishing grip, pressing you deeper into the cushions as he made a meal of you. The stars above your head blurred and the universe shifted.
If this was your destruction then it was illustrious. You'd do it over and over again until you landed in a cell right next to him.
“Helmut,” you whined with a heaving chest.
“Tell me what you want,” he mumbled between flicks of his tongue. “And it is yours.”
You would’ve begged him to let you cum but he beat you to it, making your back arch and mouth fall open in ecstasy. You trembled beneath him, over and over, but he didn’t let up. Your legs strained from being extended by his unflinching hands. You tried to stutter something out to him but no sound came except for content sighs and haphazard gasps. But his eyes remained closed regardless of the noise.
Without his mouth on you, he would’ve been mistakable for a good Christian, deep in prayer. Brow's furrowed in focus and devotion; lips moving in silent divine appeals. Only he could make you feel worthy of an alter. You couldn't picture anyone ever worshipping you in the same way again. It was his, you thought. I am his.
Lost in pleasure and shock, you reached up to run your nails against his scalp. Only then did he release you, and raise to meet your waiting lips as they trembled.
“You,” was all you could manage to whisper. “Only you.”
He pulled you from the seat, to wrap your legs around him. You brought your forehead to his and let him pepper you with chaste kisses.
“When I have you,” he said, before pulling the coat around you again. “It will be in a proper bed.”
You stared at him, confused and overwhelmed. The space between your legs ached with a longing to be filled but he let your legs fall away, and stood up.
“We can’t…I mean not now — they’ll hear.”
Zemo smiled and nodded while looking for something on the ground. After a moment of searching, he picked up the torn pieces of the red underwear you had been wearing. Before you could retrieve it, he pocketed the shorn fabric and stared you straight in the eyes.
“Worry not, Y/N,” he purred, reaching a hand out to help you up. “We have all the time in the world.”
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Home (Four Times Crowley was Lovesick - and Aziraphale Took Care of Him)
Written for @do-it-with-style-events "Who Needs A Great Plan" event, Day 1, prompt "Four"
--
Crawly stood beneath the white wing, watching the rain fall, watching the humans walk away, watching anything but the angel beside him, his smile, the way he furrowed his brow and pouted.
His heart kept doing a funny skipping thing every time he looked that way, which was odd, and made him think he’d gotten some sort of defective body, or possibly that he’d messed something up in the transition from the serpent form.
“You know, I do think this rain might not be as pleasant as I’d hoped,” the angel said, tipping his head back so sopping white curls dangled, dripping onto his robe. “I’m starting to feel a bit cold, are you?”
“Nah. M’adem’n,” Crawly muttered, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.
“Well. I suppose we all have our aptitudes.” He reached down to squeeze the rainwater from his sleeve. “I suppose you carry the fires of Hell within you, or something?”
“S’nice.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the angel turn to smile at him and now his heart was doing some sort of backflip, and his stomach attempting to dance. “G-g-gotta keep’m somewhere.”
“I see. I do find myself missing my sword, but I think…” his lips pursed. “I think it’s in the right hands.”
How could he forget the angel had given away his sword.Fucking brilliant.
Crawly sniffed, and the cold seemed to creep into his nose. “M-must’a b’n-n-nice t’have a-a-achoo!”
His body must be worse than he’d thought. His entire face seemed to have exploded.
“Good lord, what was that?” The angel shuffled closer, peering at him, reaching up to poke at Crawly’s nose. “Is this supposed to make that sort of noise?”
The demon braced himself, expecting pain, expecting a reprimand, expecting anything but a soft finger gently massaging the bridge of his nose, pressing lightly as if he might break.
“S’only a-achoo!” Not again. “Achoo! A-CHOO!”
“This sounds serious!” The angel now stood so close that his arm pressed against Crawly’s. “Oh! And your hand!” He snatched it up, gently tracing his fingers across the demon’s palm. “It’s cold! Have your fires gone out?”
“Nnnnnnnnnh. S’th’cold,” he confessed. “S’getting in m’nose.”
“Well, that will not do.” Being careful to keep his wing in place, the angel looped his arms around Crawly’s waist, drawing him into an unexpected softness, a steady warmth. “There. Is this better?”
“Mrgl.” Crawly didn’t look over, even as the angel leaned against him. He shifted his am, putting it around the angel’s shoulders, rubbed his forearm as he rubbed Crawly’s side, but the demon did not look.
It was safer that way.
--
“Then you hold the oyster like this, and—” Aziraphale slurped it out of the shell.
“Ngk.” Crowley swirled his wine, glaring into the cup. “I…maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.”
“Nonsense! Trying new foods is one of the delights of the world.”
“Yeah, but…I prefer foods that don’t smell so bad.”
That made Aziraphale laugh, which made things harder. It seemed to echo in Crowley’s chest, send his heart into answering flutters. He shifted on the couch, but there was only so far he could roll before it was impossible to drink. Which meant he had to keep looking across the table, at Aziraphale’s couch, where he reclined in a rolling curve of soft white toga and ate his oysters and wouldn’t stop smiling.
“Crowley? Are you feeling quite well?”
“Nrgh. Yeah. Why?”
“Because I asked four times how your wine is and you never responded.”
“Oh.” He couldn’t remember, so he drank a mouthful, then immediately spat it out. Salt water and vinegar, same as any Roman wine. “Lousy.”
“That doesn’t sound good.” And all at once, the angel rolled off his couch and now he was crossing the room and oh Satan, he was on Crowley’s.
This was a disaster.
Aziraphale leaned down and rested a hand on Crowley’s forehead. “You do feel extremely warm. Are you ill? I’m not sure a demon can get ill but—”
“Yes! Yes. That.” He tried to sit up. “Very, very ill. I should go. I should go now—”
“But—”
Crowley managed to get his feet under him, and his robe under his feet, and he collapsed again, falling onto something softer than the couch Oh Satan it was Aziraphale’s lap.
“Crowley!” His head turned instinctively and shit, those eyes were so close.
His heart was going to explode, but it was worth it.
“I should…take you home…”
“Ahhhhhhhh,” Crowley managed. Yes. Please. Please, wherever you call home, that’s where I want to be.
“Yes. Right. Immediately. Tell me where you’re staying, and I will escort you back.”
“My…my…oh.” His stomach was doing something new, twisting around itself. Like when he saw the Hellhounds getting ready for a walk, but worse. “M’a’th’p’liss.”
“Pardon?”
“I’m! At! Th—thepalace.” Great. Now he was either shouting or mumbling. Why couldn’t he think?
“Good. Right. Palace.” He slid his arm behind Crowley, supporting him. “Do you think you can walk?”
The demon’s legs had never shaken like this before. “Definitely not.”
“That’s alright.” And Aziraphale scooped him up into his arms, as easily as if Crowley were a child. “I’ll help you.”
--
Crowley hadn’t slept in over a month.
He shouldn’t have needed to. Demons didn’t sleep. But he’d gotten used to it, most nights, and now his task consumed him day and night, driving him to ever more complex plans, ever more desperate measures.
But finally…finally…he’d gotten a bloody crowd to see that gloomy talk-y play.
And just in time. Aziraphale had sent word that he was returning tonight, and he was supposed to meet Crowley here, outside the inn. The demon had rooms above, which had been used for scheming and planning and plotting and not, for a long time, sleeping.
He was fine, though. Running on pure adrenaline, yeah, but that just made life good. He couldn’t wait to swagger into that theater, spread his arms and show the angel—
“Ah, Crowley! There you are, my good fellow.”
He turned his head and fuck, there went his knees. Aziraphale was smiling at him like he was actually glad to see Crowley, and his entire body just stopped obeying any commands or even regular rules of biology. He staggered, legs feeling watery, his head spun, lights brighter than stars flashing before his eyes, and his heart just ached to reach out.
“Crowley? Is something the matter?”
“Mnothang.” Brilliant. He slumped against the wall of the inn, trying to get some sense of reality back. “M’a little tired’s’all.”
“Tired? Are you sure?” Aziraphale rushed forward, cupping Crowley’s face in his hand. “You feel…clammy. I need—can you take your glasses off? I need to see your eyes.”
“Szfiiiine.” But he pulled them off, and found himself again pierced by eyes glowing just a bit too blue to be allowed.
“No, no your eyes are glassy. And—and look, your pulse is racing.”Now came the concerned look, oh Satan, no one else ever looked at Crowley like that. “This…this looks a great deal like the latest plague, I saw several villages struck by it coming back.”
“Angelllll. M’ademon. We don’ get th’plague.” Why could he not just speak normally?
“Nonsense, you know perfectly well you’ve always had a strange constitution, getting sick far too often. You still have rooms here, yes? Upstairs. To bed.”
Will you come with me? The angel’s hand hadn’t moved from Crowley’s cheek, and he never wanted to be away from that touch again. “But…”
“No buts.” The hand did fall away, but only to grip his shoulder, spin Crowley around and propel him forward, through the door, and up the stairs.
Aziraphale walked past the mess in his room, the papers, notes, maps, disguises, and everything else needed to convince a city it actually liked that blasted play. He steered Crowley directly to the bed, and pushed him down onto it. “There. Stay put, please.”
“Nnnnh.” It wasn’t the most comfortable place he’d ever lain, but the rough straw mattress seemed luxurious just now. Something tugged at his foot, and he looked up to find Aziraphale, carefully pulling his shoes off. “Still here?”
“What are you talking about? Where else would I be?” He sounded cross.
“The play.”
“Play? Play? Oh, yes, Hamlet.” He tossed the shoes aside and settled Crowley’s leg back onto the bed. “I’m sure I’ll have plenty of opportunities. I hear they’re planning to run it twice as long as they’d expected.”
Of course they were, Crowley was good at his job. But there was no point if Aziraphale didn’t see the crowd. “Gotta go,” he insisted, though his body was already curling up on itself, preparing for a long sleep.
“Absolutely not.” A rustle, and when Crowley’s eye cracked open again, Aziraphale was seated on the edge of the bed, taking Crowley’s hand in his. “I need to make sure you’re alright.”
“Hnnngh.” But he was far too exhausted to argue. “Why’r’ya’lways…fussing…like y’r worried…”
He didn’t hear Aziraphale’s answer, but in his dream the angel said, “Of course I worry. Whatever would I do without you?”
--
“All them angels,” Crowley shouted, bottle in hand, “an’specially Gabriel, can go! To! Helllllllll!”
“Really? And what about the demons already there?”
“Thas’th brilliant part.” He staggered a little, grinning at Aziraphale. Their celebration at the Ritz had gotten a little out of hand, but in a good way. A way they bloody well deserved. “Th’demons. They go to Heaven. But. But. Buuuuuuut.” He took a long drink, then offered the bottle to the angel, who shook his head. “Wha’was I…ri’ri’righ’—go to Heaven. But. Don’ tell’em th’passwords. For anyfing.”
“Won’t they just figure them out?”
“Nnnnnnnnope! Cuz allll the brains in Hell are right here!” He shouted in the general direction of the office building. “Have fun puttin’…Hastur’n charg’a…stuff…” He tried for another drink, but the wine had all gone. “Awwww.”
“Don’t worry, my dear, we’re nearly home.”
“Ya. S’good.” Home was good. Plants. Television. More wine. The bed. Hadn’t slept all week.
Why was Aziraphale coming with him? Hadn’t the shop un-burned down? Had he left something at Crowley’s flat? A…spare bowtie?
Also: why did Mayfair look suspiciously like Soho?
The penny dropped at about the time Aziraphale got the shop door unlocked. “Thizzisn’ home,” he pointed out.
“Well-spotted. Come on, then.”
Shrugging, Crowley followed. There’d be more wine here, at least, and a sofa to sleep on. Not the most comfortable, but he was tired enough.
Something was different. Crowley squinted at a pile of books, but they remained stubbornly bookish. Ah, well. Sofa.
He slumped on it, waiting for Aziraphale to head to the back room for some wine, or settle into his armchair. Maybe pick up a book to read while Crowley rambled.
Instead, the angel sat beside him.
“Annngiraphel…”
“Crowley. Are you sure you’re feeling well?”
“Course. I’m cebretory. Cerebrorrry. Celebatory. ‘M partying.”
“Yes, I know. But…I just…” Oh, Someone. The concerned, furrowed brow. The pouting lips. The eyes. So much worse than the smile. Good thing Crowley was already sitting, because the room was starting to spin, even before Aziraphale picked up his hand. “I wish you would take care of yourself.”
“Wha? I do. Allllays do. No one else’z gonna do’t. Not’n Hell. Wily demon, righ’?” He tried to smile, even as his heart and stomach started switching places.
“Then why are you always unwell? I’ve lost count of…of how many times I’ve seen you falling over, unable to speak, too hot or too cold.”
“Ssssss’not like that.”
“Yes it is! And…and it was bad enough before. Crowley, we…we’re all we have left. Each other. And…and whatever it is that…that gets you into this condition…alcohol, or illness, or…whatever else. I wish you would avoid it.”
“Can’t.”
“Crowley—” Aziraphale pulled his hand closer, eyes pleading, and for a moment the demon thought he’d just discorporate on the spot. Probably would have if he’d been sober.
“Can’t. S’only one thing tha’makes me…fall orer mysel’. Makes me…can’t speak. S’only evrrr been one.”
Aziraphale’s face was so soft. Crowley couldn’t figure out how his hand had gotten there, pressed to his cheek, but it was good.
Or not. Angel’s eyes went wide. Probably did something wrong. Crowley pulled his hand back, wondering if he’d be kicked out.
“Can you…sober up, dear?”
“Nnnnnnnnnnnnidonwanna.” He wrinkled his nose. Shoulda stopped three bottles ago.
“Yes, I know. But you’ll likely have a hangover either way, and you might as well have it now. And…I want to finish this conversation sober.” Oh, the sad eyes, the serious face.
“Awwwwwtha’s no’fair. S’not like I c’n say no.”
“I…yes, you can. It is your choice.”
“Nnnh. Can’t say no’ta’you.” He looked around for something, maybe a garbage bin or…oh, yes, a planter. Lucky tree was about to get some very expensive alcohol.
He concentrated, pulling all the alcohol out of his body, filling one planter, then another, then another. As the light-headedness faded, the headache came in, pounding and pulsing.
“Glarghl.” Crowley pressed a hand to his eye. “See? Sober. Happy?”
“Not yet. Can you walk?” A light tug on his hand, and Crowley staggered to his feet, trailing after Aziraphale. Up the stairs? They never went up there. Private bookshelves and sculptures and junk.
At the top, Aziraphale opened a door that he’d thoughtwas a closet but actually led to Crowley’s bedroom.
Wait.
Crowley turned around, bleary eyes searching the shop. Plants. His plants. His sculptures. Junk. Also his.
Back to the bedroom. His bed, his furniture. Not his room. Wooden walls covered in bookshelves, good sized window looking out at the back alley. He could just see the Bentley parked out there.
“Th’fuuuuck…”
“I’m…I’m sorry. I should have asked.” Aziraphale gently pushed him towards the bed. “If you don’t like it, I’ll put everything back tomorrow. I just.” A gentle nudge, and Crowley sat on the bed. “I want you close. Where I can take care of you.”
“Don’need it.” He wriggled his toes, making his boots vanish. It was easier than meeting Aziraphale’s eyes.
“Yes, you do.” A hand on his shoulder pushed Crowley down into the bed, his head onto the pillow
It felt so much more comfortable here, in Aziraphale’s shop, with Aziraphale beside him.
“No. Don’t need you to take care of me.” He stared resolutely up at the ceiling, searching his aching head for the words he needed. Swallowing, trying to push aside the pain, the soreness in his throat. “I need…I just need…”
He couldn’t say it. But he reached out, hand groping along the edge of the bed until it found Aziraphale’s, resting lightly on the mattress. Cautiously, Crowley slid his hand on top of it.
“Crowley…please look at me.” His eyes wandered down, following the shelves until they landed on Aziraphale’s face. On his brilliant, angelic smile.
The demon tried to smile back, though his head was pounding. He managed something like a grimace. “Nnnnnnnnh. C’n we finish this in’th’morning.”
“Do you think you’ll be better able to talk?”
“Mrrrf. Will you be there?”
“Of course,” the angel said, nearly indignant.
“Nope. Not a chance.” His thumb traced the back of Aziraphale’s hand. “I can never say what I want. S’not even that many words. But…” Crowley shrugged.
“Can you move over?” Aziraphale asked, sliding his hand out from under Crowley’s.
The demon blinked, confused, and wriggled further along the mattress.
The bed dipped under the new weight as Aziraphale climbed into the vacated space, laying beside him. “I…I could never say it, either. Always something stopping me, some…uncertainty. Even now. But I shall keep trying.” His fingers gently brushed Crowley’s cheekbone. “My dear…would you like to…to make this place…your home?”
“Nh. Shop’s not home.” The fingers jerked away, and Aziraphale’s brow furrowed, not in concern this time, in pain. Fuck. Why was it so hard?
He caught Aziraphale’s hand before it could get far, bringing it back, gently resting it against his heart. “This, Angel. This’s home. You.”
“Oh.” Blue eyes blinked, a look of wonder in them Crowley had felt many times, wonder at this being who cared for him, who stayed by him. Always. “I…I see.”
The mattress shifted again, and suddenly the angel was closer. Which of them had moved? Did it matter? Did anything matter, apart from Aziraphale’s arm across him, all the warmth and softness he could ever ask for, pulling him in, pulling him close, enveloping him as it had that first day.
“Yes. Welcome home, dear.”
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winterscaptain · 4 years
Text
the pleasures of the elder.
Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader
a/n: the people have spoken, and they all love sean hotchner. this fits after mean it in the joyful future universe, but no context is actually required to enjoy a little bit of sibling rivalry. title comes from jane austen’s quote: “the younger brother must help to pay for the pleasures of the elder.” 
words: 3k warnings: language, alcohol use, sex mention, jealous!aaron, perceptive!sean
summary: when he arrives for an impromptu visit, sean knows his brother too well to give him any moment’s peace - especially when it comes to you. 
masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed
A man, both very handsome and vaguely familiar, pushes through the glass doors and walks across the bullpen - a visitor's badge pinned proudly to his leather jacket. You try to place him, but come up short. 
You’re alone, for the time being. Almost everyone is off running some kind of last-minute errand around the federal building - making copies, finishing paperwork, or in a meeting (in Hotch’s case). It’s the last dregs of the day, the sun setting over the river. 
The man stops in front of your desk. “Hi. Are you part of the BAU, or am in the wrong place?” His eyes are bright, roaming over your face with a kind of curious, warm, knowing air. 
You smile at him, and before you can answer -
“Sean!” JJ’s fond tone carries across the bullpen, and she arrives with an armful of cases. 
Sean? 
Oh my god. 
Sean Hotchner. 
“Hey, JJ, right?”
She laughs, sounding a little younger than she is. You can’t blame her. Sean is exceedingly handsome in an entirely different direction than his older brother. And if your memory serves correctly, just a year older than you. “Yeah, that’s right. Good to see you.” He offers her a hand, and she shifts her files to take it. His handshake is firm, and lasts just a moment too long. 
You kick back in your chair, almost inviting him to lean against your desk. “Hotch is in a meeting, if you’re looking for him. He should be out in,” you check your watch, “about five minutes.”
Sean turns back to you, his shockingly blue eyes meeting yours. “Thanks.” He smiles at you again, and you’d be lying if you said your heart was doing normal things in your chest. “Sean Hotchner. I’m Aaron’s - sorry, Hotch’s - little brother.”
Those eyes are dangerous. 
Oh, poor Aaron. 
You shake his hand and introduce yourself. “Pleasure’s all mine, I’m sure.” 
Just as you suspected moments ago, he takes the initiative and leans against your desk. JJ hovers nearby, a little smile on her face. You watch as she sends a quick text, and puts her phone back on her belt. 
Gotta tell the girls...
“So,” he starts, brisk and businesslike, “you definitely weren’t here during my last visit. What’s your story?”
“Well, if you must know -“
“I must.” He flashes you another smile, and you can only imagine all the trouble he caused growing up. Or, rather, you can imagine all the trouble he would have caused if his brother wasn’t around to bail him out. Five years ago, you would have been drawn into his pretty eyes and wide smile. Now, you can only see a boyish, overt, almost-inelegant version of the understated warmth you love in Aaron. 
You give him a quick rundown of your history: hometown, alma mater, etc. “- I was an academy grad in 2007, and I’ve been here ever since.”
“Ah, so not a newbie anymore. And you’ve worked with my brother the whole time?” He almost looks impressed. His glance down to your ringless left hand doesn’t escape your notice.
Oh Sean, if only you knew. 
You nod. “Yeah, I’ve worked under Hotch for five years now.” 
And I’ve worked over him for about three months. Also under him, around him, on the couch, in the kitchen, etc.
Shut up. 
C’mon. It’s funny.
A low whistle leaves him as you bite back a smile. “Damn. I’m so sorry. He’s a real hardass.”
You lean in conspiratorially, and you’re almost cheek-to-cheek as he leans down to listen. “You know, that’s what I hear, but -” 
Penelope bursts through the doors and calls your name, carrying an armful of papers that have absolutely nothing to do with the work going on upstairs. Emily is close behind her, an amused grin on her face. 
Sean leans back so you can finally see her. “Yeah?”
“I have these for - Oh, hi Sean!” She says it like she hasn’t already decided her primary objective is to get his attention. 
“Hey!” He looks over at her, one finger up to stop her in her tracks. “Wait, don’t tell me. Garcia, right?”
“Penelope,” JJ supplies helpfully. 
“That’s right. It’s good to see you again.” He offers her his hand, and she takes it. You’re almost certain he winks at her, and she smiles through the blush rising on her cheeks. 
He really is a heartbreaker, huh?
Aaron must have had his work cut out for him.
Derek rounds the corner and immediately rolls his eyes at the scene before him. Sean has his body angled toward you (in your chair, completely open, with your chin in your hand) while he shakes Penelope’s hand. JJ pretends to do work off at her desk behind yours, but she’s completely tuned into the conversation. Emily’s sitting on her own desk off to the side, watching the whole thing with a certain degree of good humor. 
“Sean, good to see you, man.” Derek walks over and takes Penelope under his arm. It’s almost possessive, and you almost laugh. 
Sean releases Penelope’s hand and takes Derek’s. “Hey, Morgan. How’ve you been?”
Their bro-to-bro catch-up fades into the background as you see Hotch appear on the breezeway by his office. You look up at him before pointedly glancing at Sean beside you. He sighs, then calls, “Sean.”
The man in question turns, and a smile breaks out over his face when he sees his brother. There’s something cocky about it, and you don’t miss the way his body language remains keyed into you as he speaks. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”
Aaron takes another deep breath and walks down the stairs. “What are you doing here?”
“Can’t I just come see my big brother at work?”
Aaron’s eyebrow is dubious at best. “What do you need?”
Sean laughs, and it reminds you enough of Aaron’s that it draws a wide smile from you. You find yourself looking fondly up at Sean, seeing more of the resemblance now that they’re beside each other. Aaron’s jaw flexes. You notice. 
Oh, see, now this is fun. 
“I was just in town and figured I’d stop by to see if you were here or out on a case.” Sean glances down at you with another charming smile before looking back at his brother. “I guess I got lucky.” 
He’s just full of those smiles, isn’t he?
JJ jumps in. “We’re actually planning on going out to drinks once we wrap up in a couple of minutes. You’re more than welcome to come.”
While JJ pulls attention elsewhere, you glance up at Hotch and throw him a wink. Hey. Relax. 
His jaw relaxes just a touch, and his lips twitch. As usual, he covers it by crossing his arms over his chest. Don’t be a shit. 
You wet your lips and purse them a little. Nice try. 
He shifts, just a little, raising an eyebrow. You’re really gonna go there?”
Watch this. You toss him a quick smile. “That would be great!” You brush Sean’s sleeve as you unnecessarily reach over him for Penelope. “What do you think, Pen?”
“Oh, we’d love that!” Penelope takes your hand, squeezes it, and looks up at Derek. “Wouldn’t we?”
Derek nods. “We’d love to have you, man. It’ll be good to hear what you’ve been up to in New York.” 
Aaron does his best to suppress his eye roll. You’re lucky he loves you, childish antics and all. 
+++
When you split up into your respective cars, Sean elects to ride with you over his brother. You and Hotch play the role of designated drivers. You’ve fallen into the routine, finding it's much easier to sneak around your coworkers as they get more and more inebriated through the evening. 
Aaron doesn’t look too happy with the ride arrangements, but he lets it slide. Dave and Emily ride with him, while you have Derek, Penelope, and JJ in the car with you and Sean. 
It’s not that he doesn’t trust you. He doesn’t trust Sean. 
Logically, he doesn’t have anything to worry about. He woke up this morning to your patient, adoring eyes and your hands playing with his hair. You ate breakfast together (read: sat in his lap with a bowl of cereal while he read his emails), were (almost) late due to your showering arrangement, and only parted after a (very) good kiss in the driveway. 
Still though, he can’t quite shake the insecurities he always felt with his brother. Thirteen years his junior, Sean always seemed to excel in every social pursuit. Music, girls, friends - he was able to settle into things Aaron always struggled with. It was stupid. Aaron was well into his thirties when Sean was in undergrad, but that prickle of envy never seemed to fade. 
Their mother never put the pressure on Sean the way she did on Aaron, and in some ways it made sense. He was a teenager when their father passed, and Sean was hardly a child. More responsibility, more weight, less credit. 
Aaron might be his mom’s pride and joy, even to this day, but Sean will always be her baby. 
Thus, watching Sean easily weasel his way into one of your smiles wore on almost thirty years of tension. 
“Hey, what’s going on with you?” Emily asks, tapping Hotch’s shoulder with gentle fingers. Upon making contact, she snorts. “Wow, you’re really tense.” 
Hotch shakes his head and shrugs her off. “I’m alright.” 
It’s Dave’s turn to snort. “No you’re not. You’ve been scowling since Sean showed up.”
“He just has that effect on me. Always has.” 
“C’mon, Aaron.” Dave says. Aaron’s grip on the wheel tightens, but he doesn’t say anything. “He’s just a kid.” 
With a flat deadpan, Aaron replies, “He’s thirty.” 
Emily leans forward on the center console, inserting herself into the conversation. “Hotch, you don’t have anything to worry about. Sean doesn’t have anything on you.” She bumps his shoulder with hers. 
He sighs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 
Emily and Dave share a look and a little smile. 
+++
You hop out of the car, swinging your keys in your hand. Hotch is a couple of spots down from you in the parking lot, and your little groups meet up somewhere in the middle. Falling back, you let Derek and Emily lead the way. When they’re all in front of you, Sean included, you press your shoulder to Aaron’s for just a moment. 
“Are you going to be childish?” he says, quietly. 
You suppress a smile. “You’re fun when you’re jealous.” 
“I’m not jealous.” 
“Alright.” Your hand snags his for just a moment, before you jog forward to catch up to the rest of the group. 
“There you are!” Sean’s voice rings out, and you let him tuck you under his arm. You wrap an arm around Sean’s waist and chance a look back to grin at Aaron. 
Gotcha, babe. 
Aaron rolls his eyes so loudly you can see it from twenty feet away. Ridiculous. 
I love you. 
I know. 
+++
You’ve all managed to secure a table. While not incredibly crowded, there are plenty of people around. You planted yourself next to Aaron, and Sean planted himself next to you. The music is just loud enough to encourage dancing without requiring a shout to communicate. 
Derek downed his first drink and led Penelope on the floor within ten minutes of your arrival. 
The round table is crowded, and your pinkie locked in Aaron’s belt loop goes unnoticed. He stretches his arm out behind you to clap Sean’s shoulder, and his fingers quickly trace across your shoulders as he pulls it back. 
“So what have you been up to, Sean?”
“Oh, you know. This and that.” He pulls from the drink in front of him and you’re almost certain it’s just a Coke. 
Sober? Getting there? 
Remind me to get the skinny on that later. 
10-4.
Aaron chuckles darkly. “You’re gonna have to do better than that.” 
Sean shrugs, and leans back, checking out the dance floor. You pull your pinkie from Aaron and put both of your hands on the table. Emily’s looking a little too watchful tonight, and you’d hate to lose your bet. 
Your money is on making it more than six months without alerting the team you’ve been sleeping together. Aaron, always of little faith, took the alternative. 
“Dance with me?” Sean offers you a hand, and you take it. Before you get too far, you lean across Aaron to take another sip of your drink. When you lose your balance (on purpose), Aaron steadies you with a hand around your waist, making sure you’re settled on your feet before you jet off with Sean. 
“Thanks, Hotch!”
He takes a long pull from his beer - his only drink for the evening. Hotch. Gimme a break. 
“Looks like they’re hitting it off great,” JJ says with a laugh. “That works out. I mean, Sean’s about our age, right?”
Don’t remind me. 
“Yep. Turned thirty last month.” Aaron does his best to not sound too bitter. 
JJ smirks at Emily, who turns to smirk at Dave. They don’t know what they don’t know, but they certainly know enough to keep an eye on Aaron for the rest of the evening. 
“That’s in-flight entertainment, baby.” Emily whispers to JJ. “I can’t wait to tell Will. He’s going to die laughing.” 
JJ lets out a peal of laughter. “Absolutely.”
Out on the floor, you’re having way too much fun, sandwiched between Derek and Sean. You pull Penelope between you and Derek, and loop an arm over Sean’s shoulders. 
“So,” he says, his lips close to your ear and his voice barely audible over the music, “how long have you been sleeping with my brother?”
You freeze for just a moment, but it’s a moment too long to recover. “What?”
“Oh, come on. Question in response to a question? That’s like profiling 101.” 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Sean rolls his eyes. “He’s halfway in love with you, if not completely fucked, in case he’s failed to tell you.” He spins you out, and back in so your back is against his chest. 
“We’ve got that covered, yeah.” You twist in his arms. “You gonna do anything about it?”
He shrugs. “I dunno. I think it’s pretty funny to get him all worked up, though, don’t you think?” Another bright smile crosses his face and his blue eyes seem to glow in the dim light. 
“Oh, Sean. I think we’re going to get along just fine.” You laugh and reach for him again, but a finger appears in your belt loop. Derek pulls you back toward him by the hip. He’s stupid strong, and you can only tumble back into him with another laugh. 
You’re sweaty, sober, and having way too much fun.  
“Careful, kid. I think Hotchner has a crush.” Derek’s playful jab is warm against your ear as you fall in with him, cheek-to-cheek. 
“What can I say?” You ask. “I’m irresistible.” 
Derek throws you under his arm in a spin and you land back at his chest with the wind knocked out of you. “He’s gotta get in line though.”
“Oh?”
“I think his big brother’s gonna give him a run for his money?” 
That’s enough for you. “Gimme a break, Morgan.” With a laugh, you shove at Derek’s chest and leave the floor. Returning to the table, you sidle up to Aaron again. “Hey, Hotch. Having fun?”
He gives you a weak glare out of the corner of his eye and takes a sip of his beer. “A blast.” 
“Couple more hours, if that, then we’ll be home.” You drop your voice, almost whispering into your glass as you take another sip.
Aaron nods. “Can’t come soon enough.” 
The rest of the team gets more and more sloshed as the evening progresses, and you can get away with a lot more. That said, Sean’s eyes are playful, sober, and more than a little amused. 
“What did my brother say to you?” Hotch murmurs, under his breath. The girls went to the bathroom (and to call Spencer a cab home) while Derek and Sean posted up at the bar, itching for an excuse to give some asshole the what-for. 
You bump his shoulder. “Just that you’re half in love with me, if not already completely fucked.” 
He heaves a sigh. “Can’t catch a break.” You link your pinkie through his belt loop again. “He’s right, though.” 
“How’s that?” You look up at him and you know he can see how much you love him. 
“I’m completely fucked.” 
If any of your team members wonder what’s so fucking funny, they don’t ask. It’s just good to see Hotch smiling again. 
+++
At the end of the night, you drop Sean back off at the hotel on your way home. He’s the last in your car, so he can speak his mind with a certain degree of freedom. You idle in front of the building for a moment, just enjoying the silence.
“Hey.” 
You look over at him. “Yeah?”
“You’d make a great in-law. Just wanted you to know that I’m here for it.” He offers you a hand. You shake it and it almost feels like you’re making some kind of gentleman’s agreement. “Take care of him. He needs it.” 
“Oh, don't worry. I know.”
The smile you share is that of a pair of co-conspirators, of siblings, of friends. 
We’ll do just fine, you and I. 
tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts  @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @thatreallyis-americas-ass @marvels-agents100 @newtslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @sebbybaby0 @lilsiswinchester @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @emmice9 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @writerxinthedark @mrshotchnerrossimulder21 @bauslut @yourlovelynewsbian @sparklingkeylimepie @aili28 @kingandrear @reader4027 @spnobsessedmemes @rogers-mouth @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @songbird400 @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @a-dorky-book-keeper @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @garcia-reid-lovechild  @cevanswhre @colbyskoalas  @qvid-pro-qvo @joanofarkansass @jeor @spencers-hoodrat 
698 notes · View notes
cottoncandyjester · 3 years
Note
What if another person tried to kidnap the yanderes darlings👀
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All their reactions will of course be to get you back so I only did the ones that would have the strongest reactions
Also im gonna start pairing hikaru with a y/n who doesn't give a shit about his degrading..cause it's wayyy funnier
Warning this contains: death, talk of torture, cannibalism, yandere behavior, kidnapping
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Theodore
Definitely wasn't expecting it
Theo is normally prepared but he doesnt have any idea what to do
He of course has to find out who would touch you and how to get rid of them
He is usually so calm and collected but when he gets you back he is merciless with your captor, cold and unnerving downright sadistic
He wants them to suffer for worrying him and stealing his little wife/husband
"so this is where you've been hiding" Theo spoke softly to you with a smile as he gazed at your restraints before setting you free and kissing your wrists which were lightly bruised from the restraints but he heard footsteps his eyes growing cold.
"angel, close your eyes and cover your ears okay? Don't stop til I say..please" he spoke softly before turning his back to you before walking away. Soon screams of pure agony filled the air a constant screaming before utter silence, Theo soon returning to you covered in blood now wiping his glasses clean with a gentle humming
"how about we go home and take a shower, okay angel?"
Axis
He gets his brother to help
He is unstable without you
Like he can't think straight and all his senses seem to not work properly he is utterly hopeless
The person who took you will feel his wrath
Axis always shows his his cute side but when he gets you he gets dark as hell
Aka he lets salem devour them
"sweetie! Oh thank goodness I found you!" Axis chirped out pressing a kiss against your lips before he set you free from the cage you were in. "Let's go home okay? I missed you so much!" He huffs out.
"you can't take them" axis shuddered at the voice of your captor and something feral come out of him, they took you..took you away and did god knows what. With a whistle it seems he got salem's attention who was sitting outside the room. Axis turned to you smiling sweetly while salem pounced the sounds of screaming and bones cracking filling the room as axis helped you out the cage and covered your eyes from behind guiding you out the room.
"don't mind the noise okay? I know it's loud." He whispers in your ear before pressing a kiss on the back of your neck.
Yuki
It's cute that people think they can take you from him
Is very prepared
It takes three hours before he's coming to you to get you
He doesn't seem angry but he is
He's downright cold just cruel
You sobbed softly as your captor tortured you using a knife to cover your body with small but deep cuts, you soon heard a faint sound and looked to the window seeing Yuki open it softly when the two of you locked eyes he pressed a finger to his lips signalling silence.
You tried your best to avoid staring at him as he hopped down from the window into the room the soft sounds of his footsteps alerting your captor who turned around.
"whose the-"
Yuki shoved a gun barrel into the stranger's mouth his eyes cold and dull as he locked eyes with them. "Die." Yuki whispers out shooting the pistol watching them drop before he aimed at them firing again..and again..and again. He didn't stop until the gun clicked so he checked the ammo and was about to even put a new magazine in bloodlust swirling in his eyes.
"y-yuki!" You snapped out your body shaking at the sight of the clearly dead body filled with holes. Yuki glanced down and tilted his head to the side giving a sleepy little oh before putting the gun away and untying you noticing your cuts and shoved his sweater onto you before scooping you into his arms.
"I'm teaching you how to fight."
His mumbled out as he took you home.
Rin
Sweetheart he is the leader of a whole gang of clown thugs
It takes him like thirty minutes to find you and the entire time he's smiling
Like "oh well what are you gonna do I guess haha time to get my y/n lol"
In actuality he's PISSED
When he gets you he doesn't show it though
He actually encourages the captor for a little bit before utterly slaughtering them.
"one step closer and I'll kill them!" You whimpered as you were held at knife point staring at rin with fear in your eyes but rin... simply pulls up a chair and plopped a seat his smile never leaving his face. "Go ahead" he stated out now gazing at his purple painted nails.
"boss, are you sure?" One of his goons asked out and rin chuckled before getting up. "They won't do it, that's the funny part. They are just a dumb coward too scared to do it" he explained skipping over to you watching how your captor shook in nervousness pressing the blade closer to your neck blood starting to spill.
"do it motherfucker, I'm fucking waiting" rin whispers out leaning in close his eyes widening almost looking like they were glowing. "Y-you're a monster" your captor cried now shoving you but rin wasn't done tormenting them. "I'll give you two choices, slit your throat...or suffer as my gang force you down and touch you in ways that makes you wish you were dead, over and over til you're a broken bitch, I mean either way they are gonna violate you but wouldn't it be better for them to do it when you're dead and you can't feel their groping hands?" Rin cheers out
Your captor backed up til their back hit a wall as rin hummed sweetly walking closer and closer to them before grabbing them by the shirt yanking them close.
" stop being a fucking pussy and choose or I'll be the one doing the violatinf and trust me you don't want that" rin whispers darkly in their ear before shoving them down and turning to you and his group.
"have fun boys try not to make too much a mess, I'm going home!" he cheers out now walking towards you and holding his hand out towards you with a grin helping you up. "Aweee are you crying?! You're so cute! Cutie cutie cutie!" He cooed now squishing your cheeks together completely ignoring the violence happening behind him.
"let's go home and eat dino nuggets!" He said happily before glancing behind him with an annoyed hiss "fucking coward slit his throat..." He mumbled under his breath but shook it off now taking your hand and skipping with a happy him guiding you away.
Hikaru
He doesn't realize you're gone at first
It takes him a day
He thought you were being a brat and hiding again so he decided to be pretty and ignore you..but he missed you and realizes you're kidnapped
He is pissed at you for being a dumbass and getting taken but also pissed at himself for letting it happen
When he goes there he doesn't even save you at first first he has to bitch about it
You two legit argue while you're tied up
Your captor is like "should i go orrrr..."
Of course they meet death but he has to complain first
Hikaru huffs as he stomped into the warehouse without a single care in the world his eyes glaring at you as you looked at him with relief finally he came for you
"hika-"
"bitch do you know how much of a waste of time this is? Like damn y/n you love wasting my time and money so much you get snatched up" you felt all your relief get replaced with annoyance as your eyes drooped into a glare.
"oh yes hikaru cause I got kidnapped on purpose. If I wanted to waste your money I would steal your credit card" you hissed back and hikaru scoffs lightly.
"well I'm here, what's all the fuss about?"
"I'm fucking kidnapped hikaru! How about you stop being a dick and help they could kill or even violate me!"
Hikaru gave you a sassy expression clearly already fed up with you at this point. "Sweetie, they won't violate you. Gotta be worth violating for that" he sneers out
Your captor gazed at the two of you nervously as to two shouted at each other for the next ten minutes. "Excuse m-" hikaru took out a gun and shot them in the knee as quickly as they spoke before getting back to his argument.
"...all I'm saying is a thank you daddy would be nice! Like I came all the way over here I had a hair appointment but nooo I had to save you. You're so damn selfish"
"oh my fucking god...thank you daddy for coming to save me even though you're my damn BOYFRIEND! I'll get someone else to save me next time" you snapped out and hikaru pouted "your sass is not needed" he grumbled out before untying you.
Your captor who was in very much pain tried to speak and hikaru gave them a disgusted expression, was this plebian speaking to him? "Shut the hell up, it's your fault too you could have taken anyone but no you had to take my pet" he snapped shooting them in the head before grabbing you by your arm dragging you out while grumbling under his breath.
"I better get my dick sucked" he hissed out now shooting you an annoyed look.
Rocket
He is so worried
Like so worried
He's a himbo so it takes him a bit to realize that you aren't at the store getting him more hamburger steaks
One he figured it out he quickly went to find you
He was such a mess
Once he found you he was crying and hugging you so tight
Snapped your captor's neck
Uses his strength in scary ways.
"y/n! Oh darling! Are you okay sunshine? Are ya hurt?" Rocket squeaked out as he started to untie you his breathing shaky and tears in his eyes. Rocket heard footsteps come closer, in a panic he was shoving you in a closet to hide before meeting the eyes of your captor.
Wasn't long til he was breaking every bone in their body,starting with their arm snapping it like a twig before moving to their leg then to neck making it more and more painful. "I usually hate violence, but my sweetheart..is my everything" he whispers out before turning to you with a gentle smile
"darling, let's go home"
52 notes · View notes
writing-wrxngs · 3 years
Text
Snowfall
(Here’s something nice after that rough angst. Usually after I write something that’s really angsty I HAVE to make something really nice and comforting just to balance things in my brain, and to soften the blows for the angst I write)
What was supposed to be a fun night out had been canceled, what with the snow falling too hard and the wind whipping too hard for anyone to leave the house. Techno and Wilbur took the loss well, as they were plenty old enough to understand the severity of the storm, but Tommy was upset.
When he was first told that they would have to stay in for the night, he was almost inconsolable. Phil had long given up on trying to get Tommy out of those sort of hissy fits, since usually they would taper off on their own once Tommy realized he wasn’t going to get his way. At least this time the situation was out of his hands so he didn’t feel as bad for it. He was just the bearer of bad news. Instead, he let himself be unfazed by it, until the boy stormed off to his room to sulk. It was at that point now, and Phil made a note of the time. If Tommy was still upset in an hour or so, he’d go up and check on him.
Until then, he busied himself with indoor things, small tasks around the house that he’d been neglecting and the like. Meanwhile, Wilbur and Techno sat close to the fire, reading books and doing homework, trying their best to be busy, too. Phil watched as Wilbur pondered a question on his paper, before moving closer to ask Techno. Techno pushed his glasses up onto his face and took the paper from Wilbur’s hand, reading it himself. At the distance the two were from each other, it struck Phil. Despite all the differences they had now, everything they did to make themselves stand apart from each other, they still looked so alike. Of course, it would never be how it was when they were young, but they certainly would always share some things. The observation made him chuckle.
The two whipped their heads to the sound. “What’s so funny?” Wilbur asked.
Phil just shook his head. “It was nothing, son. Don’t worry about it,” he said, going back to his own work. He’d let his two eldest do their work in peace.
After that strange interruption, Wilbur turned his attention back to Techno, who was explaining the question on his homework to him. He listened, and finally understood it. That was the nice thing about Techno being the same age as him. He was doing the same things as him, and they were fresh in his mind since he did them at the same time. Best of all, Techno seemed to be good at everything Wilbur wasn’t. Wilbur could say the same, but not to the same extent. This was mostly just because Techno didn’t have many things he wasn’t great at. If there was, he simply didn’t do them. Regardless, both of them appreciated the way they seemed to work so well for each other. Once Techno finished explaining things, Wilbur nodded in understanding. Another thing was since Techno actually knew him, better than any teacher ever could, the terms in which he explained things were ones Wilbur was more comfortable in. Once that roadblock was passed, the two did their work in silence again, the only sound being that of the fireplace. Usually they did their work up in their room at their desks, but a cold night like this called for the warmth of the fire. And honestly, they also did it because if they did it there, they’d be doing it together, making up for the time they were supposed to spend together going out. The fire was higher than usual, trying its hardest to compensate for the harsh winter weather, and the flames danced in the reflections coming off from the twin’s glasses.
The hour passed, and Phil went upstairs to talk to Tommy. Wilbur watched as not much after, he returned down the stairs, exasperated. “Tommy still moping about up there?” he asked.
The exasperated sigh Phil gave was answer enough.
“Lemme see if I can cheer him up,” he said, getting up. “I’ve gotta put my homework away anyways,” he added.
Phil shrugged in response. “Go ahead, he’s still pretty bummed out. Maybe you can work your magic on him,” he joked.
Work your magic. That was Phil-speak for Wilbur’s charm. Sure, Wilbur was a smoother talker extraordinaire, and if he wanted to, he could convince a man with no legs into walking again. But Tommy, Tommy was a different story. That boy hung on Wilbur’s every word, regardless of what he was actually saying. This was a fact Wilbur knew well. He loved it, because as much as he hated to admit it, Tommy was an alright kid. He loved that little shit. Feeling adored is a great feeling, and he was happy to indulge his young devotee for more of it. A plan already forming in his head, Wilbur climbed up the stairs.
Like he had said, he first went to his room to put away his homework, and then went to Tommy’s. He didn’t knock, but walked in quietly.
Tommy was on his bed, sitting with his knees tucked up by his chest with his arms crossed. Sulking. He didn’t move to acknowledge Wilbur, but certainly noticed him there.
“Still sad we got snowed in?” Asked Wilbur.
With a small frown, Tommy nodded. “It’s not fair,” he said. “We were gonna have so much fun and now we can’t…”
Putting on his usual smile, Wilbur looked at Tommy. “Who says we can’t? There’s lots of things we can do!”
“It’s all the same thiiing though,” Tommy whined.
Wilbur took Tommy’s hand and pulled him out of bed. “You’re just letting yourself get stuck in a rut, Tommy. If you think outside the box, you can find something to do.”
Trying his best not to fall as he got pulled out of bed, Tommy yelped. He tried to say something but just stuttered out a few sounds, shocked as he was dragged along into Wilbur’s room. “Wil, what are we gonna do?” he asked, finally able to compose himself.
“Just wait a minute,” Wilbur said, going over to his desk to rifle through the drawers. He found what he was looking for, a flashlight. He tossed a coat of his to Tommy. “Put that on,” he told him.
Tommy did as he was told, watching as Wilbur then moved across the room to Techno’s desk, looking through those drawers, too.
“Perfect,” Wilbur whispered to himself as he found the second flashlight he was looking for. After that, he grabbed another coat of his and put it on. “Come on, we’re getting on the roof.”
Running over to the window to meet his brother, Tommy let out a small gasp. “You can go out there? It’s safe?”
Wilbur chuckled. “Course you can. I go out there all the time. It’s nice out there.”
“What do you do out there?” Tommy asked.
The answer sat underneath Wilbur’s mattress. A pack of cigarettes, one that slowly dwindled away with occasional smoke breaks the teenager took. With a crooked smile, Wilbur said, “just to get out sometimes. Once in a while it’s just nice to get a break from this house.”
Tommy nodded in understanding. “Get some fresh air,” he chimed in.
“Yeah,” Wilbur said, trying not to chuckle at the irony of the boy’s statement. He slid the window open, confident in it’s silence. He knew that the window never squeaked, never made a noise in protest of being open, never got stuck in its tracks. He climbed through first onto the roof, the cold taking him by surprise after staying in the warmth of the house for so long. He helped Tommy through the window and closed it behind him. The snow would get in if he didn’t. It was easy to open the window from the outside, anyways. Wilbur often thought how odd and borderline unsafe it was to have a window so easily accessible facing out to the low roof above the front porch of the house. A front porch that was easily climbable. Wilbur also didn’t care all that much because, in his teenage selfishness, these conditions were advantageous to him.
Scrunching up his face against the snow, Tommy looked to Wilbur. “So what are we gonna do up here?” He asked, curiosity finally taking hold of him.
Passing a flashlight to Tommy, Wilbur instructed him to lay down on the roof and turn on the flashlight. As his brother did so, so did he. When you look up at snow that is falling down quickly, they almost look like stars. Stars you’re flying though. The flashlights made this effect more obvious. “Doesn’t it look like we’re flying through space?” he asked.
Gasping as the idea clicked in his brain, Tommy nodded. “It does! But why are we flying through space?” the boy asked, baiting Wilbur into giving him a story. That was his favorite thing Wilbur did; taking a little thing they did together and spinning a whole saga out of them.
Secretly, Wilbur knew that's what Tommy was doing. The kid wasn’t sneaky. In fact, Tommy didn’t have a subtle bone in his body. He hummed in thought. “Well, I’m a space explorer, looking for faraway lands that have never been discovered before. To speak to new alien races. Captain Wilbur. And you, Tommy, you’re my lieutenant.”
“What’s a l-lieu-lieu,” Tommy struggled. He always struggled with big words, despite the fact he was getting too old for such things. Everyone just hoped he’d eventually grow out of it and were thankful that no one at school bothered him about it.
“Second in command,” Wilbur explained, cutting off the stuttering. “My right hand man.”
The concept made Tommy downright giddy. Those lines were all the boy needed to be enraptured in the story. He made spaceship noises for himself and he listened intently to the more complex parts of the story that Wilbur weaved. He reacted when Wilbur gave him something to react to, and rolled with whatever he was given.
After a few minutes, the two brothers were both caught up in the story. Laughing and moving the flashlights around as if on cue, completely devoted to the creation. Tommy had completely forgotten how he felt the beginning of the night. Wilbur could tell, in the few moments he stopped playing the game and checking on Tommy. His cheeks were more flushed from laughter than from the cold, and his mind was obviously completely somewhere else. He definitely worked his magic, that's for sure.
The only reason they stopped was the sound of the window being slammed open breaking their illusion. “You’re gonna get yourself a lecture and a half if Dad finds out you brought Tommy out there, Wil,” said Techno’s voice, cutting through the wind.
Turning to the window, Wilbur frowned. “I know.”
“Technoblade, we were having fun!” Tommy retorted from beside Wilbur.
Techno rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you were, but if you get caught it’ll be a far worse end than me telling you to come in.”
How was Techno always right? Wilbur sighed in defeat. I guess someone had to be the responsible brother. “You have a point there. Come on Tommy, let’s get in. You better not catch a cold from this either,” he joked. After climbing back through the window, he helped Tommy back through.
Despite not liking the fun being cut off, Tommy was still smiling. “I won’t!” he chimed, already running out of the room to his own.
Chuckling at the sight, Techno shook his head. “How do you do it?” He asked.
Wilbur shrugged. “I dunno. Him and I just sorta click. He can be annoying as all hell, but he’s a good kid. I know his buttons better than anyone here.”
He didn’t quite understand what that meant, but Techno nodded. Tommy, of course, was his little brother, too, but they weren’t close in that same way. He still cared, but maybe it was just that the way he showed he cared didn’t mesh the same way Wilbur’s did. “Well, I don’t get it, but it’s definitely a good thing. Someone’s gotta be able to push those buttons.”
“Yeah, I’m just happy it’s me. He pushes my buttons the same way,” Wilbur said with a chuckle. He had never thought of it like that. Regardless, he had been able to cheer Tommy up, and to his surprise, he had a good night himself. Sure, it wasn’t what had been planned, but the night had been salvaged. And that was something he was proud of.
33 notes · View notes
bxcketbarnes · 4 years
Text
Friends... or More?
Tumblr media
Pairing: Ashton Irwin x Reader
Words: 3600+
Author's Note: This picture is incredible. And I thought of this idea while talking to @galcalirwin​ ! I hope you guys like it 🥺
"I can't believe I'm the only one single in this friend group," you sigh as you and your girlfriend's drive-in downtown LA. You glance out the window as a hand lands on your shoulder.
"You're not the only one! Ash is single too," Bri states and you look towards her, a knowing smirk on her lips. You roll your eyes, fiddling with your phone.
"Wait, what? I thought he was dating that chick?" You ask, your eyes wide as you glance towards the other two girls.
Bri shakes her head, adjusting the hat on her head. "Nope. They broke up like four weeks ago," she informs you and you frown slightly.
"He didn't tell me that," you mumble quietly and the phone in your hand vibrates. Speak of the devil.
Hey! You girls get back yet?
"Maybe he hasn't found the right time to tell you?" Jess questions as you type quickly on your phone, responding to Ashton.
Driving through downtown LA as we speak. About 20 minutes until we get to Mike's.
"Yeah, maybe. How'd you find out?" You ask Bri and she gives you a look. "Calum?" You giggle and the brunette nods her head, a laugh leaving her lips.
"Of course I heard it from Cal! That man can't keep shit from me," Bri laughs and you shake your head, glancing back out the window.
Your phone vibrates again and you look down at it, smiling softly at the text Ashton sent.
Fuck, I can't wait to see you. Now I know how it feels when I go on tour lmao
Lmfao ah, yes. A taste of your own medicine! I can't wait to see you either.
"Who are you texting?" Bri asks and leans towards you, looking at the texts between you and Ashton. You scoff and turn your phone off, looking at her in disbelief.
"You're fucking nosy!" You laugh and she laughs with you, wiggling her eyebrows.
"We be flirtin' with Mr. Irwin are we?" She questions, loudly, and the other girls hear her.
You blush heavily, and you can feel the other two's eyes on me as Steff stops at a stop sign. "I-What? No! No!" You defend as they all give you a knowing look. "I'm not! He was just asking me if we were home yet."
"And then they both said they can't wait to see each other!" Bri cuts in and you slap her arm, feeling your cheeks on fire.
"Can we not do this?!" You groan and hide your face in your hands. Bri pats your back as Steff pulls into her and Michael's driveway, Michael's car not insight.
"Guess we beat them here," Steff mentions and opens the garage door before pulling her car into it.
You four get out of the car, grabbing your bags from the trunk before heading inside. You set your bag on the couch when your phone goes off and you pull it out of your back pocket to see Ashton had sent you a picture.
Your heart melts a bit at the picture, seeing the dimples indented in his cheeks. You read over the text he sent with it and you bring your lip between your teeth.
Five minutes until I see your gorgeous face!
You couldn't hold the giggle in any longer and you bring up the camera app, taking a quick selfie with your tongue sticking out before sending it to him.
You've seen my face all week. We've been snap chatting with each other almost every day!
That's nothing compared to the real thing!
"Y/N! C'mon, we're gonna wait outside!" Jess's voice calls out and you slide your phone into your back pocket after sending Ash a smile and heart emoji before heading out the front door.
Steff puts out a couple of chairs before sitting in one, Bri and Jess sitting beside her. You grab a seat next to Bri, looking up at the sky to enjoy the lovely California sun. "So," Steff begins and you glance towards her, her eyes set on you, "do you have a thing for Ash?" She asks and your lips part, hoping this conversation wouldn't have come up again.
"I…" you trail off, thinking about your answer when Michael's car backs up into the driveway. Your heart beats in your chest as one of the back doors open, Ashton climbing out of the Tesla.
You grin widely and spring up from your chair, heading towards him. The black-haired man's eyes light up at the sight of you and wrap his arms around your shoulders as soon as you make it over to him. You inhale his vanilla scent, melting a bit into his chest as your arms wrap around his torso.
"Hi, beautiful," he mumbles into your hair, swaying with you a bit as giggles leave his lips. "Did you have fun in Vegas?"
You smile when you pull away from him, looking up at him. "I did. We had a fancy-ass hotel room. It was cool. I wish you guys could've been there though," you admit and Ashton smiles.
"Yeah, it would've been cool. I've never been to Vegas with you. We'll have to go the next time we get another vacation," he mentions and you agree with him. 
-
You and the girls just got back to the Bellagio Hotel, most of you feeling pretty good while Jess decided she was going to be soberer than the rest of you. Just in case something were to happen. You all said goodnight and I love you to each other before going to our separate rooms.
You giggle as you stumble into your giant room, slipping the leather jacket off of your shoulders. The leather jacket Ashton bought you for your birthday. You look at yourself in the giant mirror that's near the bathroom, admiring how you look in the outfit you chose to wear.
Fishnet stockings cling to your legs with a leather skirt that barely covers your ass cheeks, paired with a nude lace bodysuit from Victoria's Secret. It's a bit skimpy but it's Vegas. You were single. You were infatuated with a man who lived in LA but single nonetheless.
You fluff your hair around, grinning to yourself as you thought of an idea. You pull your phone out from your leather jacket's pocket, opening up the camera before taking a small photoshoot.
You face your back towards the mirror, seeing the small peek of your ass cheeks hanging out as you look into the mirror and bite the tip of your finger. You couldn't help but giggle, shaking your head as you look at the picture you just took.
You were happy how it turned out before deciding to take it up a notch. You set your phone on the dresser before unzipping your skirt, tossing it to the side. You tilt your head as you look into the mirror, only having the bodysuit on and your stockings. You kneel on the floor and face the wall, the side of your bare ass facing the mirror. You snap another photo before bringing up Ashton's contact, attaching the two photos that you took.
Wish you were here… 😋😘
You sent the photos and got up from the floor, beginning to undress the rest of your clothes to change into your sleep shirt.
Ashton was hanging out with Calum when his phone went off, his hazel eyes moving away from the movie they were watching to check the notification. He smiles softly when he sees your name, picking up the device from the arm of the couch.
His breath hitches in his throat when he opens the text, the two sexy pictures he received staring him in the face. "Holy shit…" he mutters quietly and tilts his head, admiring your body. He adjusts himself in his sweats and licks his lips before whispering, "wish you were here. Y-Yeah, I wish I was too."
"Who is it?" Calum asks and the black-haired man looks over at his best friend.
"It's Y/N," Ash mumbles and looks back down at his phone, saving the two pictures to his phone. "She… I'm gonna say she's feeling pretty good."
Calum lets out a laugh and looks towards his friend. "Why do you say that?"
"She, uh, sent me sexy pictures," Ashton clears his throat, feeling his cheeks grow warm. Calum's eyes went wide and mumble a "no way". "Yeah, I'm just as shocked as you are."
Cal pauses the movie and shifts in his seat so he's facing Ashton. "So, what are you feeling? Do you… do you like her?" He asks and Ashton furrows his brows together.
"I don't know. I mean, she's gorgeous. No doubt about it and she's an amazing person. So amazing. But, I just don't think she'd go for me," Ash mentions and runs his hand through his hair.
"I mean… she's gotta feel something if she sent you those, right?" Cal questions and Ashton shrugs his shoulders.
"I'll ask her about it when she gets back. Maybe she meant to text someone else," he mutters and locks his phone, setting it back on the arm of the couch.
-
Everyone went out to Michael's backyard to chill by the pool and spa. You put your swimsuit on before heading into the kitchen to grab yourself a drink. You grab ahold of a wine cooler when Ashton's voice echoes off the walls in the kitchen. "So-"
You jump, placing a hand over your heart and glances over your shoulder. "Jesus, Ash," you mutter and let out a breath of air. "I thought you were outside already."
Ashton chuckles and shakes his head, leaning against the counter. "No, I actually wanted to talk to you about something," he mentions and you nod your head slowly.
Finally. He's gonna tell me about him and his ex breaking up. "What is it?" You ask while opening your wine cooler, taking a quick sip of it.
"Are you gonna explain the pictures you sent me?" He asks with raised eyebrows and your heart drops in your chest. The bottle you were holding onto slips from your grasp and falls to the floor, shattering on impact. "Shit, Y/N!"
Ashton rushes to grab some paper towels to soak up the blue liquid. "I-I'm sorry," you apologize. For dropping the bottle and sending him almost private pictures of yourself. "I-I was a bit tipsy and didn't know what I was doing."
The black-haired cutie looks up at you, his hazel eyes shining after he soaks up all of the liquid. "Hey, it's alright. I didn't say I was upset about it," he reassures you and you stare down at him in shock.
"You're not?" You whisper and he shakes his head, smiling softly.
"No, of course not. You… you looked great," Ash blushes and you let out a breathy laugh, feeling your own cheeks heat up.
He grabs a broom, sweeping the glass away from your feet. You stare at him the whole time, admiring his features. "Did you really think I looked great?" You ask him and Ashton glances back at you, throwing out some of the broken glass.
"Oh, hell yeah. I was quite shocked honestly. You were never the one to… show so much skin," he admits and you nod your head.
"I just wanted to try something different. Be more confident in me. I mean, wearing this right now can be difficult for me," you motion towards the two-piece and Ash lets his eyes roam down your figure.
"You look good. You always did. Whether you were wearing baggy clothes or dressy clothes," he tells you with a smile and you couldn't help but smile back at him, your heart fluttering in your chest. "C'mon, let's get out of this spot."
You nod your head and take a big step, getting away from the spot. Ashton finishes cleaning up the rest of the broken glass as you gathered the all-purpose cleaner, so the floor doesn't get sticky. "Thanks, Ash," you mumble to him while spraying the floor, wiping it up with some paper towels.
Ashton runs his hands through your hair, smiling down at you. "It's not a problem, love. What are friends for," he states and your stomach churns a bit. Friends.
-
It's been about a week and a half since the guys posted their Carpool Karabloke video and you couldn't count the numerous times you've seen a comment about your and Ash's relationship status. You're currently out to lunch with Bri and Cal, your mind far away from the topic of conversation at hand.
"Hey, Y/N?" Your friend calls out and you snap out of your daze, looking between the two of them.
"What?! Sorry," you mumble and run your fingers through your hair.
Cal chuckles softly and leans back in his chair. "You're fine. Everything alright?" He asks and you shrug your shoulders, furrowing your eyebrows.
"For the most part," you mention and rest your chin on the palm of your hand.
Bri lets out a sigh and sets a hand on her boyfriend's arm. "It's probably about Ash," she states and Cal looks at her with a confused expression. "I'm assuming you saw the tweets?" Her question is directed towards you and you press your lips together before nodding your head.
"Wait, what tweets?" Calum asks, his brown eyes darting between you and his girl.
"Ever since the carpool video came out people have been wondering if Ash and I are together because we fucking hugged on video," you inform him and shake your head, "and he replied to one of the tweets saying that we weren't. That we were just friends."
Calum furrows his eyebrows together, drumming his fingers against the table. "Okay? So, why are-"
"She likes him you fool," Bri practically shouts and you shush her, looking around to see a few people turning their heads towards us.
"Jesus," you laugh, playfully glaring at your friend, "could you be any louder?"
She smirks and shrugs her shoulders. "Just be thankful Ashton isn't here," Bri winks and you scoff, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
Your smile slowly diminishes as the whole situation sets in, a sigh leaving your lips. "I just… don't get it? I think he's interested in me? I mean, he didn't say he was mad about the pictures I sent him in Vegas. He said I looked great. That has to mean something right?" You ask the two of them and Calum nods his head as Bri just stares at you in shock.
"Hold up. You sent him pictures? What kind of pictures?" She asks with an eyebrow raised.
You blush, clearing your throat while scratching the back of your head. "She sent him sexy pictures," Cal states and Bri whips her head towards her boyfriend of two years.
"Excuse me? And how do you know?" She asks him and the man glances towards his girl, brown eyes wide.
"We were hanging out when he told me! I didn't see them, I swear!" He pleads and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "I love you."
"Mhm. You fuckin' better," Bri mumbles, looking back at you and asks, "can I see the pictures?"
You nod your head and pull up the photos before facing the phone towards her. Bri pushes Cal's head away and leans down to look at the two pictures you sent Ash a few weeks ago.
"They're cute. Very sexy for sure!" She states and you bring your phone back to you, seeing a notification from Twitter.
@ilovecalum: @ashton5sos are you and the woman in the Carpool video dating?! That hug looked special as fuck!
@ashton5sos: no, no! She and I are really good friends 🖤
You swallow the lump in your throat as you don't know how many more of these types of tweets you can handle seeing. You can feel tears pool in your eyes, taking a deep breath before standing up from the chair.
"I, uhm, I gotta go. I'll see you guys later," you mumble to your two friends and walk away before they have a chance to stop you.
Bri watches you leave, a sad expression on her face as her heart breaks for you. "Doesn't he realize that he's hurting her?!" She asks her boyfriend and Cal sighs, shrugging his shoulders.
"I don't know, babe," he starts and drapes his arm across her shoulders. "He's pretty oblivious when it comes to this kind of stuff."
Bri sighs, relaxing into Cal's touch as she thought of a way to get him to see how you really feel about him. One way or another.
-
"Ashton motherfUCKING Irwin!" Bri yells while storming into the drummer's place. You furrow your brows at your best friend, seeing her tilt her head towards the back door. "Outside, now!"
You glance back at Ash, seeing his hazel eyes wide with a bit of fear swimming in them. You gently move your legs off his lap, giving him a small smile as he rubs your leg for a quick second before getting up.
"If I'm not back in five minutes… save me," he giggles before heading towards the sliding door. You chuckle and nod your head, watching him leave the house.
"What the fuck just happened?" You ask Cal and he lets out a noise, shaking his head while flailing his arms.
"I've got no idea. You know how she is," he states and you laugh, nodding your head while muttering you right.
Ashton stands outside, rubbing his palms along his ripped jeans. "So, what's up?" He asks nervously, seeing the menace look in his friend's eye.
"What's up?! What's up is that you're making Y/N cry!" She almost yells and Ash furrows his eyebrows before glancing into the house, seeing you laughing with Cal.
"She's… she's not crying?" He questions and points into the house.
Bri lets out a groan and presses her fingertips to her forehead. "Not now, dumbass. Yesterday. You made her cry yesterday while the three of us were at lunch," she explains and Ash's heart drops. He was about to ask what she meant but she pulls out her phone, cutting him off by showing him a tweet he made yesterday. "This. This made her upset."
"Wha-Why?"
"Because she loves you!"
Ashton furrows his eyebrows and pushes some of his hair out of his face. "I know that she does. I love her too," he tells her, a breathy chuckle leaving his lips.
"No, no, no. She loves you, Ash. Seeing you tweet out that there's basically no hope for the two of you is hurting her more than you think," the short brunette exclaims and Ashton's lips part in surprise, looking back into the house at you. "Don't you love her back?"
The drummer swallows hard, keeping his eyes on you as your figure turns to face him and his eyes meet yours. A smile comes to your lips and you give him a small wave. "I-I… I do. I think I always have. Guess I didn't realize it," he mutters and Bri lets out a sigh of relief.
"Good. Otherwise, I would've had to kick your ass," she laughs and Ashton giggles as well. "Now… go get her!"
He nods his head and once again wipes the palm of his hands on his jeans, his nerves becoming more apparent. Bri walks into the house first, heading towards the couch and sits down next to her man.
"Uh, Y/N?" Ash calls out and you whip your head around, seeing him still standing by the back door. "Can I talk to you for a moment?" He asks and motions his head towards the sliding door.
You gulp and nod your head, pushing yourself off the couch. You glance towards Bri and she smirks at you while you head towards your best friend. "What's up?" You ask and Ashton leads you outside before shutting the door behind him. "Ash?"
Ashton's heart races as your hand land on his arm, squeezing gently while you look up at him. Fuck it. He places his hands on your cheeks and leans forward to connect your lips with his. Your eyes are wide as you fist his shirt in your hands, letting them flutter shut. You melt into the kiss, not believing this is happening as you kiss him back.
One of your hands moves to the back of his neck, your fingers carding into his black hair. Ashton glides his hands down your sides, squeezing your hips as he presses you against him. You pull away from him after a bit, breathing heavily as Ash presses his forehead against yours. "I… what…"
"Do you wanna go out with me?" He asks and your breath hitches in your throat, looking up at him through your lashes.
"A-A-Really?" You whisper and he grins, his dimple indenting his cheek and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.
"Yeah, really. I… I didn't really tell you much about my ex because I was using her to try and get over you. It didn't go well, obviously. I'm sorry if I hurt you and didn't see it," he explains and your heart flutters, closing your eyes while letting out a breath.
"It's okay. It's okay," you mumble and stroke his cheekbone with your thumb. "I guess we were both a little stubborn to see what was in front of us."
Ashton lets out a laugh and nods his head, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. "Very. Better late than never though," he states and you nod, grinning like a fool as his arms wrap around your waist. "Maybe we can ditch these two and go on a date?"
You glance towards Cal and Bri, seeing them watching the two of you. Bri gives you a thumbs up and you let out a laugh before looking up at Ash. "That sounds great, Ash."
-
Taglist: @galcalirwin​ @sexgodashton​ @myloverboyash​ @h0tsos​ @mysticalhood​ @tea4sykes​ @baldcalum​ @talkfastromance4​ @g-l-pierce​ @here-for-the-uproars​ @maluminspace​ @abb-lan-5sos​ @itsasadfishworld​ @gigglyirwin​ @bloodmoonashton​ @thebookamongmen​ @sublimehood​ @bumblebet-20​
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psychedellic-phase · 4 years
Text
Fifteen (pt 7)
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A/N: This part contains more season 7 spoilers!
tw: language arguing
word count: 3.5k
masterlist
“Hey, it’s me.”
The voice belonged to Derek. 
It wasn’t you. Spencer was foolish to think it would ever be you. He stormed off to the chess table again. He didn’t want any visitors and what was it now? 6:15? 
“Reid? I know you’re in there,” Derek called in, but Spencer didn’t move from his position. He didn’t want to see anyone except you, and that wasn’t really an option. 
Derek knocked again, harder this time, “Kid I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
Spencer still didn’t budge; just staring out the window at the falling snow. If he did talk to Morgan, where would he even start? 
“Hey the love of my life moved across the country to get away from me but luckily she left me a box of stuff to cry over!” doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. 
After Emily went to London, Derek had become a close friend of yours. He became another one of your ‘girlfriends.’ He was who you would rant to when you’d argue with Spencer. He even got invited to ‘Girl's Nights’. When you officially broke up that went from close friends to basically inseparable. At work you’d go wherever Derek went. When you got home, you and Derek would go get drinks, or watch a movie, or literally anything else. When he’d ask where you were JJ would just give him a sad look and say “with Derek.” If Spencer hadn’t known any better he would’ve assumed you had gotten together. But he knew Derek was just being a good friend, letting you lean on him in your time of need. 
“Reid? We’re worried about you.”
Still nothing. 
Derek sighed, “We gotta talk about Y/N.”
Well that got his attention. He huffed and dropped the stacks of handwritten letters onto the chess table, knocking over several pawns. He opened the door and allowed Derek to enter. 
“Are you okay?” Derek started with. 
Spencer just looked at him. The bags under his eyes were a deep purplish gray color, and that was answer enough. He looked and felt like shit.
“What do you want to talk about?” His voice was strained and hoarse from all the crying and yelling. 
“We gotta talk about how you’re doing with all of this,” Morgan said, gesturing around at the mess of books and mugs that littered the room.
“I’m fine,” Spencer stated plainly, trying to play it cool. 
“I know you’re not fine. You’re allowed to not be fine, Reid. You just can’t hold it all in and close me out like you usually do.”
Spencer ran his hands through his hair and sighed before asking the one question he wanted the answer to most. 
“Did you know?”
“Did I know what?”
“Did you know she was leaving?”
Derek didn’t answer, which was an answer in and of itself. He knew. You had talked to him about it at length. 
“You knew?!” He snapped, “You knew she was leaving and didn’t tell me? You didn’t try to stop her?”
Derek paused, thinking of what he should say. 
“I did try to stop her and it worked for a little while. If it weren’t for me she would’ve left a month and a half ago.”
Spencer rolled his eyes. 
“She wasn’t happy here, Reid. You and I both know that.” Derek spoke calmly, hoping Spencer would follow suit.  He didn’t. 
“It was getting better! We were getting better!”
“Better? Reid, you only spoke to her at work as needed. It wasn’t ‘getting better’. It wasn’t fine when she was on mandatory leave for a month and you avoided her. It wasn’t fine when you broke up. It wasn’t fine when she took even more time off and you would show up at her door every night. And when she came back?” Derek took a deep breath, “The two of you could barely be on the jet together. We can’t work like that.”
Spencer nodded sadly, “I know. I was fixing it though. If only she gave me more time...”
“More time? Kid, she gave you two months. As much as I wanted her to stay, I couldn’t make her. She was miserable here. It’s been so hard on her–“
Spencer cut him off shouting, “Hard for her? Yeah Morgan, I know how hard it’s been for her. Did anyone ever think about how hard it was for me too?”
“I’m not saying it wasn’t, I’m just saying she had every right to leave. You blocked her out when she needed you most.”
“Oh is that what she told you? Did she care to mention how she couldn’t respect that I needed space on any of your platonic dates? Is that what they were Derek? Or is she just another body for you?” Spencer sneered, but didn’t actually mean what he said. He was just angry, so fucking angry. 
“You know that’s not fair. I took care of her the way you should’ve!”
They just stared at each other, daggers coming from Spencer’s eyes. 
“Get out.”
“Reid, c’mon I’m sorr—“
“I said get out,” Spencer practically hissed, knocking the books off his coffee table. 
Derek backed away slowly, edging towards the door. Before he left he calmed himself down. 
“Whenever you’re ready to talk about this, I’m here. I know you’re mad kid. I do. I miss her too but we can get through this, together.”
Spencer didn’t respond, sitting back at the chess table and staring blankly at the mess of wrinkled letters and chess pieces in front of him. If only this were as easy. He can always predict how many moves it would take to get a checkmate, but there's no magic formula for this. There’s no handbook on heartbreak.
He didn’t even look up to see Derek leave, eyes trained on the letters. He reached out for #6. 
“This is a group picture from JJ and Will’s wedding. This is the last time all of us were together. By all of us I mean the core of us: You, Me, JJ, Derek, Dave, Hotch, Penelope, and Emily. I miss those days. The eight of us were unbelievably close. We still are, to some extent. I call Emily when our schedules work and the six hour time difference doesn’t interfere. Derek is my closest friend right now. He let me lean on him so much in the last few months, it’s amazing. I can’t thank him enough. Pen will always be my go-to when I need to smile or laugh or find out someone’s life history. I’ll miss getting advice from JJ. She always knows what to say. I’m sure I’ll ask Rossi for recipes and Hotch for help running the field office. It’s not goodbye. I know I’ll see you all when Seattle gets a crazy serial killer or something else I’ll call you guys for. I love you all. But for now, I just need a break. I need to put down my own roots and not depend on people that I share with you Spence. I need my own people. It’s so hard to go. It is. It’s probably harder than anything else I’ve ever had to do. But it’s for the best. How lucky am I to have friends that make saying goodbye so damn hard?”
He sighed. He completely understood where you were coming from, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. In fact, maybe that made it hurt more. He knew that your connections in DC and Virginia were through your group mates. You rarely had the time to go out and make new friends, and now all your friends were also his friends. It was just too complicated. 
Part of him was now hoping that a twisted killer would spring up in Seattle soon, just so he would have to see you again. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help smiling at the thought. 
“Okay anyways, back to the picture. Back to JJ’s wedding. The most beautiful and fun wedding I have ever been to. It looked beautiful; I expect nothing less from Dave. And you, God, you looked unreal. You always do, like you’re some kind of angel or statue carved by Michelangelo. And in a tuxedo? Otherworldly. 
Weddings always make me cry. They just do. Seeing two people love each other so much that they want to spend their lives together is too much for me. I miss feeling like that. I felt like that about you, and this is the night I realized that, among other things. 
When you were doing a magic trick with the rings for Henry. The smile on your face had never been wider. He giggled and asked you to do it again and again and you did. And you picked him up and spun him around until he laughed so hard he couldn’t breath. 
“Isn’t he just the best with him?” 
It was JJ. Stunning, beautiful, bride JJ.
“Yeah, he really is,” I said. I was looking at you dreamily, through the rose-colored glasses I’ve always viewed you through. 
“You know he wasn’t always like this?”
“Really?” I didn’t believe her. You were always good with kids for as long as I’d known you, which was not as long as she had. 
“Yeah, we used to call it the Reid Effect. Kids and dogs hated him.”
We both stood there admiring you and Henry. I should’ve seen that as my first red flag, but I didn’t. I didn’t see the way she looked at you with the same dreamy expression I had painted on my face. I was too busy falling even deeper in love with you. 
“He wants kids, you know?” JJ said. 
I nodded, “He told me he wants a village. As many as he can have.”
She smiled and grabbed my arm kindly, “I hope he gets that.”
“I want to give him that.” I blurted it out. I hadn’t even thought about it and suddenly it was out there. She just nodded and walked away, over to her real husband, as I looked at you. My heart was pounding because I saw everything right in front of me. 
“Hey Henry!” I said to him, interrupting your precious play time, “How are you dude?”
He smiled and shook his adorably long hair around. Seriously I don’t think any other kid can pull off that hair but him. 
“I’m good! Uncle Spencer showed me a magic trick.”
“Well can I see the magic trick, Uncle Spencer?” I said, squatting down to Henry’s level. You grinned at us, taking the ring out and making it magically disappear and reappear. 
“How do you do it?” Henry clapped. 
“A magician never reveals his secrets,” You said, squatting down with us and giving him the ring, “You can’t lose this Henry, okay? Mommy and Daddy really need it.”
He nodded and held onto that ring for dear life. 
That’s when I realized I wanted you to be the father of my kids. You’re so good with him. It makes my heart hurt to know that you will never be the father of my kids. You’ll be the best dad, Spence. I mean that.”
A dull ache bloomed around Spencer’s heart. He didn’t want kids unless they were with you. And you had gotten so close. It killed him to know that he was so close, but somehow so far away. 
“When we sat together, holding hands, watching JJ and Will devote their lives to one another, you squeezed mine. When we stood up to clap for them after their first kiss as man and wife, you snaked one arm around my waist and whispered “I love you, Love” to me. I could see that being us. White dress, flowers, rings, everyone we love watching us be in love. Derek would be your best man and Penelope would catch the bouquet. I could see it. Honestly, I still kind of can. At that moment, I realized that I wanted to marry you. I realized that I wanted to spend every moment of my time on Earth with you, Spencer. I wanted the house with the white picket fence. I wanted Christmas mornings with a village of kids. I wanted me and you, ninety years old in a nursing home still holding hands. I wanted forever with you and even that just didn’t seem long enough. It still doesn’t. Time always seems to get away from me. 
I didn’t tell you how I felt. I should have. That night I should’ve taken you aside and kissed you and asked you to marry me. I should’ve grabbed that minister before he left and kept us together. I wanted to spend my life with you so badly, Spence. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. But I didn’t. God, I wish I did.”
Spencer let out a shaky breath, memories of that wedding and so many other moments hitting him hard. He wished you had done all that; he wished he had done all of that.  
“I saw something that I also never told you about. And that thing is what stopped me in my tracks that night. We had taken a break from dancing. I went to get a drink and you were sitting at the table. You were watching JJ. You had a look in your eyes that I know well, because I saw it in my own every time I looked at you for years. Longing. Coincidentally it was the same way she was looking at you just hours before. On her wedding day. Minutes before she got married. 
I almost dropped my glass. 
I always had a sneaking suspicion that there was something between you two, but I never pressed it. She was your best friend, like Derek is to me. You guys were almost inseparable when I joined. I used to say you  were like Woody and Jessie. A dynamic duo. I realized then that it was more than that for you. There was more than a sibling love shared between you. I only ever knew JJ as a devoted mom. I knew her post Will and Henry, so of course you guys were just friends, right? I mean you’re her son’s Godfather. And it was her wedding Spence. You looked at her with love in your eyes as she devoted her life to a man who isn’t you. I had half a heart to stomp up to you and pick a fight, but using my better judgement I decided to believe that whatever was there was long over, just a meaningless crush. Well, I was wrong. Things that never begin can’t end, Spence. But there you were, staring at her the same way I stared at you a million times. 
That was the first time you broke my heart, Spencer Reid, and you didn’t even know it. I didn’t approach you. I didn’t trust myself to keep it together. It felt like you reached into my chest to rip my heart in half. I fumbled back to the bar, suppressed my tears and sipped my drink as I watched. I watched you go and steal JJ for a dance. An innocent little dance for the only person in the world who calls you ‘Spence’. Except I also call you Spence, and so do so many other people. But you only care about it coming from her. I watched you tense up as you put your arms around her. I wanted to hurl.  After a few minutes of watching you and your two left feet dance with the bride. I went inside. 
That’s where I saw Emily. 
Talk about a whirlwind of a night. 
We all knew coming back from the dead had been hard for her. Who wouldn’t have a hard time? She was going to see a therapist and seemed to be getting better. She had us. She had Sergio. She was going to be okay. That night she was off, and I know Em when she’s off. She was watching all of us like we were in a fish bowl, like she was an outsider. I had to talk to her. 
“What’s going on Em?” I asked her. 
She just avoided my gaze and I sat next to her, holding her hand, half for myself and half for her. “I got offered a job in London. Chief of their Interpol office.” 
She still didn’t look at me and I squeezed it. I knew she was leaving, again. 
“You’re taking it?” 
She just nodded, “Yeah, I-I just need to talk to Hotch I guess.”
I nodded. I wasn’t mad at her. I was just sad. It felt like we just got her back, and she was leaving again. I don’t know how much more leaving the team can take. I’m sorry for leaving too. 
“What’s going on with you, Y/N?” She asked me, clearly she was able to tell that I was distraught, “Is it me leaving?”
I shook my head, forcing the tears to stay inside, “No, not you. You should go. You should be happy.”
She sighed and said something then that I didn’t understand at the time. Now I do though. 
She said “I just can’t grab onto my old life and pretend that nothing happened.” 
I feel the exact same way right now. I can’t hold onto my old life. My life with you. And pretend that I’m not a different person now. I am. Maybe I’m not a better person, but I am definitely a different person. And I think I need to leave, just like Em, to go learn how to be that person now. You can’t fit a square peg into a round hole, and that’s what I’ve felt like for the last few months. I feel wrong. I can’t survive a life I built with you without you. So now it’s time for a new one.
So here’s the photograph of the last time we were all together. Admire it. Remember it. Miss it, I know I will. We’ll never be like that again.”
Spencer paused and looked at the photo, taking it all in. You were next to him with your arm on his chest, and his arm was around your waist, but he wasn’t leaning into you. He was leaning into JJ; classic ‘I’m attracted to you’ body language. He felt gross. 
He remembered that night and how distant you had been once you came back from the bar. You barely spoke, barely even looked at him. You hung around the bar much more than you usually would. He assumed it was because of Emily, but now it made so much more sense. He wished you would’ve told him so he could’ve told you that he did have feelings for JJ at some point in time, but they didn’t hold a candle to how he felt about you. If JJ was a flame, you were a forest fire.
He didn’t know about any of your feelings that night. He felt the same way of course. He knew he wanted to marry you the second you showed him those film festival tickets. He was certain he would marry you, and he almost had. You didn’t know that though. You didn’t know how he wanted you, and he didn’t know how you wanted him in the same way. How terribly sad it is when two people love each other but end up two worlds apart.
It dawned on him that it seemed he didn’t know about your feelings a lot of the time. You just took him on a roller coaster, from being absolutely ready to marry him to being heartbroken, to being double heartbroken because you were losing yet another person. Maybe he never did really understand you the way he thought he did. 
The photo was wrinkled on the corners and had “JJ&Will” and the date written on the back in the same handwriting that he had been pouring over for hours now. Your handwriting. He took it to the cork board and put it right next to the film festival ticket. He decided to put the locket and the book in front of the board too, collecting all the pieces of you he had left in one place. Kind of like a little shrine to the love he once knew. 
He stared at the photo some more. The way Garcia held onto Derek. The way Hotch was smiling with his whole face, something he didn’t see often. The way Rossi held Hotch and Derek’s shoulders like they were his own. Emily on the end next to you, smiling the last genuine smile he had ever seen from her. His heart ached. That family was still there, just in different places now. 
Family. What an interesting word that means so many different things to so many different people. To Spencer, it meant those people in that photograph. He had lost Emily, lost you, and he was done losing his family. He picked up his phone, which was at 27% percent. Just as you said, it was never above 30. He  plugged it in as he sent a message to Derek. 
“Meet me at 8”
And then he waited. 
Part 8!
taglist: @l0ve-0f-my-life  @aperrywilliams  @helloniallslovelies  @random-ravings  @ajwantsapancake  @andiebeaword  @boiled-onionrings  @frnks-stuff  @icantevenanymore1​
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harrysgloves · 4 years
Text
Fine Line (Chapter 6)
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>>>Catch up with the Fine Line Masterlist!<<<
word count: 2k
story summary: Since you were kids you and Harry had always walked that fine line of friends or something more. Now, pregnant by someone else, you find yourself staying with your long time best friend after things go sour with your boyfriend of 3 years.
Singlemom!Reader x Harry Styles
chapter summary: Your friends leave town. Old feelings come back to the surface. 
warnings: Language // Angsty? Harry’s a bit stupid too but we love him for that. 
a/n: The cute stuff is coming. I’m so excited. Woot!
>>><<<
You tried your best to hide your sniffling and water eyes as you walked through the airport. Your hands balled tightly against your sides as you walked those overcrowded hallways as far as you could possibly go without a ticket. The security guard stopped all three of you once you reached the TSA line.
"This is shit." Abby said as she turned to you. Her eyes were just as red and puffy as yours.
"You guys come back when this one's born." You managed to say through the depressingly sad little coughs that always happened when you cried too much.
"Of course, we gotta see our little niece when she arrives." Gemma cooed as she touched your stomach, your eyes rolling at her determination that your baby was a girl.
"We love you baby." She smiled, hugging around your waist as you let out something between a laugh and a sob. Your arms wrapping around the parts of them both that you could reach from your awkward angle.
"I'll let you know when I get a place and you two can facetime me to pick out where my stuff goes." You three were still tightly holding onto each other, causing people around you to stare longer than necessary.
You didn't miss Gemma slyly flipping off an older lady who scoffed at you three.
"We'll text you when we land." Abby said, pulling back from you first. Her hands wiping away her tears.
"Yeah. Okay." You agreed, Gemma standing up from you, and even your least emotional friend had tears brimming in her eyes.
"We love you." She said, giving you a hug and not your stomach. Her body thrown against you hard as she clutched her hands around you.
"Be good to my brother, yeah? Make sure he's taken care of." She whispered into your hair. Your head nodded as she broke away from you.
They gave you one last wave goodbye before heading for the line. Suddenly, you felt like you were 19 again, standing in the same exact spot as you watched your two best friends leave on an adventure you couldn't join.
You rubbed your shoulders, trying your best to comfort yourself as you made your way back to your car. Your eyes fixed on the shitty off white tile that covered the abnormally long hallways. Every step felt like a huge task you had to force yourself to do.
Only a few more steps until you could have your breakdown.
Deep breaths in through your nose and out your mouth as your car came into your sight. Throwing passenger door open so hard you could hear the metal protest to your violence.
"'M sorry." He mumbled from the driver side. Your eyes not daring to move over to look at him as the tears leaked down your cheeks.
You'd blame hormones but you knew that wasn't the only reason you were crying this hard.
You always seemed to be the one who got left behind. Always alone.
"'S fine." You sniffed as your sweater covered hands wiped away the mixture of tears and mascara off your face.
Harry's hand covered your thigh as he backed out of the parking spot. Your head against the headrest as you closed your eyes.
"Don't 'ave to tell me y'fine when y'not." He said as he entered the motorway. The other cars swerved to avoid your slow old vehicle as he floored it to try and keep up with the flow of cars.
You could tell he wanted to say shit about your car being dangerous. A hazard to have around other cars. His one free hand having a death grip on the steering wheel but he knew better than to push that button. He knew better than to criticize the last thing your dad ever gave you.
"We're not doing this." You shot back, his eyes glaring at you. His pursed lips tightened as he looked away from you rolling your eyes at him.
You always were a brat when you didn't want to talk.
"Top five." He said with his hand on the broken volume knob of your car. His black painted fingers trying to fiddle with the radio to turn it down.
"I'm not eight anymore, Haz. Not doing that." You huffed as you watched him grow more and more frustrated with the fact your car radio wouldn't work the way it was supposed to.
"Fuckin' hell, jus' humor me and do it, yeah?" His eyebrow raised as his irritation slipped off him seeping around the car. Your hands slapping his away as you tapped a memorized pattern of hits and bangs against the old controls until the machine finally quieted the speakers around you.
"Need a new radio for y'birthday." He muttered, face set in irritation as he stared at the road.
Hormonal anger flaring inside of you as you looked at the smug bastard sitting in your seat, driving your damn car.
"Fine." You huffed out as your hands flew around. His eyes immediately widening as he looked from you to the road and back again. Very aware he'd woken the beast within.
"You wanna do top five? You fucking asked for it." Anger dripping from your voice as you felt your face heat.
"Number one, you don't get to tell me what shit I need and don't need. Mainly, my fucking radio." Your voice vibrated along the metal and glass as you held up your pointer finger to show the number you were on.
"Two, don't you dare say anything bad about this car. You know I can't get rid of it and even if I wanted to get rid of it not everyone has billions to drop on a new car whenever they want."
"Three, I'm fucking pissed and upset with Jesse. Then I feel terrible for being pissed and that's just a whole ass mess."
"Four, I have to start apartment hunting and I don't even know how to tell if a place is decent or not and I don't have my fucking dad with me to help me anymore."
"And finally five, I miss my fucking friends and I feel like I'm always the one who gets left behind all the time. You, Abby, Gemma, my dad, hell my mom is even technically gone and now Jess."
"It's like I'm a fucking neon sign saying abandon me it'll be fun." You said, your hands finally done flinging around with every word as the hard sobbing set. Choking on your own breath. Tears flooding every inch of your face.
You didn't even notice you two were parked in his driveway. Your hands over your face as you leaned into your legs. Crying your heart out.
The hand on your back rubbed soothing circles. Shushing you quietly. The waves of pain and anxiety started to slow as your eyes stung.
"One," he said quietly as he hunched over the armrest, his head laided awkwardly against the back of your shoulder "'M sorry 'bout the car. Know it means a lot to yeh, jus' don't want y'and the baby in somethin' that might break down somewhere."
"Two, 'm stressed 'bout this next album. Got no muse and nothing done. Feel like've taken a year off and got nothin' to show fo' it."
"Three, 'm scared to leave yeh if I go on tour or promote an album if I do get it done and yeh go into fuckin' labor or have a problem and I can't be there fo' yeh."
"Four, my damn socks 'ave been half way down my foot fo' the last hour but I'm too tall to reach it and fix it in this miniature car." He said, your head lifting from your legs to glare at him. Not being able to suppress your smile as your faux anger cracked, laughter coming from deep in your chest.
Of course he'd find a way to make you laugh when your world felt like it was falling apart. His own laugh joined yours and at a certain point you were sure you two were laughing for no reason other than loving to hear the others giggles.
"What's number five?" You asked once you finally calmed back down, your back against the seat in the car as you stared out the car windshield. Harry's posture mimicking yours. His hand in yours over top of the armrest in the middle of the car. The cool faux leather on the back of your hand. His warm skin almost felt clammy in your palm.
"Five," he sighed, his fingers dancing across the sensitive spot in the middle of your hand. Instinctively making you look over to him lost in his own little word. His mind running. You could practically see him rehearsing the conversation in his head.
"Hey," your other hand against his cheek to pull his face towards you. Your thumb stroking to the stubble on his cheek. "'S just me."
His eyes finally snapped to yours. Those eyes of rolling green pastures that reminded you of the crisp summer winds blowing through your hair held so many words behind them. Paragraphs and books worth of this he'd never tell you. Poems and lyrics of all the secrets he held onto.
Even though you both made promises to never hide things from each other. You knew everyone had things they'd never let slip from their mouths. Things they grasped and held on to so tightly. Kept close to their chest out of fear from rejection or regret of consequences.
You knew you had things like that. Thoughts of you with him. Daydreams of a life where you weren't so different.
"Want yeh to move in with me, bunny." He said as your eyes closed, forehead leaning against his.
Your mind raging a war within as you sighed. Torn between wanting to and knowing better.
But God, how you wanted to.
"Can't, Harry, you know that." You sighed, your eyes not opening even though you felt his gaze on you.
"Always said yeh wanted to live with me." Your eyes opened just enough to see him pouting at you. That puffy bottom lip sticking out.
"When I was 10. Now you're old and have smelly feet." You laughed as you pulled away from him, your back against the worn out fabric of your seat. Harry's glare trained on you as you moved.
"Love, I've smelled y'feet 'fore. Trust me yeh’s are way worse." He said with a simple shrug. Your eyes widening in shock before hitting him in the shoulder with your hand.
"Hey!"
"And yeh steal all the hot water in the mornings and y'eat all my pickles." He pointed out. Your lips pushed together as you looked at his overly lavish house.
Prick could afford for you to eat all the pickles in the world if you wanted to.
"I do not!" You lied, knowing damn well you had just finished off the jar the hour before leaving the house. Right after you'd taken all the hot water for your shower.
"I promise yeh right now there's no pickles in there and I jus' bought sum." He said with a little smile playing on the corner of his lips when he finally looked back to you.
"Why would you even want me to move in then?"
"Cause I love you." He said easily, his hand wrapping around yours again as you sighed.
"Love you too, Haz." Your fingers fiddled with his own, not looking at him. "Just not smart to move in together. Camille would be uncomfortable, you know?"
"Nah, I'll talk to her." He said with a wave of his hand like it was no big deal. Your very judgmental stare being shot his way.He was a fucking idiot if he thought that conversation would go over well. The girl might not have hated you but she would if you moved in with her boyfriend. "I promise. I'll talk to her."
"I'm still not moving in with you." You shook your head as you opened the door. Your legs slung over the side of the car before he could argue with you.
"Just think 'bout it." He said as he caught up with you. His arm around your shoulder as you walked to his doorsteps.
You rolled your eyes but nodded your head. Knowing you could never move in with him and maintain the distance between you two.
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haloshornsinkstains · 3 years
Text
Other Side [Songfic, slight Dabi x F!Reader]
While I’m working on Kinktober stuff and my head is a mess, here have a songfic that wouldn’t leave my damn brain for the past few weeks after I saw an animatic based on this song (The Other Side from The Greatest Showman). It just works? Also, apologies on the quirk, I was rewatching Bungou Stray Dogs and <3
CW: Female reader, alcohol, swearing, mention of unwanted groping, Endeavour is a dick... otherwise, pretty SFW
You groaned, pressing your head against the bar and gesturing to the bartender for your usual. Hearing the glass set down beside you, you looked up and smiled, taking a long drink. “Thanks Ryu.” The bartender smiled sympathetically. “Boss still a dick?” “The biggest flaming dick in Japan.” You grumbled. “They’re still keeping me on office duty. I break one creeps jaw and they trap me inside. Mirko punched a reporter and she’s still a top hero.” “Hey, it could be worse. You could be not working under the number one hero.” “No, that makes it worse.” Ryu frowned. “How?” “I hate him. I always hated him.” “Then why don’t you just leave and work for someone else.” You scowled at your glass, left hand leaving dents in the wood of the bar where it rested. “Not allowed.” “Bullshit. And stop denting my bar.” “Truth. Believe me, I’d leave if I could. But I can’t.” You sighed, lifting your hand from the wood apologetically. “Sorry Ryu. If I left I wouldn’t get to be a hero any more, even if all I do is paperwork I worked my ass off for this.” Ryu shrugged, spotting another customer signalling him out of the corner of his eye and smiling apologetically. “Sucks I guess. I’ve got people to serve, shout if you want a top up.” “Believe me, I will.”
You heard a glass set down next to you, the unmistakable heat of a body taking up the seat to your right. "Hey there princess." The voice was gravelly but so familiar. "Nope. I've had more than enough Todoroki bullshit for one day." You growled, staring daggers at your drink.  "Sorry, you must be mistaking me for someone else." You turned, narrowing your eyes at the man sat next to you. "Dabi. You remember I've known you way too long to fall for your bullshit right? And I am so not in the mood." Dabi went to lift his glass, only to find it stuck to the bar, your skin giving off a faint red glow. "Come on princess, I only want to talk. We can bitch about that asshole like old times." You sagged a little, the glow fading and his glass suddenly much easier to lift. You knew he wanted more than to just talk, Dabi's talks always came with attempts to recruit you into the league or, if he was drunk or high enough on adrenaline, his bed. But he was an old friend, and one of the few people more than happy to join your Fuck Endeavour and Fuck The Hero Commission rants. Shaking your head you gestured to one of the darker tables in the back, this might have been a very shady bar but Dabi was well known enough now that even here someone might be dumb enough to try to call the pros. And you liked this place too much to see it turned to ash. 
  You both settled into your seats in the back, you nursing your whiskey with a frown. "So what did dear old dad do today?" "Existed?" You huffed. "Bitched me out for not downplaying the damage caused in one of his 'rescues' while I was writing his reports for him. Which turned into more general belittlement of my attitude, abilities as a hero, quirk… basically he covered all the bases." "You know they'll never let you leave there right? You'll be doing paperwork until you die." Dabi drawled, you glared at him. "They're keeping you there because you're too dangerous to them, you know too much and you were caught sympathising with a villain. He hates you, he won't hesitate to put you down at the first sign of defection. You're trapped." "I didn't sympathise with a villain. I just didn't disagree with all of his ideas regarding the behaviour of heroes. I didn't exactly agree with his methods, I liked Ingenium plenty thank you very much." You grumbled, swirling the amber liquid in your glass. “He was friendly, and fun.” "Still… you hit like a truck when we were kids, I'd love to see what damage you can do now." He hummed, eyes flashing bright for a second. "You could be very dangerous. So they lock you up in an office doing filing for a man that hates you like a good little minion." "You're alarmingly eloquent today." You took another sip, setting the glass down and closing your eyes with a deep sigh. "I worked my ass off to be a hero, why would I want to throw that away?" "Oh, so you enjoy being his little secretary?" Your eyes flashed, skin glowing red as his chair creaked under the sudden strain of the gravity increase. Dabi just smirked, that stupid smug look that told you he knew he'd won. "Just listen to my proposal?" You sighed, the oppressive pressure dissipating in an instant as you waved at him to continue. Maybe he'd put a new twist in the spiel this time.
"Right here, right now I put the offer out I don't want to chase you down I know you see it"  “We do this on a near weekly basis, you have quite literally stalked me to this bar, if that’s not chasing me down what is?” You scoffed and shook your head, eyes flicking to the bar while you debated how many more drinks you were going to need after this. "You run with me And I can cut you free Out of the drudgery and walls you keep in So trade that typical for something colorful And if it's crazy, live a little crazy" "Well at least you acknowledge your league is entirely batshit." "You can play it sensible, a king of conventional" "Conventional? Really? I'm wounded." "Or you can risk it all and see Don't you wanna get away from the same old part you gotta play 'Cause I got what you need, so come with me and take the ride It'll take you to the other side 'Cause you can do like you do Or you can do like me Stay in the cage, or you'll finally take the key Oh, damn! Suddenly you're free to fly" You drummed your fingers on the table, honestly the bird metaphors were a bit weird but he was starting to sound like he had a point, which was…. Alarming. You needed to shut this down fast or you’d break.
  "Okay, my friend, you want to cut me in Well I hate to tell you, but it just won't happen So thanks, but no I think I'm good to go 'Cause I quite enjoy the life you say I'm trapped in" Dabi scoffed. "Really? Didn't sound like it five minutes ago." You shot him a glare. "Now I admire you, and that whole show you do You're onto something, really it's something Don't you know that I'm okay with this uptown part I get to play 'Cause I got what I need and I don't want to take the ride I don't need to see the other side So go and do like you do I'm good to do like me Ain't in a cage, so I don't need to take the key Oh, damn! Can't you see I'm doing fine I don't need to see the other side"
Dabi laughed, gesturing at the dingy bar and the glass in your hands with possibly the most judgemental look on his face you’d seen in years.  "Now is this really how you like to spend your days? Whiskey and misery, and parties and plays"
You sighed again, but your shoulders were sagging now and he knew he was winning. You couldn't pretend you enjoyed this any more, restrictions and abuse breaking you down into someone much easier to tempt and mould.  "If I were mixed up with you, I'd be the talk of the town Disgraced and disowned, another one of the clowns"  You huffed, waving a hand vaguely in his direction.  
"But you would finally live a little, finally laugh a little Just let me give you the freedom to dream And it'll wake you up and cure your aching Take your walls and start 'em breaking Now that's a deal that seems worth taking But I guess I'll leave that up to you" He stood to leave only to find the gravity of your quirk forcing him back down. He knew then that he had won, they'd turned a hero. Shigiraki might take some convincing but that didn't matter right now. Your resolve was crumbling.
"Well it's intriguing, but to go would cost me greatly So what's in it for me?" "Freedom. You want to punch the next guy who touches you inappropriately through a building? The League won't question you for a second, and there's no paperwork." You shook your head. "You'll have to raise the price a bit more than that." "Its a big fuck you to Endeavour?" "That was weak even for you. Dick has hated me since I was, what, five? All I’m doing is giving him an excuse to come after me. He'll be after my head as soon as I leave, and as much as I’m loathe to admit it we both know he's powerful." "You get to spend all the time you want with your favourite childhood friend…" his smirk turned wicked and knowing. "No one to stop you, no questions, no hiding in the corner of a dingy bar. And I guess Shigaraki is okay.” "You play dirty, you know that right?" "Well, I am a villain." Rolling your eyes you knocked back the last of your whiskey and stood, holding out a hand to him. "Well, guess I'm pissed off enough not to care any more. Congratulations Touya, you win." Grinning Dabi took your hand, ignoring the use of his old name in favour of pulling you in for a hug. “Oh, you’re going to be amazing Princess.” “I’ve always been amazing.” You chuckled. “Take me to your leader before I change my mind.” Dabi grinned. “As you wish.” “And no burning down my favourite bar!”
The pair of you stepped outside, Dabi sending a quick message on his phone that was shortly followed by the appearance of a swirling black void. "No wonder I've never seen you on the subway." You joked, though your fingers tightened anxiously around his. "Time to move up in the world princess." He chuckled, tugging you forwards into the void. "You know I don't like...holy shit." You stepped out into a different dingy bar, several faces snapping up to look at you as you appeared. Dabi was a comforting presence at your back. “No more corners of dingy bars huh?” You murmured, shooting him a sideways glance. "Hey Dabi, what's with the midget?" You bristled. "I am not a…" "Shit, that's a pro!" The villain speaking launched at you, intent to kill flashing hot in his eyes. Already irritated and more than a little on edge you activated your quirk, watching him fall flat on his face as overwhelming gravity pulled him down. Dabi had crumpled to his knees behind you, the others struggling to move.  "Princess."  You just growled. "She's with me, with us." Dabi continued. "Princess?" With a huff you released your quirk, watching warily as the villain who'd gone to attack you pushed himself to his feet. Dabi's hand on your shoulder made you flinch but his grip was strong, somewhere between restraint and support in case wide scale use of your quirk had taken it out of you. It was hard not to appreciate the gesture, even if you felt fine. "Meet Graviton. She's… an old friend." "I didn't know you could make friends." Your head snapped around at the sound of the voice, focusing in on Shigaraki sat at the bar, watching you from between the fingers of the hand on his face. "I've got more than you creep." Dabi snapped back, fingers digging into your shoulder. You tipped your head back a little, raising an eyebrow at him.  Shigaraki scratched at his neck, eyes never leaving you. "Why is she even here? She could be a double agent."  You couldn't hold back the laugh that bubbled out at that. "Hah, no." "Why are you here?" You were glad for the dim lighting, the constant attention making a blush rise on your cheeks. "I had a really bad week, and Dabi asked nicely. Even said please." As much as you tried to be nonchalant you couldn't hide the slight tremble in your voice. Shigaraki scoffed and you finally looked away from him. "I'm sick of being stuck doing paperwork because the Heroes say so. I worked hard to get my license only to be told I'm not allowed to do anything except sit in a cage with someone I hate. Guess I finally had enough. I was told you'll let me use my power." "And she really wants to punch Endeavour in the face." Dabi added cheerfully. "Oh yeah, that too." "I trust her, and you should know by now I don't drag in just anyone." "Shigaraki, she could be useful. She has inside information and that power was impressive." The black void behind the bar spoke, startling you a little and pulling a quiet chuckle from Dabi.  "Fine. Make yourself useful, if you try to betray us I'll kill you." Shigaraki huffed, standing from his seat. "Kurogiri, I'm going back to my room." "Welcome to the League [name]."
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tact-and-impulse · 3 years
Text
Holiday fic for @shepherds-of-haven! Thanks for the deadline extension. I hope I’m not too late! More under the cut or on AO3.
midwinter depths
It all started with an innocent conversation, Lavinet asking what they were planning to wear for the Wintersun Gala. The confused, collective answer was: what gala? After some back-and-forth, it became apparent that the Diminished-majority members of the newest government agency had not been invited to the illustrious holiday celebration. The reactions were varied, but they eventually came to one conclusion. Couldn’t they host a competing, more inclusive, and most importantly, better party? Certainly not as fancy, but in terms of community outreach, it would be far superior.
Responsibilities were dealt, and by dawn, the Shepherds set out to prepare.
***
The bus was late. Croelle adjusted his hat and clenched his teeth. Another inconvenience, just the latest obstacle to his work. The shelter’s glass panes looked very fragile and tempting at the moment, but ultimately, he didn’t move from his current seat on the metal bench.
A tall woman approached the bus stop, ashen hair pulled into a high ponytail to reveal slightly pointed ears. Her hazel eyes glinted with the iladrin, and one hand carried a bag of groceries. She checked her wristwatch, which sparkled with miniscule gems, and stopped at the other end of the bench. A strong wintry gust blew past, rattling the shelter. Heavy silence descended upon them.
“If you’re waiting for the bus, you might as well walk to your destination.” He intoned.
“Excuse me?” Her polished voice was more amused than affronted.
“It’s been twenty minutes. I hope you don’t have anywhere urgent to be.”
“And why are you still here?” She retorted.
He lifted the brim of his hat, to look at her again. Pale brows, an aquiline nose, a thin mouth colored by dark mauve lipstick. Handsome, he supposed. “Are you a Shepherd?” He had dragged his line of sight away from her face to the embroidered hound on her coat.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Dragged into it, really. Speaking of which...” She handed him a blue and silver flyer, detailing games, raffles, and a potluck dinner. “We’re hosting a party tonight at our headquarters. Ten danars admission, though I’m not sure whether it’ll be enforced. It’s mostly for the rest of the Shepherds, and their friends and families.”
“Is that what your bag is for?” He turned his attention to her purchased items.
“Oh, I don’t cook for groups. But I was assigned to buy ingredients for punch and I’m very good at making vytas.” She rummaged through a variety of fruits, before removing a jar of honey and admiring the color in the weak morning light. “I’m picky about my ingredients. No alcohol though, to be palatable for Mages like us.”
“I’m not a Mage. And I don’t eat fruit.”
She tilted her head, stepping in his direction. He flinched, as her gaze ran over him in obvious scrutiny. “How are you still alive?”
This close, he was able to see her hair clip. Three birds in flight, carved out of lacquered wood. He evaded her question. “For the same reasons anyone else is.”
She didn’t respond to that, still analyzing and trying to puzzle him out. Definitely, this Mage was a strange one. He hadn’t heard of any such figure in the Shepherds, but he could always use his resources to find out. She pivoted away from him, putting her jar back. “So, are you going to attend?”
“I have work. Why? I’m not your friend or family. Are you desperate for my company?”
“No.” She easily replied. He refused to feel a twinge of disappointment. “I only want to make sure that my effort pays off.”
“You hate holidays, don’t you?”
Her slight smile became brittle. “Do you only ask questions and never answer them?”
A short, derisive laugh escaped him. “Part of the job.” Wait, what was he doing? Conversing, letting down his guard, still sitting here instead of headed to his next assignment. He might have suspected she was an Enchanter if it weren’t for the wristwatch. The pearly face bore the symbol of the Shifters, the points and curls in fine etching.
“And what is your job?”
“You’re a nosy woman.”
“I prefer ‘curious’.”
“There’s such a thing as being too curious for your own good.”
“I’m not particularly interested in being good.”
He grabbed her slender hand, and she emitted a startled noise as he pulled her towards him. He lowered his voice, speaking into one tapered ear. “Interested in being bad then?”
She was perfectly still for a moment, her pulse rapid under his fingertips, and then, she roughly pulled away. Her eyes locked him in a deadpan stare. “That’s another question, and for this one, I’ll follow your example and decline to answer.”
“Hmph.” Determinedly looking past her form, he spotted a van turning the corner, the Shepherds’ emblem on the hood to mark its status as a government vehicle. “There’s your ride.”
She followed his line of sight and blinked. “Oh. So it is. Would you like to come along? The driver’s my kin, and he won’t mind.”
“I’d rather not.” He scowled, standing and brushing himself off. “Goodbye.”
“Well, if your work allows it, feel free to stop by tonight’s dinner. I don’t have to remind you to try the vytas.” She pointedly lifted her bag and then laid a hand upon her lapels. “You can ask for me, Zoegea. And you are…?”
He grunted. “Croelle.” And with that, he walked away before the van arrived. Minutes later, he wondered how he could be so foolish to tell her his name. Just for that, he had to pry more information out of her. He crumpled the flyer in his pocket but it stayed there.
***
The smell of baking bread was one of the best things in the world. Trouble knelt down, to peer into the oven. The rolls were puffy and golden-brown, nearly ready to eat. There was something nostalgic about waiting and watching, like he was five again and his mother was cooking in their tiny kitchen.
A rustle of movement caught his attention and he met bright amber eyes as his partner mirrored his position. “Hey, so the mashed potatoes should be done soon. What’s next?”
“We should be good for now. Thanks, Senna.” He grinned.
“No problem! So, what’re you doing?”
“Just checking on the rolls. Best part of being on the team in charge of side dishes.” It was always enjoyable to mold the balls of dough in his floured hands. He splayed his fingers over the warm glass. “It takes me back to when I was a kid. My mum made her own bread.” Right now, the yeasty aroma of the dinner rolls was just like the one that permeated the cozy apartment of his childhood.
“So did mine!” She eagerly shared the similarity. “Not that the Westwood bakery’s was bad, but I always liked hers best.”
“Yeah, that’s how I feel!”
She rocked back on her heels, her tanned face flushed. “I actually remember my mom’s recipe, so I bake now and then. It’s not exactly the same though.”
“But it’s something. I couldn’t read before my own died.” His memory of her was vague. She had pinned her hair when washing other people’s clothes, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hair had been blond like his, but her eyes were a warm brown. Her voice was sweet though it was harder to recall now. Her scent was the easiest: clean linen and a touch of spiced apples. Other than that, he didn’t even have a photograph. “Wish I knew how she did it.”
“Maybe, we can figure it out. Or at least, get pretty close.” She suggested. “We can bake multiple batches and narrow it down from there, based on what you tell me.”
“Trial and error, huh?” He chuckled. “I like the sound of that! When should we start?”
“Probably sometime in the new year. When are you available?”
“Don’t worry about me; I’ll find the time. Just text me and I’ll be there. Do you have my number?”
“Yup, I saved it when you recruited me.” She flashed a thumbs-up. “I’ve just never had to text you before, because I keep running into you.”
“Hey now, you’re the Diviner.” He joked. “You’re not using magic to find out which bar I go to?”
“Trouble, you always go to The Burning Crown.”
“It’s the free drink Nessa gives me every time. Actually, I think I should probably switch it up. Too many fights break out in there, and uh, I’m trying to follow your advice.” If she hadn’t stopped him, his old gang would have been too glad to bring him down to their level. That wasn’t what a Shepherd did, and having her near was a good reminder.
“That’s great!” Her smile was wide and honest. “I know it’s hard, but I’m really happy you’re trying. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You can do it, I believe in you.”
He coughed, as an excuse to stop staring. “Well, you’ve shown me that talking out of a brawl is an option.” Then, he winced. “Ah, shit, I gotta stand up again. My legs are killing me.” He stood, his thighs burning, and offered a hand to her. She grasped it, and as soon as she was upright again, she quickly squeezed.
“I don’t think I’ve had a Wintersun like this before. Today’s been so much fun.”
“Me too. It’s always fun spending time with you.”
She looked at him through her dark lashes, and he felt suspended in place. Then, with a sudden draft, Riel stepped in, carrying a clipboard.
“Are we on schedule?”
Trouble noticed she had let go, and he crossed his arms, pressing his empty hand against his body. “For sure, we are. Even though we won’t be serving until six tonight, we’ll be ready by then.”
“Parties usually start late, anyway.” Senna added, with a sparkle in her eyes.
Riel pinched the bridge of his nose. “And guests arrive early. Regardless, if you need anything from the supply team, tell me before five so I can accommodate you accordingly.”
“Understood!” A whistling ringtone began to play, and she removed her phone from her apron pocket. “Oh, good. I was waiting for them to call back. Sorry, this will be just a few minutes. But if not, I’ll see you later. And I’ll text you about our meeting, Trouble!”
“Looking forward to it!” He replied as she sprinted out.
Riel’s cool gaze shifted between Trouble and the swinging door. “A meeting?”
“Yeah, we’re going to bake bread together. Isn’t that nice? She’s a great friend.” In response, he gave such a long sigh, that Trouble demanded. “What’s eatin’ you?”
“Never mind.” He was already walking away.
“Oi! Just tell me!”
***
The knife moved easily in his grasp, as he sliced the parsnips. If the rest of his family could witness what he was doing, they’d be delivering the full brunt of their disapproval. Before today, he also thought he was better suited to security detail, but he had been convinced to join the rest of his friends. His squad insisted they’d be fine, Trouble had extolled the benefits, and a particular pair of deep brown eyes had been disappointed as the owner asked. “Are you not going to cook with us?”
Thus, here he was, preparing roasted vegetables for an impromptu party.
His partner for this task had her own tray, and she carefully sprinkled garlic salt over the halves of looked like miniature cabbages. When he brought over the parsnips, she glanced up at him. “Oh, you’re already done? Thank you, Blade!”
He stiffly nodded. “Do you need any assistance?”
“No, I’m okay. These are ready, so I’ll put them in the oven. You can get a drink.” A quick smile, and she was off to the adjacent kitchen. The storage room wasn’t as warm, and soundlessly, he crept out. He returned before she did, with two water bottles retrieved from the cooler in the hallway.
Wintersun was just another day, or at least, that was what he believed before. Now, far from the place of his upbringing, he was often out of his comfort zone. However, he didn’t mind learning more about the world, outside of the family business. And today had been very pleasant.
When Captain Enris walked past, he held out the extra bottle, nudging it against her hand.
She blinked. “Is this for me?”
“Yes.” He raised his brows. “Take it. You haven’t been hydrating.”
“It slipped my mind.” She admitted but accepted the water. From under her sleeve, her tattoo peeked out, the inky scrawl of Kettish script unconventional but poetic. She removed the lid and drank deeply; her mouth was red and gleaming.
He abruptly dropped his gaze. “You have the tendency to put yourself last. It’s not sustainable, so you should remember to look after yourself as well.”
Her laughter rang out, clear and crisp. “Ultan said something like that, a long time ago.”
She had never mentioned the name before. He tensed, the plastic bottle crackling in his grip. “Who’s Ultan?”
“He owned a little bookshop in Courtshore. I worked for him, after Drummond’s Point was…wiped out. It was my longest job, about two years, and I really enjoyed it. He, um, found some old magic books for me; that’s how I started learning magic.”
“He must have liked you.”
She hummed, considering the possibility. “I think so. He was a Norm but his late wife was a hedgewitch, so he always kept me safe. If anyone was suspicious, he said I was his granddaughter sent to live with him. I’m not sure if they really bought it though…”
He was a tiny bit happier that the connection was familial, although he was unsure how to feel, being compared to someone who was like her grandfather. He decided on tentative compliance. “Would you have stayed with him?”
“I don’t know. He fired me, you see.”
“What? Why would he? You’re…a good worker.” Damn, that sounded utterly inadequate. As if two words could describe how important her presence had become to the Shepherds.
“Well, I’m glad you think so.” She smiled. “But what he thought is still a mystery. He just gave me the week’s wages and told me I wasn’t welcome anymore. So, I just kept moving, and I never heard from him again.”
His anger on her behalf lingered but he kept his response neutral. “It’s his loss and our gain. I’m glad you’re here in Haven. It would not be the same without you.”
He was certainly not as eloquent as she was, but he hoped the Enchanter was more at ease. Her shoulders lowered a fraction, and she rested her back against the wall. “That’s kind of you to say.” Fondness colored her expression.
“Does it surprise you?”
She laughed again, and he welcomed the sound. “No, not at all! You’ve always been kind. Strict, but you truly care. You’ve never led us astray, despite how you’re not a big fan of Wintersun.”
“Was I obvious?”
“Compared to everyone else, just a little bit.” She pinched her fingers together. “But I noticed you’re not frowning as much. Are you having fun?”
“I’ll take the quiet now, before the crowds arrive.” He wryly answered.
“It’s close enough!” She set her half-empty bottle down and clapped. “Let’s finish seasoning the rest. I was thinking of having lunch afterwards; how about you?”
He deliberately paused. “That sounds agreeable. Do you have anywhere in mind?”
“Tallys mentioned a sandwich shop the other day. I can call ahead for pick-up.” She was already pivoting.
“Linaria.”
At the rare use of her given name, she immediately turned, lips parted.
“Let me see the menu first.” He grumbled.
With another giggle, she offered her phone. “The next thing we should work on is your pickiness.”
***
The free chair was inviting, and Chase took it, sliding over to the other person at the raffle table. “Hey, sunshine. How’s the sprain?”
“Better today, but not enough.” The newly incapacitated Battle-Mage scowled reproachfully at her left foot. “So I’m still stuck here.”
“You wanted to cook?”
“Even if I could, that’d be better than tearing up tickets.” She snorted. Her fingers pulled at the paper chain, twisting at the perforated end and depositing a fresh one in his open hand. She kept the other half, flicking it into a large glass jar. Valeriana had let her hair down, which was a first. Wine red and pin straight, it framed her face and grazed her elbows. She seemed more vulnerable, her features relaxed and youthful. He idly wondered who else had seen her like this. She must have sensed his regard, because her gaze shifted to him. “Did you need something else?”
“Nope, just hanging here and watching the rest of the hospitality team. Mostly, it’s Lavinet though.” The heiress had taken charge over the decorating business and she was ordering some of the newbies around to meet her standards. Embroidered white tablecloths, silver streamers, tea lights, and authentic pine trees for ambience. It all sounded magnificently meticulous, and he was trying to avoid her, just in case. “My side’s done with the party games.”
“Yeah? What have you got?”
“Elements, dreadnoughts, pin the tail on the ahfuri for the kids. We dug up some sui boards for the older folk. Anyone with spare change can play intrigue or Angels and Devils. And darts. Bet you’d like that.” As strong as she was, he knew she valued precision most of all. It was also what he liked about her, that she could run rampant on their missions given half a chance but opted for control.
He was interested in what she was like, if she lost it.
She leaned back in her seat, the motion steering him to the present again, and cracked a smile. “That depends on what prizes you have.”
“Ah, and like with all games, your prize is based on your stakes. Anything from chocolate truffles to plushy Shepherd hound toys to gift cards. Or I can always surprise you.”
“The bar is high.” She raised her brows but her eyes glittered at the prospect. Good.
“I’ll do my best, gorgeous. So...what has our dear organization obtained for the raffle prize?”
“You’ll have to win and find out for yourself.”
“Fair enough. Let’s hope this is a lucky one.” With a flourish, he brought the ticket to his lips in a light kiss and pocketed it. Then, he gestured towards the fall of her hair. “No bun or braids today?”
One hand tucked a stray lock behind her ear. “I want less tension for now, I’ll tie it back later.”
“Gotcha.” In the meantime, he’d appreciate the view.
“Caine asked me the same thing too.” The kid was eager to help out, and at the other end of the hall, he was stringing icy blue lights on one of the smaller trees. “He said it was nice.”
“He’s right, it suits you. You look lovely.” And he meant it, not even winking.
She held his gaze, about to bite back, but she paused. The moment stretched, before she quietly replied. “Thanks.”
His skin itched and he rubbed the back of his neck. Huh. She was attractive, it was hard not to notice since the day they met. It was only that she was a lot more so, because of how intimate her appearance was. It was lust, he decided, and he could deal with lust. Yeah.
“Well,” Chase cleared his throat and ruffled her hair. To his pleasant surprise, it was very soft. “I’m off to check on my people. Keep getting stronger, sunshine.”
“Uh…right.” Her dark eyes were wide, and he couldn’t look away.
“I’ll bring you a plate of food at dinner, and then, we can swing by the darts. Sound good?”
“Sure, I guess, mm.” She didn’t blush easily, but she was clearly flustered, blinking rapidly and tripping over her words. Cute. Her long eyelashes fluttered and he was transfixed.
Then, there was a clatter, and they both whipped towards the sound. Caine had dropped a third of his lights. Wincing, he called out. “Sorry!”
“Are you hurt?” Valeriana asked.
“No, I’m okay! How’re you?” He was giving them a trepidatious expression.
Oh. Chase was still touching her head. Slowly, he let go and forced a two-fingered salute. “We’re fine here! You’re doing good, little man!”
“I’ll see if I can help him out.” She muttered.
“You don’t have to, I’ll send a couple of my guys to check on him. Get some rest before tonight, alright?”
She didn’t seem fully appeased but she grabbed her ticket chain and reluctantly nodded, echoing. “See you tonight.”
“It’s a date. Later, Valia.”
If she protested at her shortened name, he didn’t hear it. He strolled along, starting to whistle. After making sure no one else was around, he glanced down at his hand and grinned.
***
The pressure cooker must have disappeared into an adjacent plane of existence. Red sighed as he closed the latest cupboard. “Nope, not here either.”
“Seriously?!” Alcea popped her head up, from behind the counter. Her golden curls bounced, her gray eyes brimming with dismay. “Damn it, where else could it possibly be?”
“At this point, I’m wondering if we should go to the nearest mall and buy another one.”
“Yeah, but we just bought this last week! Riel would throw a fit if we went back. Anyway, it should still be in the box!” She dove again and he smiled, leaning over the granite.
“Or we could always just do it the old-fashioned way. There are plenty of pots that no one else is using.”
“I guess we can.” She grouched. “It’d just be easier to make vegetable curry when we don’t have to be watching the stove the entire time.” She pulled away from the clutter of miscellaneous cooking utensils, and agonizingly rose to her feet. “Augh, my back!”
“Are you alright?” He rushed around to help, but she shook her head.
“Only out of shape, but I’m alive.”
“Good, because I still need you.” He grinned, hiding his relief. “Who else is going to taste test?”
“Uh, nobody, because that’s my job for today? A privilege of being on the entrée team.”
“Just one?”
“One of many.” She smirked. “But I’m not giving up on our missing item! I’ll send a text to the group chat.” She dug out her phone and her thumbs flew across the screen, her charm bracelet jangling with its trio of silver birds. As they walked through the corridors, he kept a close eye, ensuring she wasn’t bumping into anything.
Their allotted kitchen space was looking rather colorful. Onions, garlic, ginger, cauliflower, peas, cans of coconut milk. Jars of spices were lined up on one end, their labels in large print. And in the midst of the ingredients, an open book waited, displaying the pages of the recipe.
He rolled up his sleeves. “So, we’re making two batches: mild and spicy.”
“Yup. Oh! Should we ask Mimir for input on the latter?”
“If she ever shows, and doesn’t she have a high tolerance? Like, she inhales what would kill everyone else?”
“Right…maybe not.”
“It was a nice thought.” He squeezed her shoulder. Years ago in Capra, he wouldn’t have imagined this scenario.
They hadn’t been close then; they shared mutual friends, but he was only aware of her as ‘the other Conjurer who was always in the stacks late at night’. Conversely, she knew him as ‘the guy who tried to descend the university into Hael itself’, but mercifully, she didn’t blame him at all. In fact, the first thing she asked upon their formal introduction was how he did it. The rest was history. The Shepherds had inherited a massive library from a Mage, and on their coinciding off days, the two of them claimed a study room and filled a whiteboard with spell runes and equations. She was bright and vivacious and daring; his younger self had made ignorant mistakes, and now, he could add overlooking her to the list.
After plenty of scrambling and bitten-off curses, some of which were Elvish, their main dish was bubbling. She ladled a spoonful, blew, and sampled. Her eyes shut as she broadly smiled.
“That good, huh?”
“Don’t take my word for it. Come on, try for yourself!” She grabbed a new spoon, taking from the top. Holding the steaming mixture to his mouth, she ordered. “Open wide!”
He chuckled. “Sharing a privilege?” However, he accepted. It was delicious, fragrant with coconut and bold with delayed heat. He ran his tongue across his lips to catch any left.
Her gaze didn’t waver. “Nope, it’s a second to see you eat something I helped make.”
“I hope your expectations were met.”
“Exceeded, for the entire morning actually. I love working with you.” She was incredibly close, her cheeks rosy. He tilted his head-
“Hello?” A timid voice called, and they both spun around to see Shery, standing at the threshold. Her hands shook as she lifted a large, familiar box. “Um…I saw your text to the group. Were you looking for this?”
“That’s it! Thank you sooo much, Shery!” Alcea bounded forward, relieving the other blond of the pressure cooker. “Where did you find it?”
“On our side.” She pushed the nose bridge of her glasses. “It was behind one of the trash cans.”
“We really appreciate it.” Red smiled. “We’ll save a bowl for you later. Mild, of course.”
She seemed very reassured. “I’ll look forward to it, and I’ll hold some fairy bread for you two. See you soon.” Just as silently as she arrived, she hurried off.
He peered at the box. “I’ve never used a pressure cooker before. Have you?”
“Not for curry.” She conceded, lowering it to the floor for unpacking. “But here, let me show you the basics!”
Settling in for the explanation, he watched her animated face with pleasure. This was a privilege he would claim for himself.
***
The van slowed to a stop for the red light, so Ayla propped her feet up on the dashboard. “Think a lot of people are going to show up?” They’d been traversing Haven for a second round, buying additional supplies and plastering the last of the flyers.
“It’s cheap food and entertainment. So, probably a fair amount.” Her companion answered, sliding his hands around the steering wheel. His green gaze didn’t move from the road. “Are you inviting anyone?”
“Who would I invite? You’ve been in Haven longer than I have.”
He huffed. “Sure, I have a head start of six months, but I’ve been away on missions. Some of them were with you.”
“As if I could forget.” The light changed, and the van continued on its path.
She had hoarded every piece of information she learned about him. He was an Elementalist like her, but his skillset was well-rounded, with a preference for ice. The tattoo under his collarbone was of three birds, belonging to a species with a distinctive call, which his clan had taken for their own name as well. That song had not been heard in decades though, and he always shut down when it came to the fate of Vale. He couldn’t join the military because he was Diminished, so he had been a mercenary for a number of years. He liked his khav strong and bitter, and his toast just this side of burnt. Alright, the last bit was extraneous, but it wasn’t like she wanted to make him breakfast or anything.
“Hey, E.”
“Yeah?” He responded in kind.
“What’s eggnog taste like?”
“Did they not have any in the desert?”
“It has raw eggs, right?” She glanced behind her, to the milk jugs and egg cartons they had purchased. The other bags had remained stationary, teeming with chocolate, peppermint sticks, and whipped cream cans. “It would spoil in the heat.”
The corner of his mouth pulled into a half-smile. “True. Did you ever have custard?”
“Something like that, a milk and rice pudding my parents gave me once.” She remembered the little bowl in her hands, how she licked the spoon clean. Her mother and father, grinning as they watched her try the dessert for the first time.
“It’s similar, but more drinkable. You add cinnamon or nutmeg, and sometimes, alcohol. If you don’t like it, you can just stick to the cocoa.”
“I’ll try both.” She countered. “Do you add spices to the cocoa too?”
“Some people do. I like mine with cinnamon and a pinch of chili powder.” Interesting. Another thing she learned.
The car in front suddenly braked, and she swore. The van lurched, Erigeron’s solid arm bracing over her front. As they halted, way too close to be comfortable, his other fist slammed the horn. Up ahead, a couple scurried across the road. Noticeably, there was no pedestrian crossing.
“Tourists.” She scoffed.
“Too busy looking around them to care about anyone else.” He was still touching her, and he slowly pulled away, studying her face. “You okay?”
“I’m good.” Her pulse was elevated from the near hit. The intensity of his stare made her shift in her seat. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He twisted around to examine the back, grimacing. “Hope nothing’s broken.”
“That would really suck.”
They started moving again, and she glanced at the speedometer. He must have caught her wary expression, because his rough baritone added. “Don’t worry. I’ll take it slow.”
Damn, that was really smooth. She fixed her gaze out the window, trying to think of icicles and snowstorms.
It was a matter of minutes before they parked at headquarters. As soon as he removed the key from ignition, a familiar figure entered the garage.
“Oh, wonderful. I was just about to call you, darlings.” Lavinet tossed her hair and marched out to meet them. “Have you procured what’s left on our list?”
“Sure did.” He grunted and removed his seatbelt. “Check for yourself before we bring them in.”
“No need, I trust you two.”
Unloading was going to take longer than expected; they would need multiple trips. Fortunately, nothing seemed to be leaking. Ayla took a few bags, but he stopped her from grabbing the next.
“You can go inside first.”
“I can take more.”
He firmly clasped her shoulder. “Nah, just come back. Everything will be here, and you must be cold.”
She was, but she nudged his side. “Hurry up, won’t you? Elementalists can still get sick.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Nevertheless, he smirked. Stupid, sexy, silver-haired Mage.
Lavinet held the door and joined her for a short distance, eyes glittering. “How was your outing?”
“O-outing?” She spluttered. “We were running an errand, that’s it.”
A lofty laugh escaped the other woman, shielded by a fur-lined glove. “You aren’t fooling me at all. I noticed those little touches. I expect every detail over appetizers, dear.” With a wink and wiggle of her fingers, the heiress glided off to her next task.
“Hey!” Her protest went ignored. Burrowing her face in her scarf, she redirected an air current to cool down. It wasn’t enough.
***
The door opened, and Halek glanced towards the direction of the noise. “You’re late-” He stopped, noticing that while the newcomer also had violet eyes, she wasn’t who he was expecting. Black hair was styled in a braided crown, with a finger’s width of white weaving down the left side. One hand gently closed the door, as she hastily ducked her head.
“Sorry, I’m not Briony. We switched last minute. I’ll be helping you instead.” She went to the sink, quickly scrubbing her hands.
“Well, I’ll take any help right now. What’s your name?”
“Kalmia.” She even pronounced it the way a Hunter would, the first syllable in the back of her throat. But she was a Mage, apparent enough from her eyes, and her hair color automatically disqualified her from being a pure-blooded Hunter.
“Are you a Battle-Mage too?”
“No, I’m a Healer.”
“That’s better. Briony means well, but she tends to break things and I need the stove today.”
The corner of her mouth lifted, as she turned off the faucet. “I read the menu. It does seem like a lot…”
“It’s why we’re the first ones in the kitchen.” The pot roast was going to take most of the day to cook, and the glazed ham was a new addition to his repertoire. But he was excited to try.
She joined him in peeling the carrots and potatoes, introducing herself. She had been adopted by Hunters in Maj; he vaguely recognized the town as a former refugee campsite. After they passed, she slowly made her way to Haven. Meanwhile, this was the first year he spent beyond the largest Hunter city, The Reach. She didn’t fawn over who he was, and perhaps, that could be chalked up to how distant Maj had been. Either way, he was secretly happy.
By five, the pot roast was keeping warm in the slow cooker, and he closed the oven door on the ham. “This will be ready in a couple hours.”
“And what’s next?”
“Next, I’m going to take a nap. You can do what you want in the meantime. I’ll be in the back.”
“Oh. Alright.” She looked around, hesitant. “Um, sleep well?”
His attempt at a nod was more of a head droop. “Later.” The nearest break room had a decent couch and when he stirred awake, he felt a little better.
And the kitchen hadn’t burned down. Kalmia was taking a kettle off the stove and acknowledged his return with a little wave. Her braid had been undone, her hair falling in waves past her shoulders. “I made tea. Would you like some?”
“Sure.” He yawned. When he sat down, a steaming cup was waiting for him. The liquid was a dark gold color, still spinning gently. Used to the blends their quartermaster liked to offer, he expected sugary sweetness. Instead, this herbal tea was surprisingly mellow, like chamomile at first, before giving way to a deeper bittersweet flavor. Complex and refreshing. “This is just what I needed.”
She beamed, hands wrapped around her own cup. “It’s one of my favorites from when I was living in Leore.”
He stared at her for a few moments, before remembering to look away. “You have good taste.” His phone suddenly vibrated and he scowled at the caller ID. He let it ring, watching as the inevitable voicemail notification appeared.
“Is it a spam call?”
“Worse. My fiancé. You know, Hunters and their arranged marriages.”
“You don’t like her.”
“No, I don’t. But the other choice is to condemn everyone at home, depending on more new Hunters.”
Her expression was melancholy, and barely above a whisper, she said. “If you’re trapped, it’s not a choice at all.”
The sentiment warmed him as much as the tea did. But there was also the ring of truth in her words and the strength of memory in her distant gaze. He wondered what had happened to her, who could have hurt her. If he wanted to, he could reach across the table and pat her shoulder. Pushing the thought aside, he refilled their cups. “I have a recipe for almond cookies. It’d go well with this, next time.”
“I’d really like that. Thank you.”
The implicit promise cut through the tension, and he exhaled. “I’m free whenever. In the past, I always liked Wintersun, because I have the time to cook, eat, and sleep. Or because it has ‘sun’ in the name.” Halek dryly noted.
“Oh, that’s right. I like Wintersun too. The hanging laurel especially.” She sounded wistful. “Probably because Kalmia means laurel. But you already know that.” She added, self-conscious.
“Mm. Did your parents want you to fly?”
She laughed, for the first time that day. She seemed almost surprised by it, and tried to answer him but her giggles kept breaking through. “Me, flying? As a baby?”
Happiness suited her better than sorrow, and he started to shake with repressed laughter too, at the mental imagery of a pair frantically running after a dark-haired infant drifting away from a farmhouse. He didn’t have to think of other traditions involving laurel.
***
The icing smeared in a runny white trail, drawing a groan from Briony.
“Come on!” She glared at the sugar cookie she was currently decorating, and then at the rest of the tray she had wreaked havoc on. She thought switching to the dessert team would be more fitting to her skillset and it was, until the baking was done. Somehow, all of her miniature Shepherds appeared awkwardly proportioned at best and hideous at worst.
“Everything okay?” The kind voice meant to comfort but she only felt more ashamed. Gentian’s recreation of Tangriel’s Tower was the most impressive cake she’d ever seen, with its fudgy center and raisin-lined battlements. Also...he was really cute in an apron, with his blue-black hair gathered into a bun for convenience. Really cute, even if she was kind of jealous.
“Oh, it’s just fantastic.” She grumbled. “How do you make everything look so tasty?”
“I don’t know?” He sheepishly shrugged. “How are your-oh. Well...they’re definitely original.”
“That’s one way to put it.” Yeah, her creations stood out, compared to the cake, Tallys’s individual servings of Elvish trifles, and Shery’s traditional fairy bread. “But they should taste okay! I think...”
Gentian reached for one of the smaller cookies, intended to be one of the few replicas of herself and topped with light pink frosting and violet sprinkles for her eyes. He took a bite; she held her breath. She tried not to stare at his throat as he swallowed.
“This was your first time making them?”
“Technically, yeah. Shery read the recipe I was using and said it seemed alright. I just followed the instructions and hoped for the best. I mean, I don’t remember baking anything before.” Briony nervously laughed. Beyond the past few months, she only knew her name and the password to her phone, which had been wiped clean. The Shepherds had found her in an underground fighting ring, where he slipped inside to recruit her. The glaring lights had targeted his figure when he stepped forward as her next challenger. Unassuming at first glance, but she immediately recognized he was a skilled fighter, just by how he moved. “Anyway, what do you think?”
He smiled. “I think if the rest of the tray is just like this one, you won’t have any left at the end of tonight. It’s delicious.”
“Really?!”
“Try one for yourself.”
She chose another doughy Shepherd, a navy-colored mess, and chomped it down before he could notice. It was slightly warm, the edges crispy. Vanilla and sweet icing filled her mouth. “Ah, it’s good! I need to save that recipe…it should be in my phone’s history.”
“If you need help tracking it down, I can help.”
“That’d be great! But didn’t you only see it during this morning’s meeting?”
“It was enough.”
Now, she was certainly confused. “You memorized it in less than a minute?”
Hesitantly, he replied. “I have an eidetic memory.”
“Eidetic?” The word was unfamiliar.
“Photographic is another word. I don’t forget anything I’ve seen or experienced once.”
“Wow, that’s amazing! That’s like the opposite of my problem.” That earned her a laugh, which was encouraging. She paused. “But if you don’t forget anything, that includes things you don’t want to remember, right?”
“Yes, that’s true.” He became quiet, his thoughts obviously far away. She’d seen him like this on occasion, especially around the Ket members.
She strode around the table and as his blue gaze drifted to her, she hugged him.
“Briony?” His soft voice had dipped low, and the vibration against her cheek made her heart flutter.
“You look like you needed a hug. And Wintersun is exactly the time for hugs. Well, so is Lovelace Day, but that’s not right now!” Lovelace Day was also a long ways off, and she imagined it would be nice to spend it with him. If he agreed. “Is this okay?”
“It is.” His hand touched between her shoulder blades, with the lightest pressure. She was about to hold him tighter when there was the distinct sound of a throat clearing. Immediately, they let go of each other. Tallys stood at the door, appearing spotless despite the day’s work.
“I was about to ask if you two had finished.” She gave them a very pointed look. “But it looks like you just started. See you around.” As she spun on her heel, she was definitely smirking.
“Oops.” Briony grinned at him. He was even cuter when he blushed. “She crept up on us.”
“I should have noticed though.” He sighed but smiled when he finally met her gaze again. His expression was gentle, without a trace of sadness. “Thank you.”
“No problem. If you’d like any more hugs, just let me know.” She spread her arms in offering.
“I’ll remember.” His tattooed wrist lifted, and he quickly tugged a lock of her pink hair, his fingertips brushing her cheek. While she was still processing that, he cited a need for more powdered sugar and headed out.
Alone, she pressed her hands to her burning face. Maybe, she could pass by him under the hanging laurel later…
***
The party lasted into the late hours of the night, and by the end of it, the Shepherds were exhausted and trudging during the cleanup. The leftover prizes were fought over, though most somehow ended up in Caine’s arms, and there was enough cake remaining to bring home, so no one was going to leave unsatisfied. The laurel branches had been plucked clean, petals stuck to sleeves and clinging to mussed hair. The unanimous consensus was that it had been a success, one final fun celebration together before they began anew. And really, that was what Wintersun was all about.
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lillaxtrigger · 3 years
Text
Young Hope: Chapter 40
The afternoon sun beats down upon the planes of suburbia just outside of Townsville; some of its warming light beaming straight through the window of a residence and cast upon the bottom half of a blue haired woman, who stands atop a step stool as she reaches up to her kitchen ceiling fan. Carefully does she continue to unscrew the fan’s frame keeping it atop the kitchen, each screw she twists out dropping down into the palm of her hand; one of them winds up slipping out from her grasp and falling to the tile floor. As she peers down to the screw that had just dropped, the woman is left astonished when finding a lone limb of pure black slither through the air underneath; the shock alone upsetting her balance and causing her to fall right off the stool and onto the floor. Amidst shaking off the short fall does the blue haired woman then watch’s the slithering limb split apart into two; one part reaching over to the fridge while the other heads up to the cabinet beside. From within the fridge does one strand pull out the jug of whole milk while the other takes out a tall glass out from the cabinet; pouring the milk right up near the rim of the glass before neatly putting the galleon right back inside before slithering back through the kitchen with glass in hand.
With a short breath escaping from her lips does the woman’s daughter race right on into the kitchen; giving the woman a hand as she asks:
“Mom! You alright?”
“Yeah Mally. Just got a little spooked by Roy’s new arm is all.” the mother explains as she’s pulled back onto her feet. “Oh yeah. It’s taking me a little bit longer to get used to too.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m so glad for Roy getting a brand new arm to replace the old one he lost several months back, but the way you described how it just came bursting out from his arm socket still has me concerned. Have you at least talked to him about it yet?” “I’ve been giving him some time to enjoy having both arms again before spoiling the fun. It’s been only a week now since we got back home.”
“Well when do you think it might be time to let the party train grind to a halt to check the cargo its got in the back?” “I think I might just start.” the orange girl answers before strolling off towards the hall.
Waltzing right through their hallway does Mally head towards the slightly cracked open door set along the very end of the hall; the roller bladder slowly pushing the door open and letting the hallway light seep into the darkened room. “Roy...You in here?” she says out tot he dark, baiting nothing but silence. Among peering through the dark recesses do a pair of violet glowing eyes emerge from the void; the silhouette they belong to lumbering closer as they stare upon the young lady. Finally pushing the bedroom wide open does the hallway light flood through the room and reveal the purple angel himself standing before the girl; Roy looking to her with a calming smile and uttering:
“Hey there.”
As the merc starts to drink the glass of milk held in his arm of pure black, the orange lass slowly steps into his bedroom as she asks:
“Hey Roy...So uh, h-how have ya been feeling this past week with your new arm?”
“Holy shit. It’s been so fucking great. I didn’t think I’d miss having both arms this badly. Plus with all that my new arm is capable off, I’m finding new ways to put it to use that his old limb could only gestural feint over; some uses far more pleasurable than before.”
“Yeah, I get it. You can have sex with people using your arm. What I’m really asking here is if you’ve felt even the slightest bit off since it came bursting out yer side? Any odd or upsetting thoughts going through your head...like more depraving than usual?” Mally retells. “Eh...outside of wondering if a dead body could be stuffed inconspicuously inside a recliner for about a week without no one noticing, haven’t really had much like that on the mind.” “Any physical pain or altercations?”
“Hmm...Nope.”
“Really?...Take your hoodie off then.”
“Whoa, whoa, Mal. I know were not blood related. But I still see you as a little sister so that’d be pretty damn wro-”
“Just take it off!”
“Alright, fine. Jesus.” the merc complies with, starting to slip off his treasure purple hood.
Upon finally beholding her brother’s bare chest do the skater’s eyes widen as her pupils shrink, nearly falling over as she screams out through the house:
“Holy shit!”
“Mally! What did I say about cussing in the hou- Oh my god!” the mom comes over to scold, though left just as taken aback when beholding the same sight as her daughter. Both of them are left horrified when discovering numerous black veins that run right across the purple merc’s bare chest like an encroaching infection and covering his upper body; Roy left wondering to both of them:
“The hell are you girl’s screaming about?” “You can’t be serious.” Mally utters.
“Honey, have you checked yourself in the mirror lately?” the mom questions with quiet worry. “Oh, you mean all these going through my bod. Pretty damn cool, right?”
“No!” the blue haired mother blurts out.
“I-is-is that-I Iiis all that even hurting you, making you bleed out or something!” Mally asks. “Chill, alright. I’ve never felt better. All this is just fine.”
“It’s pulsating veins are literally rooting through your body!” the mom adds.
“Oh my god. I seriously can’t believe you two. I finally gotten a break after all the messed up bull I gone through and your practically demonizing the prize I won at the end. Can’t you people be happy that I got an arm again, one that’s better than the old one?” Roy complains. “Roy, were not worried about you having a new arm. We’re worried about what it’s doing to you.” the mom specifies. “How do you two know it ain’t doing anything bad, maybe all this black veins going through my bod is improving me like nanomachines making him stronger; like that one guy in Metal Gear Rising. What was his name again? How the hell am I forgetting his name?” “We need to see a doctor about this.” the mom claims. “Mom, what would a doctor even start to make of this? I doubt they could give a feasible diagnosis over something this outlandishly dark appendage that came spurting out.” her daughter mentions. “What else can we do about it?” the blue haired woman questions back. ‘Uh...Alex said that this thing was made up of the same stuff he was. But that really doesn’t say much. Roy, you got his number right? Think giving him a call might be best on the table.” the skater comes to. “Already tried. Every call just goes to voice mail. Can’t sense him anywhere in Town either. Fact, he’s been off the grid since we got back. Hope the little gremlin hasn’t gotten into anything serious.”
“Right, fine. With that option out, we’ll just have to stop by a couple friends to see if they can help. But who to see first?” the skater wonders aloud. The merc suddenly snaps his fingers as he flashes a smile, stating how:
“Senator Armstrong! That’s what his name was.”
The very first stop that both Roy and Mally take under this investigation is with the potion witch herself, Serena; who they meet in the Townsville Library. More specifically within the recently uncovered underbelly of the library filled with enchanting books and mystical tomes. Sliding her finely polished nail across the wall of ancient hardback, the witch pulls out a lone book straight from the shelves; all the while telling the two behind her how:
“I seriously can’t thank you two enough for discovering this incredible collection hidden away underneath the library. All the new potion recipes that I’ve gotten from their pages have been one hot seller after another since you two dug it up.” “Ain’t no big deal. Really we just stumbled onto this by complete accident. I just hope the clean up crew removed all the trap set up in here.” the orange skater responds. Right on that mark do they all then here the sound of a magical explosion go off along the side; all of them peeking right over to find  one of the library goers having his lower torso replaced with that of a spider, all while scream out in an utter panic. “Ah! Ah! Oh god! Why!?” the poor bastard shouts as a batch of silk spews out from his fresh new abdomen.
“So...What’s this little book stop gotta do with what came bursting out my side?” Roy get back on track with. “During one of my little glazes through this uncovered library, I stumbled across a tome of Mythological Chinese stories. One of them kinda reminds me of your arm in a strange way.”
“Where’s that.” Mally questions. “Think I last saw that Tome along the very back of the right side of the library. It might be the one sitting in the middle of the shelf.” “Kay, gimme a sec here.” the purple merc tells them, casting forth his arm of pitch black out beyond the railing and right across the outlook; stretching straight out to the other side. Slithering through sections does the arm slide past several other library goers, each one of them left astonished as the limb moves past. Skimming along the spines of every single book on the shelf does the merc finally pull out one in particular labeled as “The mythical fables of the ancient east” and withdraws the tome back to his side. “This it?” “Yep. The very same one.” the potion witch confirms. “You know what that story you mentioned says?” Mally asks. “Mm. I’ve olny read about a paragraph or two while on my recipe hunt.”
“That case. Guess we better just crack this thing open and feast on the festering brain food dwelling inside.” the merc goes. “Roy, dial it down for god sake.” his sister tells him as they both head over towards a desk.
Slapping the old book right onto the ancient stone library desk do the two of them get started in the table of context as Serena tells them that:
“Alright you two. I’ll be looking through more of the shelves if you need me.” “Careful of tripwires along the floor.” Mally warns her with as they part. Cracking the tome right open, the two of them immediately begin their search through the table of contents; reading out the titles of numerous legends such as: “The Oni and the flowerpot” “The natural Maiden of white snow” “The myth of the True eye Hawk bow” “The meeting of the Nord and the Imperial Lord”. “Ah...Oh, here might be something, “The tale of the Samurai and the black demon.” the orange young lady grabs her brother’s attention with.
“Long ago in an ancient land, a great and powerful mass of black had descended from the heavens and arose as a powerful shape shifting master of darkness; determined to dominate the land of China and all who dwell within with unspeakable evil power unmatched. Before the mystical land could be swallowed by such unrelenting darkness, the land’s lord sent away his only son and the one katana of evil’s bane out from their homeland so that his heir would escape to one day defeat this powerful and liberate his homeland. Through out every corner of the globe has this young heir hone his skills with many masters as his guide; his abilities and way of the blade growing alongside his age throughout the many years.
After a long 15 years of grueling training, the boy, now a fully fledged samurai, was ready to return home; determined to free his people from the monstrous evil that had scarred the land of the east. Among his return upon a horse of white; the powerful demon stared down upon the Samurai as he had stepped forth to appose him; the monster burning eyes staring down upon the Samurai as he unsheathed the blade of evil’s bane. The battle for not just the Samurai’s homeland, but for the world over had finally begun its finale.
Long and harrowing was their fight, the demon assuming many forms in opposition to the Samurai; who with fleet foot, tore through the monster’s very form that no other mortal could. No matter what form the demon had taken, no matter what trickery or power it had fought back with, the monster of darkness could not stand against the holy weapon of the Samurai; the katana slicing off piece after piece of the demon’s body. In the final moments of the grueling battle did the demon lay helpless before the Samurai; it body scattering to dust when the last blow had been struck. Finally, after decades of suffering had the demon been defeated and the land of the east free from its harrowing evil; the Samurai, reclaiming his kingdom and bringing forth a long awaited age of prosperity and peace.
Yet despite this victory over the demon of evil, its remains are left scattered throughout the world; ever seeking, ever yearning to be whole once more with its very kin. Yet for what reason does it continue to live? To regain control over the world it once sought to rule, or to return from the very stars it once came to be. Only time shall bestow upon us all such an answer.”
Upon finishing this tale of triumph and warning, Mally is left taken aback by all that they have read; sitting back along the side of a stone shelf as she goes:
“My god. Can’t believe that demon just came down and took over China in just a day. If Serena thinks that monster might be related, what’s that even say about what’s attached to your side?...What’s it even say about Alex?” “Come on Mal. You’re taking this way too seriously. You really think this charcoal Spaghetti strand attached to my side is gonna turn me into an unsympathetic horrible tyrant?”
In thinking over this does Mally try to take a few moments to think over her brother’s answer; Roy’s expression souring with each passing second. “For fuck sa-. Fine, if you still on the fence, then how bout we stop over at Hank’s and have him call up Melvin. That boy got a sweet set of demon hands like my arm and the worst he’s ever been was a compact ball of insecurity and anger issues wrapped up on a 14 year old twinkus. And that was even before he got them.”
“Checking up on him might not be a bad idea. Last time we hung out wasn’t exactly a pleasant spelunking trip.” the orange skater agrees.
Along the suburban skies above does a young boy strapped into a decked out wheelchair glide through the clear blue skies; the chair bound boy yipping and cheering with the sort of glee a 10 year old on Christmas would make after seeing all the presents in the living room. Right below this airborne lad does both Mally and Roy finish up speaking to the chairbound pilots cousin; Melvin leaning along the side of Hank’s abode as the orange skater finishes explaining how:
“That’s pretty much how Roy’s new arm came out. Came straight out of his side like an actual chestburster.”
“Shit man. Way I wound up getting my hands ain’t nowhere as gory as that. Worse I got was some broken bones and bruises.” the young man claims. “Think you could go into detail about how ya got them?” the merc request. “Nah, fuck that. I ain’t tellin.”
“Can you at least tell us if you’ve felt anything strange or off since ya gottem. Any physical pains or strange thoughts going through your head.” Mally then asks. “Outside a couple of mildly weird dream. Got nothin going on.” Melvin ultimately concludes. “Huh...good to here at least.”
Its then that their attention is drawn up to the young man gliding in the skies above them, pulling off rolls and loop de loops as his cheering echoes across the neighborhood. “The hell he’s so giddy for.” Roy wonders. “Couple a guys came over the other day and asked him to join in some little club and he’s been flying high since.” Melvin answers. “Who came over?”
“The Vanguard League!” all of them hear he chairbound genius cry out, the three peering over to watch as Hank comes in for a landing; his wheels kicking up a cloud of dirt as he skids to a stop before them all.
“They came over!? That’s incredible, Hank! What position did you land a spot in?” Mally ecstatically questions. “Ya’ll looking at the new head of the Technological Department. Making new gadgets and inventions to help fight crime, save lives, and help people worldwide; all alongside the greatest of young minds this generation has to offer. I can’t wait to get started after the announcement this coming weekend.” “Had a feeling they’d come around to check you out sooner or later. I don’t think they picked a better boy for the job.” Mally congratulates Hank with, the chair bound genius letting out a bright smile. “What about you Melvin, you think about standing alongside your cuz and the other heroes?” the boy then questions. “You shitting me, right? You think you’d catch me being bossed around like that? Hell no.”
“What about you Mal?” “Uh. Leaning on it, but I ain’t too sure which department to join.”
“Hey, no pressure; just good luck with whatever ya choose. Meantime, I better spruce up and polish up my equipment before the weekend announcement comes around. Catch you later.” the chairbound genius bids farewell with as he presses a couple of buttons on his chair; an exhaust along the back firing out and rocketing him right on inside. From listening to several things crash and break from inside, Melvin decides to race right on after while exclaiming:
“Dammit, the hell did we talk about doing that indoors!?”
“Whelp, guess we don’t got anything to worry about. See ya.” Roy claims while in the midst of taking off out into the air. Before the violet angel could ascend too far up into the cloudless skies, the shell of a yo yo wraps itself right around the merc’s very leg; Roy peering down from the string to see Mally ready to bring him right back down. With but a single tug does the skater manage to send the purple merc straight down towards the earth; the angel crashing right down into the grassy backyard in a plume of dirt. “Yeah, were nowhere near done yet. We ain’t closing this case til we figure out what this arm of yours is made of and where it came from.” the orange lass claims. “Agh! That book we read up on said that whatever it was came from space; serious fucking doubt you know anyone else that came from beyond the star.” Roy explains while climbing out from the dirt, soon finding his sister wearing a knowing smile.
Traveling deep within the very heart of the woodlands just outside the city, the two of them step right on inside of a downed space ship; whereupon the violet angel beholds the alien trio that his sister had befriended.
“Hot damn, Mally. Can’t believe you were keepin this little part of the woods all to yourselves and didn’t bother saying a thing to us.” Roy smoothly exclaims. “Figured you might’ve sensed them all out anyway. Surprised you didn’t know until now.” Mally acknowledges. “You kidding. With all the weird shit that goes on in this town already? How you figure I was gonna stumble on this?” “Also thought they might enjoy the privacy and not have every government agent or crackpot conspiracy nutter come knocking at their door and demand to know what sort of part of congress they control or whatever excuse they pull outta their ass.”
“Still, not hard to imagine why you and your teach would want to keep these choice pieces of intergalactic intimates all to themselves; you serious stumbled onto one hell of a galactic goldmine with this set of sweet sweet alien asses. Definitely like to double down on the fish guy and the girl with the eyeliner in an intergalactic seafood platter; maybe finish off with the hooded piece of alien booty as dessert right there. This spread here’s the fucking motherload, and papa Roy here don’t want a piece, he want’s the whole fucking buffet.” the purple angel elaborates aloud, the three growing further upset and creeped out as she continues speaking.
Amidst the merc’s overwhelming horniness does a comically oversized wrench come flying and hits the back of the violet angel’s head; Roy holding the spot he got struck as he violently trembles. “Fucking…”
“While it’s flattering that you primates have at least decent tastes in knowing a fine catch when you see one. I am very aware when the line of thirst starts to cross harassment territory.” Vain assures. “Seriously kid, did you really just stop by just to have this purple prick gawk at us like an overly excited Splartian Hound in heat; ready to thrust its privates into anything that can bother pulsating in view. Cause I thought the fact that were stuck on this damn rock was getting you off enough.” Catastrophe questions. “Actually, we were hoping you three wound help us out with trying to figure out what exactly my bro’s new arm is made of.” the orange skater finally answers. “Really? I thought that human’s just grow their limbs back when one of them’s broken, just rip it right off to have another one come in the following week.” the charming alien fish boy comments. “That is...nowhere near how human biology works. Seriously hope you weren’t planning on testing that.” Mally worries. Right on that very queue does one of the boxes in the room tip over and partially reveal an unconscious man stowed away within; moaning aloud as he attempts to climb out with one of his arms taken away and stitched up wounds. Discovering this, Mally turns her upset glare over to the trio, Cat claiming that:
“Hey, don’t give us any bull. Dumbass just seriously wondered in here.”
“We gave him some amnesics to make him forget.” Tizzy adds. Clutching the barely conscious man by his shoulders does Cat stroll over to the door while dragging the poor guy along the floor; the alien girl tossing the guy straight out into the woods.
“Why you up and figure it was best to come here to try a figure out the hell is your bro’s arm.” Tizzy asks. “Well, one book we read on it mentioned that this stuff wound up coming from the depths of space and was hoping that-”
“Oh yes, I see. Since were not from your planet, that would make us the knowledge keepers of all that occupy alongside the stars. Is that it?” Vain accuses. “I was thinking since your parents were intergalactic conquerors, figured that maybe they’ve seen something like this before during a conquest.” Mally quickly gives context for. “Afraid your shit outta like, neither of our mom’s speak a mere mention of whatever disgusting growth came out of your brother’s side; pretty sure if we did, they’d tell us in the form of a terrifying bedtime story told to make ya piss yourself.” Cat explains. “Indeed. Truly humiliating.” “Vain, didn’t you wind up soaking your entire mattress once?” Tizzy wonders. “That was when we got back from swimming and you know it!”
“Kay here. Doesn’t this ship has some advance tech straight out from the realms of a shitty 90’s cartoon? You guys gotta at least got anything that can tell us what his arm’s made off?” Roy then interjects with. “If this ship didn’t take a crashing nosedive straight down into your planets crap that you call soil, we wouldn’t be talking right now. You really think that they wound up getting anything working in the span of a month since we touched down on this overpopulated rock in the middle of the space boonies?”
“Actually, I just finished getting the Material Analyzer up and running a few days ago. We could try that?” Tizzy then mentions.
“Ugh, fine whatever. The sooner you start, the sooner you leave. Make it quick.”
Somewhere within the ship does Roy have his arm of demonic pure black stuck right in a spherical chamber as numerous lasers and lights scan every single inch of them limb; all the data it collects showing up on a screen outside the chamber that Tizzy carefully observe. From this high tech device, a small beep them sounds off; queuing Tizzy to tell them:
“And the analysis is finished. You can take it out now.” “Holy shit finally. Started getting numb after the last half hour. Stuck my hand up something longer, but that’s a story for another day.” Roy states as he slithers his fresh pitch black arm out of the analysis machine’s inner chamber. “So, whatcha come up with?” the orange skater asks. “Well, there doesn’t seem to be anything else belonging to your brother inside. No bones, veins, blood, nothing. Kinda shocking given how close to unstable it is.”
“Anything else?”
“Well, there’s one detail that popped up that bothered me. The genetic make up of his arm primarily consists of strung together chemicals compounds such as Epinephrine, glutamate, Cortisol, Adrenaline, and slight traces of Serotonin. The stuff in your brains that make you feel angry, sad, and scared.” “Is that seriously... why did a bunch of emotional brain juice burst out from Roy’s side and solidify into a working appendage?”
“Maybe that’s something you should ask him.”
The alien suggesting this, the orange skater turns over to her purple brother to ask of him:
“Roy, what might’ve been going through your head moments before that thing came out of you ?” “Well...ya know how we were fighting that giant wood guardian in that hidden Jurassic land and how Alex got fucking impaled right through the stomach?”
“Yeah. I still remember how I felt when I saw that. But how did that wind up triggering you to grow an arm?”
“When I beheld the site of the little devil on a stick, something flashed before my eyes; an image that I felt burst out from the depths of my soul. Two figures, one stabbing the other through the stomach, one wearing a gleeful smile while the other leaked tears from above its horrified frown; both staring out with their hollow white eyes. That alone reminded me of a site that I kept buried deep down for years; and it all suddenly just came up at once like an explosion of confusion, regret, and rage. The closest I could describe it being like would be his mind of the proverbial traumatic edge; teetering on the cusp of madness.”
Upon hearing the purple merc elaborate on the thoughts going through his head is the entire room left at a complete silence; Mally gazing to her violet brother with a mixture of remorse, pity and regretful guilt. Before the orange girl could give even a little word of comfort to him do all of them hear a sharp whistle cut straight through the quiet; the three peering back towards the door to discover Catastrophe leaning against the doorway. “Now that shit’s a full season of a show right there. Closest thing to entertainment I got since crash down on this pathetic little rock.”
“Cat.” Tizzy lightly snaps out. “Something about my emotional trauma funny to ya?” Roy then questions. “You kidding? It’s like one of those shitty characters with a bad backstory crowbarred in to make idiots think they’re deep. Fucking riot right there.”
Amidsts stepping up against the hooded alien girl, the violet angel’s wings sprout forth as the fingers along his pitch black arm starts to get antsy; going on to trash talk on how:
“Guess being on your mama’s little warship for most of your life, ya never really got to feel what its like to be on the other end of life’s massive jackboot. Never really feeling what its like have shit throw right at ya. The fucked up thoughts going through yer head as the memories of all that ya lost come flooding out and crashing onto your psyche til your heads on the verge of melting from the madness…You wanna know what that sort of self inflicting degradation can feel like?”
“That a threat?” Cat wonders with a confident smirk; both of them stand face to face one another as the two give off an overgrowing sense of rising tension. Right as Roy was in the midst of transforming his new arm, something along his other side takes a gentle hold upon the merc’s other limb and breaches through to him, quelling the building rage within; the purple angel gazing off to the side to discover his little sister staring up to him with the look of “Please don’t do it” in her eyes.
In seeing the desperate plea set in his sisters eyes does the purple merc let out a small sigh as he finally breaks away from the antagonizing alien, marching right past Catastrophe and out to the corridor; the violet angel punching the side of the doorway hard enough to leave a hell of a dent. As Mally takes her leave after her pissed off brother, Tizzy approaches her sister with a hammer and tells her to: “Come on. You’re helping me hammer that dent out.” “Like hell I am. Why the hell should I fix something that our guest broke in his little pissy fit?” “Pretty sure you threw a pretty similar one when vain used your little blanket as a dung disposal cleaner.” “You swore never to bring that up!” the two of them hear their semi aquatic brother shout out to them.
As both brother and sister exit out from the downed spacecraft, the orange lass between them starts to apologize with:
“Roy...I-I’m so sorry. I just can’t believe that I didn’t catch on what was bugging you sooner than later. I-I didn’t realize that you were thinking about what happened at-”
“Mally, chill. Ain’t know way you could’ve known the sort of shit that was going through my head. I get you were just worried. But I’ll be just fine. Kay?”
“Hey! What happened back then effected Tore and I too. You ain’t alone on this...Anything ya wanna talk about, we’re here for ya.” “Hm hm hm...Thank’s Mal.” Roy returns with, a heartwarming smile etched across the merc’s face. “No prob...So...You thinkin about headin home?”
“Nah. Still got some stuff to take care of. I’ll be home a little later.”
“Kay. Just don’t get into too much trouble.”
Warning her brother of this does the orange skater swiftly don her skating gear and take off out into the woods; Roy in turn sprouting forth his angelic black wings and taking off into the orange twilight skies.
Among his glide above the nearly thick woodlands, Roy flies back out towards the city of Townsville with the setting sun glistening its twilight gaze at his back; his smile starting to dissipate the farther he flies. “You’ve been awfully quiet about all this.” he suddenly says aloud to break the silence. Out from the depths of his mind does a woman’s voice echo through the merc’s head; responding in kind to him with:
“What do you mean by that?”
“Hera, you usually just chime in in the middle of all this to give some sort of support or to stop me from doing something arguably reprehensible. What’s the deal this time?”
“Roy, have you ever thought a goddess such as I has other duties and responsibilities to tend to then communing with the only mortal I can converse with?”
“...You hiding something aren’t ya?”
“What!? Preposterous! What would urge you to accuse me of something like that?”
“Even with only having clocked in about 16 and a half years in this fucked up game some of us have to call life; I’ve been around long enough to see the warming signs of someone having a long list of secrets hidden somewhere in the bunkers of their head. And a goddess like you without a hell of a doubt’s gotta have some stowed away that vault ya call a head. With what’s on me having been once part of a mighty monster that nearly overtook the world; you think that keeping an eye on even a piece of it would warrant obligation. But Guess not, guess we’ll just blind move along through life; leaving me ignorant of what a threat this could possibly grow into until its far too late and lives are lost. But hey, what’s it with mortals wanting to question what may become of them midst affairs which affect their world, right?”
“Roy, believe me when I say I can’t bring myself to simply tell you with my own words. But if you really wish for the truth and what your arm has to do with me; then I can point you in the right direction.” the goddess in his head assures. “Eh, fair enough. Lead the way.”
The night upon Townsville had come to blanket the city in a think darkness, with nothing but the shadows to accompany the roaming night owls. Atop the mayor building, a dark winged figure hovers down to the very top of its dome rooftop; where upon its arm transforms into a sharp blade that cuts right through its very stone. Cutting a piece right off the roof, the figure lifts the piece right off and slips right on inside.
Along the inside the main office is the door unlocked when a substance of black fills the hole and turns the lock; letting the door creak open and letting the figure walk right in. Within does the figure behold the usual fittings of a mayoral office; books, chairs, desk, computer, bowl of mints, nothing out of the ordinary. And nothing to stop the intruder from venturing over to the desktop and taking a seat behind the screen. With the press of a button does the entire monitor let out an incredible bright light; Roy shielding his site from the intense glow as his eyes adjust to the glow, peeking between his fingers to behold his first obstacle. The password. Rather than blindly attempting to guess the password locking the desktop, the purple merc instead shoves his hand right into his pants pocket and pulls out what appears to be a lone thumb drive; plugging the drive right in and watching the password box fill with numerous letters and numbers until coming to the right code. As the desktop starts to load in, Roy is met with a site that honest to god just baffles him to no end. Is...is this seriously running on Windows 7? That’s 2010’s old. This a government owned desktop! Why the fuck haven’t they updated it yet for security!? Everytime on one of these government owned consoles, they always just have the most out dated Operating systems. One of the computers in the France federal agent building was running on Windows XP for shit sake!? Why!? It doesn’t make any god damn-...Gah! Whatever, not the problem here.
Getting over that strange conundrum, Roy takes the mouse and clicks right into the file explorer, where he starts his search right into the documents. See here...Billing info, Construction plans, Federal investigation, Homoerotic Fanfiction...Incident report. Clicking onto this folder is the purple merc astonished to discover the list of city incidents a literal mile long, the square of the scroll bar being absolutely tiny. Hmm...Dino monster attack, Fire monster attack, slime monster attack, Alien monster attack. Shit, alotta monster attacks here; practically makes up most of the list. Lets try sorting by date. Rearranging the reports by the date they had been documented, one title in particular catches the merc’s attention. “The lady of pink against the Cerberus. 1984” Interesting...Let’s have ourselves a peek here. Clicking right on this title, the document soon loads and present its very text through a writing application, starting his read on the incident beginning with:
“A terrible storm bellows from the east as horrible fires burn through Townsville, centers and businesses crumbling at the seems as a gigantic, dark three headed beast topples everything over in its rampage. Police and military efforts seemed ineffective as fired ammunition seemed to be devoured under the horrible cerberus’s tar like hide. Despite efforts to evacuate, few people escapes from the Chaos as dozens were left injured or burned; or a rather cruel mix of both. As hope for the city had waned to its worst, a female figure donning a heavenly pink glow had flown out from the roaring flames to face the terrible beast; her long blonde hair flowing in the wind. The best this report could describe the ensuing battle was of gods straight from tales of greek mythology; a recreation of the gods against the titans playing out before mortal eyes. With the godly woman of bright pink keeping the terrible beast of black at bay, officials were able to effectively evacuate civilians more effectively.
From what military that stayed behind described, the woman in pink had battled the vicious beast of dark with energy of bright light; her conjured weapons seemingly damaging the monster than any of our conventional weapons could only hope to do. Yet despite the warriors best efforts to defeat this great evil that had descended down upon the city, beast had ultimately worn down the woman midst hours of fighting; the horrible monster in the end devouring the woman in but a single gulp. All hope had seemed utterly crushed as the black demon had cackled upon its very victory; soon turning its burning eyes to the units that had stayed behind. All three of its heads bored a sinister smile as it crawled its way out towards the military unit; some of them fleeing from the seems on its approach while other’s stood their ground, knowing full well there was little they could do to escape from its wrath. Just as the three headed beast was on the verge of striking down the unit, the bowels of its stomach had began to glow a light of faint pink; a glow that quickly began to grow larger and brighter every passing second. In a matter of seconds did this very light explode in a flash of bright pink; blinding every single soldier that stood before the beast of darkness. Once the overwhelming glow had finally dimmed, the unit peered back to find the Cerberus that had terrorized the city was now but in pieces; all with no sign of the brave woman in bright pink light nowhere seen among the remains.
When the cleanup crew had arrived on the seen, most of the remains of the beast had been successfully picked up and stored away from researching purposes; those on the scene had described each piece of the monster as alive, pulsating and wriggling like worms plucked out from the soil. Other’s had witnessed some parts of the monster’s remains slipping away into the night and had attempted to contain every piece before they could escape; while most of the creatures remains had been successfully stowed away in containment, staff have admitted that few pieces had escaped into the unknown. What those pieces of the terrible beast had fled to or what they plan to do is as of yet unknown; something of which may never be realized, else that night may just be only the beginning.”
Its after having read every single paragraph of this report does Roy slump down into the office chair; processing every single detail that he had just read. “Can’t believe it…You gave up living alongside your family just so they could have a future.” Roy awe’s aloud.
“Indeed. And it was with that very sacrifice that I had been chosen to become a goddess.” Its in the midst of this realization that a small, uneasy chuckle starts to escape from him as he leans forward onto the mayor’s desk, Hera wondering in worry:
“Roy?...What’s wrong?” “What’s it worth becoming a god if it meant you couldn’t hold the people you love in your arms anymore; to not longer cherish their very presence as they take in yours? Why not just move on? Why not end it? Suppose those were your final moments inside that thing, weren’t they?” “Roy, when I was offered the position of a goddess. I was told it would involve ensuring the balance of the magical through the universe. Doing such, I could ensure those she left behind had a chance to live for themselves. It has not been easy since then...everyday, I wish to speak them once more, to hold my precious daughter and grandchildren in her arms.”
With all that he had discovered of the very beast that his new arm was once a part of, the violet angel gazes into the dark abyss held within the palm of his hand. “What do ya want done with it?”
“Pardon?” Hera questions. “Its thanks to the monster this arm came from that ya can’t go back to her family; to embrace the ones you loves in you hands. Just knowing that a piece of it is attached to the only person of this world you can converse with must piss you off to no end. Wanting to make sure what happened that night doesn’t befall anyone else.” “I assure to you Roy, that what happened to me that night was something I had decided for myself. I had chosen to give up my life so that others could live. But to make that choice for someone else...it something she could never bring myself to do. Whatever you decide, I’ll stand with you on it.” “No matter where it had came from, this damn thing had taken all the grief and anger that had wielded inside me and had given it a form; but only under my rage has it appeared and obeyed. With what Tore said he could do with life. I wonder if this is what I can do with what’s here?” “And is that what you wish out of it?” the goddess questions. Its in being asked this does the merc’s arm of pitch black clutch into a tight fist, the angel’s uncertain glare transforming into a determined grin. “That’s what it should be.”
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Thought that a little downtime would be appropriate here after the last chapter. Not a lot going on here beside a quick piece of lore and chemistry between characters. Though I purposely set this Chapter up as a repeat of the one where Roy was coping with the loss of his arm, thought it'd be thematically appropriate here.
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stunt-lads · 4 years
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Sex on a counter/table/desk. But make it a pool table and mmmmmm trashstack? 👀
“Jesus Ben, how much money do you have?” 
Ben laughs but Richie is genuinely in awe. He’s been traveling since they reconnected, not the level Mike’s been doing it (Mike flew out to fucking Bill’s house, there’s no way Richie’s gonna do that...yet) but he’s been driving to the nearest Loser he can. He’s already overstayed his welcome with Stan and Patty (not really but Richie knows Stan’s patience is finite.) And Eddie’s been dealing with his own nonsense (his divorce has been hell and Richie’s a nuisance but not an asshole.) And, well, maybe Richie’s been playing favorites. Maybe he’s been visiting the Losers he’s attracted to so he can get the stupid feelings out of his system. 
Sue him.
Except not really because he’s well off but not that well off. 
And not as well off as Ben either apparently. 
“It’s just a basement Richie.”
“Benjamin. Don’t be modest.” He lets his eyes linger on Ben’s ass when he walks by before snapping them up to look around again, “You have a fucking theater in your basement.”
It’s not a home theater like Richie’s seen in pictures from his movie star friends, but there’s a surround sound system and a flatscreen set deep into the wall with a counter on one wall with snacks and a microwave and a couch big enough to fit all the losers and then some. 
“And a pool table.” Richie’s mind does a record scratch when Ben slides open a door that he hadn’t even seen, the basement nearly doubling in size. There’s not only a pool table, but there’s a bar and a couch and Richie immediately thinks of some fun activities he could get up to in a setup like this. 
He licks his lips and swallows to himself as he follows Ben into the second part of his basement. 
“Want a drink?” Ben offers and Richie accepts eagerly. He’ll take any reason to not be sober when he’s around people he’s attracted to. 
He wonders, leaning against the pool table and watching as Ben pours them both some cognac (the absolute bastard of course it’s cognac), if Ben would be down to fuck. He chokes on his own spit at the thought and clears his throat when Ben looks up at him curiously. 
“You ever play?” Richie asks, choosing not to comment on his own thoughts. 
“No one to play with.” Ben says, shrugging and gently handing Richie his drink. 
“Shit Haystack, let’s play!” Richie barely, barely, refrains from downing his whole drink in one, but he’s not that stupid, this shit’s expensive and he’s gonna savor it. 
Ben laughs, sipping from his own glass, “Yeah, alright, let’s do it!”
Richie didn’t think it through, not really. Because yes, he wanted to play pool with Ben because it’s fun. It’s a fun game. But he did not take into account that he, Richie Tozier, is a horny bastard. 
More than once he caught himself staring at the way Ben would lean over the table, imagining how easy it would be to just slide his hands up Ben’s sides and bury his dick in his ass. 
Richie is grateful for the crack of the cue ball hitting the others when it happens because it draws him from his thoughts. 
He isn’t sure how it happens, just that he’s taking his turn and Ben’s gone real quiet, so he looks over and Ben is staring at him the way he’s been staring all fucking night and oh boy, does that make him feel hot. 
Richie can work with this. He stands up, putting on a bit of a show and stretching his back as he does so, walking around to the other side to continue his turn. 
“So,” He hopes he sounds casual, “You been seein’ anyone?” 
His face heats in embarrassment and Richie revels in it. 
“Just,” He clears his throat, downing the last of his drink before he answers, “Just Bev sometimes.” 
“‘Sometimes’? What does ‘sometimes’ mean Benny boy?” 
“She’ll come over and we’ll...y’know, and then she goes home again.” 
“So is it like, an open relationship or friends with benefits?” 
“Why’s it matter?” 
“It doesn’t, I’m just curious.” The game is forgotten, Richie doesn’t care about it because all he hears right now is that Ben is available to fuck. 
“Yeah, well, what about you?” 
“What about me?” 
“Are you, y’know.” 
“Ben, we’re both adults here, you can ask me if I’m having sex on the reg.” Richie is delighted by the way Ben’s face turns red and he barely stops himself from marching over to the bar, he laughs a little before pretending to be interested in the game again, “But, no. Haven’t really been interested in anyone lately, and I’ve never been one to do the whole ‘romance’ thing.” 
“I’ve been told I’m ‘too much’.” He punctuates the sentence with his turn, letting the crack of the balls make sound so he doesn’t have to deal with how badly that phrase has always hurt him. 
He doesn’t miss the way Ben’s face looks sad for a moment as he comes back around to stand next to him, and he wonders if he should play the sympathy card to get some sex. But, nah, if it were Stan or Bill, yea sure, but Ben is too nice for that. 
“Anyway, what I’m hearing is you’re available,” Richie says, downing the rest of his drink, “You wanna fuck?” 
Ben’s eyes widen to near comical proportions and Richie laughs. He can’t help it, it’s just so funny to see Ben so embarrassed. 
“I—I’m straight?” 
“Ben, sweetie,” Richie says it slowly, like he’s trying to explain to a child, “straight men don’t stare at their male friends asses when they bend over a pool table.” 
He sees the hesitation and he smiles, a little more forced than before, he can play this off, even if he did want Ben’s dick so far in him he tastes it, or his dick so deep in Ben he’ll feel it for days after. He opens his mouth to joke it off, tell him he’s just kidding, but Ben speaks first. 
“No. I mean, I’ve only ever slept with women. I don’t—I wouldn’t know what to do.” 
Oh. Oh. Yeah, Richie can definitely work with this. 
“Lucky for you I know exactly what I’m doing.” He digs in his pocket, pulling out a small travel sized bottle of lube and Ben scoffs. Richie looks up, suddenly apprehensive but then he sees the fond smile on Ben’s face and he grins to match it. 
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you planned this Tozier.” 
“It never hurts to be prepared Benny boy.” 
“Where...where are we gonna—?”
“Right here.” Richie says cheerfully as he hops up on the edge of the pool table. He tugs Ben close by his shirt collar and grins like a shark, “First, I need to know if kissing is okay, sometimes people don’t like it for hookups. Bill’s not a real fan of it but Bill’s not a fan of much anything if it’s not Mike’s dick—”
“Richie.”
“Right! Sorry! Second, have you ever done anal with a girl?” 
“First,” Ben whispers, his voice low, and this feels wayy more intimate suddenly, “Kissing is nice and I don’t mind it. Second, no. I’ve only ever done uh, y’know...”
“P in V, got it.” Richie laughs, why does he sound so breathless? It’s just Ben for Christ’s sake.
“I was gonna say missionary.” Ben mumbles and Richie wants to laugh, to tease him about it, but then Ben’s kissing him and wow, Ben is absolutely the best kisser of all of the Losers. Richie thinks even Bill would be down to kiss Ben. He feels his cock get hard in his pants, pressing eagerly against the zipper. He’d be embarrassed by how easy he is but he can’t because Ben’s sliding closer as he deepens the kiss and Richie can feel his cock hardening too. 
Maybe they’re both a little touch starved. 
Richie eases Ben back, breaking the kiss even though he doesn’t want to. He wants to kiss him again when he hears the soft broken sound that comes from Ben’s throat. 
“Fuck Ben, we haven’t even started yet.” Richie teases gently, he pulls his jeans down, hissing softly as the fabric rubs against the sensitive head of his dick. 
“Richie,” He thinks Ben wants to sound incredulous, like he can’t believe Richie went fucking commando, but all it sounds like is desperation. 
“Hold your horses, I gotta—” There’s no lead up before he’s sliding two lube covered fingers into his body. He doesn’t usually like bottoming, strangers are always too rough and messy, but with his friends? Sure. Besides, Ben wouldn’t be ready for a dick right away anyways. This is easier. 
He’s careful as he prepares himself and he gets a little lost in it, head tipping back and moans escaping occasionally. He’s snapped back to the present when Ben presses a kiss to his throat, open mouthed and full of teeth. Richie lets out a whine he would deny ever came from him as Ben slides him down on his back. The edge of the pool table digs into the small of his back and he’s pretty sure he’ll feel it later, assuming he doesn’t see it in the bruises this will likely leave on his body. 
He doesn’t realize Ben’s sliding his hand away from his ass until his hand is replacing his fingers and oh his fingers can go deeper. Richie keens, arching his back as Ben’s fingers scissor him open. 
“For never having done this before,” Richie pants out, toes curling as Ben brushes a knuckle past his prostate, “You s-sure know what you’re doing.”
“I’ve fingered girls to get them ready before Richie. Can’t be much different than that.” Richie wants to snark back but then if he does that he might not get a dick in him and he kinda needs that now or he feels like he’ll die. 
“Oh good. Wouldn’t want those ladies to ever have to be torn in half by your, assumedly, massive dick.” 
“I wouldn’t say massive but it’s not small if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Ben, fucking, just—!” Richie’s getting impatient, there’s four fingers in him now and Ben keeps accidentally, brushing his prostate, like he’s avoiding it on purpose. 
“Bossy.” Ben huffs in the kiss Richie initiates, but then his fingers are being removed and Richie feels so empty he could cry, “Do you have a con—”
“Don’t need one, I like to be filled, hurry up.” Richie whines and Ben laughs at him, “You’re laughing. I’m dying without a dick in me and you’re fucking laughing, how could you Ben.” 
But then Ben’s sliding into him and Richie forgets how to breathe. Which he’s only aware of because of the way Ben reminds him to. And then he gasps, panting softly into the air of the basement that Richie was making fun of Ben for not even an hour ago. 
“B-Ben I—”
“I know,” He doesn’t even sound smug which makes the whole thing worse somehow. He moves his legs shakily, sliding them around Ben’s waist and locking him in. 
“Lets go big guy,” He hopes he sounds demanding but judging by the expression Ben makes he just sounds whiny, “Fuck me up.” 
Fucking on a pool table is an experience. It’s too heavy to move across the floor with the thrusts Ben makes into him, but damn if he isn’t trying, each thrust so deep Richie’s sure at any moment he’s gonna taste his dick all the way up in his mouth. Plus the creaking of the wood is a little scary, but the way the pool balls end up rolling into the pockets makes them laugh a little. 
Overall it’s not a bad experience, just different. 
And then Ben does it. He gets this grin on his face as he leans back to stand up straight, pulling Richie to him, making him hiss softly in pain as the felt of the table rubs up his back, bunching up his shirt and it’s not comfortable but he forgets it all as Ben shifts just enough to slide hard against his prostate with every thrust into him. He cries out so loud that he’s sure people in the neighboring states can hear him. His eyes cross and every exhale has him whimpering and whining, clawing at the felt on the table under him. 
His whines become louder as Ben reaches between them, grabbing his cock confidently, “C’mon Richie, come for me.” He whispers it and it’s so filthy, so unlike Ben that Richie can’t fucking help it, he comes hard, painting his own stomach and Ben’s hand with his come, his vision is still blurry and doubled even as he tenses and shakes while Ben continues, groaning softly as he comes shortly after. He leans down and presses a kiss to the side of Richie’s face. 
“Feel better?” Ben whispers and Richie nods. He smiles like an idiot. There’s a soft throat clearing and Ben’s eyes glance up towards the doorway. Richie tilts his head back and sees Bev and Eddie there, both looking bored. 
“Couldn’t wait?” Bev asks, sipping at her Starbucks.
“He’s needy.” Ben shrugs, and Richie hates him for being so nonchalant about it when he feels like he’s boneless on this table. 
Bev sighs and rolls her eyes. “The others are gonna be here soon, hurry it up. Patty doesn’t need to know we’re all fucking sex fiends.” 
“Richie more than any of us.” Eddie comments idly, averting his eyes as Richie moans, toes curling and back arching just for effect as Ben pulls out, laughing. He can play that game. 
“Fu-uhh-ck off.” Richie draws it out, trying to keep the appearance up but he really is fucked out now. 
“Can’t believe you let him top.” Bev says, walking past them to get to the bar, “He’s insufferable when he tops, thinks he’s so cool.” 
It takes a moment for Richie’s brain to catch up. “What?”  “...Oh my god, Ben, did you lie to this poor man?” Ben has the audacity to laugh. 
“He’s been staring at my ass since we came down into the basement, I figured if I was the one who had to initiate it and be obvious then I could top.” 
“My ass hurts and I’m leaking come and you’re telling me I could have fucked you?” Richie finally asks as he sits up on his elbows.
“Maybe next time you’ll be more obvious.” Ben says calmly, pointedly looking at the theater area where Eddie is actively trying not to listen as he gets snacks ready. 
“...That’s different fuck off.” Bev and Ben laugh at him and he smiles, “You’re all such Losers.” He mumbles as he tries to get dressed. Maybe he’ll talk to Eddie about it. Maybe next time they can all get together or maybe Eddie will wanna just hold hands. He thinks he could do that, for Eddie. 
58 notes · View notes
spaceskam · 3 years
Text
From A Whisper To A Scream (4/10)
warnings: torture basically, sprinkle in a little trauma
1 | 2 | 3 |
ao3
“Alright, you got five seconds to come out of there.”
Michael froze, laying on the backseat of the broken-down ‘97 Audi. He was hoping if he stayed still enough, Sanders would forget he ever saw any kind of movement. Did he move? He couldn’t remember. He must’ve dozed off.
“Now, I ain’t about to tell you again. Get out of there.”
Michael closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. He’d been trying at the junkyard for a couple of weeks now with no problem. He knew it was too good to be true. Slowly, he sat up and made eye contact with Old Manes Sanders. He gestured for Michael to get out and Michael listened. 
“You gonna tell me why you’re in there at 7 in the morning or am I supposed to read your mind?” Sanders asked. Michael just stared straight ahead.
“I’ll leave, don’t worry about it,” Michael said. Sanders snorted a laugh.
“You ain’t goin’ nowhere until you tell me what’s goin’ on,” Sanders told him. Michael glared. At fifteen, he wasn’t as tall as Sanders, but he was nothing if not willing to overcompensate with anger. 
“I’m not telling you shit.”
“Don’t get snappy with me, boy,” Sanders said, “When’s the last time you ate?”
“Why the fuck do you care?” Michael snapped. Sanders took a deep breath, giving him a very unimpressed look. But it wasn’t pity either. That was the only thing keeping him from storming off.
“Look, you ain’t gotta tell me specifics, but, that home you’re supposed to be at, it’s so bad that you’re sleepin’ in the junkyard? Or is it you just feeling rebellious?” Sanders asked. Anger boiled beneath Michael’s skin at the insinuation that he was overreacting. Max did that stuff even when he was well-meaning. Just because he didn’t spill every tiny detail didn’t mean he was a liar.
Despite his better judgment, Michael pulled up his sleeve and showed the healing burn mark on his arm that had directly covered an older burn scar they put there before. Forever engraved with a cross, reminding him that he was a freak of nature when it came to these humans. But he wasn’t about to let Sanders drag him back.
“Come inside, eat somethin’ ‘cause you look like a sack of bones, and then we’re headin’ over to that house.”
“No!” Michael yelled, a little more desperation in his voice than he intended.
“We’re gonna head over there,” Sanders repeated, louder and firmer, “So you can get your shit. Then we’re gonna find your social worker and figure out what we need to do to make sure you stay out of places like that.”
“What?” Michael scoffed, “You don’t think they’re gonna just throw me somewhere else for running? Juvie, this time, probably.”
“Well, if things go like they should’ve gone damn near a decade ago now, you’ll stay with me and I ain’t gonna put up with the running away shit,” Sanders said. It shut Michael right up.
He didn’t understand what he was being told. It almost sounded like someone wanted to keep him around. 
“Why?” Michael asked cautiously.
Sanders sighed and looked everywhere but at him.
“Long time ago, I met a nice lady who took care of me like I was her own and she showed me where her own actually was. Made a promise I’d keep an eye out for him and I ain’t about to break it now,” he said, leaving out far too many details. Michael felt like he got punched in the gut and his head spun. He didn’t understand.
“Wait, does that mean you know‒” my mom, what I am, where I’m from, what I’m capable of, if I’m dangerous, “That I‒”
“You want breakfast or not?” Sanders asked gruffly, already walking away.
Michael ran after him.
-
Michael gasped back into consciousness and Eff stood over him with confused eyes and an acupuncture needle in his hand.
“What’d you see?” Eff asked.
“When my dad decided he was gonna adopt me,” Michael said. Eff made a face like that was disappointing, but he nodded and took a few steps back to record it in his notebook. Michael lifted a shaky hand to rub the nearly invisible hole on his left temple.
Apparently, aliens had very similarly placed pressure points to humans, but they did very different things. Provoking them could trigger powers or memories or any number of things that the brain could do in someone’s subconscious. It took them a few tries to find the exact point on Michael’s head to stab a needle into, but, when he found it, he was thrown back to being just a kid.
“Let’s test your telekinetic limit again, see if that affected it in any way,” Eff said, taking the gloves off and dropping the needle into a glass of some ambiguously clear substance to sterilize it. 
Michael stood to his feet, feeling a little dizzy from the memory. Eff gave him the space to do so and waited for him to get steady before they walked outside.
Eff’s workplace of choice was a small shed in the middle of nowhere. No one lived for miles in any direction and the only way someone could find it is if they knew where it was and they were willing to drive 45 minutes into the desert. It had a couch, a cot, a bathroom, and a kitchen area. Most of the shed, though, was covered in equipment to test on Michael.
It turns out, though, that everything got a lot less scary the more he was there. Yeah, Eff was still mean and he never let Michael truly forget that he didn’t see him as an equal, but, for the most part, it wasn’t that bad. Or at least he’d focused on the bright side. This was the first person who was allowing and actively encouraging Michael to explore things about himself that he’d never gotten the chance to. If this was his fate, it wasn’t the worst.
So what if it was slightly off his game and tired and hadn’t had nearly enough alone time with Alex. It was better than having none of those at all.
“Alright, lift the truck again,” Eff said, pulling out his stopwatch, “And I swear to God, if you drop it again, I’m going to kick your ass.”
Rolling his eyes, Michael held out his hand and focused. The 5,000lb truck was definitely a strain on his abilities, but it felt so nice. It was like an itch that he’d been waiting to scratch, a muscle being stretched, a lung filling with air. This was what he needed. Yesterday, he’d been able to hold it up for 45 seconds before he got a nosebleed and dropped it. Before the needle, he’d again only got to 45 seconds before he had to put it down to prevent dropping it again. No nosebleed.
Now, a little stretched out and a little more excited about what he could do, he fought through the shakiness and ignored the itchy feeling of an oncoming bloody nose. He breathed steadily and just focused. Eventually, though, he gave out and put the car down, dropping to his knees and catching his breath. He wiped his nose and caught his breath.
“One minute, seven seconds. Not bad,” Eff said. Michael smiled. “Now throw the ball.”
Michael took a few extra seconds to breathe before slowly getting back to his feet. He turned his attention to the steel ball that was somewhere around 100lbs, give or take. Michael breathed in deep before picking it up and hurling it as hard as his body would allow at a mat that was propped up 20 yards away that was only there to stop it from going too far.
“Only 35mph,” Eff said.
“You didn’t give me enough time to recover,” Michael argued.
“Doesn’t excuse your shitty number,” he said. Michael clenched his jaw. And he was almost doing good. “Get inside, we’re doing a few more pressure points.”
“Do you know when you’ll let me go home? I have homework,” Michael said, still staring out into the distance.
“Why are you doing homework still?” Eff scoffed.
Michael was about to ask why he wouldn’t, but then he remembered who he was talking to. Eff didn’t see a need because he didn’t think Michael would have a future.
He’d be the one personally making sure he didn’t.
-
Alex walked into the Crashdown with his eyes tied to his phone.
Ever since last Saturday had ended in him holding Michael all night, things had been a little weird. He couldn’t put his finger on it exactly, just that Michael’s mind wasn’t always with him. He wasn’t begging Alex to come over every night like he usually did, simply satisfied with making out in the back of the truck before Alex had to go home. Tuesday Alex had gone to his house to surprise him only to be told Michael wasn’t home. It’d caused so much embarrassment Alex refused to even drive in that direction unless Michael specifically asked ever again.
Alex didn’t want to push or assume or be that guy. Being with Michael was fun and nice, but there was clearly something going on with him and if he was having second thoughts about them, Alex wasn’t about to try and beg him to stay. Besides, it might not even be that. He might be embarrassed for breaking down or there might be a football thing Alex didn’t know about or any number of things. He didn’t know, he hadn’t really gotten the chance to ask. He wasn’t going to act like Michael was pulling away until he knew for sure. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t stare at his phone.
Good timing, too, because it rang.
“Hello, littlest brother,” Flint said loudly into the phone, clearly on speaker with the sound of a car running in the background. Alex smiled just as Arturo, the owner of the Crashdown, came up to take his order.
“Hey, give me one second,” he said, moving the phone to tell Arturo his order. He nodded and told him to tell Flint that he said hi. “Mr. Ortecho said hi.”
“Hello, Mr. Ortecho!” Flint said loud enough that Arturo heard it. He chuckled and walked back into the kitchen. “So, I got some good news.”
“What is it? You finally got that stick surgically removed from your ass?”
“I’m personally offended by that. I thought we were on the same team when it came to the stick being in Clay’s ass,” Flint said. Alex huffed a laugh. “No, but I’m coming into town soon.”
“Wait, for real?” Alex asked, excitement coursing through his system. As much as his brothers annoyed him and he thought Flint was just as lame for listening to their father, he loved them. He also loved not having to be alone with his dad all the time. “When?”
“I’m thinking Monday or Tuesday? Soon, I’ll keep you updated so we can make plans,” Flint said, “Gotta give some shit to Dad.”
“Okay, yeah, can’t wait,” Alex said.
“Tell me something fun, though, what’s going on with you? Anything new?” Flint asked.
Alex bit down on his lip and wondered if he should mention Michael. He wanted to. He never really came out to Flint, but he was pretty sure Flint knew and didn’t care. Either way, he wanted to share like he shared with Maria and Liz even if it was just because he wanted to say “hey look at this thing I got even though Dad said no”. Even though he was kind of unsure about where exactly they stood, this was still an achievement. This was still his. That counted.
“I’ve, uh,” he said, glancing around quickly. There was a table of cheerleaders from his school in the corner, but they were too far to hear. “I’ve kinda been talking to someone.”
“Oh, what? My baby brother is suddenly not such a baby?” Flint teased. Alex smiled and rolled his eyes.
“My not being a baby has nothing to do with having a relationship. I haven’t been a baby for a long time.”
“Yeah, okay, I’ll believe that one day, maybe,” Flint said, “So, tell me about them.”
“It’s not, like, super serious or anything,” Alex said, hesitating just a little as he considered if he was ready to officially come out via pronouns, “But… he’s really nice and smart and I like him a lot. I think you’d like him, he’s got the same rebellious-but-not-really vibe you do.”
“Oh, so you chose someone with the same vibe as me? Glad I showed you what good taste was,” Flint said. Alex laughed. When Arturo brought his tray over, he mouthed his thanks. “Well, is he making you happy? Does he know you have a brother who will kick his ass if he isn’t?”
“He does make me happy, yeah,” Alex promised, “But I’m not telling him your threats.”
“Fair enough,” he said, “Maybe I can tell him myself when I come to see you.”
Alex chewed on his lip for a second. “I don’t know, I’d have to ask him.”
“Well, do that. We’ll even go somewhere outside of Roswell if it makes you two feel a little better.”
“I’ll ask,” Alex repeated, “And, uh, thanks. For being cool.”
“You say that like I’m not the coolest person you know,” Flint said, “Alright, weirdo, I’ll let you eat. Call you later. Love you.��
“Love you too.”
Alex put his phone down, feeling more confident that he had in a few days. He probably wasn’t actually going to ask Michael. Things were already a little weird and he didn’t want to press, so he’d probably just lie and say Michael wasn’t ready for all that. But, still, it was nice to know that Flint asked. He was interested.
It gave him enough confidence to text Michael first, deciding that it wasn’t too needy to reach out instead of waiting for Michael to do it. He sent a simple hey and then got to his food.
“Hey, Alex,” a sing-songy voice said. Alex looked towards it to see one of the cheerleaders. He furrowed his eyebrows, chewing slower as she sat on the stool beside him. She had never said a word to him before. He didn’t even know her name.
“Uh, hi?”
“Sorry if I’m bothering you, but I wanted to come talk to you. I mean, we’re friends, right?” she said. Alex felt like he was falling into a trap.
“I guess.”
“I just wanted to let you know that when you come to the games, you can sit up front with the rest of the guys’ girlfriends,” she said. Alex kept staring at her with a confused expression. “If you come, I mean. I haven’t seen you at any of the games before.”
“Why would I go to a football game?” Alex asked slowly. She smiled even wider.
“To watch Michael play, silly,” she said, “It’s a part of dating a football player.”
“I’m not dating a football player,” Alex said. And he wasn’t. Or, at least, not that she needed to know. He didn’t owe any of them that knowledge.
“Come on, you can tell me,” she pressed. He just stared. “I’m just letting you know that you’re welcome to sit by us. We can all gossip. We’d love to hear what it’s like to actually date Michael. He’s always been super interested in just really quiet hookups. I guess I can see why.”
“Yeah, well,” Alex said. He still couldn’t quite tell if she was making fun of him or not. The rest of the girls at the table weren’t laughing, but…
“You don’t have to,” she said, flashing the biggest smile it felt like he’d ever seen, “I just wanted you to know that we think it’s super cool we finally have a gay football player. We think you guys are just so cute.”
Alex wondered how many more times he could listen to people call Michael gay when they knew literally nothing about him before he lost it.
“How are we cute when we’re not together?” Alex asked. She rolled her eyes playfully.
“You know what I mean. The whole two separate looks, it’s perfect,” she said. Alex’s phone saved him by going off and Alex immediately gave it his attention.
Michael: i was just thinking about you where are you
Alex: Crashdown
Michael: room for 1 more?
Alex: For you? Always
Michael: 😍
“Is that Michael?” the girl asked, bringing him back to the conversation. He looked at her.
“Yeah,” he said honestly. He didn’t want to be rude. She wasn’t technically being rude. But, still, he wasn’t sure if she was or not. “Thanks for the offer, by the way, but I’m fine. You don’t have to sit with me.”
“Okay, okay,” she said, holding up her hands in surrender, “It was nice talking to you.”
“Mhm,” Alex hummed. He spared her a glance as she walked back to her friends and saw them giggling which wasn’t a good sign. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on his food.
Within the next couple minutes, the bell above the door dinged and a warm presence sat close beside Alex. He looked up to see Michael standing beside him. He had on a big smile despite the fact that his eyes had dark circles beneath them. It again had him questioning if something was actually going on and not just him questioning their relationship.
“Hey,” Alex said.
“Hey,” Michael said back, reaching over him to grab a fry from his tray.
“Get your own,” Alex said, unsuccessfully trying to stop him from shoving the fry into his mouth. Michael just smiled as he chewed and Alex was too charmed to be irritated. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“Me too, this week has been a lot,” Michael said softly, sitting down on the stool beside him and pulling it close, “But I wanna see you more. What are your plans tonight?”
“I gotta have the car back by 8, but I can sneak out if you wanna come get me,” Alex suggested. Michael nodded.
“Yeah, we can do that,” he said, reaching over to steal more of Alex’s fries. 
“Dude, do you want to order food?” Alex laughed. He shook his head.
“I’ll just eat yours.”
Alex rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he stared at him as they ate. Not only did he have dark circles under his eyes, but he was also chewing slow and seeming to zone out just by sitting there. And Alex was beginning to really think that it had nothing to do with their relationship.
“Hey,” Alex said, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Michael said.
Alex considered just leaving it. But he left it last time and things had clearly not gotten any better. His eyes drifted over to the girls at the table, noticing that they were not-so-subtly watching them as if they were an exhibit in a zoo. He tried not to let it bother him as he leaned a little closer.
“Seriously, what’s going on? You’re worrying me,” Alex told him quietly. Michael made eye contact with him and gave him that little tiny smile that felt like it was only for him. Maybe it was. “Stop it, tell me. Are you sick or something? Is something going on?” 
“You are my favorite person in the whole world, Alex Manes,” he said. Alex tilted his head in that no-nonsense way that just made Michael smile wider. “I’ve been helping Max fix his car, sorry I didn’t really let you know. It’s been taking up my time. And it’s just been one of those weeks. I’m okay.”
“So you’re not just trying to get rid of me either?” Alex clarified. It was honestly relieving to see that it wasn’t anything too bad. Michael’s eyes widened a little bit.
“No, absolutely not. I want to see you more, this week has sucked without you,” he said, batting those eyelashes, “It’s really hard to sleep well without you anymore.”
“Mm, well, maybe I’ll help you get to some good sleep tonight,” Alex said, a suggestive tone in his voice. Michael grinned, his tongue pressing to the back of his teeth.
“Can I touch you in public or is that a no go?” Michael asked. Alex again found himself looking over to the cheerleaders. “No?”
“They were asking me about us earlier,” Alex said, “Told me I could sit with the other guys’ girlfriends and we could all gossip. And that we’re so cute.”
“I think we’re pretty cute,” Michael told him, still smiling. When Alex didn’t respond right away, it faded. “Were they bothering you?”
“No, I just…” Alex said, trying to find the right words. He didn’t have them. Instead, he thought about his conversation with Flint and how good that felt to just be. To talk and act like there was nothing to even think about. He wanted that. “Yeah, you can touch me.”
“You sure?” Michael said. Alex nodded.
“Nothing too extreme.”
“Obviously, that’s for later,” he said. Alex snorted, but let Michael just move closer and rest his head on his shoulder. He could feel the way his body immediately released some tension. 
He couldn’t wait to get him alone so he could remove the rest.
-
“Michael.”
“Nope, not talking about this with you.”
“Michael! This isn’t just about you! This affects us! Stop fucking avoiding us so you can do what you want!”
Michael sighed, bowing his head. He took a few deep breaths and opened his eyes slowly, looking at the engine he was working on. It helped to work with his hands. All the shit he was doing with Eff was too much with his mind and it was nice to just turn it off and use his hands. And, besides, this was the one day it seemed Eff had no interest in doing tests. He planned to just work on this car until Alex could come back over. 
But apparently, he had to still use his brain today.
“What do you want me to say?” Michael asked as he turned to face Max and Isobel. They both looked angry at him. Which was fair. He’d been avoiding them as much as possible. He didn’t want Eff to get any interest in them. They were going to have a future. They weren’t going to end up like him. 
And, besides, he should’ve known this was coming. People were talking about him and Alex. He had no drive to stop them. He had way bigger problems than people gossiping about his love life even if that meant having his siblings find out through someone else.
“Well, first off, why aren’t you talking to us? Did you think we wouldn’t notice?” Isobel asked.
“And are you actually dating Alex? Because what happens when something goes wrong? What happens when he gets hurt?” Max added.
“Or what happens when you get hurt?” Isobel said, “If he breaks up with you or realizes you’re lying to him? Because you are lying to him.”
“And don’t even think about telling him. This isn’t some small little thing, Michael, this is our lives.”
“You don’t think I know that?” Michael asked. He intended for it to have more bite than it actually did. He wanted to be angry with them, but it was hard when they weren’t wrong. Michael was stupid. It was how he ended up being the one caught by Eff. “Look, I’m being safe.”
“Michael,” Isobel said, stepping up to him. She had that concerned look in her eye that made it hard not to listen. “We don’t lie to each other, okay? That’s not something we can do when it’s just the three of us. We were there when you decided to join the football team and I helped you fake all your physicals, you remember? We’re not trying to hold you back. This is something extremely serious.”
“I know it is,” Michael said, “I just… I like him, Isobel. He makes me feel good. I don’t want to give that up just because I’m not human.”
“But we said‒”
“I know what we said,” Michael sighed, looking to Max and then back to Isobel before he closed his eyes, “But, I can promise you, it’s okay. We’re not toxic to them. Nothing has happened to Alex or the girls I’ve slept with. They’re all fine. We don’t have to be alone like this.”
They stared at him, unreadable expressions. He was anticipating them to yell at him and he was prepared to bury himself in a hole until he felt better. But they didn’t yell. They just stared.
“How long have you known?” Max asked. Michael took a deep breath.
“About two years,” he answered honestly. Max scoffed.
“So, what, I kept away from Liz for no reason?” he asked. Michael didn’t have the heart to tell him that he didn’t think he would’ve gone after Liz anyway. 
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Isobel wondered.
“I didn’t want you to be mad at me for breaking the deal,” Michael admitted, rubbing his eye, “I, I should’ve told you. A while ago. That wasn’t fair of me and I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for ignoring you, I’ve been stressed lately and I don’t want to affect you guys.”
“But you still didn’t have an answer for what happens when he realizes you’re lying to him. You can’t tell him what we are,” Max insisted. Michael immediately shook his head.
“I swear, I won’t. You two come first always.”
“Do we? Because It doesn’t sound like it.”
He swallowed harshly, closing his eyes. He thought about the other day when Eff had pricked him with that needle on his wrist and it had triggered waves of power that he couldn’t control that had sent him into a seizure-like state or when he pricked the one on his neck and that same power paralyzed him until he cried, both times immediately followed by Eff bringing him outside to test again. At the moment, it hadn’t seemed like it was that bad. He was still free and still had Alex. He still wouldn’t wish it onto Max and Isobel.
“Trust me,” Michael said, “You come first.”
“This is bullshit, Michael. You’re being stupid,” Max scolded.
“Max,” Isobel said, “Come on, this is good news, isn’t it? We can be normal.”
“Normal,” Max echoed, huffing a laugh, “I can never be normal."
"But, normal enough, right? College, wife, kids, white picket fence?" Michael pointed out, "You can have that. It's safe."
"Since when have you wanted that?" Max scoffed. And Michael didn't want that. It had always sounded boring. But with his current circumstances, that was an unachievable paradise. He wanted Max and Isobel to take it and run with it.
"I don't, but you guys do," he offered lamely.
"You really like Alex that much?" Isobel asked, "That you're finally telling us this?"
"Yeah, I do," Michael said. It wasn't a lie. He did like Alex that much. Just… it wasn't the entire reason. 
"And you're happy?"
Somehow, that felt like a trick question.
"Yes," he said.
"Then we're happy," Isobel said, "Shut up, Max."
Michael wished that was a sign everything would be that easy. That maybe when it came out that he lied to them again about something a million times worse that they wouldn't be angry. He just had to tell himself that.
But, later, when Alex came over again, he still found himself feeling wrong and off. He was wondering if he was always going to feel wrong and off for the rest of his life.
Alex, however, was a nice distraction from the bullshit. He was reading a book for class and Michael had wedged himself between his legs, his knees hooked over his shoulders and his head resting comfortably between his thighs. If he stayed right there, nothing could hurt him.
He breathed slow and closed his eyes, trying to convince himself that this was worth every single mistake. Alex's warm skin against his cheeks, the grounding presence of his feet on his stomach, his hand in his hair, the door and the window locked, and nothing but the sound of the AC and Alex turning pages filling his mind. This was the safest space in the world. He refused to believe differently.
Michael dozed in and out of consciousness, his mind drained and wanting sleep more than he was able to give. He was almost actually asleep until the sky decided to be a bitch and thunder loud enough to wake him up. He slowly dragged his eyes open, his fingers gliding over the unrealistically soft hair on his thigh. He pressed his nose into his skin, breathing him in. Then he pressed his lips there and reveled in the way Alex shifted a little in response. It wasn't until he parted his lips and carefully bit into the sweet skin of his inner thigh that Alex actually reacted. He tightened his legs around him, giving him a little squeeze that was way hotter than it was meant to be.
"Excuse you," Alex scolded, voice soft and a little deeper than usual as if he'd fallen asleep too. It made Michael smile. This really was safe. 
"It's right here in my face, what do you want from me? I only have so much self-control," Michael said. Alex chuckled, his hand taking through his curls before tugging a little.
He spread his legs wider and urged Michael up to move up. Michael complied, laying beside him and accepting the kiss he gave. He didn't want tomorrow to come. Tomorrow meant more Eff, more work, more stress. Today meant this.
"Hey, can I ask you something?" Alex asked, "You can say no and I won't be mad even a little."
"What's up?" Michael asked. He couldn't imagine telling Alex no.
"You remember that brother I told you about? He's coming into town," Alex said, not really making eye contact. Michael hummed. "Would you wanna meet him?"
"You want me to meet your brother?" Michael asked. Alex shrugged and nodded.
"It could be fun. He said we could go somewhere outside of Roswell so it won't be too bad," Alex urged, "You can say no."
Michael stared at him and weighed his options. He didn't mind saying yes. If it was before he ran into Eff, he would've said yes in a heartbeat. But now things were a little different and he didn't want to make such important plans when he had no idea when he would steal him for the evening.
"Um, can I say yes but pull out if I need to?" Michael asked. Alex eyed him but nodded slowly. 
"You really can just say no."
"I want to go, though. Things have just been weird lately and something might come up. I'll let you know if it does, though," Michael said.
"Like what?" Alex asked.
"Like if Sanders needs me to help him or Isobel needs me to come get her. I'm surrounded by needy people lately and it's making it really hard for me to be needy towards you," Michael teased. Alex smiled and reached out, touching his cheek softly.
"Okay, whatever works," he said, "He just wants to meet you."
"And I want to meet him," Michael promised, "But, uh, does this mean you're my boyfriend? 'Cause this feels awfully official."
Alex grinned and rolled his eyes, pushing himself into Michael for a long kiss. Michael pulled him even closer.
It was the nicest yes he'd ever gotten.
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winterscaptain · 3 years
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do you have a directors commentary for redamcy? it’s my go to fic when i’ve had a rough day
i love redamancy :’) thank you for requesting this one. it was such a gift to go back through this one and 
commentary in bold italics. 
“Hey, Aaron?” You peered around the wall to the bedroom from your place on the master bath toilet. There wasn’t any urgency to your query, which would later make you both laugh until you couldn’t breathe. 
Welcome to this installment of “Tali does the equivalent of voiceover commentary on her fics!” I had so much fun that I’m fulfilling requests on these whenever - all you gotta do is ask :) 
They’ll be a little slow because I like to take my time and I’m also writing other things, but this is a nice break because I don’t need to have original thoughts! Only recycled ones!
Alright so we start off here and I wanted this first establishing moment to give us another little window into their lives - they’re so settled after seven years of marriage and eleven years together and I wanted to emphasize that as much as possible. 
Aaron had a book in his lap and reading glasses resting on his perfect nose, as was usual for bedtime. He turned a page. “Hm?”
You know in marriage when you barely pay attention to each other? We’re there. 
“When you get to a good stopping point, can you grab the go bag?” 
“Yeah.” He got up on autopilot, setting his book down. When he got to the bedroom doorway, he froze and turned over his shoulder “Wait. Why?”
...And yet he’s so keyed into Mom it’s stupid. 
“Oh, nothing extreme,” you said lightly. “My water just broke and I figured we might -“
Fourth baby, third birth. The nonchalance couldn’t be any more extreme and Mom really cracked me up here - I didn’t really realize how casual she’d be, but she surprised me. 
(Also my father is a paramedic, and he delivered 27 (!!) babies in the back of ambulances, so I picked his brain for this whole process. I’m both proud of him and my close-to-accurate portrayal of childbirth in this fic)
Your name left his mouth in a laugh, and he trotted back to you, helping you up and kneeling to assist you with putting on your comfiest pair of pajama pants. You steadied yourself with a hand on his shoulder, stepping into one leg, then the other. Playfully, he snapped the stretchy waistband around you. He was still kneeling before you when he said, “You’re insane, you know that?”
You smiled down at him and scrubbed your fingers through his hair. He leaned into your touch like a cat and closed his eyes. “You are too, I’d like to point out.”
He just LOVES HER!!!! AHHH!!!
He sighed, kissing your belly and resting his cheek on it. “Never said l wasn’t.” He looked up at you. “Is it weird that I’m...a little sad? I’ve loved this part of our lives so much.”
This was my favorite little moment in this fic. My mom talked to me about this when I was on the phone with my dad going over the mechanics of childbirth (from an outsider’s point of view) while my mom offered her two cents about the internal processing and feeling of it all. She and my dad had a really similar moment after my little brother was born - they both knew they weren’t going to do this again, and it was kind of weird for them to acknowledge that. 
With so many kids, Elliot being the fifth, it was central to me to acknowledge that Elliot would be their last baby, and that from that point forward, their kids were always just going to get bigger - they wouldn’t have anyone new to introduce to their family after him. It’s kind of bittersweet, in a way. 
You shook your head. “Me too, my love. And no, it isn’t weird.” You sighed, and held his hands as he stood up and kissed your forehead. “We should probably tell Jack it's go time so he can help the little ones when they get up.”
Aaron paused for a moment, thinking. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Isaac isn’t going to clearly remember last time, so he’ll probably be nervous, and this is totally new to the girls.” You reached up and he planted a kiss on your lips. You smiled, pleased. 
I remember being super nervous when my brother was born because I had no idea what was going on, and frankly I’m just as neurotic as Isaac and was about the same age. Thus, it went in!
A little contraction wave hit, and one side of your face screwed up in discomfort. 
Aaron kissed your cheek and said, “I’ll get the rest of the toiletries together.”
You nodded, and padded down the hallway, your socked feet swishing a little against the hardwood floors. You knocked twice on Jack’s door, quietly, and waited for his groggy, “Yeah?”
With access granted, you opened the door with a little smile, and Jack sat straight up. Privacy is important! Parents shouldn’t invade your shit!! AH!  You crossed to his bed and sat down on the edge, opening your arm to him. Though he was almost seventeen, he scrambled out from under the covers and tucked in close to you. 
I love a soft teenager. 
“Your dad and I are headed to the hospital, and Aunt Jess and Em are on their way okay? If you need anything big, dad has his phone and -“
“Mom, we’ve done this before,” he said with a grin. “I know the drill.”
You pushed the hair off his forehead and kissed him. “I know it, but it makes me feel better. The little ones haven’t done this before, and they’ll probably be a little nervous. Please help your aunts so they aren’t driven to the drink by your sisters.”
He laughed a little, and surprised you as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you close to him. “Be safe, mom. I love you.” 
Tears pricked at your eyes, and you held him tight. “I love you so much, Jack.”
Jack will always be her first son. I’m searching for a place where she can say, in front of Aaron when someone asks if she has kids, “Yes! I have two boys.” and of course Aaron just melts. 
“Are you scared?”
You pressed a hand to the back of his head, and he burrowed into your neck. “Only a little. I know I’m older, which can make some things difficult, but I’ll always come home to you.”
He nodded. “Promise?”
“I promise as much as I can.”
Jack pulled away and swiped quickly at his eyes with the back of his hand. 
Baby is so concerned about losing another mom I just -
“Hey,” your brow crinkled in lighthearted concern. “What’s gotcha?”
He shook his head. “It’s stupid”
Jack is such a fucking lovebug I adore him and would squish him within an inch of his life if he was a real person. 
“I can guarantee you it’s not.” While still a bit of a boy, Jack looked very much a man in the dark, lit only by the light of the hallway as the wheels turned in his head. You picked up one of his hands, and he put your linked fingers over your belly. 
“I just - I don’t - Ugh. It’s morbid - Nevermind.”
You huffed a laugh. “Baby, remember that one third of this house hunts serial killers for a living. Nothing is morbid.”
A smile quirked at his lips, but it didn’t really reach his eyes. “Just be okay? Please?”
You sobered and nodded, pressing a hand to his cheek. “Jack, do you think I would ever put you or your father into a position that could result in leaving either one of your?”
He shook his head. “But things happen.”
If that ain’t the Hotchner family motto “Things Happen” or, for less mixed audiences, “Shit Happens and People Die.”
“They sure do. Your dad will be with me the whole time and he can send you hourly updates if you want. I promise promise promise you’ll be in the loop, baby. I know you like to know.”
Your son’s eyes flickered to the doorway, where a shadow appeared. It was Aaron, his backpack on and your go bag in his hand. 
“Ready?” 
The Three Musketeers :’)
You nodded, stood (not without effort), and pressed another kiss to Jack’s head. “I love you bud. I’ll see you when our plus one arrives.” 
The plan was easy: Emily and Jessica came over for the kids, and Dave and Spencer would relieve them after 12 hours. Derek, Savannah, JJ, and Will would only be called when the baby arrived, to save them the angst of prematurely wrangling the four children between them. 
The hospital was only eighteen minutes away, but with the way Aaron drove it was more like ten. Time was fairly important - with your body accustomed to delivering babies, having done it twice before, there was a very big chance active labor would only take a few hours. 
Emily and Jess pulled up to the house at the same time, both in their pajamas with their overnight bags.
I love the aunties. 
“Ready?” Jess asked, kissing your cheek. 
You laughed. “Don’t have much of a choice now, do I?” 
Emily set her things down and wordlessly hugged you. You wrapped your arms around her as best you could. 
“Walk me out?” You asked. 
I’m so excited for Reader and Emily to get closer after Derek leaves the team. I think that’s the next logical close relationship that forms from the original team. 
I need to add more with Matt and Luke, and I promise I will one day!
She slung and arm around your shoulders and you walked back out the front door. She situated you in the passenger seat, and you offered her a small smile. 
“You know,” she started with a bit of a laugh, “every single time I’m just as nervous as I was when Henry was born.” 
I LOVE Emily’s concern for those around her, and it’s such an undervalued trait in her that I wanted her and Mom to have a little moment together - just the gals. 
It was also important for me to remind everyone that Mom and Emily joined the team around the same time - 2007ish. The post-Elle era gave us The Girls™ and I think there’s such a special bond between people who join any workplace/team/family at the same time. 
You reached for her hand, and kissed the back of it. “Me too.” 
Everything went according to plan after that. You sat in the car with your stopwatch while Aaron packed the car, checking the car seat base and putting everything that needed to go up with you in the trunk. Jess and Emily were getting set up on the couches in the living room, ready to settle in for the night. 
You were uncomfortable, sure, but it wasn’t unbearable yet. This was the tedious part. 
Miraculously, none of the little ones woke up in the commotion. The magic of white noise machines was never to be underestimated. 
“Time?” He called from where he leaned into the back of the car. He was handling the last details, in full field operations mode. 
You turned around. “5 minutes, 15 seconds.”
The idea that they’re so used to delivering babies that there’s a whole system just made my heart explode. And if you think Aaron doesn’t go right into brisk, efficient, and I Am Ready™ mode, you’re JOKING. 
“Alright,” he looked up at you and grinned widely. “Let’s go, baby.”
He’s so happy :)
+++
Your doctor breezed in and checked your charts and your dialation. “It’s go, time, here I think, Momma.”
You sighed and readjusted. “Do I have to lay down?” Comfortable as you were, epidural all finished, you still felt a little restless. The alternative was worse - you’d delivered Isaac without any pain management, and thought it was the end of days. You didn’t make that mistake again. 
Don’t worry - we’ll get Isaac’s birth! That’s much more dramatic. Not only is he the first, but Mom got to the hospital too late for an epidural (we love working in the field until the LAST POSSIBLE MOMENT and then IGNORING LABOR PAINS. Mom went to the baby delivery school of Jennifer Jareau)
“Not necessarily, but if you’re going to shuffle around I would suggest a squat for the sake of your blood pressure.”
Another contraction hit, and it knocked the wind out of you. You squeezed Aaron’s hand so hard you feared you’d break it, and informed him for the third time that morning that you’d hated his guts. 
“I know, honey. I’m sorry. I know. I’m the worst. Just breathe, okay?” He pressed his forehead to your temple, giving you something to focus on. 
You might have told him to fuck off, but you weren’t sure. The wave crested and then fell, and you slumped back against the pillows. “Okay, maybe I do want to lie down.” 
My dad has so many stories of how tough my mom tried to be while having me, but I was 20 hours of labor and she gave up about three hours in. The insistence that she couldn’t stand him and wasn’t letting him anywhere near her ever again? That lasted the whole 20 hours. 
Everyone stifled a chuckle, but you didn't have it in you to be prideful. While you still had a few seconds, you figured you’d double check the plan. “Hey Brienne, we’re still good to tie today, right?” 
“Yes, ma’am!” Your OB said, way too chipper for the small morning hour. She spoke quickly, knowing she had to finish her thought before your next contraction. “Soon as we’re all done, we’ll do a really quick procedure and everything will be squared away. If, for some reason we have to do an emergency cesarean, we can do it right then as well.” 
Brienne had delivered both Isaac and the twins - she was a great obstetrician and never pulled punches when the news was difficult or stressful. Her straightforward nature immediately endeared her to your whole family. 
Yes her name is Brienne after Brienne of Tarth. Nope. I’m not original even a little bit!
It was too much to think about, seeing as another contraction was sneaking up on you. It felt like only seconds since the last one. You were so tired. 
Brienne gestured to Aaron. They had a bit of a language developed over the last two deliveries, and he pressed a kiss to your temple. “You gotta push, babe.” 
“God, Fuck. I hate you, Aaron. Goddamn you. I’m never letting you near me ever again. Fuck.” A stream of expletives continued to leave you when they could as you pushed and pushed and pushed. 
This was so funny to me and honestly Aaron is the best. Mom knows it. We know it. He’ll live. 
He only held your hand and reminded you to breathe and push. He also told you how much he loved you in between agreeing with your damning assessments. 
If he was honest, he always thought your ire during childbirth was hilarious. It was kind of his fault, and he couldn’t fathom the physical trauma of childbirth, so he figured this was a fair role to fill while you did the hard work. 
See? He’s fine. 
On a small trough in your final set of contractions, you caught your breath enough to ask for his other hand. This was the hardest part, and it always made you a little nervous. “Aaron, come here. Please.” He draped his arm around your shoulders, and you grabbed his hand where it hung by your collarbone. 
“You’re almost there, darlin’! We’re gonna be crowning here in a second.” You couldn’t see Brienne, totally locked into her task, but her update was a relief. 
You leaned heavily into Aaron and he rested his cheek against yours. While this was a shorter labor than both Isaac and the girls’, you were exhausted. Bone-deep tired and hot and cold all at once. 
This was another little cinematic moment for me. Just the two of them taking a tiny breather together, being close together, being spouses, being parents. And again, the understanding that this will be the last time they do this together. 
“You’re doing so well. You’re a superhero. I love you so much.” He whispered his words against you, and you wailed as another contraction hit.  Your choice of a walking epidural didn’t knock the pain out entirely and it still totally sucked. But again, better than the alternative.
“We’ve got a little Hotchner head! Keep going!” Brienne patted your knee and grinned at you, and you followed instructions. “Do you want to catch, Dad?”
Before he could answer, you said, “If you move, I’ll kill you,” through your teeth. I laughed. Aaron shrugged and looked over your head at Brienne, who suppressed a smile. 
There couldn’t be any blood left in Aaron’s upper extremities at this point. In the midst of actively disliking him and your presence in your life in that particular moment, you were so grateful for him you could cry. 
The dichotomy between hatred and love in this little section is something that eats me alive whenever I think about it. 
My mom once said to me, “There’s nobody I’d rather yell and actively despise at while bringing his kid into the world than your dad” and honestly? That’s love. 
Well, you could cry for a great number of reasons, but that was definitely one of them. 
A few minutes and a pretty bad time later, a strong cry filled the room and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Aaron released you as you unbuttoned your gown to expose your chest. 
 THE BIG MOMENT!!
“Your time to shine, Aaron.” Brienne held up the umbilical cord clamp and snapped it together twice. (Yes, like a dad at a barbecue with a pair of tongs) With a smile, he stood and rounded the bed. 
You tried to peer over to see, but you were only able to see Aaron and Brienne.
A smile ate up his whole face. “Hi!” His voice pitched up, and you started to cry. You just loved him so much your chest could just burst. Did I cry writing this? Yes. Absolutely. 100%. Aaron was always the first person to greet your children as they came into the world, and he never failed to deliver a warm welcome. “Right here, right?” He looked to Brienne, and she nodded. He cut the cord, and the nurse crossed the room for measurements. 
Aaron returned to you and removed his own shirt, ready to take the little one while you finished delivery. After his crew neck was thrown to the side, he gathered you up in his arms again. There was nothing you could do but melt into him. His skin was warm and he smelled good, whereas your skin felt clammy and you probably smelled like a horse’s ass. 
Can confirm. Mom smelled like a horse’s ass. 
Brienne’s voice came to you faintly from the other side of the room, iterating the specs of the newest addition. “Baby Boy Hotchner, 5:37am, August 13th, 8 pounds, 14 ounces, 21 inches.”
Coming up with these metrics was really fun - it was all purposeful for both the zodiac signs, and for his size as a rather large kiddo. 
Elliot shares a birthday with my best friend Phil, and I told him so. He cried. Then I cried. I didn’t expect him to be as touched as he was and it was so sweet. 
Okay I wasn't crazy. He’s actually huge. 
Aaron scooted even closer as you leaned away to get a better look. Brienne set the still-squalling infant on your chest with gentle, warm hands. Your eyes were blurred with tears. Aaron wasn’t any better off, keeping one hand on you and another on your son, his own tears tracking quietly down his cheeks. 
Aaron is soft for his kids! Aaron is soft for his kids! Aaron is soft for his kids!
Your son. 
Brienne sighed and said, “Alright, last bit here and then you’re done.” 
You nodded and Aaron took him off your chest, leaning back with one hand under him and one hand over him. Fluid and other questionable grossness be damned, he ducked his head and pressed his cheek to his son’s head, an ineffable joy radiating through his body. Aaron’s hands almost completely covered him - with his little knees tucked to his chest, he looked like an angry little loaf of bread. 
AARON IS SO BIG AND ELLIOT IS SO SMALL!!!!! Like imagine this - Aaron is so big that his hands almost cover Elliot entirely. I can’t. Oh my God. 
The afterbirth was the easy part, but then it was before, too. All the Hotchner kids were massive - even the girls were bigger for twins. You always made fun of Aaron for “ripping me to shreds, and not in a fun way” (“Hey!” “Okay, fine. Maybe a little in a fun way. Sometimes.”). 
There was a little more pressure, and you looked down at Brienne’s outline behind that infernal green medical paper shit. “How’s it going down there?”
“I’m getting these suckers tied off so we don’t have any more happy accidents. Don’t mind me.” 
This was the most fascinating part to talk about with my dad - he talked for so long about the process (now done by laparoscopic incision) of tying/clamping tubes immediately following childbirth. Basically, they look like those little flat, wired bread ties and they just go around the fallopian tubes and pinch them shut!
Aaron stifled a laugh and you rolled your eyes, still weepy. The nurse passed him a warm, wet washcloth, and he started gently wiping the ick from his son’s skin. 
Brienne finished up and helped you get adjusted with ice packs and that excellent postpartum underwear. When she was satisfied, she removed her gloves, and pressed a hand to your bare shoulder. “Beautiful work, momma. He’s perfect.” 
Every baby is perfect and every baby is simultaneously very ugly. Yes, it’s true don’t deny it newborns look WEIRD
You put a shaky hand over hers. “Thanks.” A little watery laugh left you. Ouch. “I’ll miss you.” 
And it was true. Brienne had been a semi-permanent fixture in your life for close to six years, and had become a friend. You wouldn’t have any reason to see her again. 
Looking back, this was a little silly. Mom would still see her annually for her gyn checkups, but it wouldn’t the same. I think that’s what I was trying to get at here. 
She squeezed your shoulder twice. “You ever need anything, you know who to call. Let someone know when you’re ready to put his name down, and they’ll finish off the birth certificate.” 
With that, she shepherded the nurse out the door, and you were alone with Aaron. 
“So,” you said. 
He smiled, his eyes still trained on the little body who had quickly quieted and was snoozing on his chest. “So?”
“Gimme that.” 
This moment made me laugh. I say this all the time, and my mom said this to my sister after she had my niece. My mom also cut the cord for my niece because my brother-in-law got a squicked out about it lmao 
His laugh was warm, and he placed little one on your chest again. You prodded him awake, feeling only a touch bad about it, and offered him a snack. He latched right away, and you tipped your head back in sheer relief. 
“Thank God.” 
Aaron nodded in agreement. “That’s one less thing to worry about.” He shook his head, as if shaking something off - no doubt remembering the meltdowns night after night trying to nurse Isaac. 
The ANGST that can come with breastfeeding...ridiculous. 
Little one was still naked to the world, so you pointed at the little blue blanket folded across the room. “Can you grab that for me?” 
Aaron just looked at you for a second, as if seeing you for the first time. Did I cry writing that line? Yes.  “Of course.” He crossed the room and threw the blanket over his shoulder and grabbed a diaper. While little one was distracted, he deftly maneuvered the diaper into place and draped the blanket over him to keep the chill off while maintaining skin-to-skin.
More moments of “This is totally normal” that I can’t get enough of. They understand each other so so well, and they are completely tuned in to each other. 
You pulled the blanket back a little so you could see his squishy little face. “Can you call Jack?” 
“Do we want to call him now? It’s pretty early.” Aaron leaned over to his backpack and pulled his phone out, finding a couple requests for updates from Jess. First things first, he turned the camera on you, and you gave him a thumbs up. You detached the little one from your nipple for a second, framing his face with the blanket. Aaron got a good photo of a yawn and fired both pictures off to the BAU group chat before checking Jess’s messages. 
4:12am How we doin? 4:18am Jack’s up with me. He can’t sleep. Em is dead to the world - she gave up about an hour ago. Give us an update when you can. 
6:02am He’s adorable!!! He’s got your nose though, which is unfortunate. 6:02am Kidding. Maybe. 
That made Aaron laugh a little, and he looked at you. “He’s up with Jess.”
You nodded. “Go ahead and call him. He’ll worry, honey.” 
He nodded, and dialed the second number on his speed dial. Jack picked up on the first ring. “Dad?”
Again, I’m a sucker for teenagers who love their parents. 
“Hey, bud.” Aaron couldn't hide the smile in his voice. “Your brother is here and your mom wants to talk to you.” 
“Can I come see you?” Jack’s voice wavered a little, and Aaron knew it was relief he heard, rather than anxiety. Much like his son, he was more than a little concerned for your safety. Now that it was over, he could finally relax. That alone was enough to make anyone emotional. 
CATHARSIS, BOYS! 
Aaron checked his watch. “Are you too tired to drive?” 
“No, no. I’m good. I slept a little after you guys left.” He was quiet for a second. “Can you hand me to mom?”
“Sure, bud.” Aaron nodded at you and you smiled. He started to pass the phone over to you then -
“Oh, dad?” Jack’s voice was only a little urgent. 
Aaron pulled the phone back to his ear. “Yeah?”
“I love you.” 
Did I cry throughout this WHOLE section? Absolutely. 
“I love you too, bud. I want to talk to Aunt Jess when you’re done with mom, so don’t hang up, okay?” With that, he handed you the phone and fresh tears rolled down your cheeks. You knew this part came in waves - the emotions. Your hormones were in shambles, and you forgot how intense it was every time. 
“Hey, Jack.” 
“Are you okay how did it go what happened?” All the questions came out in a rush.
You chuckled. Ouch. “Slow down there, kiddo. We’re just fine. It went really smoothly, but the last part happened kind of all at once and I denied your father personal freedom and geographic agency, so we didn’t get a chance to update you.” 
He laughed, and it warmed you. “It’s okay. I’m really excited to meet him.” There was a shuffle, and you assumed it was his keys. 
Baby boy was done eating, just nosing around your chest at this point. You shifted, and Hotch caught the phone and held it to your ear so you could use two hands, They are so in-tune I just - bringing little one’s head right under your collarbone, tucking him up again. “He’s excited to meet you, too.”
After Aaron had a chance to debrief and game-plan with Jess (“If you bring the little ones over here before 10am, nobody will have any fun.”), Jack was on his way. 
In the meantime, Aaron set his phone on the side table and sat on the edge of your bed. “Are we sticking to the name we picked? Does it feel right?”
Fun Fact: When I was born my parents had another name for me and when I popped out they were like “Nope. Absolutely not. That’s not the right name at all.” so it's a very real consideration!
You nodded. “I think so. What do you think?”
You did your best to inch yourself over - Ouch - so Aaron could have a little more space. He stretched out on the bed next to you, on his side with his arm folded under his head. A very large hand covered yours, pulling the blanket down to little one’s chin. 
“He looks like you,” he said. 
You snorted. Ouch. “Don’t lie. All your damn kids look like you.”
I AM SOFT FOR FAMILY RESEMBLANCE!!!!
“Alright, fine.” He relented with a wide smile. “He looks like me.” He was quiet for a moment, tracing the apple of little one’s cheek with his finger.  His smile morphed into something soft, pensive. It was the look he always had when he was in awe of his children. “What do you think, little man? Is your name Elliot David? How’s that sitting with you?”
The Elliot David in question just made contented little staccato sounds from his chest, his brown eyes looking here and there, surprisingly alert. He let out a little cough, and both you and Aaron went, “Oh!” simultaneously in that drawn-out way parents do when their kids surprise themselves. 
I love parent noises. 
You looked at him, and you stifled a laugh just for the sake of your exhausted muscles. Aaron’s smile soon turned shaky, and tears fell onto his elbow where it rested under his head. He took a big breath, and it caught on the way out. 
“Oh, honey. Come here.” 
I love that Aaron has grown so comfortable with being taken care of (hi tali, that was shit english!!) as he settles further into his family. By this point, he’s so secure in it and he lets mom care for him whenever she wants to and whenever he needs it. 
That’s growth. 
You adjusted again, bringing the head of the bed down with the little remote. As you reclined, you only needed one hand to keep Elliot secure. You raised your other arm, and Aaron scooted under it, resting his head in the crook of your chest and shoulder. He snapped some buttons shut on your gown in the absent-minded interest of keeping Jack relatively unscarred. 
Aaron’s bare arm was warm under your fingers. You traced little patterns into his skin as he stared at the back of his son’s head. Aaron’s finger was caught in Elliot’s impossibly small hand, secured in that death grip only babies seem to have. He couldn't care less that he was nearly twenty-four hours without sleep, missing a shirt, and really hungry. The only things that mattered in that moment were right there in front of him. 
There was no need to speak. 
A nurse stopped by and dropped off the bedside cradle, speaking quietly. “You can put him in here when you’re ready to get some rest.” 
You looked up and thanked him. “Oh, and we’d like to finish the birth certificate in a few hours. Will that be alright?”
He nodded. “Just fine.” He checked your charts and left a few moments later. 
Soon after, the door slipped open, and Jack’s head popped in. “Hi!” He stage-whispered. “Lemme see him.” 
Aaron was stuck where he was, still locked in by Elliot’s grip, so Jack came in on your other side, pulling up a chair as close as he could get it. 
There was a sense of finality to this meeting. Elliot would be your last child, and this would be the last time the Three Musketeers sat together, meeting the newest member of their family. 
“Oh man, Mom. He’s so cute.” Jack cooed and ducked so he was eye-level with his baby brother. He traced a finger along Elliot’s tiny, straight nose. When he rested his head on your upper arm, you kissed his head. All three of you sat there until the sun rose, watching Elliot fall asleep. Aaron followed suit eventually, his breath fanning slow and even across your chest. 
+++
The three of you were relatively well rested by the time your family came to bombard you. Elliot had woken twice - once to be fed and the other to be changed. Jack retreated to the recliner after a certain point, and Aaron threw on a sweatshirt and curled up next to you for the duration. They were out cold, while you rested somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. 
One of the nurses on rotation popped her head in. You waved at her with the tips of your fingers. 
“Your family is here to see you.” 
That woke you up. You made an ‘eek’ face. “All of them?”
I laughed. 
She nodded. “Three at a time?” 
“Please.” You reached over and picked up a neatly-swaddled Elliot and tucked him into your elbow. You checked the corner, where Jack was still sleeping. You were sure a train could drive through the room and he’d still be out. That kid had sleeping superpowers - being sixteen only helped.  
Jess was first, holding the girls’ hands while Isaac trailed a little behind. 
The idea of Jess loving the littles like she loves Jack is like....everything to me. The Brooks-Hotchners are so so special and I’m so excited to dive further into their lives - especially the relationship that exists between mom and Jess. 
You put a finger to your lips and pointed to Elliot. “He’s sleeping, so you have to be really quiet, okay?”
Caroline clambered up on the bed with a few reminders to “be gentle with Mom and don’t lean on her too much,” and peered over you. “Is Daddy sleeping?”
You looked to your right, and sure enough, Aaron was out like a light again, performance evaluations on his chest, his hand relaxed around his pen. “Yeah, baby. Daddy’s sleeping because he was awake for a really long time helping me with Elliot.” 
Newly reminded of the main event, Caro planted herself by your knee while Sophia sat by your hip, taking the good real estate. You looked over at Jess and winked. She slipped out, closing the door softly behind her. 
This was another one of those Renaissance painting moments where I could completely see this image of everyone crowded around Mom and baby. 
You scooted over so you were flush with Aaron’s side. “Come on up here, bubba.” 
Isaac gave you a little smile and perched at your side. “He’s so small.” 
Isaac’s observations are such a key part of his personality and I can’t wait to include more!!!
“Yep. And look at that,” you brushed your fingers down Elliot’s nose and tapped his cupid bow before doing the same to Isaac. “You have the same nose.” 
Isaac smiled and raised a tentative hand. He hesitated right before he reached the dark brown peach fuzz that sat in unmanageable cowlicks on Elliot’s head. 
“You can touch him, bub. Just be gentle.” Isaac’s hand smoothed over Elliot’s head with next-to-no pressure. “Do you remember when Sophia and Caroline were born?” 
I love it when my little boy can really settle in and connect with his family. I’m soft. 
Isaac nodded. “It was super cool.”
“It was super cool.” You kissed his forehead, and adjusted your hold on Elliot. “Sophia, love, can you hand me the pillow that’s by Daddy’s knee.” 
She nodded and very carefully presented it to you. You showed her how to stuff it under your elbow so you could relax while supporting Elliot’s head. Caro was clearly enamored, her eyes never leaving Elliot’s face. 
“Babies are really delicate,” you reminded a wiggling Sophia. “Their heads are too heavy for their little necks, so sometimes they need a little help.” 
At the mention of ‘help,’ Aaron’s eyes snapped open. “What’s up?”  You suppressed a laugh as he realized all of his kids were surrounding him like the children of the corn. He pressed a hand to his face, recovering. “Oh. Hi.” Caro beamed at him, and he beamed right back. He put his files down and patted his lap. “Come here, my little love. I’ve got a really good view over here.” 
The lightning-in-a-bottle relationship that Caro and Aaron have is one of my favorite parts of this universe. It reminds me of me and my mom and my roommate in her dad - we have such special relationships with those parents it can only be fate. 
My mom always says about her brother that “God made us siblings so we wouldnt have to find each other” and every time i think too hard about it I cry. Those two are complete soulmates and I can’t imagine one without the other. Shoutout to Uncle Billy :’)
She very mindfully picked her way over your shins and into her father’s lap. He lifted her so she was up flush to his chest. His cheek pressed into her hair, and he showed her where to find Elliot’s little baby toes under the blanket. 
“Are his feet very very small?” Caroline’s whispered question almost made Aaron cry again. 
Caroline makes me cry on the regular. 
“Yes. They are very very small. So are his hands. Here, look.” He reached over and peeled back a layer of blanket, exposing one of Elliot’s (very very) small hands, pressed flat against the fabric. Aaron wiggled his finger under it and presented it to the kids. “If you look really carefully, you all have the same hands.” 
All at once, three pairs of hands appeared, flipping their palms up and down as each one individually assessed the similarities. 
“And if you look even closer,” he said, flipping his palm down, but keeping Elliot’s hand aloft, “I have the same hands as all of you, too.”
FAMILY RESEMBLANCE!!!
Caroline looked up at him, awestruck and he nodded. She placed her hand on the back of Aaron’s and lo and behold they were the same shape, just significantly different sizes. 
Satisfied, Sophia dropped her hands, leaning on them to get a closer, yet stable, look at Elliot’s fingers. 
She gasped, but to her credit, kept her voice soft as she said, “Look at his tiny little nails!” 
“Lemme see!” Aaron supported Caro as she thrust her body forward to get a better look. 
Babies being fascinated by babies is simply the purest thing I’ve ever beheld. 
Jack stirred in the corner, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. In full voice, he said, “Oh, hey guys.” 
Three big shushes came from the kids, HA! and it took everything in you to keep your laugh locked away. You kept your eyes trained on Sophia (who looked downright offended at Jack’s volume) knowing if you looked at Aaron you’d be done for. 
Jack made the same ‘eek’ face you made earlier. Okay the resemblance even though they aren’t related? I’m dead. Thanks. Oof. “Sorry, sorry.” He crept over, standing behind Sophia and putting his hands on her shoulders. She giggled quietly as he dropped close to her ear. “Cute, huh?”
She wrinkled her nose. “He looks a little funny.” 
“He’ll start to look more like a person in a few weeks,” Aaron said with a smile. “You looked pretty funny the day you were born, maybe even funnier.”
Funny Dad!Aaron sends me straight into the stratosphere. You know after a couple of years he would have the dad jokes on LOCK
He winked at her, and she dissolved into a fit of giggles again, leaning back against Jack. As she did so, her brother wrapped her in his arms and rested his chin on her head.
Isaac was still running his hand over Elliot’s hair, gentle and repetitive. He, like Jack had done hours earlier, rested his head against your shoulder. You pressed your cheek to the crown of his head, soaking it in. 
“I like him.” 
A smile broke your face in half, and you peered around to look at Isaac’s face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. He’s cool.” 
Your bottom lip disappeared into your mouth as you fought back your tears, still ready to flow without fair warning. You didn’t want to scare them. “I’m so glad you think so, bubba.” 
Bubba :’)
Elliot had once again taken Aaron’s finger hostage, and it took more than a little negotiation to get him unwrapped and tucked back into his blanket. You have no idea how Elliot managed to sleep through all the commotion, but then again, he’d have to get used to it. 
Here we have the first instance of Elliot being the chillest baby on the block. 
Jess poked her head back in. “Ready for some lunch?”
Four heads whipped around and nodded vigorously. Aaron deposited Caro on the floor, while Isaac pressed a heart-wrenching kiss to Elliot’s head before gingerly getting his feet back under him. Jack just lifted Sophia and she hung off his hip, only a little too big. 
He walked to you and kissed your cheek. “I love you, Mom.”
Mom and Jack :’)
You brought your hand up to his temple, the back of your fingers brushing his hair back. “I love you too, my Jack.” 
One side of his mouth turned up in a smile, and he left the room with Sophia, leading the rest of the pack down the hallway. 
A cut from this section: 
Jess lingered, and you grinned at her.
“Come meet your nephew.”
She sat on the very edge of the bed, stroking a finger down his little cheek. “Oh, he’s perfect.” She reached for your hand, and held your fingers in her palm. “Was it super rough?”
You shook your head. “Only about five hours. No complications, and no stitches.” A weak laugh left you. “Turns out after a couple of them, things just stretch instead of tear. Who knew?”
Aaron snorted, and Jess covered her mouth with her hand to avoid laughing out loud. She squeezed your hand once, and leaned back. Aaron met her in the middle and she kissed his cheek. “Proud of you.”
“Couldn’t do it without you.”
“Seriously,” you supplied.
“Who do you want me to get?” She stood and walked to the door, leaning on the narrow edge as you decided.
You looked at Aaron, coming to the same conclusion. “Dave,” you said, simultaneously.
+++
It was safe to say Dave immediately coveted his namesake. You’d plopped Elliot into his arms right away, and said, “This is Elliot David Hotchner. He’s been very excited to meet you.”
He full-on cried, letting the tears just fall onto his shirt as he bounced Elliot all around the room, talking to him about all the ways he’d spoil him rotten. 
It was easy to name him after Rossi. When you finally came down to a couple of first names, it was a no-brainer to pair them up with David. He was your family, like they all were, but you were acutely aware that Elliot would have the smallest amount of time with Dave, no matter how much time that would be. 
This was such an important piece for me to include. BEcause the time is limited, it makes it all the more special. I think about this iwth Aaron too, because while 54 isn’t old, it’s certainly higher than the average age for parents of a new baby. 
I touched a little on this in Rings, but the idea that Aaron is 74 in 2042 really knocked me out. It’s so important for both Dave and Aaron to soak up the time they have with their children (and grandchildren and nephews and nieces and niblings) because they simply have no idea how much time they have with them. 
When Dave was ready to reluctantly give him up, he passed him back to Aaron. Dave crossed to you while Aaron offered Elliot a knuckle to mouth around on. 
Aaron being an auto-pilot dad makes me soft. 
Dave kissed your cheeks and embraced you. He leaned back, keeping his hands on your face. You covered his hands with your own and closed your eyes. You were taking a lot of mental pictures today. 
He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you were sure you saw Aaron’s one-handed camera work out of the corner of your eye. “Thank you, bellissima.” 
“You’ve more than earned it,” you reminded him.  
“Dealing with you two for fifteen years? You’re damn right I have.”
Here’s something that was cut!! I ran out of steam on this section, and it just seemed perfect to end it with Dave, so I left it right where it was. If I hadn’t though - this is the raw part of what comes next: 
Elliot exchanged hands throughout the late morning and early afternoon, pausing every once and a while for a change or a feeding. 
Emily immediately fell in love with him, sitting with you as he nursed and running her knuckle back and forth over his tiny bicep. When he was more than finished eating, Emily took him on her chest. 
You helped her drape a burp cloth over her shoulder, and she expertly shifted Elliot to her shoulder and started bopping around with him. 
Aaron slipped back into the room with a tray of food for the both of you. “Hey, Prentiss, I didn’t realize you were still here.” 
She snorted. “Of course I am, are you kidding? You guys need a break and I get to have this.” Her thumb rubbed back and forth at the base of Elliot’s skull as her hand supported his head. 
You smiled at her, and you and Aaron dug into your food. 
+++
JJ arrived a little while later, with Spencer. She left the kids at home, because “...you’ve had a very long day and that would only make it longer.” 
Luckily, you’d just 
Spencer held Elliot, playing with his little hands. JJ made Aaron sit down, and helped you arrange your pillows so you could get some sleep. 
tagging: @ssaic-jareau @qvid-pro-qvo @joanofarkansass @forgottenword @hurricanejjareau
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