#still hope little brown bat friend got released | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oh-for-fic-sake · 3 years

Text

Deliverance Chapter Three

Masterlist

Summary: That time has come to sort through the artefacts that have been sent to earth with you, and Clark finds he is less and less impressed with how krypton was governed.

Warnings: Suggestive themes, Fluff,Angst, A/B/O, Mating mentioned, Heats mentioned, Swearing

Wordcount: 14000+

A/N; so this chapter is mostly information and backstory. I rewrote kryptons history becuase... I wanted to? Yeah any way i hope you all enjoy even it it drags.

Taglist: in reblogs

The days that followed were strange, you had gotten used to earth and its strangeness. You were also spending as much time outside as you could, soaking up the sun rays and laying in the grass, sometimes walking through the fields. Martha even had you helping her with some flowerbeds 'weeding' humans were funny creatures. The white and pink flowers were acceptable but the little fluffy yellow ones and tiny blue ones were not? They were 'weeds' and had to be pulled from the ground. Martha had given you a strange look when you asked to keep them but got you a little trough all the same and helped you plant your weeds. They lived on your windowsill and you watered them every morning. Clark found it cute and even added some to it wanting to help.

You felt much better now and your breathing had settled. It was bliss residing with your alpha. You'd learned that he had a job as a reporter- a news writer. Those things weren't really mentioned at home which surprized you when you realised just how important they were and how much time it took up. And speaking of importance, you got your papers! Your official human documentation. A certificate of birth, because humans rewarded their young with paper on their birth you found it funny but your new family had been adamant you were given this reward for being birthed. You also got a number for social security recognition, a schooling achievement diploma? And a passport? So you could fly? Which didn't make much sense to you when you could do that anyway... Or would be able to once you were completely acclimatised to this planet. It had been Clark's friends- A bat who arranged it all, which was nice... If not odd you thought a bat was a winged mammal but perhaps there was a different bat hybrid you wasn't aware of. You were now unofficially, official in your human life.

When Clark was away you missed him, but didn't? Martha kept you busy, filling in the holes of your earthly education. You found her to be a sweet and funny woman, she was wholesome and kind. Never once shying away from you like you had expected. You lived with her for the moment a spare room in the farm house had been converted for you. For some reason she would not let you stay in the same room as your mate, she said it was a human thing. Not that, it stopped Clark from sneaking in at night and curling up in the bed with you soothing you and kissing you. He would always chuckle with you stating 'he wasn't human so its okay' whilst snuggling you sweetly scenting and murring at you until you fell asleep. You never felt safer then in the arms of your alpha, snuggling tight against him pressing kisses to his chest and rubbing your cheek on the curls that covered it, digging your nose into them and sniffing, breathing him in falling asleep.

Your bond was growing stronger and stronger as the days past, even if you only managed a few hours at night and in the morning with him. Clark had to explain some strange things, for some reason you were both to wear a ring? When humans found their mates they gave each other rings and wore them on the left ring fingers it meant they were mates? Married? Martha had been a little upset over it at first but Clark said it was best to do it this way, you could have your wedding later, for now he will wait. Martha had been persistent but in the end gave up, it was hard for her to face the reality that her son was not human and he was trying his best.

You were happier then you thought you'd be on a alien world, you'd acclimatised for the most part and found your own earthling way. Even if Martha and Clark found it strange you refused to eat anything brown or plain. Or meat.

The concept of eating animals was very disturbing for you. On krypton animals were not eaten, well not animals like on earth. Kryptonian's ate what earthlings would call insects, non sentient beings. But then again the insects here were... Tiny, surprizingly so. But Clark had taken it in his stride, if you didn't want to eat meat he wasn't going to force you... But he made you eat lots of what he called your 'leafy greens'... Which didn't make sense to you because many of the leafy greens should just be called greens because brocca-broccile- baby trees! Didn't have leaves neither did the little green balls! P's? You think he called them p's. Just when you began to loose hope for delicious sustenance he surprized you. Mangoes. You loved mangoes and grapes and apples! Fruit any fruit. Martha and your mate had taken you to a human grocery store and you'd been drawn to the fruit section.

You walked into the store clutching at Clark's arm terrified, it was the first time being out and mingling with other humans. Once inside you looked about seeing a few humans scattered about the isles and relaxed. A wave of smells hit your senses making you cough.

"Breath, breath through it love... That's it good girl, good omega. Now hold on to me or the cart and stay with ma and me" Clark said rubbing your back leading you behind Martha walking past some special buys. After a few short minuets you relaxed and released Clark looking watching as the other humans walked about some with children some teenagers and even a few alone. The children drew your attention. Boys. Real little boys. Flesh and blood male children in little hats and shorts- clothing with cartoon race cars on them. You froze looking in awe. Felt the stutter.

"love?" he asked feeling you halt and tense. He instantly looked up and was on alert every bone in his body itching to protect you. To destroy what had spooked his tiny mate. He looked around for the danger but there was none, just a mother and her sons further down the isle.

"Look... Boys, young boys" you uttered slowly looking to the children holding a brightly coloured packet up to what you presumed was his mother pleading for the packet. The woman smiled and nodded letting them throw the packet into the cart and they continued down the isle.

"Yes love. I forget you've never seen a young boy have you" he hummed wrapping his arms around you from behind kissing the top of your head. You melted into him and shook your head still watching as the humans rounded the corner at the end of the shop.

"what do you think?" Clark whispered sweetly, amused and struck by the way you'd reacted to such a simple sight. A mother and sons, he forgot you'd never seen a boy before. He had been the last one on krypton.

"They... He was beautiful." you uttered slowly blinking still registering the image of a real live breathing male child.

"Ours will be better~ perfectly formed kryptonians a whole swarm" he said making you feel light and carefree, the thought of a litter- a true litter of your own pups made you quiver in anticipation.

"You-you'll give me pups?" you said softly trembling from head to toe. Clark hadn't made any inclination to wanting pups or to take your bond any further then the sweet caresses and cuddles he'd been gifting you. You'd not once spoke of anything beyond getting you settled into human life. Clark grinned awkwardly and nodded, he wasn't used to children being called pups and such, he was still coming to terms with the? Miscommunication between worlds and terminology.

"I will try my hardest, sons and daughters" he chuckled squeezing you tightly and pressed a long kiss to your head nuzzling your hair watching as the family disappeared. His heart swelled. A family, a real family. Children of his own in your little belly, with out fear of them being too much for you to handle. He could relax knowing you could handle their tiny kicks and nudges. You could survive a pregnancy and birth him healthy full term children. He had so many niggling little fears over trying to create himself a family with a human. Humans were weak, fragile, but with you? With you he could be exactly what he was. A kryptonian. A god among men. It was refreshing having someone he could truly relax around.

"Promise?" Came the tiny voice, breathless and pleading, huge doe like eyes blinking at him hopefully glazed in tears. He could feel the tremors through your bond, like someone twanging an elastic band, the vibrations of relief and excitement reaching him, tugging and pulling. It was as if you had feared he wouldn't give you children. And finally he had confirmed it.

"I promise little omega, as soon as I'm able you will be round and heavy~" watching as your eye grew wide and you purred at him rubbing your cheek to his as he craned down to kiss you, then scented him under his jaw. With an adorable flush and melodious gasp you pulled back looking around worried someone would know you'd scented your alpha.

"shh remember humans don't understand, they don't know what you did sweet pea" he uttered trying to sooth you. You had explained that scenting was seen as very private. It was... Like mating- the prequel to meeting, scenting was strengthening your bond and extremely intimate. To be caught doing it out side? It was very frowned upon, on krypton you'd get less disapproval if he fucked you out in the open!

"do not call me a p.. They are wretched things!... Call me... Something yummy" you complained not yet being aware that a sweet pea was a flower... And he wasn't calling you and actual pea.

"I apologise... You can be my little cookie?" he chuckled slowly it wasn't that he was laughing at you but he found it endearing how straight forward you were. If you didn't like something you told him out right. It was a nice change, you didn't seem to understand the whole human political correctness and subtlety. Your reasoning with Clark was that you could both feel the others feelings through the bond, so what was the point in lying. That would just complicate things. And he couldn't argue with your logic.

"what is a cookie?" you asked tipping your head to the side curiously. He did burst out laughing at that and shook his head squeezing you tight. Tighter then any human could handle, but that was part of the beauty in your relationship. You wasn't human, wasn't breakable. He could fully relax and touch you without fear of harming you. You were impenetrable... Well in that sense anyway~

"Something very sweet and delicious I promise~" he said kissing your head once more and ushered you down the isle slowly trying to find his mother, but still let you look around. You were curious and wanted to explore your new home planet and he wont ruin your first venture.

"Clark? Clark come and help me- I cant reach the milk! Its at the back again!" Martha said quietly you smiled. It took a lot of coaxing but you had indeed tried what Clark had explained as 'cow juice' and had developed a taste for it. So Martha had promised you milk every day if you liked. Which you did like. A lot. Clark pressed another kiss to you and walked off towards the milk refrigerators expecting you to follow.

You made to follow but a sweet scent hit you and you stopped mid step. It was wonderful and ripe, sweet and succulent. You pivoted and followed without much thought. Your feet found there way twisting around the display of 'leafy greens' to a bright colourful isle. You salivated at the smells. There were so many intoxicating scents you didn't know what to look at first.

You pressed a hand on a small net package full of strange green fuzzy balls. Kiwi's? You read and scrunched your face up at the peculiar name. Then plucked the bag up and held it to your nose sniffing. They smelled divine, like a type of food from home. Okriin a small sour sweet treat given to children on their birthing date. You sniffed again and almost cried. It was so similar but so different sweeter and fuller in the scent. You cautiously sniffed again and closed your eyes before tentativly prodding it with your tongue wanting to see if it tasted the same.

"y/n? Y/n?!- oh god there you are? What are you doing? You almost gave me a heart attack" Clark said racing towards you his mother behind him with the cart. He slid to a stop and blinked at you. As you scrunched up your nose.

"The texture of these are... Not very nice?" you said naively moving for the fruit again sticking your tongue out once more trying to discern if it was edible like this. Clark moved quickly gasping holding your hands that had the.. Kiwi's in it.

"no, no.. No we- you don't eat them like that... You peel them and eat the inside, and we don't lick things in the shop okay?" he explained with a teasing to his voice. Martha chuckled into her chest she couldn't help it, you were extremely cute.

"But? Then how do you know if you like it if you don't taste?" You frowned as Martha stifled a laugh. But she quickly curbed herself when you looked serious and a little upset. You didn't find it funny food was serious and had always been rationed, you were allowed only the portion you needed to stay healthy back home. Nothing more unless you could grow it.

"You buy it and eat it at home, then we can come and get more" Clark said drawing your attention once more. Your frown deepened. More? You could come back? That didn't sound right... or fair, Martha normally made one trip a week on the same day... wasn't that her alotted time for food shopping? Or was it by choice?

"More? But isn't there rules on how many trips a household makes?" You asked genuinely confused looking from your mate to his mother then back again. They both looked a little shocked by the idea of not being allowed to get food when they needed to. Martha even looked sad, shaking her head looking down.

"No love, there isn't... is there on kry-back home?" Clark asked, he almost sounded offended by the thought of being told when you can and cant go shopping.

"Yes. We have fifteen minuets for every member of your house hold that your shopping for and an alotted time every two weeks to pick up your rations" you said without batting an eyelash. Clark drew a deep breath, he had to admit he didn't like what he was hearing about your shared home planet. He found himself more and more relieved you were here with him and not in that? Authoritarian place.

"Did you lick anything else?" He said trying to move away from the topic, he was trying to get you used to this planet and this was your first time out and about in town. He wanted to move on, to let you be free and explore... preferably with him beside you.

"...If I do can we take it home?" You said tipping your head to him with a cheek grin. He chuckled and rounded you placing an arm around your waist and pokeing under your ribs in a freshly discovered tickle spot making you giggle.

"Silly thing you don't have to lick things for us to buy them, I suppose you liked the smell huh?" He enquired nodding to the Kiwis still clutched protectively in your hands.

"Yes it.. Its like something from home- a treat we had on our birthing day..." you nodded looking down plucking at the bright orange netting that kept four of the fuzzy fruit together.

"Then we shall get two packets love" he said plucking another pack of kiwis and placing them in the cart, he then looked to you as you scanned the isle still indulging in the amazing mix of smells and colours.

"Pick out a few more things to try, the mangoes are nice and juicy I think you'd like them." He said motioning to the colourful sweet smelling displays.

"R-really I can pick some?" You asked nervously twiddling your fingers and pulling onto the sleeves of your top.

"Yes love we don't ration here you can pick a few things to try, just promise me you wont lick any of it... at least not until we get to the car" he said grinning as you nodded enthusiastically looking around suddenly full of childish glee. God help him when you try some candy, he has the feeling you'll have a sweet tooth.

"I promise!" You said happily and ran off to some of the other fruit that smelt divine and quickly picked a few.

Once you got home you watched Clark and Martha make a small platter of fruit for you. And you'd fallen inlove! Mangoes and pears were your favourite, you didn't like grapefruit and should have listened when they told you not to eat a lemon... lemons were for juicing and flavouring other food, not for eating.

You smiled as you mulled over the day, that was the first day you saw the civilisation of your new home. Humans were free and unorganised. Chaotic but at the same time had made their own way to navigate the chaos of their world and one another. They were very similar to your kind. But it was hard, frightening! Suddenly you could do what you wanted when you wanted. Krypton in its desperation had taken many choices away, even the basic ones. Like how much food you could have per household, how many times you could visit the shopping districts or medical bays. You had laws on how much water you used, who could go where and when. and suddenly all that structure- all those rules were gone. You were to do as you pleased?

It was a frightening concept.

You padded across the small space to the barn with tentative steps, quivering knees. Clark was behind you a few feet trying to give you space, yet at the same time he was pressing himself though the bond. Warm and comforting reassuring you. He had learned in the past week that he could send messages through the bond. Almost whispers it was weird you didn't hear anything but you could feel his words, feel his probing. His soul was apart of you and your soul apart of him now. And you could communicate in such a deep way it- you almost felt as if you were one being.

Today you had decided to go through the ships cargo hold and start removing some things up to your room. It had been something you put off but it was time to begin answering more questions, time to give our alpha his heirlooms and books. Your job now was to help him learn all about krypton and its past.

Clark darted forward opening the doors to the barn letting you and Martha in. You'd decided to let Martha help, she deserved it she was your surrogate mother now after all. Last week she'd started asking you to call her Ma too.

You moved towards the tarp covering the ship and pulled at it making the crinkling plastic fall the inched forward pressing a hand to the door to the pod. You froze, flashes of the moment you'd been wrestled into the pod crossed your mind. The fear and agony of knowing you were going to be there end. Kill your parents. But it was to late, it had been too late then and it was too late now.

"Omega? Are you alright?" Clark said standing behind you curling one arm around your frame, the thick forearm resting over your tummy at your waist.

"Yes, its... The last time saw this was when" you trailed softly, you knew he could feel the fear and despair as you replayed those final moments with your family over and over. You hand been strong enough to hold on to your mother or father. You hadn't had enough grip to pull them into the ship with you, and your lack of strength cost them their lives.

Clark murred into your shoulder, his other hand stretching out smoothing his palm over yours pinning it you the surface of the door. He could taste the anxiety, the overwhelming frantic terror that had overcome you as your bond soured your memories haunted you. In the night you'd cry out for them and jolt awake sobbing your heart out. But you'd never spoke about what ha actually happened.

"D-do you want to talk about it?" He said quietly pressing his chest to your back needing to touch his sweet omega, the overwhelming drive to comfort you was almost painful.

"I don't think it would help... I shouldn't feel bad, its what i had been commissioned for. We all new our purpose" Clark paused. What? You had barely spoke about krypton, but from what you had mentioned he had a very... unimpressed view of it. The world sounded totalitarian and harsh everyone leading a hard life of duty. But he had never pushed you, he could tell you still mourned the planet despite its shortcomings.

"C-commissioned? Purpose? What do you mean?" Martha muttered moving closer to you both. She too was curious, her and Clark never thought they would have this chance, that they could learn everything about the planet of his birth or his race. But you were it. Their answers a living breathing kryptonian that had resided on krypton! You knew everything they wanted to know and probably more. They had been trying to hold back their questions it would seem that you may finally be up to answering them.

"Krypton is... Was like... North Korea? The one shut off from the world? But... stranger, its hard to explain without knowing our history we had our reasons and failures" you trailed off, you was unsure where to start, the troubled past of your race was woven into its present, well not present as today but... the final era of krypton. Everything leading up to the day you were shipped off from the planet. There were complications, twists and turns that you might not be able to explain properly.

"Please, I'd like to know" his voice was small and sweet, almost naïve in a sense. You got the feeling of a curious desperation from your bond. It made you grin, he was trying so hard to hold back for your sake, he truly was the perfect mate both considerate and loving, there was a gentleness about him that many alphas are said to have lacked. It must come from being raised on this planet, growing up around being so much weaker then he is that has moulded him to hold such a sweet sense of nurturing. After all your mate was the golden son, a living breathing god on earth.

"I know... come I have books and artefacts in the cargo hold, I will give them to you and you can read" you said with a shy smile, you warm giddy feelings traveling along you bond making him murr once more managing to hit the all important melodious sound that was the unique soul song you'd both began naturally harmonizing. You stood and pulled from Clark and walking a small way down the ship. You pulled a hidden hatch open jerking a lever up and then pulled and twisted before releasing. You were quite impressed at how easily you'd done it. The suns rays had made you immensely strong already. Soon your be flying hopefully!

Clark hovered over you, making sure to stand in between the ship and his mother. A large gust of air and a whirring sound resounded and you stepped back. There were several clunk's and metallic creaks then the whole side of the craft pealed away like a set of curtains a thick corsetina of metal revealed a large cargo hold the three of you could just fit in.

There were shelves and cases piled high inside. All of krypton's most valuable artefacts, your whole history in the small stalagmite keys. Just like the one Clark had been sent to earth with. But these held information, schematics of incredible tech, medicines and encyclopaedia's. Not only about krypton but other planets and races that could cause a threat.

The there were the texts for your pups. The very same you had used to study as a child. You tip toed inside looking around feeling your heart break. This was all that was left of a whole civilization. A case of ceremonial robes, some crown jewels. Seeds for a few important plants- even a small rack with some mature plants that were being grown in a small self sustained pod. It was a true treasure trove.

"Wow this is? Incredible"

"Everything in here is... significant to our kind- here these are the books to start with they will tell you what krypton went through... a child's guide to our history" you said scooping up the books you'd studied and handed them to Clark. He moved slowly taking them from you running his fingers over the image on the book.

You walked off around a small shelf trying to find your chest- the things your parents had been allowed to pack for you. You had to find it and get over those emotional tugging in your chest. You had a lot to explain and had to have a clear head on your shoulders.

Martha stood close by the exit as she watched the two of you potter about the ship. It was both frightening and exhilarating for her. She was glad they had thought about all this, about giving both you and Clark things to remember krypton by. She moved to step behind Clark peeking at the book he was flicking through and was surprized to find she could read it. Everything was in perfect English.

"This is? Are they all in English?" She asked turning to you who was still wandering around becoming upset clearly looking for something in particular.

"Yes, they needed to make sure kal-clark would be able to read it" you said comeing around the other side of the shelves and stood beside them both. Clark turned around eyeing the book seeing what looked like propaganda filling the pages. It was disconcerting he was slowly becoming aware that krypton was not the magical place he had envisioned but a very draconian type of civilization. He didn't want to read pages of scripted drivel. He wanted the truth. He closed the book and eyed you then held to book out to you.

"I'd like to learn from you... if its not to much to ask love? These books will paint a rosey picture, I want to know the reality what people actually thought of our planet" he said still offering you the book. You held your breath debating for a moment, but finally breathed out a sigh and took the book from him. Agreeing.

You moved to the side of the ship and sat down letting your feet rest on the steps. Clark and Martha followed your lead taking seats beside you.

You kept quiet for a moment pondering over what was most important to start with. Your evolution. Then your genealogy, the great mistake and population crisis and the laziness that followed. The selfishness and finally his own story, the story of the golden sons escape and the new age. The final short 31 year age. And your delivery.

You opened the page showing some images of the first ever 'proper kryptonians' and held it open letting both Martha and Clark lean over to see. It was like a family story time.

"Okay... So kryptonians evolved just like humans did millions of years ago. But unlike humans we kept more of our animal like instincts, we retained pack mentality" you said pointing out the different images of the evolution.

"Alpha and omega's?" Clark asked curiously as his eyes scanned the page. There was a list for each. Alpha were bigger and stronger, more dominant and protective, fierce and very potent. They were more economic and able to draw more power from little radiation. Omega petite, defensive, skittish and shy. Nurturing and extremely fertile. Submissive.

"Yes and betas they aren't an extreme like omega and alpha. They are more balanced but much less fertile. We have one mate, one soul bond once its made you cant deny it, but its also a problem." You flipped a few pages to the mate bond section where there were a few images of couples and some more little bullet points. Of which you covertly covered, they didn't need to know about sex or knots or heat yet... you would explain to Clark later... alone.

You flushed unable to stop your mind wandering. Images of you finally bonding with Clark, the undulating hips and breathy moans resounding in your ears. All leading to a great finale of his bite, his canines would prick your skin clamping down not only marking you but to hold you still as his cock swelled and pressed your walls tight trapping you to his huge frame. It was said to be painful and euphoric the feeling of absolute unity. Apparantly omegas can panic when their alpha knots them for the first time, the bite would make you freeze and still for him enough to fully penetrate you. He'd knot you for a long while tying you to him both mind body and soul as he saturated your insides claiming your body for himself. You swallowed, nervously. You couldn't wait to finally be claimed, but you were also nervous. He was large even for an alpha and there was no doubt in your minds he was well proportioned.

Clark noticed you begin to blush and squirm, your scent changing becoming both sweeter and musky he leant over you trying to peek at what you were hiding. He snuck a hand around behind you and tried pulling on your elbow to see what your were trying to hide.

"Oh no come on love what are you hiding there?" He teased and pulled tugging you closer making you whine and pull back.

"No that's nothing just its err our sex education and we don't need to go into that yet!" At the mention of sex Clark stiffened and released your elbow but remained wrapped around you.

"Oh right well then.. we know all about that so there no need to... explore that topic" Clark said flushing brightly but you paused... should you tell him?

"Well err you... you will have to there are.. some difference to having sex with... others then your mate, things are... different when your body knows it can impregnate its partner. So you need to err... I've got books for you to read in private" you flustered flicking your eyes quickly from Martha to your mate trying hard not to imagine him but ass naked stroking his cock readying himself to mount you. Clark didn't seem to realise you were becoming nervous and quickly spoke up slightly confused by the way you'd worded your statement. But then again he found a lot of the things you said strange. You wored things differently, and sometimes used the wrong words altogether! As much as krypton prepared you it sort of hadn't? Your English was good but... Not completely accurate.

"Different when you can impregnate? What's that supposed to mean, I've had sex... It was normal human sex" you whined and lowered your head feeling a little upset. Your mate almost sounded offended, like you'd undermined him or doubted his ability... You felt a little shamed over it, you hadn't intended to insult him. You turned to him your panic of displeasing him washed away your nerves of having the sex talk. You rested a hand on his thigh squeezing it before beginning to explain that you wasn't belittling him it was just genetics.

"You cannot conceive with anyone other then your soul mate... It just doesn't happen. Is impossible, we were taught that its because your genes are only compatible with that of your mate, your other half. Pairings aren't always omega and alpha either, they can be anyone with anyone, but most alphas have an omega" you said trying not to go into detail but Clark merly blinked at you nodding wanting you to continue as he soaked up every word.

"And there are... Things that... Happen during sex with your soul mate, your err... Anatomy changes... And err expands? I suppose? Our bodies do what they must to... To try and... Conceive.." you finally stuttered through the images your mind conjured. Mind drifting to all the uncomfortable classes full of giggling girls and unamused teachers explaining knotting and ejaculation with a huge image of a penis on the board... You flushed word on the school playground used to be the size of a balled fist was the size of your mates knot. You swallowed eyeing Clarks hands, though not balled up he had then curled up loosely. You clenched, for some reason the thought of him being such a large male made you very ,very excited and anxious. The larger a male the more chance there was at having a successful mating because he would be deeper and nothing would escape. Fuck.

You shook your head swallowing dryly. Now was not the time, thoughts like that were dangerous and could trigger a heat, something you didn't want to happen until he was aware of what was to come. You wanted him to be fully aware of heats, ruts knotting the full process before in sighting anything. He was still immensely stringer than you, if he were to have you now and panic whislt knotting he could pull free and tear you. And you didn't want that.

"soo i get a... Super erection or something?" he said with a huge smile both teasing and boasting, sitting up straighter unknowingly posturing, preening like a little peacock as humans would say. You made to reply flushing a deeper red, beginning to feel a tad dizzy with all this blood rushing to your head. But luckily Martha interrupted and waved her hands making a slicing motion trying to literally cut the conversation short.

"Right okay! Enough of all that" she said managing to move your arms that were still covering the very crude generic drawings of an alphas cock, you moved letting the human turn the page which lead to the next stage of your peoples history.

"But Ma?!" Clark complained eyes loosing their amused shimmer only for him to pout at the human clearly upset that he wont be having a full sex talk with you. And you couldn't be more thankfull because you only had books and a school sex education to go by, you'd never actually seen a real one before, so didn't really have any grounds to be teaching anyone anything about them. Least of all your much older, more experiance alpha mate.

"But nothing Clark, she said she has a book so you can read the damn book! There will be no hanky panky anytime soon do you understand me?" she scolded in a final motherly tone making you giggle into your hand. Your alpha was very cute when he pouted, blue eyes wide and a perfect downturned frown on his lips, the pink bottom lip pressed forward in a sweet gesture. How the perfectly masculine sharp angular male could be both stunning and adorable was beyond you. But he was just perfect.

"Yes Ma" he sighed looking more and more disheartened but then nudged your side and sent you a wink before raising his brows suggestively. You squeaked and looked to the book in your lap once more feeling your ears go red under his provocative gaze. He huffed a quiet chuckle and purred low in his chest. You felt it the warm yet prickly sensation of your mate. Is was playfull, like when someone lightly ghosts a finger over your inner arm? A slight tickling sensation that made your skin goose bump and tingle. You knew this feeling well, you had been pleased to know your alpha wasn't all work and no play. He was actually a very fun loving man, he liked teasing you playfully and always managed to make you laugh or blush. He enjoyed you being both happy and flushed they seemed to be his favoured reactions and he would go out of his way to cause them.

------------------------------------

Martha had said he just seemed happier, younger like a little teenager again. But this time without all the angst. Like you had somehow drawn away the worries he had. Apparantly as he took the mantle of superman he had lost himself along the way. He wasn't cruel or mean but he was stressed. Martha had said he was beginning to question himself, ask if it was worth it, if anything was worth it anymore. He took on more and more responsibility and was working himself into the ground. But now he wasn't?

He had you to come home too, he had something more to fight for. She said Clark saw you as his reward in a sense. You were his future, the life he had always wanted but could never hope for. Martha said you'd saved him. You wasn't sure if you really believed her, how could you save him when all you have done is sleep and refuse to eat anything other then fruit.

"Clark you might be more convincing if you wiped that smirk off your face... I'm serious, let y/n settle before risking any children okay?" the woman deadpanned making him shrug and chuckle at her.

"Aw that's no fun I already promised. Didn't I sweetheart?" he teased still eyeing you managing to ignore his mothers scathing look as he tried to get you to look at him again. And like an idiot you did spare him a quick glance, well you thought it was quick but somehow he managed to wink at you again blowing you an over exaggerated kiss.

"Clark Joseph Kent!" Martha snipped quickly a much firmer warning in place making him sigh and roll his eyes at his mothers use of his full name. He could see her point but he had to admit he was a little put out with her.. His mother had an issue with your age, even though your twenty two in earth terms you still did look the part of a teen all be it a nineteen year old, but teen none the less. She was uncomfortable with the idea of him bedding you and wanted you both to wait. But Clark didn't have an issue with it, you were his omega. He was your alpha and neither you or he were humans. So why live your lives by human rules? Besides the paperwork was all set up. Legally your not a minor here you just look young, many women did.

"Yes, yes fine, no sex yet jeez" he acquiesced giving in for the moment not needing another lecture. As much as he loved his mother; and he truly did. But his sex life was none of her business and he will fuck you when you were ready and willing and there was nothing that will get in the way of that. Not even the woman who raised him.

"Glad to hear it son. Oh don't give me that look you know it makes sense... Now dear why don't you continue, both Clark and i would love to here about your history" Martha scolded then rolled her eyes at her supposed 'adult' son who was pouting. You smiled uneasy but nodded. You learned quickly that Martha ruled the roost, but it was still strange for you to watch. You'd been raised to see Kal as a god- a saviour and your races true hope. Watching the man you'd all but worshipped be scolded by a human was... confusing. But you just let it be, you were realising humans were much more complicated then you were lead to belive.

"yes of course..." you paused clearing your throat quickly looking at the open page then flipped it seeing the next images. The ships, and graph of births declining... the population crisis, the beginning of the mighty kryptonians demise.

"When our people began scouting the galaxy less and less found their soulmates because we were soo scattered and so pairings dropped and so did births which began effecting economy and age gap parings suffered because their mates werent being born. Suddenly things took a nose dive mates weren't being born families were suddenly being cut short and many bloodlines died off... Over sixty percent of noble houses were wiped out in three decades, suicides were on the rise there was no point to life if you couldn't be happy or have a family" you explained flipping another page letting the both of them get their fill. Both pages were full of house crests and a little information on what each one represented, what their houses did for krypton notable mentions and such.

You flipped again this time showing images of the amniotic chambers. Huge glass towers that grew 'artificial' kryptonians. It was a leap forward in science. They had learned to play god, create life without any comprises. Your own eyes scanned the image a small foetus in a sack and a few around it larger and more developed. It was how your own life began.

"We turned our attention to a amniotic chambers, scientists and doctors could suddenly make anyone children! Mates or not. There was a huge baby boom but, it did nothing for the planet or its people" you explained slowly even saying it sounded strange now that you were older, but then again you'd been taught that this had been wrong. This it was the mistake that had started krypton's downfall. You'd been raised in the old ways, with old values.

"Over time it was seen as primitive to actually seek out your mate and birth a child naturally even having sex became pointless. Why go through that pain when you could have one made and delivered to you when its born?"

"So they were farming babies?" Martha asked incredulously unable to fathom such a thing. It was far fetched, the idea to make fake children? To be able to have a child without carrying them or birthing them but they were your own flesh and blood?

"Yes Ma, but more then that... when we turned our back on natural birth and mates we lost a lot of ourselves and had to use a codex to give the new generations traits and keep some semblance of our race instincts... but even that became political all birthed children had to become more beneficial to society. Loyal, strong, intelligent, beautiful, compassionate, nurturing. And at the same time you could choose the look of your child, their sex, their presentation." You explained voice getting smaller as you spoke it was uncomfortable to talk about parents could determine everything about you. Your sex, pigmentation personality, hell your parents could choose specific moles and birthmarks of they wanted a late 'morphing' session a few weeks before you were born.

"Presentation?" Martha frowned not fully understanding. You nodded to her sparing a glance before quickly looking away. It was strange explaining anything that remotely eluded to pairings and mating with her. She was a human and didn't understand. You found it unnerving, everyone just knew these things back home.

She didn't understand it and sometimes it frustrated her making her snip at you and Clark. She didn't mean to but it was just hard for her to fathom a race evolving and still retain some animal primitive instincts. Humans didn't keep much of theirs, the only ones you were aware of was their self preservation- their undeniable need to stay alive for as long as possible apart from that? They had escaped everything else. The bottom line was humans didn't have soul mates and Kryptonians did, and no matter how much the woman wished Clark was a human, he wasn't and he never would be. Martha had been able to ignore it on a day to day basis. To all intents and purposes when Clark wasn't in his suit she could pretend he was normal. Until you came along.

Not that you think she didn't like you, because she loved you, you were sure of it. It was just, sometimes Martha had to look away as you and Clark bonded. She didn't see mates, she saw her adult son fawning over a love struck teen.

"Will they be alpha, beta, omega or a new non-type" you hummed quietly trying not to dwell on the subject not wanting to upset her. Martha drew in a deep breath and nodded to you soaking up the information. You could see she was trying, she wanted to understand it was difficult for her.

"So if I wanted a blue eyed blonde boy I just had to say?" She said veering off topic slightly wanting to move on swiftly but didn't want to out right say 'lets talk about something else'

"Sort off, eyes can only be dark. Blue, green, pink, grey and amber eyes were traits only found in true borns, these traits died out. Everyone had a dark brown or black eyes occasionally you could have a very dark blue or green but bearly noticeable" you brushed over the topic as quickly as you could whislt still giving a few extra details. Clark grinned at you and made a passing comment of 'that's why my eyes fascinated you soo much?' Both he and Martha chuckled as the comment made you flush and nod slightly. It was true, you'd been enamoured with his eyes never having seen blue before... and they were soo blue it was like looking into the purest cleanest pools of water your ever seen! Gorgeous and vibrant. it had been a little ongoing tease of Clarks commenting that you were 'staring again' when ever he caught you gazeing at his azure crystal clear eyes.

"Krypton was quickly overpopulated and began draining our planets resources quicker, then they looked to the core... the beating heart of the planet" you said turning the page adamant you were not going to be caught up eyeing him again for the hundredth time today.

"And they drained it?" Clark said leaning mover your shoulder looking at the diagram of krypton that briefly explained how the core was depleted and what a calamity it was.

"Yes. It took a millennia but we bled our planet dry... It became a dry desolate place but had huge glistening cities! Technology you could only dream of! Krypton was the envy of many other planets, our military might alone ended wars in days..." Clark frowned. Military? So not only did krypton become a harsh dictatorship they had been going to war? Enough that they were a feared adversary?

You winced as Clarks face darkened at the mention of war. He didn't like fighting and killing but krypton? In its hay day was the front runner. Its military protected the planet but also dominated. It you wanted to win a war it was the kryptonians you wanted on your team, your soldiers were bred for war, just like the omegas were bred for breeding. Clark growled, eyes skimming the page that praised and boasted about the great many wars that they had won, the enemies they had crushed. You swallowed and flipped a few pages quickly skipping the small chapter on the military past.

You skimmed the next page quickly, there were no images on the next few pages. You paused remembering when you'd first worked studied this chapter. You'd been around eight years old, sitting in Mrs Nirn's class chewing your pen as you read ahead zoning out.

You had wanted to understand why things were so different from what your parents upbringing had been. You wanted to know why there were no little boys in your class, why were the lights off? Why couldn't you have a little sister like your father? Everytime you asked an adult they always vaguely mentioned 'things aren't how they were before' but no one had ever answered your follow up questions 'before what? What happened?' And this was the chapter that explained everything, that shed light on your peoples recent history.

"Love? Mate are you okay?" Clark asked worriedly watching as you seemed to drift off into your own little world. You jumped and faced him as his warm palm met with your back, slow soothing circles rubbing your tense form slowly. You smiled uneasily and nodded to him before taking a deep breath. He had to know, it was your duty to teach him what happened. It was your place to enlighten him on his own importance, he had a right to know how he got to earth.

"W-We began racing towards calamity there was huge protests, people realised we were not going to last and there would be no escape. But the government decided to call a meeting over it- Jor El decided to plead the council to stop the mining but he was ignored the meeting was just for show a ruse to try and quell the masses... Then Lara began pleading with them to think of the consequences" you said quickly finding your voice again recounting the events that began his own story, the role his parents had played in the prolonged survival of the planet and that ultimately lead you to him.

"My parents?" He said slowly recognising their names once more. You nodded glancing to Martha, you didn't really want to keep bringing up your alphas birth parents in front of the woman you didn't want her to get upset or think she was any less significant. Lara may have birthed your mate. But Martha had raised him, shaped him into the glorious gentle and caring male that he was. Martha seemed to know you were worrying over upsetting her and smiled encouragingly before placing a reassuring hand on your back below Clarks patting you sweetly.

"I'd like to know too dear, I want to know about the people who gave me my son" she cooed slowly making you bite your lip and take a deep breath muttering a meek 'okay if your sure' under your breath.

"They were strong and kind, serious though and realistic. They both avidly protested about the continued abuse of the planet and warned about the imminent destruction of krypton... it wasn't until to coup that anyone new why."

"Why? What was the reason?" Clark said eagerly paying you his full attention. He was both excited and anxious about learning of his actual parents, everything he thought about krypton seemed to be wrong. On a whole he'd convinced himself that his home planet was almost a mythical place that was good and pure perfect! But it was the complete opposite, he didn't want his fantasy of perfect parents to be shattered too. And there was always the fear he'd been abandoned simply because he was an unwanted child or defective in some way.

"She was pregnant with the first natural son of krypton. They didn't want you to be born just to die after a few weeks of life. You were born in your family home. No doctors or machinery, nothing but your mother and father." Clark let out a breath soaking in the information. Zod was right. Jor was telling the truth? He truly was the first natural born kryptonian? It was there in black and white! Not hear say! He didn't have much time to relish in the relief as you continued quickly.

"A few days after your birth Zod made his move to attack the council, his move was partly spurred on by the civil unrest and protests all over the planet." Another few pages were turned as you bypassed all the nitty gritty details of the coup and violence, the protests and downfall of many proud houses dragged out of their homes, the riots and looting as the military began fighting internally and the police force all but abandoned their duty.

"My birthday?" Clark said lightly dragging his fingers over an image of himself. A still taken from the footage of his birth, he was in a small oval crib with a blanket over his waist and lower half. Beside him was Lara and Jor watching over him. And at the top of the page a date. Both in kryptonian and earths calendar.

"May? I was born in May? Ma look!" He said sniffing quietly looking at the page in awe. That was him, his parents! They were there! He gazed at the image excitedly, he never new his real birthdate, his parents had guessed but here it was. The exact date! His actual real birthday. He wasn't an Aries. He was a Taurus. He never believed in star signs but, somehow he felt better knowing.

"I see that son, you were perfect and so tiny~" she said slightly tearful herself. This was bittersweet, she had to listen and watch as her son, the boy she raised found out the truth of how he came to her. She didn't doubt he loved her but she was always frightened of him leaving her behind in a way, the terror of him forgetting her and choosing someone else replacing her was almost too much. But at the same time Martha owed a lot to the couple that had entrusted her with their son, she would be lying if she wasn't curious about them and the reason Clark was here.

"Your father in an effort to protect you entered the amniotic chamber and stole the codex. He was hunted for it but by the time anyone could intervene or arrest him it was to late. He had sealed the codex inside of his son. He was the final kryptonian so should be able to carry all traits." You explained turning the next page seeing the image of the chamber Jor ha infiltrated. The codex sitting proudly in place.

"He.. he risked his life? To save me?" Clark breathed out barely whispering the words as he leant forward clasping his hands together tightly. You faltered and looked to him shocked, he hadn't known? You all new that Kal was sent to earth with a stalagmite key with his fathers conscious, had Clark not managed to activate it? Here were ships all over this planet, kryptonians had tried to settle here but... For some reason they just couldn't seem to survive for long. No one knows why, connection was lost.

"He... Gave his life to save you. Zod was the one who caught onto your fathers plan and... He confronted him and your mother. Tried to kill you, your existence; the proof of a natural born was... it would have destroyed his cause... it would have proved him wrong" you uttered slowly unsure how you could tell him the truth without upsetting him, it was a delicate matter. Clark ushered you closer managing to tuck you under his arm holding you as close as he could to his side, then began murring out at you as he felt the nerves, the tangled feelings of fear , grief regret and sorrow. Each one coiling around the other making for an uncertain overbearing pull.

You didn't mean to but you were tugging the bond, looking for approval. Nervously searching for some inclination that he was alright. Prodding at him tentatively trying to peak at his feelings. But you were still uncertain of how to do it without being pushy? On krypton it was said to be unseemly to pry at your mate, normally things flowed freely to forcefully take a look deeper into your mate was... rude and could be construed as not trusting your mate.

Clark didn't know that though. Was it bad? Cruel of you to omit that little social detail so he wouldn't be annoyed at you for it? Was it manipulating? Clark hummed leaning his head ontop of yours, resting his cheek on your crown and placed a sweet kiss to your hair.

"I know... I- he told me on the ship when I found out about krypton... when he told me of mates" he said calmly. You released a low whine nodding to him purring up at him as your shoulders relaxed, slumping once more in relief. You'd been wound up over that. It wasn't like his father would be alive now anyway, but telling him of his families demise wasn't really something you took pleasure in.

"O-oh.. okay well then...err your father was a warrior and fought him, he gave your mother enough time for her to launch your ship. Zod finally over came your father but it was too late, you were almost out of the atmosphere." You swallowed steeling yourself as you continued your tale, recounting the incredible events that had taken place, changing history and the fate of your race.

"Zod instructed all his units to shoot you down, but your mother had used a incredibly illegal amount of resources to make sure your ship's boosters and armed defences were at peak and you made it out"

"So That's really how I left? During all that? I thought Jor had dramatized it... but he hadn't and.." Clark trailed off in thought. He was telling the truth he had been a little sceptical, he couldn't help it he had over thought it afterwards. Managing to think himself into doubting Jor's story picking at it, almost convincing himself the story was a little too convenient.

"It got worse, zod and his men were sent to the phantom zone and your mother was tried for treason. But everything stopped when the footage came through." Martha who had remained quiet listening to you patiently taking in the new information.

"Of what?"

"Clarks birth, it was the first time in centuries anyone had managed to naturally birth a son, a true born son. It was big news and that when the council began to listen, really listen" you shrugged unsure how to explain the magnitude of what Clarks birth actually meant. Unless you were a krypton native you just didn't get it. You finally closed the book and held it in your lap eyeing both Clark and Martha.

"Then the laws changed krypton accepted its fate, it would die. But not without hope for its race to continue. And that's how we ended up as we were... the draconian backwards planet." You didn't go into detail, over the past few weeks you'd let things slip. Martha and Clark both shared a look. You were almost ashamed of your home. The differences between the totalitarian measures your people resorted to were frowned upon in this country. You felt stupid in a sense. You knew it was only natural to be slightly out of touch on this new home but? You just hadn't realised how much. The freedom and basic human right's you'd been denied! You were taught to belive in Kal. He was effectively used as propaganda, as a reward. If your good and obedient he will accept you. If not? Then you will fail both him and your race.

"The council watched you used as much energy as it could spare to watch you grow. Then you presented! Alpha, just as we'd hoped. Overnight everything changed again, we had hope and direction. Children were commissioned once more females only, and only women that have a recessive omega gene were allowed to have a child..." you reiterated the fact that females were the only gender allowed to be created. It was the most important rule of your people in the end. Only a female omega could replenish a race.

"But couldn't you make them omega? You said you could choose things like that?" Martha asked frowning not following. You cursed and shook your head you knew you'd confuse them somehow by leaving something out. It was difficult trying to remember all the details about the last chaotic years of krypton.

"No, with the codex gone we couldn't control the genes as much, we could force the child to be female but that was about it. They tried but it was hard creating a definite omega no one could really tell until we presented many were betas or the non type there were very few of us. It was just pot luck." And it was pot luck, out of one hundred girls only fifteen to seventeen would be omega. If the percentage were over that in a generation then it was seen as a 'bumper crop'

"We were made and raised to be your omega. Every one of us was taught about earthling ways. Taught about how to birth and raise pups."

"You were raised to be my mate?" Clark said frowning. He found it strange. You bit your lip chewing on it. You debated on how much he really needed to know, because honestly now you were here? And experienced earth first hand, now you'd met and spent time with your alpha. You understood how... creepy it would be? But then again if you lied he could realise you had when he reads more of the books here. You drew another breath releasing your lip from between your teeth and hissed quietly deciding it would be best to tell him.

"Yes. Our whole education was based on you and was meant to prepare us for life on earth. You have to understand, you were worshipped like a god. You had the abilities of our earliest ancestors." You began trying to dull down the in depth education you'd received about his upbringing and family. Yet still make him understand just how ingrained he was in your upbringing.

"You are? The epitome of the perfect kryptonian, proof of how great we once were! Your the perfect male. Being your omega was-is the greatest honour any kryptonian could have. And the only way to survive, only Kal's omega would have the last of the cores power used on her to move her off planet. Her saftey was the most important thing" you explained finally petting him see just how incredibly precious he was. His eyes grew wide as he truly began to understand. This wasn't all talk, and you hadn't been joking when you called him the golden son god among men. That's what you all believed. He was worshipped. It was a sobering thought.

Clark tightened his hold of you hand trembling, palm a little sweaty against your hip. He made to speak but didn't seem to be able to find any words. He couldn't make a sound. It was too surreal for him. Some called him a god here, but he was able to just brush it off, ignore it as an exaggeration. But on krypton? They had meant it. Literally.

"So every girl was raised to... Become Clark's wife? To have children? That's it? No ambitions of your own just... grow up and have babies?" Martha uttered quietly but there was an underlying sadness, she seemed to be offended for you. Which you found peculiar, here the lines of gender were blurred. Krypton raised females to breed, then once they present they were taught other skills to be useful and pay their way.

"Yes. It was... Just how things were, we were taught how to raise children and what to expect with Kal... taught to cook and earthling ways to an extent mainly laws and language but mostly our education was about history and child rearing." You said of handedly trying not to incite anger from the woman. You knew it was hard for her to imagine your homeland. It was harsh and soo different from here. There were regimes like krypton on this planet but they were seen as hostiles and stood against everything this country stood for.

"How did they know? I mean with you? How did they know your were mine" Clark said quickly managing to intercept what he believed to be a long rant from his mother. She had already made up her mind about krypton, she hadn't said it but she didn't need to her face said it all.

"Your mark apparently we share a mark which is unique to our bond and yours had activated. The council called all the omegas that had presented and searched for your mark. I was the one to have it. I was your mate" you said vaguely to be honest you didn't even understand it properly yet, it was one of the things you were hoping to find out looking through these books.

"And then after finding it they sent you here?" Clark uttered quietly. He was soo wrapped up in loving you, understanding these instincts and just basking in your presence. That he hadn't really stopped to think about the actual journey, surely it had been your choice? Especially when the cost was soo great. But there was a foreboding in your demeanour it left a heavy cold feeling in his gut.

"Yes. My parents- they had five minuets to say good bye and load me into the ship. The council didn't want to cause a panic and wait, I was wrestled into the ship by my father" you spoke weakly. You hadn't thought much about it, you had nightmares. But that was it, you tried avoiding it, blanking it out... not unlike the adults as you were growing up. In your head there was here and now on earth with your alpha and then before. Before became the codename for life on krypton. Before meant your parents, the rules, pain and fear! Before meant anxiety and death.

And now? Now was the time to let them know. Sure they understood the logistics. You were sent here to your mate. But they didn't know the actual story- the chain of events that lead to your arrival. And for the first time since getting here you needed to get it off your chest. Let it out and be done with this chapter finally let go of the fear and guilt you'd bottled up.

"I was terrified, and I fought but? Not hard enough I couldn't hold on to them either of them! The told me that they loved me and everything would be okay but it wasn't- I was about to kill them... I just" your bottom lip wobbled and your voice came out strained, you fought to get the next words out. Clark murred and tried to comfort you, feeling the fear and anxiety. The guilt and devastation in your bond was... it sickened him feeling such sorrow. But it did no good, he tugged you up and sat you on his lap curling around you, holding you to his chest desperately wanting to sooth you. Ever ounce of him was trembling the need to cheer you up and tend to you was astounding.

But even through all that need and instinct, he knew he couldn't. You were mourning, not only you parents but your race, way of life, your home, your planet! It would be a heavy blow to anyone least of all his delicate young omega. He didn't speak, he didn't want to interrupt, you needed to get this out. He needed to know what happened so he could help you.

"Then my dad... He was the one to strap me i-in... he was the strongest there... the others couldn't have held me down long enough. The ship closed... locked and that was it I was off to earth." Silence reigned as your new family took in what you'd said. They hadn't realised how you'd come here... Clark thought you came willingly, happily boarded the ship to get here. He hadn't even considered your fear and the weight on your shoulders.

"I felt it. The planet die. All the teachers said that you'd be asleep before it happened but I wasn't. It was the loudest and most frightening thing I'd ever heard. It rocked the ship, then the debris... it was like a monsoon, a deafening rain storm of rocks the earth and foundation of krypton itself." Your took a deep breath leaning against Clark pressing your back into him twisting your head slightly resting on his shoulder trying to tuck your face into his neck. Seeking him as your only comfort. .

Clark was finding it heard to hear. He was ecstatic you were here, he didn't care the cost. Now he felt like a bastard. He couldn't imagine hearing and entire planet die. And entire race. You must have felt so scared and alone. He wasn't sure he could handle that type of trauma. Its one thing to be alone hoping you had a homeland. Knowing for certain? That was another thing entirely. Martha hummed watching as Clark got upset and scooted closer placing her hand on your knee while throwing her arm around Clarks back rubbing slowly.

"I p-panicked and tried to change direction, tried rerouting the ships pre-set destination... But it couldn't find krypton. The planet just? Wasn't there anymore, it was so surreal. Instead it continued on to earth, and the onboard computer said I was too panicked to travel at hyper speed so it put me to sleep... the next thing I remember is waking up here... it felt like minuets but had been six months." You ended. It didn't seem right, such a long historic tale ending with you walking up on an alien planet.

All those failures and mistakes rolling one after the other after the other. All the power hungry fools and scientific breakthroughs for nothing. In the end your race had come full circle. An alpha and his omega. Two intertwined souls. The very last paired kryptonians. It was almost ironic, for all the advances and medical wonders in the end nature triumphed.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry that you had to face that alone... if I'd known I would have come and got you, I would have never let krypton die-" Clark started apologising holding you tighter dipping his head to yours resting his nose on your hair breathing you in swaying you sweetly.

"No. Krypton had to. We couldn't risk another Zod on your new planet. Your abilities in an evil power hungry kryptonian? It would have been chaos. We knew that we had to start fresh but cohabit a planet. Not rule it. That's why we needed kryptonians to be birthed here." You cut him off quickly. He didn't have to feel responsible, krypton made their bed and they could lie in it. They strayed too far and had failed, destroyed themselves.

"Zod came. He tried to take over but I... I killed him, id found a ship and my father explained a few things to me, told me about my mate that would be sent to me I looked for you in zods men. But he laughed saying id never find you- the final straw that made me kill him was when he laughed saying you were dead." Clark hissed voice becoming dark as he remembered Zod. The cruelty the man had, the utter madness was something that ha7nted him. He feared that was the true nature of kryptonians, that one day he would become another Zod.

"You did the right thing. Zod was corrupt. The codex can sometimes corrupt a child and feed them too much. His loyalty and strength were... maddening. He was meant to be a soldier he wanted to be a dictator, even on krypton. That's what the coup was about. He was trying to overthrow a high ruling government" you said before slowly untangling yourself from your mate. He released you, hands still hovering as you stood and brushed yourself off. You sniffled and wiped your eyes before excusing yourself scaling the small steps of the ship. Clark made to follow you as you disappeared into the ship needing a few moments alone. Martha held him shaking her head understanding you needed a little breathing room.

You couldn't help it, the feelings came back, the terror and anxiety panic and self loathing. It was nauseating, you'd not really managed to come to terms with the deaths of your family, deaths that you caused. You'd managed to ignore it? Being in a completely new environment you'd almost convinced yourself you were on a trip, a holiday and that your parents were at home safe and sound. It probably wasn't healthy but its what had managed to get you through all this. But saying it outloud? Recounting it had brought everything to life.

You huffed rubbing your eyes as they teared up, seeing all this in here was hitting home. The priceless artefacts and wealth of knowledge surrounding you only solidifying the fact krypton was gone. That it was your duty to keep all this heritage alive. Your job to birth a race and find a way to integrate into this alien world. It was a terrifying prospect, soo much responsibility for a single young female. And you had to bare it alone along side the guilt of being your planets demise.

You quickly wiped at your face sniffling as you felt Clarks approach. Ducking down you looked into the satchel that you recognised as your fathers old pack. You jumped as Clark crouched behind you pressing two heavy hands on your shoulders massaging them before dragging you back to him. You sighed hanging your head as he plastered you to his front, strong arms slowly winding around your waist.

"Its not your fault, you couldn't have saved them." He said softly pressing a chaste kiss to your neck breathing you in, scenting you. It was something else that was strange at first but Clark had mastered quickly. He noticed that if he gave in to some of these... instincts he could calm you down. Scenting you, coupled with touching you coddling and holding you close seemed to be the most effective way to sooth you when things began to get too much. When you got overwhelmed, but he held back in front of his mother. She was still uneasy about the age difference.

"I could have fought harder-" you whined feeling yourself tremble, the severity of what happened the reality of it crushing you. You began huffing, taking deeper breaths holding them trying to fight the fear and sobs. You couldn't afford this self pity you had a job. A duty to your people and you cant fail! You wont because then it was for nothing-

"Omega." Clarks voice grunted, snapping you out of your thoughts. It was strange, he sounded firm and stern. A real alpha reprimanding, commanding you. You shivered. It was both frightening and sexy. Perfect. You peered back at him, a few tears escaping followed by a single mewl as you tried to stop yourself from crying.

"Nothing you said would have stopped them. Nothing. From everything you've told me, the one thing that stands out is krypton did as it pleased. A tiny thing like you never would have stood a chance" he cooed down at you somehow maintaining his authority but in a gentler way. The light growl almost soothed you, it sounded like his murr but deeper and had more conviction.

"I... I know but it... It wasn't meant to be me. Wasn't meant to happen, they always said it was the end but?" You tried to get out the feelings but for some reason you couldn't put words to them. It came in waves, as ecstatic as you were to be here with your mate, relish in the presence of your incredible alpha. You also wanted your parents, your home and all the things you'd been brought up with. You were selfish, you'd wanted it all.

"No one ever really believes a world can end love" he breathed out slowly. Still pressing close to you sniffing and kissing at you, tucking his hands below your tshirt rubbing the warm palms on your flat tummy making you relax.

"So what's this then?" Clark said motioning to the satchel you were fiddling with. You cast a glance to him and smiled sadly.

"My dads... they were allowed to pack things before we got tested... just incase and...They didn't have long to gather things- god I hope there's a photo! And my-" you were cut off as he chuckled and moved closer hooking a finger around the opening tugging it lightly.

"Jurashnir stuffie?" He said making you flush and gape. You were surprised he even remembered. But it warmed your heart that he did remember such a small detail, a passing comment really. It showed he really did listen and take in what you said, even if it was silly anxious prattle.

"Yes that" you hummed face glowing in a sweet blush. And began pulling the bag open fully digging you hand inside.

"I hope she packed it too" Clark chuckled holding the bag open wider so you could see more of the things inside. You already recognized some things, your mothers perfume she used on the rarest of occasions. Your fathers military id pin some clothing and jewellery that they treasured the hair ornaments your mother wore on their ceremonial binding. Then there was the all important photo, you closed your eyes glimpsing the image. No, it was too soon for that, you couldn't look at their smiling faces yet, not after killing them.

Then you felt it. Your stuffie the one that had been with you since you were brought home as a new babe. You yanked it out eyes watering as you pulled out the toy. Clark eyed it with a smile, it was like a chinchilla small round and cute, huge eyes and adorable. You held it close overwhelmed by it, which was stupid, it was a bloody toy, but brought so much comfort. You nuzzled it, rubbing the tiny ear between your fingers like you had thousands of times before.

"I- sorry it..." you breathed out quickly pulling the toy to your lap twiddling the fur on it humming. Your cheeks glowed feeling embarrassed from being so childish, getting so caught up in having your treasured toy with you.

"No. Don't apologise" your alpha was quick to argue with a wide grin eyeing the toy himself with a relieved expression.

"I'm glad you have something from home to comfort you" and he did. He wanted to help make you more at home here, and if a little stuffie did that he wont complain. It will have pride of place on the bed both here and when you finally return to Metropolis with him.

You smiled slowly bringing to toy to your chest clutching it close with one hand almost afraid of releasing it now you'd been reunited. You handt realised just how much it meant to you until you face not having him. Your other hand felt around inside the bag and come across a small book. You frowned and pulled it out then flushed seeing what it was. Who had popped that in your bag?! Surely not your parents, there must be a mistake.

You flipped it open and froze seeing your fathers broken English scribbled on the inner cover. A note to Kal.

'This help read. Kal be happy with mate, love her make family' you drew a deep breath and smiled nodding understanding what he meant. Be happy with each other, become a family.

"Ah and Clark... here this is our erm... my dad left this to you mating book... it has everything you need to know about... that" you uttered handing him the book. He froze not expecting to have anything from your parents. He looked over the words and smiled. It was your fathers blessing something he thought he'd go without. Before you could stop him he was flicking through the book scanning the pages and flushing slightly before laughing boisterously drawing his mother into the ship finally giving into her curiosity.

"Well I'll be damned you actually gave me a guide book for sex! Does it have pictures?~" he smirked closing the book and levelling you with a playful stare. You shrunk back squeezing the stuffie in your arms feeling embarrassed pursing your lips cutely.

"Oh god I don't err? Look just read it okay! Alone!" You growled at him as he still laughed finding it amusing just how flustered you got. He winked at you before quirking a brow at you then peered at the book once more.

"Oh so it does have pictures! Hmm? Must be my lucky day being given free porn" he exclaimed teasing you happy that you'd seemed to cheer up, even if you were now a little sheepish.

"I-its not porn! Its realistic sex education!" You said flapping at him well aware of the critical look Martha was casting you both.

"Well sweet heart trust me when I say I don't need much tutoring... actually I do... I need lots! But I'm better at practical~ perhaps you could squeeze in a little one on one session?" He purred leaning closer pushing his chest against you humming biting his lip nuzzling you. You shuddered and stuttered tripping over your words. It was at that moment Martha jumped into action.

"OKAY! Right that's enough lessons for one day Casanova, we can leave that conversation there" she huffed standing behind him placing her hands on her hips taking a stern stance.

"What? But ma i was just about-"

"Oh i know very well what you were just about to do son! Behave. And be glad she gave you a raunchy book." The human countered none to impressed with the way Clark seemed to be turning into a cheeky horndog.

"Its just sex education... not raunchy" you muttered quietly hanging your head with a sigh still glowing brightly at the fact everyone seemed to think you'd given him porn.

"I believe you sweety... Come on Clark lets get a move on, we will sort one shelf today then we can relax in the garden" she assured you before ordering Clark nudging him with a foot making him pout.

"But ma?" He whined suddenly transforming from eager alpha to leading child that made you giggle. He really was cute, cuter then you'd thought he'd be.

"No buts. You want to take this stuff to your little club house today don't you?" She snipped prodding him harder with her foot with a smirk.

"Fortress Ma. Its a fortress" Clark huffed rolling his eyes sending you a wink only to yip as Martha toe punched him a little harder in warning.

"Mm hmm call it what you want, when a son builds himself a hidden little mancave and only lets certain friends in, its a clubhouse. No matter how big or high-tech it is" she drolled making you chuckled at the two. It was nice having the motherly woman around even if she was struggling with the new situation you and her son were in.

"Its not a... whatever, come on you lets sort through this shelf first" Clark finally caved and stood helping you up deciding to pick his battles... he had to keep his mother sweet if he was going to convince her that you could move in with him, be it his room here or his appartment in Metropolis.

#henry cavill #clark kent imagine #clark kent x reader #alpha clark kent #clark kent x you #superman x reader #superman imagine #alpha superman #superman x you #fic: Deliverance

402 notes · View notes

the-lonelybarricade · 3 years

Note

Loved your latest chapter and Im so excited to see what happens under the mountain!

I was wondering if I could request a one-shot?(up to you how long and you can do it in your own time)something along the lines of:

Feyre( from either ACOWAR, ACOFAS or ACOSF) time travels back to ACOTAR, but instead of finding herself back in her human body i the spring court, she's still in her fae body and ends up trapped in velaris, having to explain to the rest of IC who she is and why she cant go free their highlord(add some mistrust from the IC)

🙈🙈Id its very similar to what youre doing rn with your other fic but, if you find the inspiration sometime could you please do this? Ive wanted to read a fic for ages were feyre rime travels and meets pre-acomaf inner circle who dont know/trust her, but Ive never found a fic like that

Thank youuu

Hi lovely anon! It makes me so happy you enjoyed my latest chapter! I’m supposed to be working on a project for uni, but I couldn’t resist gratifying my lovely friends (because you're anon and won't be notified I was getting sad at the idea of you checking my blog and not seeing me respond) <3 I’ll admit I’m a bit scatterbrained at the moment, so I hope it’s okay!

I was having trouble brainstorming a reason for Feyre getting sent back in time because I didn't want to borrow the reasoning from ACoFD. So I was vague and twisted the pre-existing rules around the Ouroboros, and ended up getting quite carried away with the story since I don’t like not giving things a happy ending (even though it’s a little cheesy, sorry)

Anyway, I hope this is what you were looking for! I know you wanted the angst of not being able to save Rhys but... I couldn't just leave my poor bat-boy behind, you know? ;)

Also if this didn't quite scratch that itch, I'm always happy to take more requests

Word count: 4,446

The Ouroboros.

It was a massive, round disc—as tall as Feyre was. Taller. And the metal around it had been fashioned after a massive serpent, the mirror held within its coils as it devoured its own tail.

Ending and beginning.

From across the room, Feyre could not see it. What lay within.

She forced herself to take a step forward. Another.

The mirror itself was black as night—yet… wholly clear.

She watched herself approach. Watched the arm she had upraised against the wind and snow, the pinched expression on her face. The exhaustion.

She stopped three feet away. She did not dare touch it.

It only showed Feyre herself. Nothing.

Feyre scanned the mirror for any signs of… something to push or touch with her magic. But there was only the devouring head of the serpent, its maw open wide, frost sparkling on its fangs.

Feyre stared and stared, but all she saw was herself. There was nothing else. Then—

Feyre woke with a gasp, sitting up in bed to shake away the cobwebs of sleep and the strange, foreboding feeling that felt draped around her shoulders like a weighted cape, pulling her down. It hadn’t been a particularly horrifying nightmare. In fact, it was perhaps of the tamer dreams she’d had in the last year.

Yet something about it clung to her, perhaps a lingering agitation that she’d yet to retrieve the mirror the Bone Carver had requested. That must be it.

The bed space beside her was cold. The sun peaking through the window was not high, it couldn’t be long past dawn. However worrisome her own dream, her mate’s must have been worse to draw him from sleep so early. Worse still for him to sneak away.

Feyre rose from the bed, reaching absently for Rhysand’s dressing robe to wrap around herself. She always loved to steal her mate’s clothes, to be wrapped in his scent.

With gentle steps, she made her way to the study, where she could only assume Rhys had sequestered himself in the lone hours of the night. She’d noticed the weary draw to his shoulders, the dark circles under his eyes. This war was weighing on him heavily, and he was nervous. Feyre wished he didn’t insist on shouldering the burden alone.

“Rhys?” Feyre called softly as she got to the study, knocking on the door before she cracked it open.

Peeking her head around the door, she was met with the sight of Rhysand’s abandoned study. The scattered papers and war maps that had become characteristic of his desk space were surprisingly missing. In fact, the whole space had been cleared away and there was a thick layer of dust on every surface as if no one had been in here in years.

Feyre frowned at the sight, and how different it had been just the day before. Where had all the dust come from? And more importantly, where was Rhys? Perhaps he’d taken a morning flight to clear his head.

Where are you, love? She called to him through the mating bond, but was met with silence.

“Who are you?”

The voice was cold and venomous. Feyre turned, coming face to face with Mor, whose face was twisted into a threatening scowl.

“Mor?” Feyre asked, confused by her friend’s cold demeanor. “What do you mean? Have you seen Rhys?”

Mor’s face turned deadly, a look Feyre had only ever seen from Mor in the Court of Nightmares. “Is that some kind of joke?” she snarled.

Then, before Feyre could process what was happening, Mor had gripped onto Feyre’s wrist and they were enveloped in darkness. They stepped into the House of Wind, into the dining room where Cassian and Azriel abruptly stood up.

“Mor?” Feyre questioned when the blonde didn’t release her steel grip. She looked to Cassian and Azriel quizzically. “Guys? What’s going on?”

Cassian crossed his arms, assessing Feyre with a hostility that put her on edge. “Who’s this, Mor?” he asked gruffly.

Feyre frowned as she watched Azriel reach for Truth-Teller.

“Is this a joke?” she asked, flitting her eyes to each of her friends. Where she sought that friendly warmth in each of their gazes she was met with hard stares, filled with distrust, ready for a brawl. She couldn’t make sense of it. Was this an act Rhys had put them up to?

“I found her in the townhouse,” Mor said. “I don’t know how she got in there. She was in Rhysand’s study.”

“And she’s wearing his dressing gown,” Azriel noted dryly. Cassian did a double glance, his eyes going wide, then narrowing with a rage Feyre had never seen from the male. Certainly never directed at her.

There was a whisper of shadow, then suddenly Azriel was behind her, Truth-Teller poised at her throat.

Feyre startled. “Azriel!” she said sharply. Even if it was a joke, Feyre couldn’t imagine Rhysand would sanction this kind of threat. And the energy in the room was off, the tension too thick. “Stand down.”

“And who are you,” he breathed in her ear, his voice coated in shadow and nightmare, “to command the Shadowsinger of the Night Court?”

“I’m your High Lady,” Feyre answered steadily, not letting Azriel’s shadows, nor cunning voice, shake her resolve. “Now, I don’t know what is going on with the three of you, or what strange joke you’re trying to pull, but you will listen to what I say. Put. Your. Knife. Down.”

“High Lady?” Cassian repeated with a snort of disbelief. “You’ve got balls, little girl.”

Truth-Teller danced across the skin of her neck, pressing lightly enough to intimidate without breaking skin. “Do you even know to whom you speak? You should be bowing before the acting Queen of the Night Court.”

Too stunned to properly resist, Azriel kicked his feet out to knock Feyre to her knees in front of Mor. His fingers slid into her hair, gripping it tightly to pull her head back as Truth-Teller resumed its threatening position at her throat.

“Breaking into the High Lord’s personal residence, impersonating a high position within the Night Court, lying to the Morrigan’s face,” Azriel listed, increasing the pressure of the blade with each transgression. “You throw our High Lord’s generosity and protection in his face, something we as his acting Court do not take lightly.”

“Acting court? Acting Queen?” Feyre repeated, feeling as if she’d woken to a different reality. “What are you talking about? Where’s Rhysand!?”

“We’re the ones asking the questions here,” Cassian growled.

Feyre looked to each of her friends, studying their faces. Beyond their militant expression, she could see their grief. Could smell it. She repeated, “where is Rhysand?”

She felt the snarl that rumbled through Azriel’s chest behind her, vibrating against her back. When the question was once again unanswered, Feyre abandoned all sense of patience.

Darkness exploded through the room. She heard Mor gasp as the walls of the House shook from the might of her power. Feyre folded into the shadows, winnowing out of Azriel’s grasp so she stood in the center of the three of them.

“Az, Cass, Mor, you are my friends and I do not want to hurt you. But I am also your High Lady and you will answer me this instant, where is Rhys? Where is my mate!?”

Siphons gleamed red and blue through the thick tendrils of night, illuminating the Illyrian males’ faces. Cassian’s jaw had fallen open, while Azriel was studying her through narrowed eyes, wisps of shadow surrounding him. Feyre wondered what they were whispering to him.

“Mate?” Cassian echoed, the first to break the heavy silence.

Mor took a cautious step forward, her countenance completely changed. Her pupils were blown wide, twin brown depths churning with sorrow and gentle astonishment. Azriel went rigid at Mor’s approach, but no one moved to stop her as she came face to face with Feyre.

“Where did you get this?” she whispered, taking Feyre’s left hand, eye fixed on her mating band. On the sapphire-star ring that once belonged to Rhysand’s mother.

All eyes befell the subject of Mor’s attention. Cassian swore softly in recognition.

“It’s my mating band,” Feyre answered measuredly, still puzzled that the inner circle, her family, didn’t seem to have any memory of it. Nor of her. “I won it from the Weaver, as was the task set by Rhysand’s mother. But you were all there for that. I don’t understand what’s going on. Where. Is. Rhys?”

“Under the Mountain,” Mor whispered, her voice soft and pained.

The darkness ebbed away like a receding tide. Feyre felt her heart sink as she tried to process this information. “He—What?”

“He’s been Under the Mountain for the last 50 years,” Mor said, firmer this time. “And if you were his so-called mate, you would know that.”

“No,” Feyre said, shaking her head vehemently. “No, that’s impossible. We got out. We—”

This was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare, and she just hadn’t woken up from it.

“Amarantha’s dead,” Feyre insisted, mostly in an attempt to console the unparalleled grief and panic that were raging inside her. “She’s dead, and Rhys and I got out.”

The grim faces of her friends said otherwise. They stared at her, in unbearable mixtures of pity and horror.

“I think she’s having a mental break,” Cassian said, not unkindly. “Should we get a healer?”

“Let me show you,” Feyre said meekly, casting her magic out to tap on their mental shields.

They all tensed, clearly not aware they’d been in the presence of a daemati. Trained well by Rhys, they all cracked their shields just enough for Feyre to send her conjured memories through. She showed them going Under the Mountain as a human, winning the trials and being resurrected, falling in love with Rhys, and eventually becoming High Lady of the Night Court. In turn, the three of them pushed back their own memories, of the current state of the world. Of Rhysand sacrificing himself so that his Court and Velaris would be safe.

A sob broke out of Feyre. “How is this possible? How am I here?”

It was Azriel who immediately went for the jugular. “More importantly, if you’re here as a High Fae, how is Rhys going to get out? How do we stop Amarantha?”

Feyre fell to her knees, grief-stricken by this realization. She was no longer human. She couldn’t stride in as Tamlin’s human lover and undergo the trials. Feyre had her powers, but they were untested. Would she be able to take on the whole of Amarantha’s court?

“What do I do? How do I save him?” she whimpered, staring in mute horror at her mating band.

Mor tentatively reached forward, laying a comforting hand on Feyre’s shoulder. “Rhys sacrificed himself to keep the people he loves safe. He wouldn’t want you getting yourself killed trying to save him.”

“I have to try,” Feyre answered desperately. “Amarantha she’s…” Feyre couldn’t bring herself to say the word, rape. Not to his family, who wear his sacrifice for them like an open wound. “She’s doing unspeakable things to him. He’s suffering so much. I can’t leave him to that fate. I have to try.”

With renewed conviction, Feyre accepted Mor’s outstretched hand and picked herself to her feet. “Rhys said it himself once. Amarantha’s biggest weapon is that she keeps the High Lord’s power contained. She can’t access them herself. But I… I have access to all the High Lords’ powers. And that bitch has my mate. My wrath will be plenty to take her down.” She faced her friends, who watched her warily. “You have my word as your High Lady,” she swore to them. “The High Queen of Prythian is going to fall by the night’s end.”

⟡⟡⟡

Winter had not yet fallen in the Mortal Lands. Feyre wondered if across the world, there was a version of herself curled in a bed with her sisters, clinging to any shred of warmth and survival.

That version of Feyre was very different from the version who strode up the sloping hills of the Spring Court with Azriel by her side. Rhys would be furious that Feyre had allowed him to accompany her. Should anything go wrong, it would destroy her mate to know his family had been put in harm's way after everything he’d done to protect them. Which was why it was only Azriel who came with, the only compromise she could reach with his Inner Circle, who insisted on coming with.

Who better to sneak into the Mountain with than the very soldier who taught Feyre the art of stealth. He was the obvious choice, since Mor needed to stay to rule the Night Court and Cassian was too heavy-handed to handle such a delicate task.

Their footfall was silent. Feyre wrapped them in the shadow of Night as they winnowed through the cave network. Her heart hammered in her chest, panicked to be back in the source of so many nightmares.

But Rhysand was more important than her fear. For him, she would not falter.

With the Shadowsinger by her side, Feyre snuck through the winding tunnels until she came to a familiar passageway. They slid into a massive, dark bedroom, lit only by a few candles.

To attack Amarantha in the throne room would be too messy. Too many variables to contend with, should Amarantha have enough wit about her to use any faeries as a shield. Especially Rhysand.

After several hours of waiting, the lock on the door clicked and swung open. Darkness swirled around the room as Rhysand took in the sight of Feyre and Azriel on the bed.

Immediately, the door slammed shut.

“No,” he whispered, voice dripping with horror. “No.”

“Rhys—” Feyre started, but her mate wasn’t paying any attention to her. He was looking at Azriel as if his whole world had shattered.

“Leave,” he said, his voice cold and commanding. This was no happy reunion between brothers. This was Rhysand’s worst nightmare. “Leave this instant, you stupid fool. That is, if you’re lucky enough to have avoided detection when you passed under her wards.”

“I took down the wards,” Feyre said. They weren’t particularly strong, either. Amarantha had gotten lazy, perhaps thinking herself secure with the only spell-cleaver under her control. Or so she believed.

Rhys turned that quiet fury towards her. “And who are you?”

“Your mate,” Feyre answered steadily, tipping her chin up.

Rhysand laughed. A desperate, humorless sound. “Then you are just as foolish as my idiot brother. And you have both sealed your deaths by being here. Do you understand that?”

Feyre scratched along those familiar adamantite shields. Rhys’s eyes flickered in surprise, but otherwise he looked unruffled as he cracked a sliver open for her.

It would be unwise to underestimate me, mate.

I wouldn’t be going around boasting about such a thing, if what you claim is even true, came his icy response. And I wouldn’t count on a few party tricks to save you, either.

And what if I told you, she purred, that I possess the power of all seven High Lords?

That, at least, garnered a reaction from the stoic male. He narrowed his eyes in disbelief, studying Feyre carefully. His gaze caught on her hands, at the lace tattoos that flowed to her fingers. And the mating band she still wore.

Feyre watched those violet eyes go wide, the silver constellations dancing in astonishment at the sight of his mother’s ring.

Where did you get that?

It’s a long story, love, but you’re going to have to trust me. She lowered her mental shields completely. Have a look for yourself. I’m telling you no lies. I am your High Lady, and I am here to free my husband.

She felt those familiar talons wrap around her mind. A foolish thing to do, to give a daemati unrestricted access to her mind. And if it were anyone but Rhys, it would have been. But his touch was gentle, and he took only the information he needed.

“I don’t understand how this is possible,” he whispered, breaking the silence of the room. Azriel had been waiting patiently, but looked relieved to be included in the conversation once more. “And I hate that you’ve put yourselves in danger for this, but it could work.”

Rhys considered for a long moment, then he looked between Feyre and Azriel and said, “do it when she’s sleeping. That bitch has been playing dirty for 50 years, you might as well level the playing field to give yourselves the best chance. Let’s do it tonight. I’ll leave the door unlocked, wear her out, and signal you once she’s asleep. Her spell prevents me from harming her, but I’ll make sure she’s restrained. All you have to do is drive the ash dagger through her heart, but have your magic ready for damage control.”

⟡⟡⟡

Feyre and Azriel waited in Rhysand’s bedchambers for his signal. There was a revelry tonight, as there was every night Under the Mountain, and Rhys was expected to be in attendance. Afterwards, he’d join Amarantha in her bed and make sure she was, in his words, “thoroughly exhausted”.

It was torturous for Feyre. To know exactly what the implication in those words were, to have to use her mate’s body in such a way. She wanted to roar at the Mountain, at the Cauldron, at anything that would listen, but instead she was next to the quiet, brooding Shadowsinger, and lamented in silence.

She’d begged Rhys to reconsider, to perhaps help them stage a more physical encounter that didn’t rely on his own suffering. But he’d denied any plan but the one he’d proposed, insisting it would cause him more anguish to but Feyre and Azriel in harm's way.

So they waited the long, agonizing hours until she felt a delicate pull at her chest. She’s asleep, Rhys called. Be on your guard.

He sent her directions to Amarantha’s bedchambers. There were guards outside, but Feyre and Azriel winnowed past them, cloaked in night and shadow.

Amarantha’s bedchambers were huge. Feyre had never been inside them before, but she was unsurprised to see they provided any luxury a High Queen could wish for.

Atop a large bed of red, silken sheets, lay her mate and Amarantha, both stark naked. The smell of sex clung to the air, Rhysand and Amarantha’s scents intertwined. Feyre thought she might be sick.

Even more sickening was the sight before her, of Amarantha’s arms restrained to the headboard in cloth. A clever way for Rhys to restrain her under the guise of sex, but horrifying nonetheless, to see the proof of what they’d been up to. The female was fast asleep, so convinced of her authority that she could fall asleep tied-up and not feel vulnerable doing so. How satisfying, Feyre thought, that such arrogance would be her downfall.

Feyre warded the room, putting up a shield of darkness so that no sound would break through to alert the guards. Rhys watched their approach warily from where he perched beside Amarantha, so still Feyre was convinced he held his breath.

He wouldn’t risk moving to wake her up, which terrified Feyre. Should something go wrong, her mate would be susceptible to Amarantha’s wrath. Naked, vulnerable, and completely under her control. It was such a dangerous game they were playing.

The room was as quiet and still as the bewitching hours of the night, their footsteps silent as they picked across the room. Azriel held the ash dagger. If Rhys could not kill Amarantha, his brother wanted to do it on his behalf. Meanwhile, Feyre summoned tendrils of night that carefully wrapped around Amarantha’s legs, slithering up her body like a snake, ready to constrict and restrain.

The female stirred in her sleep, perhaps feeling the ghostlike touch of Feyre’s magic. But she did not wake. Not as Azriel raised the dagger over her chest, and not as he plunged it down.

Amarantha’s eyes shot open as the dagger pierced her chest. She let out a shriek of agony and ire, moving to claw at her attacker. She raged against the restraints, spewing obscenities until they died at her lips as the blade sunk into her heart.

Rhysand’s chest was heaving as he watched the female still, then slump. He looked from her dead body, to Azriel and Feyre.

Feyre’s heart sank as she watched her mate process that it was truly over. There wasn’t a trace of elation in his eyes at being liberated, but she understood why. Rhys would finally be returning home, but as a much different man than the one he had been. He’d survived, but not unscathed, and he’d need time to process this.

Feyre came to him, reached towards her mate with the hand that bore his mother’s ring. Rhys looked to it, then up to her. His eyes were clouded with sorrow, with a melancholy she could only hope to chip away at in time. But she could see stirring beneath it was a breath of hope, perhaps the first he’d allowed himself in a long time.

“Let’s go home, Rhys,” she said gently.

Slowly, Rhysand nodded, moving to grasp her hand. She felt him jolt at the touch and, as she glanced at him questioningly, she saw his lips part in wonder.

I suppose you weren’t lying about being my mate, he whispered, the words a sensual brush in her mind. Thank you for coming to rescue me, High Lady.

Feyre grasped onto Azriel, and together the three of them stepped into darkness.

Then, they were above the House of Wind, tumbling through the night sky. Feyre unfurled her wings before Rhys could move to catch them, worried that her mate would struggle after 50 years without flight.

Both males stared in astonishment at the sight. Rhysand’s eyes danced in awe as Feyre, albeit clumsily, carried them to the training ring on the roof.

Rhys snapped his own wings open as they landed. Feyre watched him tilt his head back in rapture as he felt the wind against his wings for the first time in decades. Then he opened his eyes, his expression shifting to reverence as he beheld the night sky.

“I was beginning to think I’d never see it again,” he whispered, his voice a heartbreaking blend of exaltation and disbelief. “And for this gift… for my salvation to be courtesy of my mate and of my brother… I’m a bit overwhelmed,” he admitted sheepishly.

Feyre hesitated. If this was the Rhysand from before, the one to which she was mated and married, she would come to comfort him. But this version of Rhys had only just been freed from enslavement, and she didn’t know what he needed.

As though sensing her hesitation, Rhys cast his eyes back to the sky. “I know they’re all waiting for me downstairs, but I’d like a little bit of time with the stars. Will you let them know, Az?”

Azriel nodded, though he seemed conflicted. His reunion with his brother was perhaps not as merry as the male had expected. But right now, she knew the Inner Circle would hardly deny Rhys anything. Perhaps for a long while yet. So Azriel headed downstairs to inform their friends, who were sure to be anxiously awaiting their arrival.

Rhysand regarded Feyre carefully once the two of them were alone. “Mate and High Lady,” he mused. “You seem to wear many hats.”

“You forgot ‘wife’,” Feyre said lightly.

“Yes, and ‘Salvation’, ‘Queen Killer’, ‘Most Beautiful Female in Prythian’, it seems there’s many things I could call you. Could we start with your name, perchance?”

Feyre was shocked. She’d assumed he’d taken such information out of her mind earlier, but it seems he’d been even more respectful than she’d expected.

“Feyre,” she answered. “My name is Feyre.”

He looked wonderstruck. “Feyre,” he repeated, testing the name on his lips. A gentle smile curled at the corners of his mouth, the first she’d seen from him yet. He extended his hand towards her. “Would you like to watch the stars with me, Feyre?”

It was an offer she couldn’t refuse. Her hand found his with all the casual grace of a dancer, as if it were a routine they’d been perfecting their whole lives. Their fingers interlocked and as one, they stared up at the dazzling night sky.

This reality wasn’t perfect, Feyre thought. This Rhys was different from her own, and he still had a lot of healing to do. But if she could be there for him, to help him in a ways she hadn’t before, then she would be grateful to the strange eddies of the Cauldron for bringing her here. For allowing her to end his torment early. For giving them this extra time.

She watched a shooting star dart across the sky and smiled as it passed. There was nothing she could wish for except that her mate find peace in all that he’d endured the last half century.

His deep, velvety voice cut through the silence. “Do you often wish on stars, Feyre?”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was watching her with a heart-wrenching wistfulness.

“Only when I have a wish worthy of the stars.”

“And do you?”

Feyre looked to the northernmost star, which shined brightest in the sky. “I wished for a light in the darkness,” she told him. “I don’t think the stars would ever begrudge such a wish.”

Rhysand nodded solemnly. “It’s true that they would be begrudging themselves in doing so. But I see no need for you to wish for such a thing.”

Feyre looked to him. He was still watching her, but something in him had shifted. He was smiling at her gently, that lingering sadness already receding. “Why’s that?” she asked cautiously.

That gentle smile widened, showing off his brilliant teeth. “Why, Feyre, to find such a thing, all you’d need to do is look in a mirror.”

#prompt fill #anon request #Feysand #Feysand fic #Inner Circle #Feysand fluff because I can't help myself #mentions of rape #Mentions of SA #acotar #acotar fic #time travel

53 notes · View notes

ssahotchhner · 3 years

Text

hunter, hunted

i should not be so excited about this but i just discovered that when you copy and paste text into a new post tumblr FINALLY allows italics and bolded fonts to be transferred over so I don't have to remember to go through it and do it myself again i could literally CRY rn. ANYWAY I thought it would be fun to write a oneshot like the Profiler, Profiled where Morgan is accused of murder. i created an oc for this one and I hope you love April I've spent a lot of time with her the last couple of weeks (:

words: 13.4k

pairing: hotch x oc

warnings: detailed descriptions of murder and torture and sexual assault

questions comments concerns

“Where’s the weapon, April?”

It was almost laughable. A federal agent handcuffed in an interrogation room being questioned for murder in her small town while visiting a childhood friend. She shakes her head at the detective, laughing. “I carry a gun on me at all times because, as I said, I’m a federal agent. You have it in your possession already. If you want to test it to see if I’ve fired it recently, be my guest. You won’t find anything.”

“You’re right, we won’t find anything because Brandon Perry died from blunt force trauma to the head. So I’ll ask you again, where is the weapon?”

This time, April does laugh. Of course he wasn’t shot. That would be too easy. “You know what, Detective Barnes, if you hadn’t kicked my hotel door down in the middle of the night, handcuffed me and dragged me in here, I may have cooperated with the investigation, but here we are. So I’ll tell you again: my Unit Chief is SSA Aaron Hotchner. I won’t be answering any more questions until I can speak with him.”

The middle aged man glares at her until finally getting up and leaving her alone in the interrogation room. She rested her head on the table and hoped that maybe that stupid motherfucker would listen to her this time.

***

“Hunter has been detained in Bar Harbor, Maine.” Hotch tells the team in the conference room.

JJ frowns, “Isn’t that her hometown? Why has she been arrested?”

“For murder.” Hotch says. Before the team can react, he pulls up a picture of Brandon Perry’s body, “Brandon Perry was found yesterday by a fisherman just off the docks a week after he was released from prison on parole. He had been bludgeoned to death with some sort of blunt object, the M.E. suggests a baseball bat.”

“And why do they think April did this?” Spencer asks.

Hotch clicks a button and a picture of a couple brutally murdered in their bed, a little boy who’s throat had been slashed, and a little girl with brown hair and bright green eyes, alive and well filled the screen, “Because he was serving time for the murders of Addison, Jacob, and Timothy Hunter. April’s family.”

Everyone stares at the monitor in shock, “Her whole family was murdered when she was a kid… and she never mentioned it to us?” Penelope asks, her lower lip trembling.

“April was left relatively unharmed, but she had been sexually assaulted by the assailant. She said he was tall, but he had on a ski mask so she was never able to give solid identification.” Hotch finishes.

“So how’d they connect these murders to Brandon Perry?” Rossi asks.

“He was connected to a couple other home invasions and assaults nearby so he entered a plea deal. The local police were under a lot of pressure to close the case.”

“Breaking into homes to murdering almost an entire family is a big escalation.” Morgan says.

Hotch nods, “I thought so too.”

“April was just a kid,” Prentiss says, “And to go through a trauma like that, I’m sure she believed whatever the police fed her. And to see him be released from prison like that… I hate to say it, but it could have been the trigger.”

Penelope’s shaking her head, “No, no, you guys don’t really think April did this, do you?”

Everyone’s silent for a moment and then Morgan speaks, “Baby girl, if she’s innocent, we’ll prove it. But we can’t rule out the possibility that she did this just yet.”

“I know April hasn’t been here that long,” Garcia says, “But she is still a part of this family. You can all treat her like an unsub, but I won’t.” She finishes and marches out of the conference room.

Aaron sighs, “Wheels up in thirty.” He says resolutely before leaving the room.

***

Hotch walked into the police station, the team at his back and was greeted by a man about April’s age who introduced himself as Detective Fielder. “Detective, I’d like to speak to my agent.” Hotch demanded after shaking the man’s hand.

The man shrugged, “Sorry, sir. My partner’s in there with her. She’s stubborn as hell. I went to school with her, you know it’s a shame the way her family died but… must’ve knocked a screw loose or somethin’. She ain’t ever been the same.”

Aaron thought it over, killers had made their way into the bureau before. Not like this, though. Not under the nose of his whole team. April kept to herself, but she had joined this team less than a year ago, it would be overwhelming for anyone. “You misunderstand, detective. It wasn’t a request. Bring me to my agent.”

Reluctantly, the younger detective brought Hotch to the back of the station where he could already hear another man, older by the sounds of it, screaming at April.

She was staring back at him, her posture relaxed, looking more annoyed than anything. Hotch walked in and she relaxed further, only then letting on that she had been putting on a show of being unbothered for the detective, “Thank God.” April sighs, “I thought maybe they didn’t call you.”

“Are you alright?” He asks her first, unable to explain why hearing another man scream at you had made his blood boil.

“I’m fine,” She says and directs her attention back to the older detective, “Detective Barnes won’t even get me a water, though.”

“Detective Fielder, get April some water.” Hotch demands. He can feel the two men exchange a look behind him before the younger detective leaves the room. “Detective Barnes, uncuff my agent.”

“You can’t let her go, you don’t have jurisdiction here.” He growls.

“I’m not suggesting you let her go, but even if you’re right she committed a one off crime of revenge. She’s not a threat to anyone here. Uncuff her.” The detective glared at April who only smirked at him. “Now, detective.” Aaron said, firmer this time.

With a look of disgust on his face, the detective uncuffed a smiling April as detective Fielder came back in the room with a cup of water. “Thank you, Billy.” April said as the detective placed the cup in front of her. He ignored her completely.

“I’d like to speak to her alone.”

“Like Hell.” Detective Barnes spat.

“With all due respect, detective, it doesn’t appear that you’ve gotten much out of her. You’re welcome to watch through the window, but I will be questioning her. Clear the room.” They stared at each other for another few moments before the detectives both left the room. Hotch turned back to April whose entire demeanor changed. She sighed, relaxing her shoulders and slouching over the table as she rubbed at her wrists where the cuffs had been. The antagonizing behavior Hotch had just witnessed her exhibit completely vanished.

“You don’t help when you antagonize them like that.” Hotch says.

She shrugs, “The men in this town don’t like a woman who thinks she’s his equal. They never liked my attitude. They like it even less now that I outrank them. Either I act like the superior I am, even in cuffs, or they force me into submission.”

He sits down at the table across from her, “Why didn’t you tell me about your family? It wasn’t in your file.”

“Strauss knew.” April says, immediately defensive. She hadn’t lied, the bureau knew.

“But you didn’t want me or the team knowing, why?” She doesn’t answer him, just stares at her hands. “April, I can’t help you if I don’t know.” He says gently.

Finally she looks up and sighs, “When I was twelve my entire family was brutalized and murdered in front of me, but not before the unsub raped me in front of my parents. And I didn’t react the way the people of this town wanted me to. I was twelve and I was covered in semen when he left. So I showered before calling 911. I didn’t cry even once in front of anyone and I never spoke about what happened to anyone, not even the police. Only enough to tell them that I had no idea what he looked like, but I thought he was white.” Her eyes water just slightly and she doesn’t meet his eyes, “For the six years after the murders that I stayed in this town, I know a lot of people thought I did it. That I was some kind of psychopath. So no, I didn’t want it in my file.”

“You thought maybe we’d arrive at the same decision the town did.” Hotch opens the case file, “But you were never tried or even considered a real suspect. There was no physical evidence.”

She smiles sadly, “No physical evidence means nothing to a small town who’s rarely ever seen a scandal, and certainly nothing like this.”

He stares at her for a moment, “And so when Brandon Perry was released from jail, you thought he hadn’t suffered nearly enough so you came back up here and killed him.” April laughs and Hotch can see he’s made her feel antagonistic again, “This isn’t funny, April, you’re a suspect in a homicide.”

“No, Hotch, you don’t understand. It’s funny because I don’t even believe Brandon Perry killed my family and I haven’t believed that for a long long time. Which is why it would make no goddamn sense for me to kill him.”

“That’s bullshit!” The door bursts open and detective Barnes walks in.

“Detective--” Hotch stands as if to shield her and April nearly frowns at how protective he seems to be of her right now. She had seen him this way around the rest of the team, but never her.

“You told Detective Fielder when you were fifteen that you would kill that son of bitch yourself if he ever got out of jail.”

Hotch looks at April with a bit of annoyance, he hated when others had more information than him and from the second he walked in here she kept hiding things from him, not telling him the whole truth.

She lazily rolls her eyes and stares at Billy, “I was fifteen. I was angry. He cooperated with the police so he had the opportunity to get parole after fifteen years? Get his life back after I thought he had ruined mine? Yeah, I said some stupid shit, I think any kid would have.”

“When did you start to doubt that Brandon Perry had killed your family?” Hotch asks, but she’s still shooting daggers at the other detectives, “Agent, eyes here.” He says roughly, growing impatient with her.

Her eyes snap to his, “I used to lurk on support pages for people whose loved ones had been murdered and I remember seeing that this girl described… Almost exactly what had happened to my family, but she said it happened while Brandon was on trial here. She lived a couple towns over.”

“So what did you do?”

She shrugs, “Nothing, I was seventeen, I didn’t have any resources there was nothing I could do.”

Hotch sits down across from her again, leaning over the table so he’s closer to her, “You really expect me to believe, with the conviction you just said Brandon is innocent, that you didn’t look into this further?” She stays quiet and won’t meet his eyes, “I can have Garcia search your desk and computer if you’d rather do this that way.”

She leans back in her chair, rolling her eyes, “Jesus fucking Christ, I’m not a fucking criminal.”

“Then tell me what you know.” Hotch says, voice raised.

“Fine! I started volunteering at the police station so I could get access to files. I was good with the digital databases, but no one else was so they basically gave me free reign. I was able to find three similar cases, all within a couple years of each other but in different cities. One of them, he crossed into New Hampshire. All of the local police departments either arrested someone like Brandon or dismissed it as a one off crime and let it go cold. The files are in my desk drawer at the BAU.”

“You carried them with you all this time?”

She picks at the cuticles around her thumb, something Hotch noticed weeks ago she does when she’s nervous. “I thought… I thought about asking you guys to just look at the case a million times. See if you saw what I saw. And if you didn’t then maybe I could finally move on.”

“So why didn’t you ask?”

Her eyes dart around the room, to the detectives, the one way window, and then back to Hotch, “You guys, the team, you all have… This unbreakable bond and I… I barely just got here and I thought if I’d asked…” She sighs and runs her hands through her hair, “I just… I didn’t think you’d care.”

“The whole team flew out here at the drop of hat for you and you think we wouldn’t care?”

She frowns, “The whole team is here?”

“Yes.”

April sits back in her chair, looking dazed.

“Detectives, you’ll be releasing Agent Hunter from your custody now and since we have reason to believe there’s a serial killer loose and across state lines, we’ll be staying on the case.”

“You don’t really believe anything she’s saying, do you? She’s a psychopath!” Detective Barnes fumed.

Hotch stands and steps to the detective who immediately takes a step back after noticing Hotch’s menacing stance, “She is a federal agent and is no longer a suspect, you have no physical evidence and you just lost motive. You will speak to her with respect and if you don’t think you can handle that I’ll contact your superintendent and have you removed from the case. Is that clear?”

The detective stood back and out of their way, April looking at the ground so Hotch wouldn’t have to yell at her for antagonizing them again.

“What’s the history with you and Billy?” Hotch asks as they walk out of the room.

April rolls her eyes, “He was my high school boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Hotch muses, “You can do better.”

Before she can figure out if he was joking or not, the team realizes she’s walking of her own free will and they seem to all release the tension in their bodies. JJ walks to April first, pulling her into a hug before she can react.

April slowly raises her arms to hug JJ back, “I wish you had told us sooner.” Is all she says.

“I’m sorry you guys came all the way out here.” April addresses the team when JJ moves away from her.

“That’s okay, Hunter, we’re just glad to see you aren’t a murderer.” Morgan teases.

“We might actually be staying here for a while after all.” Hotch says.

Prentiss frowns, “Is there a case here?”

April opens and closes her mouth, “I-- Maybe.”

“Why don’t you call Garcia, ask her to get those files to everyone.” Hotch says to her quietly.

April nods and walks off.

“What’s going on, Hotch?” Rossi asks.

Hotch pushes his hands in his pockets, “The reason we were able to clear Hunter is because she has no motive. She doesn’t believe Brandon Perry killed her family and she hasn’t since she was a teenager.” He pauses, “She thinks the murders may be the work of a serial killer. She found three additional cases nearby, one crosses over to New Hampshire, that she believes are the work of the same unsub.”

Prentiss slowly nods, “And you want us to see if that’s true or not.”

Hotch nods, “I’m sure April would really appreciate our support.”

Everyone on the team is already nodding when April comes back, “So, as Penelope might say… Avengers assemble?” She asks hopefully.

Thankfully, they all laugh and nod, even Hotch cracks a smile, “Great.” April sighs in relief, “Let’s go to the conference room.”

With Garcia on a laptop screen, April tells them everything she knows, which admittedly, isn’t much. However, there are overwhelming similarities between the cases.

“Every family he chose was wife, husband, two kids. The eldest was the daughter all between the ages of 11-13 and in each case the daughter was raped and kept alive.” April was speaking as if she wasn’t speaking about herself and Hotch would be lying if he said it didn’t concern him. “In each case the parents were brutally tortured with a knife, forced to watch the rape and then killed with a fatal gunshot to the head. The boy was always killed first and it was always quick.”

“A mercy kill?” Reid muses.

April sighs, “I’ve never been able to figure that part out. It’s obvious he gets off on the rape and torture of the parents and daughter, but why not leave the boy alive the way he always leaves the daughter if it’s out of mercy?”

“It could be he thinks he’s sparing the boy the pain and trauma of having to go through the after effects of watching his parents and sister tortured.” Prentiss says.

“When all is said and done the daughter suffers the most psychologically.” Hotch says, “She could be the real target, maybe a surrogate for someone he knew.”

At this point, Hotch notices the way April is staring at the table, eyes unfocused, “Hunter,” Her eyes shoot up, “You must be exhausted, let me drive you back to the hotel so you can get some rest.”

“Hotch, I’m fine, I want to help.”

“No,” He says and she frowns, “If the daughter is the true target we’re going to have to dive deeper into victimology. Why he chose you. You don’t want to be here for that.”

Everyone’s quiet and deliberately looks away from April. She sighs, “Fine, but I’m coming back first thing in the morning.” She stands and walks out of the conference room without waiting for Hotch.

“Garcia, see what you can find about April’s childhood as well as the other victims and let us know if there’s any similarities.” Hotch says.

“It feels icky, but I’ll do it.” Garcia responds.

“I’ll be back.” Hotch addresses the rest of the team before heading after April.

They ride in silence for a few minutes, Hotch glancing over to the passenger seat every few seconds. “Whatever you want to say just say it.” April says, growing tired of the constant glances.

“You don’t have to keep working on this case like it’s any other case--”

“It’s not just any other case.”

“I know,” He says gently, “I’m worried about you. I know you bottle things up, showing emotion to other people makes you feel vulnerable, which in turn makes you feel weak. And I worry that the way you’re bottling up your rage is going to lead to you taking it out on--”

“I didn’t kill Brandon.” She says.

“I know you didn’t. But if we do find the real killer, I can’t let you come with us into the field until he’s been taken into custody.”

“Hotch--”

“It’s not up for discussion. I’m sorry.”

She sat back in the seat and crossed her arms over her chest and they continue on in silence for a while longer. “Do you think our unsub is also responsible for Brandon’s death?” Hotch felt guilty about upsetting her and thought maybe getting her brain back into work mode would stop her from giving him the silent treatment.

For a few moments he thinks she might continue to ignore him, but finally, she sighs, “It’s possible. If we think he gets off on the suffering of the daughters, he might be upset that I thought he had been caught. That I felt safe knowing he was behind bars. Killing Brandon after he was released could have been a message to me that he’s still out there and obviously following me.”

“You don’t feel safe anymore.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It was implied.” Hotch pauses, “I can stay at the hotel with you, work with the team remotely from the room next to yours.”

He expects her to refuse, but instead she agrees. “Okay.” She says quietly. This only worries him more as she is typically unlikely to accept help unless he insists upon it.

They walk up to the hotel room in silence and Hotch stands behind her as she unlocks her door, “Hey,” He says softly and she turns, “Anything you need, anything at all, I’ll be right there.” He nods his head to the door next to them.

“Thank you.” She says, giving him a small smile before pushing the hotel door open and then quickly closing it behind her.

He stands there for a moment, staring at the space she was just standing in before sighing and going to his own room.

“How is she doing?” Rossi asks when he calls the team from his room to let them know he’ll be staying there.

“She won’t admit it, but she’s scared. She thinks he might be following her and that Brandon Perry was a message to her that he’s still out there.”

“That would make sense if we think the girls are the real targets.” Prentiss chimes in.

Hotch stays on the phone with them a little while longer before they all decide to head back to the hotel. He stares at the wall that separates him from April and tries to get his mind to quiet enough to rest. He’s right here. Nothing will hurt her if he’s right here. He thought about how just last week Rossi had teased him for catching him staring at April. He had nearly convinced Aaron to ask her out. But she was so distant and hard to read and he didn’t want to chance rejection. Eventually, he closes his eyes and drifts off, an image of you smiling at him on the backs of his eyelids.

***

April was exhausted, but she stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours. Small noises that she never thought twice about now startled her. Hotch is next door. She reminded herself. She thought about the comment he made about Billy: You could do better. Had he been… Flirting? Aaron Hotchner… Flirting? It felt absurd. Shaking the thought out of her head, she got up and poured herself some water from the Brita in the mini fridge. Finally, after drinking the water, she’s able to fall asleep.

The breeze against her face wakes her. Slowly blinking her eyes into consciousness, she notices the balcony doors are open. Those were closed when I fell asleep, She thinks to herself and shoots up in bed, scrambling for her gun as her heart races. April considers yelling to Hotch, but if he’s still here she doesn’t want to scare him off.

On the wall at the foot of her bed reads “Welcome Home” in what looks like blood. Under it sits her favorite childhood teddy bear, head ripped clean off. She tightens her grip on the gun in order to stop the shaking and then glances around the room, but there’s nothing. Then she slowly opens the bathroom door. Pointing her gun at the shower, the curtain moves. She doesn’t hesitate she fires off four rounds, breathing hard. She doesn’t hear a body fall. Reaching out she pushes the curtain, but no one’s there.

Seconds later, Hotch is calling her name, but he doesn’t wait for a response before kicking down the door. “Hunter?” He calls again and she thinks she might hear fear in his voice. Fear for her?

“I’m in the bathroom. You can put down your gun, it’s clear.” He appears behind her a moment later, still staring at the shower, “I thought he was still in here.”

She walks around him and back out to where he left the message, “He came in through the balcony, I— I thought I locked it…” She trails off, looking at the glass of water on the table and realizing she can’t remember when she fell asleep.

“What is it?” Hotch asks.

“He was in here before. I think he drugged my water.”

He narrows his eyes at her, “We should go to the hospital then, I’ll have the team come here and treat this as a crime scene.”

“I don’t need to go to the hospital, I’m fine—“

“We don’t know what he gave you or how much, besides, having you tested will tell us what he used faster than sending a sample of the water to Quantico.”

“Fine.” She agrees begrudgingly, he was right. She walks over to her bag of clothes and it’s only at this moment that she realizes she had worn only an oversized t-shirt to bed and Hotch was making a valiant effort not to stare at her legs.

“I’ll, um, I have to get dressed as well.” He says hurriedly, gesturing to the pajama pants he’s wearing. He leaves before she can say anything else. Under normal circumstances, April’s sure this would have made her laugh, but that teddy bear seems to be staring her down. She gets dressed and leaves the room without another glance.

***

April stares out the window of the SUV in silence while Hotch calls Rossi to fill him in on what happened so the rest of the team can start assessing her hotel room. When he hangs up, she feels his eyes darting between her and the road again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks quietly.

She’s quiet for a moment and then she takes a shaky breath, “That teddy bear went missing from my room a couple weeks before the murders. It was my favorite.” She swipes impatiently at the tears that start falling, “I blamed Timmy for it, we fought about it for hours. He felt so bad that I was mad at him he used his birthday money to buy me another one. I really thought he took it.” She tilts her head back in the headrest, trying desperately to stop the impending sobs.

Hotch doesn’t say anything, but he reaches across the car to hold her hand. To her own surprise, she lets him, the calluses on his thumb rubbing reassuring circles on the back of her hand.

***

“What do you have, Garcia?” Hotch steps out of your examination room for a moment to accept the call.

“How is she?” Penelope asks first.

“She’s… shaken up. But, like everyone else on this team does an excellent job of seeming unaffected.”

She sighs, “My poor wonder woman. Anyway, I think I found the connection between all the daughters.”

“What is it?”

“Well, it turns out that our April was a very talented child. Her parents took her to talent shows regularly, she was voted ‘Most Likely To Make It To Hollywood’ in her middle school yearbook.”

Hotch frowns and looks back at April, “We’re talking about the same federal agent, right?”

“I know, sir, not much surprises me anymore, but this did. There’s videos of her singing all over the internet, she was on the local news, quite the young star.”

“And the other victims?”

“All singers, sir. Every last one.”

“Thanks, Garcia.”

He walks back into April’s room, “You used to be a singer.” He says.

She rolls her eyes, “So?”

“So all the other daughters were singers too.” She sets her jaw and won’t meet his eyes. She’s not surprised by this information. “Why didn’t you mention it?”

“I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“You didn’t think it was relevant that there was a connection between all of the victims?”

She sighs and she feels shame at his obvious disappointment, “I’m sorry. I’ve worked really hard to block it out, sometimes I honestly forget.”

“What else aren’t you telling me?”

She bites her lip and looks down at her hands, picking at the cuticles around her thumb again, “He made me sing while… While he raped me.”

“Is there anything else?”

“No. I swear.”

He stares at her for moment and she knows he’s trying to see if she’s lying. It makes her angry at him, but also at herself. Maybe Hotch had never been as fond of her as the others, but he had never distrusted her. Just another thing the unsub had taken from her. “What song did he make you sing?”

The question is so painful to think about that she visibly flinches, “Do you really need to know that?”

“You know I do.” He says softly.

She looks away from him again, back to the cuticle on her thumb that she’s made bleed, “Like A Virgin by Madonna.”

He places his hand over hers again and she finds it almost alarming the way his touch seems to immediately calm her. “April, we won’t stop until we find him. I promise.”

She gives him a teary smile, “Will you stay with me?”

He smiles back at her, giving her a hand a slight squeeze and his smile takes her breath away, “I’ll be glued to your side until this case is over.”

***

A couple hours later they had found out that there was a classic date rape drug in April’s system: Gamma-hydroxybutyric acid, or GHB. The drug is usually prescribed for narcolepsy, but it was most often obtained illegally from Mexican pharmacies which they assumed was how the unsub got it.

“I’m bringing you back to the police station so you can stay with me and the team like I promised, but you don’t have to keep working the case.” Hotch says as he drives.

“Funny that you think you can stop me from working the case.”

He smirks a bit and brings his attention back to the road.

“What do you guys have for a profile so far?” He looks over at her, frowning. “What? I know you guys have been working while I’ve been reliving my trauma so what’ve you got?”

“White male, when he murdered your family he was probably in his twenties so now we’re guessing mid thirties to early forties. The torture is consistent with a sadist. Killing an entire family is an incredibly high risk crime which suggests he’s a narcissist, but also very organized. He’s able to control four people at once without much difficulty and he’s never left a shred of physical evidence behind except on the daughters. This means he’s arrogant and--” Hotch cuts himself off.

“What?”

“You said you showered before calling 911. Why?”

“I… I told you he left… He left his semen all over me, I was just a kid, I wanted a shower--”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, that doesn’t make any sense. Yes, you were traumatized, but every kid has it hardwired in their brain that as soon as something bad happens the first thing they do is call 911.”

“Okay, well I didn’t.”

He presses some buttons on the console of the car and then Garcia’s voice is coming through the speaker, “At your service, sir.”

“Garcia, in any of the family murders, was there a rape kit done on any of the daughters?”

“Well, surely there must have been-- Oh. No, no rape kits, not on any of them.”

“Does a police report tell you why?”

“I’m checking… and…” There’s a sigh from Penelope.

“What is it, Garcia?”

“All of them showered before calling 911.”

April is already shaking her head, “No, no that can’t be right.”

“Did any of them report why they showered before calling for help?”

“Most of them, like April, just reported that they felt icky and needed to shower, but the first one, the very first victim Katie Yates, she reported that the unsub made her shower. Like, held her at gunpoint, marched her to the bathroom, and watched. Once he was satisfied with how clean she was, he left while she was still in the shower.”

“That’s not what happened,” April says quietly, her eyes closed.

“Thank you, Garcia.” Hotch says and hangs up the phone before she can respond, “April--”

“No.” She says fiercely, “I’m telling you that’s not what happened.”

“Every other aspect of the crime is controlled and calculated, he wouldn’t make the mistake of leaving DNA all over his victims--”

“I would remember that if he did--”

“No,” Hotch says gently. He had pulled into the police station now, putting the car in park, “No, because you didn’t want to remember. Just that one memory, that one you wanted so badly to believe was your own. That he wasn’t there for the shower. But he was, wasn’t he?”

“Please stop.” She said breathlessly.

“I’m sorry.” He sounds sincere and he puts his hand over hers, “Look at me.” She doesn’t obey immediately so he reaches up to grip her chin and gently turn her face to his. Her eyes are shining and her breathing is uneven, but his eyes are soft and she has the absurd urge to rest her forehead against his. “He can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe.”

She nods and swallows. “I need you to walk me through exactly what happened after the rape.” He continues. Her lip trembles, but she nods again. “Okay, close your eyes.”

“Hotch--” She whimpers.

“I’m right here. I’ll be here the whole time. You know how this goes. Close your eyes.” She takes a shaky breath and closes her eyes. “Good. He’s on top of you still. He’s just finished. Tell me what you feel, what you hear.”

“Um. I’m crying. I can hear my parents crying. His weight on me is making it hard to breathe.” She starts panicking, her breathing quickens.

“April, focus. He’s not here. You’re safe. What about your hands, what are you touching?”

“The carpet. I’m on the floor in the basement.”

“Can you see your parents?”

“Yes,” She gulps, “But I’m trying not to look at them. It’s humiliating.”

“Okay. Now what is he doing?”

“He… He kisses my neck and whispers in my ear ‘Thank you for the show’ and then he stands up.” Her breathing quickens, “He’s walking to my parents, I don’t want to watch, he’s going to kill them, Hotch--!”

“Okay, okay, come back. Open your eyes. I’m here.” His hands come up to cradle her face. She should be startled by her boss touching her like this, but she’s oddly comforted.

Her breathing finally slows, “I’m tired.” She says softly.

“I know. We’re almost done. Close your eyes again, you can do this.” His hands stay on her face as she closes her eyes again, “Okay. Your parents are dead. What does he do now?”

“Uh, I’m screaming. He’s looking at me and laughing and then he grabs my arm and pulls me up from the floor. I struggle and he puts the gun to my head and says if I don’t calm down he’ll blow out my brains like he did my parents. And then… He walks me up the stairs to the bathroom…” Her breathing becomes rapid again, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Yes you can.” Hotch’s voice is low and soothing. He believes in you, she thinks to herself, if he thinks you can do this, you can.

“He turns on the shower. I’m already naked and once I’m in the shower he starts undressing.” Silent tears stream down her cheeks and she’s distantly aware of Hotch gently wiping them away with the pads of his thumbs. “He comes in the shower. He’s touching me. I’m begging him to stop. Oh, God.”

“April, stay there. He’s undressed, he’s taken the mask off, do you recognize him?”

She’s shaking her head, “I can’t… I can’t look.”

“The water’s hitting your skin, his hands are on you--”

“Stop.”

“Look up, April.”

Despite herself, she listens. She’s in that shower, significantly smaller than she is now, and she looks up to see blue eyes looking down at her. Shaggy brown hair nearly covers them, especially now that it’s wet. He has a smirk on his face and crooked front teeth. There’s a tattoo on his right arm of a cross.

“Okay, okay that’s enough, you did it.” Hotch’s voice pulls her back out and she becomes aware of the car that’s still around them and the fact that she’s sobbing. “You’re okay. You’re safe. You did so good.” She falls forward in his arms and after a moment of hesitation he wraps his arms around her, holding her until her breathing settles. It takes him a moment to realize that anyone could look in the SUV and find him in a seemingly compromising position with his subordinate and he pulls away. To his shock, she seems to look disappointed. “You ready to go inside?”

“Yeah.” She says and without another word, she gets out of the car. Hotch can’t deny that he feels like he’s done something wrong as he watches April walk into the station.

When April walks in the station, her whole team cranes their heads to watch her, but she heads straight for the coffee without looking at anyone. Hotch files in soon after.

“Is she okay?” Reid asks, the rest of the team waits for his answer.

“I just gave her a cognitive interview, I’m sure she’s upset.”

“Did you learn anything?” JJ asks.

“Yeah,” Hotch nods, “She remembers what he looks like and she identified a tattoo on his right arm.”

“We should have Garcia run that, see if we can get an ID.” Morgan says.

“Call a sketch artist as well.” Hotch looks up at where April was standing just a few moments ago to see her gone, “Excuse me.”

***

April’s hands shake so hard as she tries to pour the coffee she ends up putting it down in frustration. “Need some help?” She turns to see Billy, standing there smirking at her.

Sighing, she stands back and gestures for him to go ahead. He steps in to pour the coffee, “Pretty elaborate ruse you got going on, staging a break in at your hotel room with that teddy bear.”

She stares at him in disbelief, “You still think I did this?”

“I think,” He says, handing her a cup of coffee, “That you’re impulsive and you went to confront Brandon and you didn’t mean to kill him, but you did and now this is all to cover everything up.”

“Oh,” She scoffs and starts walking away from him, “You are delusional and a dick.”

He follows April into another room and closes the door behind them, “Open the door.” She says when she realizes she’s shut in.

“You and your stupid FBI team are making this whole police force look bad, you need to drop the investigation.”

“The cases cross state lines, we have jurisdiction.”

“Yeah, you would have jurisdiction if there was a real case, but there isn’t. You’re a pathological liar and you can’t even see it. Brandon Perry murdered your family and raped you and just can’t let it go.”

“You’re a sick son of a bitch,” She walks around him to the door, but he turns quickly and places his palm against the door, slamming it shut again. “Let me out.” She says slowly.

“I’ll let you out when you promise me that you’re going to march out there and tell them that you’ve been lying this whole time and then march your pretty ass back to D.C.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll arrest you for the murder of Brandon Perry.”

“You have no evidence.”

“Oh, April, April, April. I know you know what a coerced confession is here. And I also know that you know a jury of your peers here in Maine would send you to prison for less.”

There’s a sharp knock on the door and Billy finally steps away. When she opens it, Hotch is on the other side, “Everything okay in here?”

“Just fine, Agent Hotchner. Isn’t that right April?” Billy says and grabs a strand of her hair, twirling it around his finger and tugging, exactly like he used to when he sat behind her in middle school.

April slaps her hand on his wrist and twists his arm around until he yells. “You lay a hand on me or threaten me again, I will make sure you don’t have a career here anymore. Understood?”

“You can’t--” He starts, but she twists his arm further.

“Am I clear?” She says again.

“Alright, fine!”

She shoves him away and he stumbles, nearly falling to the floor as April storms out, Hotch still standing in the doorway, watching Billy.

“I told you,” Billy says, pushing himself to standing, “She’s a crazy bitch.”

“Detective, let me make myself very clear. If you continue to harass my agent or impede on this investigation in any way, not only will I make sure you never have a career in law enforcement again, I will arrest you for obstructing a federal investigation.”

Billy shakes his head, “She’s got you all wrapped around her finger.”

“And I think your boss has you wrapped around his finger. He’s the one who arrested Brandon Perry. Seems like he would have a lot more to lose if he was wrong than you would.”

“He wasn’t wrong.”

“Then let us conduct the investigation. If it leads back to Brandon Perry, then so be it.”

“You really think she’d accept that?”

“If the evidence led us there, she would. Now stay out of our investigation if you value your job.” Hotch leaves without giving him time to respond and then tries to find April.

“Are you alright?” He asks when he finds her. She’s sitting alone at a conference table.

“I’m fine, Billy’s just an asshole.”

“There’s more to your relationship than you told me to begin with.”

She frowns, “What are you talking about?”

“You said you came up here to visit a friend. Who were you visiting?”

“I’m tired of being interrogated--”

“The reason Billy is so sure you killed Brandon Perry is because you were with him that night and then you left suddenly, isn’t it?”

April sighs and looks down at the table, “Hotch, I appreciate everything you’re doing to help, but who I was with and what I was doing that night doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t kill Brandon so please just drop it.”

He shakes his head and he looks almost frustrated with April, but that doesn’t make any sense. Why would he care so much about her relationship with Billy? “I don’t understand why you would waste your time on a cop like that, look at what a mess it put you in.”

She frowns, “With all due respect, sir, it’s really not your business who I’m sleeping with.”

“Why did you leave that night if you didn’t kill Brandon?”

She scoffs, “I can’t believe this.”

“Answer the question.”

She was angry with him. Practically bursting at the seams with rage. Just like every other man, thinking he’s entitled to everything about her. They all disappointed her in the end. “Billy and I had a fight and I wanted to be alone.”

“What was the fight about?”

“He wanted to be an official couple again. I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

She tilts her head to the side, “Just because I’m a good fuck doesn’t mean he gets to claim me. Like you said, he’s just a stupid cop and I could do better. Now will you leave me alone?”

April recognized that look in his eyes: He was jealous. Aaron Hotchner was jealous that she had a sexual relationship with another man. And suddenly her anger evaporated and was replaced by desire. She supposed she did always have a thing for older men which she was sure a profiler would say had to do with her dead dad. Either way, she sent a smoldering glare his way until he left her alone.

When he left, she rested her head on the table in exhaustion and didn’t notice Emily had approached until she heard the seat in front of her being pulled out. She raises her head and manages a smile, “Hi.”

“How are you doing?” She asks.

“Better now that you’re here, I’m tired of all the men around here.”

She laughs, “Good. Well, the sketch artist is here and I’m sad to report that he is a man.” April groans. “But, I will stay with you if you want and then I think we’re all going to work through the night, but Hotch was talking about bringing you back to the hotel to get some rest. It sounds like you had a rough day.”

“Yeah,” She sighs, “Cognitive interviews are the worst.”

As promised, Emily sits with her while she talks to the sketch artist and Hotch walks over not long after. When it’s finished, Emily gives your hand a squeeze and leaves with the sketch to pin to the evidence board.

“You should get some rest, I’ll take you back to the hotel now.” Hotch says, hands in his pockets. It was intriguing to her that he could act like he didn’t just ask about her sex life only an hour ago.

“I can’t sleep in that room again.”

“You can sleep in mine. I’ll sleep on the floor,” He adds quickly upon seeing the look on her face.

She sighs, “You don’t have to sleep on the floor, just don’t touch me.”

“Won’t be a problem.” And with the indifference in his tone, she thought maybe she had actually imagined everything earlier.

“Great.” She murmurs and gets up to walk out first.

Hotch stays behind for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose and Rossi comes up behind him, “You picked a terrible time to start giving her hints about the way you feel, Aaron.”

“We’re trying to solve a case about her family’s murder and all I can think about is how pissed off it makes me to know that she’s been sleeping with someone else.”

“You’re human.”

Hotch just shakes his head and walks away.

***

“Daddy driving you home?”

The voice behind April makes her jump, her hand flying automatically to her gun.

“Woah, it’s just me April.” Billy laughs, leaning up against the station building, “You really are on edge, lately, huh? A sign of guilt or genuine fear?”

She could strangle him right here, she thinks. But instead, she reigns in her temper and leans against the wall next to him, “What about your daddy, huh? Haven’t seen him here all day. Is he too busy making wrongful arrests?”

Billy scoffs, “Yeah, and how’s your stupid little profile going? Did you find the real killer yet?”

She sighs, “You cops are all the same, think your old fashioned police work is better than profiling.”

Billy looks like he’s about to respond, but Hotch walks through the door just then, “There’s daddy, you better hurry up and get in the car like a good girl.”

Hotch barely registers what Billy’s said before April launches herself at him, fists flying. He immediately reacts, grabbing her arms, “Hunter, hey, hey! That’s enough! Get in the car.” He says sternly.

She shakes him off, but walks to the car all the same.

“Fucking bitch.” Billy mutters, drawing Hotch’s attention back to him.

“Detective, I thought I made myself clear that you were to stay away from my agent and out of my case.”

Billy steps up, eye to eye with Hotch, “This is my station, agent. Back off.”

Hotch stares him down for a few more moments, “The superintendent will be hearing from me tomorrow, at the very least you’ll be getting suspended. Maybe now’s a good time for you to clean out your desk.” And then he turns and walks back to the SUV, ignoring Billy’s curses behind him.

Once Hotch is in the SUV and starts driving away, he starts talking to April, “When you’re out in the field you represent me, you represent the team, and the whole bureau. You can’t just--”

“I don’t need a lecture right now.”

He’s surprised to hear tears in her voice and it softens him immediately, “April, I’m sorry I’ve been so hard on you today.”

“You’ve only done what you need to do to solve the case, you shouldn’t apologize.”

“No, no, I… I shouldn’t have questioned you about Billy earlier. You were right, it’s none of my business.”

“It’s fine.” She says. First indifference, now an apology. Maybe she really had imagined everything. “I just want to sleep.”

***

Hotch works for a while by the light of the lamp when you get into bed, poring over the case files again and again, trying to figure out if they had missed anything. He’s pretty sure April is actually sleeping and once he’s sure he can’t get any more work done, he turns off the lamp and gets ready for bed.

He slips in the bed as quietly as possible, hoping not to wake her, but there’s the smallest moan that escapes her lips when the mattress shifts. A moment later, she turns over, still in sleep and slings her arm over his chest, sighing contentedly as she rests her head on his chest. Hotch freezes, unsure of how to react before slowly wrapping his arms around her in return. Her shampoo smells like peaches and vanilla and he breathes it in deeply knowing in the morning she’ll pretend this never happened.

***

When April wakes up and finds herself in Hotch’s arms, legs tangled under the sheets, she does her best not to panic. With the way they were positioned, it was clear she had initiated this which was all the more embarrassing. Lucky for her though, she doesn’t have to figure out her next move because his phone rings. She pretends to be asleep as he slowly comes to wakefulness and reaches for his phone.

“Hotchner.” His voice is husky from sleep and it sends a thrill through her and she imagines for a moment what it would be like if Aaron Hotchner was hers. Then she hears Billy’s voice in her head calling him her daddy and the moment sours.

“Okay.” He says after a few moments, “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

He ends the call and sets the phone back on the nightstand, but to her surprise, he doesn’t immediately wake her. “Are you awake?” He whispers after a few moments and she tries not to balk.

“Mmm.” Is all she manages and she keeps her eyes closed, not sure she can meet his eyes like this.

“They’ve, um… Another family was killed last night.” He tries to say it as gently as possible, but she shoots up in bed anyway, “The daughter was killed as well this time.”

She’s shaking her head, “No… No, that can’t be. She has to… She can’t be dead.”

“It’s probably a message to you.” Hotch says calmly.

She scoffs, “That’s great. A whole family’s dead because of me.”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“Oh, like hell it isn’t.” She says, climbing out of bed and pulling on her jeans. She doesn’t fully realize who she’s getting dressed in front of until Hotch tries to subtly avert his eyes. “I should’ve solved this case years ago. I’ve known it was serial for a while. I could have saved them.”

“You know as well as I do that thinking like that isn’t helpful for anyone.” He says, following her lead and getting dressed in front of her. The fact that they’re both acting like nothing out of the ordinary has taken place between them makes everything somehow even more intimate.

She sighs, “Let’s just get over there.” And she walks into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

***

April can feel the bile rising in her throat as her team mills around the crime scene. She’s crouched next to the girl, Layla, whose throat had been slit. She had also been stabbed too many times to be counted by the naked eye. Her eyes stared blankly ahead, but April could see the fear there. He had left her here, in front of her parents’ bodies, naked. “He went through the entire ritual, even the shower, then brought her back down here and killed her.”

“He’s always been very controlled and organized, but this last kill is full of rage.” Prentiss notices.

April frowns as she looks at Layla’s throat and notices that it almost seems to be bulging, “I think there’s something in her throat.” She pulls on her latex gloves while everyone crowds around her and then gently prys the girl’s jaw open. Reaching in, her fingers brush what feels like crumpled paper at the back of her throat and April pulls it out. Heart racing, she smooths it open.

Welcome home, April. I’d like to see the woman I’ve created. Arrive alone at the place where we first met, 20:00.

Everyone was silent as April read the note over and over after reading it aloud the first time. The word “alone” had been underlined several times. There was no threat attached to it, but April knew it was one all the same.

“We’ll have to call SWAT and let them know, we’ll also have to prepare the local police--”

“No.” April cut off Hotch, “You can’t be serious, he said to come alone.”

“April, his end game is clearly to kill you, if you go there by yourself you won’t come back out. And I already told you you’re not allowed to handle the arrest.”

“This is our one shot to get him,” Her eyes water, “This family died because of me--”

“Hunter--”

“Stop.” The tears fall down her cheeks and he wants to brush them away like he had the day before. “I won’t let this happen again, I’m going to see him by myself.”

“At least go in with a wire, we’ll stay a safe distance away.” Morgan bargained.

She shifts her attention to Morgan, to her team who are all looking at her sadly. Concern dripping heavy from their limbs. “No SWAT.” She insists, “Just this team.”

Hotch sighs and rubs a hand over his face, “You’re sure you can handle this?”

She wasn’t, but she nods anyway.

“Fine.” Is all he says before walking away.

***

Aaron is conscious of her eyes on him as he helps her put the wire on, “You steer the conversation away from yourself when you’re in there. Don’t let your guard down for a second. He’s going to try to get in your head, blame you for what he’s done. Don’t let him, just feed his ego and then call us when you’ve got him. Okay?”

“Yeah.” She says quietly.

He finishes putting the wire on and leans away from her in the surveillance van, “I can go in with you.” He says, giving it one last shot.

“No.”

He nods resolutely, “Promise me you’ll walk out of there alive.” She avoids meeting his eyes, “April.”

Finally she locks her eyes to his, “I’m scared.” She says, and her voice shakes.

It’s the first time he’s heard her admit it. He’d known she felt it, but she’d never admitted it. “Listen to me.” He says firmly, “You are not the twelve year old girl he knew. You’re stronger than him. You can do this.”

She takes a deep breath and nods, moving around him to exit the van.

“Be careful.” He says one last time and he thinks maybe she’s aware of just how worried he is about her, his eyes full of concern.

She gives him a small smile before turning away and walking down the street, rounding the last block to her childhood home, the house she hadn’t entered again since the murders. The town was small and since everyone knew what had happened there, it had never been sold.

April stands just outside the house for a minute, hand hovering just above her gun, trying to get both hands to stop shaking. Hotch believes in you. She reminds herself, recalling his words in the van. She can do this.

She’d been avoiding thinking about all his touches in the last few days. The way his rough, callused fingers felt so gentle on her face when she cried. The way he’d wrapped his arms around her in sleep, almost protectively. The way when he woke to answer his phone this morning he had absently stroked her shoulder. Did they mean anything to him or was he just an overworked, touch starved man, desperate for any sort of attention, even from her.

Shaking the thoughts from her head, she headed for the door, raising her gun as she approached. The door was already slightly ajar and she pushed it lightly with the pads of her fingers. Carefully, she cleared each room, heart ricocheting against her rib cage, though she already knew where he’d be waiting for her.

After they had found the last family, Garcia had been able to ID the killer based on the sketch and the tattoo as Allen Grey. He had the usual tough past, abusive father and mother, grew up in poverty. His parents died when he was still young and his older sister was left to take care of him, and she then continued the cycle of abuse, escalating to sexual assault. It explained the mercy for the young boys and torture of the eldest daughters, but April couldn’t bring herself to feel sympathy for him.

She stood at the top of the basement stairs, could already see the lights on down there and could hear Madonna’s Like a Virgin playing on vinyl. April hated the way her body reacted, the way everything in her was telling her to run. She was a federal agent for Christ’s sake, she took down killers like this one all the time. He was no different, she tried to assure herself, he was just like the rest. And then she steeled herself, brought her gun back up in front of her at eye level, and began descending the stairs.

“There you are! Welcome home, April!” Allen says cheerfully as you point the gun at him, “Now, now, come on, I don’t have a weapon,” He raises his hands, “Why don’t you holster that gun, Agent Hunter.” He had an arrogant smirk on his face.

Tears stung the corners of her eyes and her finger flexed on and off the trigger, wanting so bad to just pull it and be done with it. But she knew her team was listening and this was exactly why Hotch hadn’t wanted her in the field for this. She lowered her weapon and put it back in her holster.

“That’s better. Why don’t you have a seat?” He gestured to the worn out table and chairs, “Let’s have a drink. Talk.”

She swallowed thickly, “No thank you.” She managed.

“No, come on now, April. We have to catch up!”

“Why did you bring me here?”

He smiles at her again and comes closer to her. Slowly, he pulls a knife out of his pocket and brings it up for her to see. She balks, but he quickly grabs her from the back of her neck to keep her steady and runs the knife gently over her face. “You were always so clever, April.” She keeps eye contact with him, doing her best not to show any fear. “So pretty and smart. I only followed you, after, you know? You were… number two, I believe. I chased the high I got with you with everyone after, but none of them were the same.”

“Is that why you stopped for a while after the fourth family?”

He nods, “Like I said, you were always so smart. And then I saw how you became obsessed with people like me, went to college to study criminal justice, always thinking about me. Joined the FBI because you were so obsessed with me, weren’t you, little April?”

She wanted to spit in his face, but she remembered what Hotch said about feeding into his ego, “They say you never forget your first.” She says cooly, almost seductively.

It works, an arrogant smile twists its way up his face and he pockets the knife. “All I ever wanted was to find you,” She says, slipping into character, “See those blue eyes again. I dream about them every night.” None of these statements are lies, but the tone she takes when delivering them, the sweetness she adds to it, the act she puts on makes bile rise in her own throat.

“I knew it.” He says, looking at her with newfound desire, “We’re soulmates, you know?” His words are gentle, but he grips her by the hair again and pulls, exposing her neck. “Let’s run away together, baby.”

“Okay.” She says softly, “I’m ready.”

Hotch is already ordering the team to go in, jumping out of the back of the van with Morgan. Through his earpiece, he listens closely to you. He can hear your fear in the way you’re breathing, but he’s not sure Allen is picking it up from you.

When she agrees to go with him, he spins her and shoves her against a wall, her head painfully bouncing off the cement. He laughs as she winces and then leans in to kiss her throat, “Are you going to tell your team to leave us alone?” He reaches under her shirt where the wire is and yanks it off her. “April, April, April. My clever, clever girl. You had to know I would have expected you not to come by yourself.”

He pushes himself off her and walks to the table, reaching under it and pulling out a gun that he had taped there earlier.

April’s jaw tenses as he raises the gun to point it at her head, “You won’t kill me.” She says smoothly, though she’s not sure she believes it herself.

“No,” He cocks the gun and turns slightly to aim towards the doorway, “But if Aaron Hotchner walks through that doorway I’ll kill him.”

She does her best to betray nothing, but a muscle in her jaw jumps involuntarily and he narrows his eyes at her, “Yeah, I thought you liked him.”

“I care about everyone on my team.” She says stiffly.

He shakes his head, “No. Don’t forget April, I’ve been watching you. I know your weaknesses as I’m sure you know mine and the past few days here I’ve noticed the way you look at Agent Hotchner when you think he’s not looking. But he always notices because he’s always aware of you, even when he tries his hardest not to be. So, April, I’ll give you one chance,” He hands the wire back over to her, “Tell Aaron to back off.”

Reluctantly, she takes the wire from him. “Hotch,” She breathes, “Stand down.”

Hotch holds a hand up to the team on the outside, signaling them to stand down, though he can barely hear past the roaring in his ears.

“There,” Her voice comes in his earpiece again, “Are you happy now?”

“I’ll be happy when he hears me kill you and knows there’s nothing he can do to stop it.”

“I thought we were running away together.”

“You think I can’t tell when you’re playing me?”

“No, I know you can’t tell when I’m playing you.” Something in April had unlocked when Allen threatened Hotch. Threatened her team. And she knew Hotch could hear them and though she had told him to stand down, he was trying to figure out another way to get to her. He wouldn’t stop until she was out of there, whether it ended with both her and Allen in body bags or Allen in cuffs. But she wouldn’t let it come to that.

“Since you’ve been watching me my whole life, you know the entire town thought I killed my own family and that I lied about the whole thing. Do you know why they thought that? Because they saw in me what my team sees in people like you.” She walks up to him, and though every instinct screams to run, she instead places a hand on his chest, “That night… you made me into you. So no, Allen,” It’s the first time she uses his name and she relishes the shock that lights in his eyes, “You can’t tell when I’m playing you.” Capitalizing on his surprise, she disarms him the way Morgan has drilled into her over and over, quickly slamming his wrist into the nearest surface and catching the gun when he releases his grip. Faster, she takes a step back from him and draws her gun as well, now pointing two weapons at him, “And I think you’ve overplayed your hand, babe.”

He raises his hands and now there’s genuine fear in his eyes, “April--”

“I’d like you to very slowly remove the knife from your pocket and toss it to the floor and if you even think about launching it at me, just know that I am a very good shot and I have been dreaming about killing you every day since I was twelve, don’t tempt me.” Her voice shakes, but this time not from fear, but from anger that she’d harbored close to her chest since the man who stood in front of her stole everything from her.

As Allen slowly does as he’s told, April hears footsteps on the stairs and is relieved when she spots another gun trained on Allen in her peripheral. Morgan begins to walk to Allen, but April stops him, “No.” She says, “I want to do it.”

He nods and redraws his gun, backing away. She holsters her own weapon and hands Allen’s gun back to Hotch without looking at him. Drawing cuffs from her pocket, she walks behind Allen who has managed to get a smirk back on his face. The sight breaks something in her and she roughly shoves him against the wall, feeling satisfaction at his grunt of pain when his face collides with the cement. She tightens the cuffs a bit more than necessary and begins stating his rights to him as she marches him up the stairs.

“I’m going to be a legend, you know? They’ll make all these dateline documentaries about me and the families I’ve killed.” He’s smiling still as April shoves him in the backseat of Billy’s police car. She’s trying not to think about the fact that he showed up here.

“Prisoners don’t look too fondly on those among them who kill and rape children, Allen, and I’m going to make sure that whatever cell block you rot in knows exactly what you’ve done. Have a nice life.” And she slams the car door.

Billy’s watching her as she does so, “I’m sorry.” He says simply.

April sighs, “I don’t care.” She says without looking at him and then walks away.

Hotch is watching her, arms crossed and frowning deeply. She stops in front of him, tilting her head to the side and noticing the concern written all over his face as he sizes her up, “Thank you for backing off when I asked you to. I know that was hard for you.”

He simply pushes himself off the car that he was leaning against and pulls her to his chest. She feels surprised for a moment, but then wraps her arms around his waist in return, breathing him in, focusing on his touch rather than Allen’s. And when the sobs begin to wrack her body, he just holds her tighter. He knows the rest of the team is watching and maybe he’ll have to explain this later, the way he rests his head on top of hers to reassure himself as much as her, but he doesn’t much care. He’d been fairly certain she was going to die in there and he’d never have the chance to tell her how he really felt.

Hotch drives back to the hotel with her sleeping in the passenger seat. The medics had checked her out and concluded that she didn’t really have any injuries, but his heart had nearly shattered in his chest when April asked if there was any way they could refill her sleeping medication. They had been unable to, but decided to give her a few doses of ambien anyway, to last her until she could call her prescriber back in DC.

“You can take as much time off as you need when we get back.” He had said as they climbed in the SUV, his too big FBI jacket wrapped tightly around her shoulders as she immediately popped the ambien in her mouth.

“I don’t need to take time off.” Was all she said before she curled herself in a tiny ball, facing the car door, and fell asleep only minutes later.

Now, he pulled into the hotel parking lot, rain falling gently against the windows and debated whether he should wake her. “April.” He said softly, gently shaking her shoulder.

“Mmm.” She murmurs and her eyes flutter. Still straddling the line between sleep and wakefulness, seeing Hotch’s face above hers prompts a small smile. “Aaron.” She says softly and reaches her hand up to touch his face.

Hearing her use his first name so tenderly sends a jolt through him, but he reminds himself that she’s sedated, albeit lightly, from the ambien. “Do you think you can walk up to the hotel room?”

She nods sleepily and he quickly gets out of the car to help her out of the other side, pulling the hood of his jacket over her head to shield her from the rain. She walks slowly because of the drug, but he doesn’t mind. And when she slides her hand down to his to intertwine their fingers, he doesn’t mind that either. When they get to the hotel room she wordlessly strips down to her underwear and climbs into bed.

He stares at her for a while, unsure if she would want him in the bed or not, and decides it’ll be safest to sleep on the couch. He begins taking some cushions off the couch when he hears her voice, “Aaron?” There was his name again. He wasn’t sure why hearing her say it had him coming undone, but he wanted her to repeat it over and over again.

“Yes?”

“Why won’t you come to bed?”

He opens and closes his mouth a couple times before responding, “I was going to sleep on the couch.” She’s quiet for too long and he thinks she must’ve fallen asleep so he turns back to the couch.

“I don’t want to sleep alone.” Her voice is so quiet, he wonders if he imagined it. But when he turns back to the bed, she’s watching him, eyes full of sadness and what he thinks might also be desire. He can’t say no to her. She continues watching him as he takes off his clothes, first unbuttoning his shirt. She watches him carefully, no traces of shyness and he tries his best not to let on the way her attention affects him. He undoes his belt buckle and then pulls off his pants before walking to the bed, pushing the sheets aside, and climbing in.

She turns to him and brings their faces close enough that just another inch would have them rubbing noses together. “Why have you been so nice to me this whole case?”

It’s not what he was expecting her to say and he frowns, “It was a tough case for you that brought back a lot of trauma, why wouldn’t I be nice to you?”

She shrugs, “I know you’ve never liked me the way you like the rest of the team--”

“That’s not true--”

“Aaron.” He wonders if maybe she’s caught on to the way saying his name affects him as his mouth closes immediately, “I’m not stupid, I haven’t been here nearly as long as the others and I certainly never open myself up in front of them the way the rest of you do. It’s not anyone’s fault, I’m just… Not a part of the family. But this case… You treated me the way you would treat Reid, JJ, Morgan, Prentiss… Any of them. Why?”

“The second you join this team you’re a part of this family and I’m sorry we made you feel otherwise.”

She rolls her eyes and turns her head to look at the ceiling, “Would you have shared a bed with any of them?”

Heat floods his face and he’s glad she’s not looking at him. “No.” He says and he’s sure his voice, thick with desire has betrayed him.

But April only nods, still staring at the ceiling, “Is it just because you’re lonely?”

It’s then that he realizes what she’s getting at. He hears the vulnerability in her voice, the fear there. She thinks she’s not good enough for him and it breaks his heart even further. “April, look at me.” She manages to turn her head to him and her eyes are glassy. “You have shown the last few days how incredibly resilient, intelligent, and just amazing you are. You can’t really think that the only reason I keep reaching for you is because I’m lonely.”

She smiles sadly, “You wouldn’t be the first.”

A lesser man would’ve taken this personally, perhaps groan about how she could think so little of him, but Aaron was different. He understood what she’d been through, that he could have been Superman himself and she’d still have her doubts.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to prove it to you.”

She turns her head back to him and frowns, a trace of amusement on her face, “And how do you plan on doing that?”

Hesitantly, he reaches out and strokes a thumb across her cheek, “I’d like to start by just holding you tonight, if that’s alright.”

She closes her eyes at his touch, nuzzling her face further into his palm and he melts. “I’d like that.” She says softly.

So he gently wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her to him. Her little sigh of contentment as she settles against his chest is almost too much for him to take. “Aaron?” She says after he's spent a few moments just listening to her heartbeat.

“Hm?”

“You’re the only man I’ve ever felt truly safe around.”

He feels her sadness then and he tightens his grip around her to convey that he’s sorry she feels that way, but he’s grateful for her trust. They fall asleep like that and neither attempt to move away from the other the entire night.

***

“So this is a date.” It had been about two months since they had gotten back from Maine and Aaron had been nothing but a gentleman to her. So much so, in fact, that at some points she thought he was no longer interested in her.

He chuckles, “It’s not a date. We’re meeting the team.”

“Yes, but you’re taking me,” April grins, linking her arm through his as they walk towards the bar, “So it’s a date.”

“If it was a date I would’ve done this--” Hotch spins her in front of him and abruptly kisses her. At first, she freezes, but when he gently nips at her bottom lip she moans slightly, kissing him back. As sudden as it began, it ends and Aaron is staring at her with a look of such arrogant satisfaction she wants to slap him.

“Okay, so it is a date.” She murmurs quietly as Aaron steps around her and walks away, “I knew it.”

When Aaron opens the door to the bar for her, he casually slips his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. He notes her questioning look from the corner of his eye, but just squeezes her hand in response. And instead of detaching herself from him when the team notes their arrival, she squeezes his hand in return, even when the relentless teasing from the team commences.

Aaron only slips away from her to go get them drinks and even then she looks back for him. It’s the most unsure of herself he’s ever seen her and it only broadens his grin.

“You finally did it, eh? Attaboy, Aaron.” Rossi’s already at the bar, a whiskey in hand and another on the bar that he slides to Aaron. He takes it and then orders April a gin and tonic.

“It’s just one date, Rossi. She’s still… hesitant.”

“She doesn’t look hesitant,” Rossi says, looking over his shoulder, “She hasn’t taken her eyes off you since you walked away from her.”

Aaron smirks, “Yes, well, I’ve discovered playing hard to get is very effective with her.” He tips the bartender and clinks his glass with Rossi before walking back over to April. When he hands her the drink, she seems to shrink into his side, taking larger gulps of her drink than he thought she should.

“Slow down,” He plucks the drink from her hand and places it on a nearby table, “Why are you so nervous?”

“Look at all of them just staring at us, I feel pressured.”

“Pressured into what, being with me?”

“Aaron, no,” She places a hand on his arm, sensing the insecurity rising in him, “I want to be with you.”

“Then what?”

She shrugs and reaches for her drink again, but Aaron covers her hand before she can, clearly expecting an answer from her. She sighs and looks up at him, “I feel pressure to be perfect because I can see on their faces how much they love you and I don’t want to fuck this up and then you all hate me because I wasn’t good enough for you.” It all comes out in a rush and she feels breathless after admitting it, her cheeks reddening as he lifts his hand, allowing her to reach for her drink.

“April, they like you just as much as they like me.” She rolls her eyes and he reaches out to tip her chin up gently with his fingers, “You could never mess this up.”

“I messed it up with Billy.”

He drops his hand, unable to hide the annoyance and jealousy on his face at the mention of Billy, “Billy was an immature boy who didn’t know how to treat you anyway.”

She smirks, “And you’re a big strong man who can sweep me off my feet at a moment’s notice?” He manages the smallest of smiles as a slow song starts playing, “Come on, Hotchner. Ask me to dance.”

“You want to dance in front of the team?”

“Well you brought me here to show me off, didn’t you?” He gives her a look like he’s offended she would even think so and she laughs, “Please?” She pouts, “Billy would dance with me if he were here.” She adds teasingly, her eyes glittering with mischief.

Hotch shakes his head at her, but he’s grinning, “You love causing trouble, don’t you?” And she laughs in response as he takes her hand and pulls her to the dance floor, letting his left hand rest gently on the small of her back, his other hand holding hers.

He twirls her around the room and with the whole team watching, he kisses her as the song ends. Their lips worked together to teach each other their own dance and for a moment, it’s just the two of them, until the rest of the team starts jeering and April pulls away, her face flushed. Aaron is still looking at her, smiling and she reaches up with her thumb to swipe at his mouth, “I got some lipstick on you.” She says quietly.

“Can I take you home?” He says finally and his voice is husky and full of want.

She wonders if he’s aware of how alluring the sound of his voice is. “Yeah.” She responds swallowing.

He leads her out of the bar after much protesting from the rest of the team, but all he wants and needs is to get April, April who’s smiling at him from ear to ear, home and in bed with him. They settle into their new relationship with ease, the team noting that they’d never seen either of them smile so much and all of April’s fears and insecurities melted away day by day.

As long as her unit chief quietly placed a coffee on her desk every morning with a sweet note attached to it, she figured she could overcome anything.

#mine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch x oc #hotch angst #hotch fluff #hotch imagine

220 notes · View notes

writing-in-april · 4 years

Text

Surprise Pretty Boy

Spencer x Female Reader

Summary- You haven’t had sex in a while, because of your job and your infatuation with Spencer Reid. You proposition him for sex and have a big surprise waiting for him.

Warnings- Smut, soft sub Spencer/ dom reader, nipple piercings (female), oral (male receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex.

A/n- this is my first smut, I’m a little nervous to post tbh. This is edited but only a bit and also my requests are open! Some of the formatting is weird too I’m on mobile sorry!

Masterlist

---------------------------------

I needed to fuck the shit out of someone, it’s been too long at this point. I couldn’t even remember the last fuck I had, I think it was 8 months ago at a bar. It didn’t help that I rarely got out of the house because of my job, the BAU never slept so neither did I.

We had just gotten home from a stressful case that almost ended in disaster. All I wanted to do at this point was unwind by having a mind blowing orgasm but there were no men or women in sight. Unless I went for Spencer who I had a massive crush on, he was honestly the reason I stopped getting laid. I just couldn’t get railed by a one night stand without thinking of him, it got too weird and I just wanted the real thing.

I was so desperate tonight that I might shoot my shot, we just happened to be the last ones in the office doing paperwork. My horny mind had been preventing me from being fully productive all day, but I had finally finished my massive stack of reports. Spencer often took on the slack of everyone else when it came to paperwork, something that I’ll never understand, but he did look cute when his eyebrows furrowed in concentration trying to write as fast as he could. God I just wanted to break him. Maybe I would deny him orgasms all night or ride him into the sunset and watch his whimpering face as he begs me to stop after making him cum multiple times.

Spencer has noticed that I was unashamedly staring and he shot me an inquisitive look.

“You ok?” His voice snapped me out of my x-rated daydream.

“Yeah just thinking.”

“About?” He scrunched his nose in typical Spencer fashion. Fuck it, I’ll be honest with him, he was too cute for me to not at least attempt to make a move.

“How much I want to fuck you” I stated bluntly, a look of shock spread across his face.

“Y-you want to w-what?” His voice started to raise a few octaves, getting to that squeaky pitch that made me want him even more.

I slowly sauntered over to his desk chair and swung my legs around him so I was straddling him. His big brown eyes had become as wide as saucers and he started stuttering, his hands betrayed his nervous persona as they immediately sat above my ass.

“I. Want. To. Fuck. You. Spencer” I said with conviction, he gulped hard and sighed deeply mulling over the thoughts racing through his head.

“I-I want y-you to fuc-ck me, can we go back to your place?”

I nodded a yes to him “Only one rule tonight Spencer, I’m in charge. Is that ok with you?” He bobbed his head back in a yes, then we both got our things and raced to the elevator.

I pulled Spencer into my car with a promise of giving him a ride to work tomorrow, and probably broke 50 traffic laws on the ride home.

We both bolted out of the car and stumbled through my doorway in a heated make out session once I finally got the door to open. I pushed him against my closed front door and slipped my tongue into Spencer’s mouth fully dominating the kiss. My arms fully enveloped his larger frame and I started to tug him over to my couch so I could fully enjoy him.My legs swung over his lap straddling him for the second time that night. We continued to make out on the couch like horny teenagers for what felt like bourse until Spencer started to paw at my blouse. I leaned in to start kissing and biting on his collarbone that was peaking out from under his button up. My lips slowly worked their way up the column of his throat and I bit on the shell of his ear, which let me hear a gorgeous moan.

“I have a surprise for you pretty boy” I breathily whispered into his ear as I dragged my palm across his jaw. He let out a gorgeous whine and rutted his hips up into me. He was in for a shock, I had gotten my nipples pierced when I was younger to make them more sensitive. I hope Spencer would appreciate as much as I did.

I slowly peeled my shirt off my figure, I had no bra on and my pierced nipples hardened as the cool air hit them. Spencer’s eyes widened and he let out a little beautiful squeak at the sight.

“You like what you see?” I smirked and batted my eyelashes. All he could do was nod eagerly in response, he greedily leaned forward and almost immediately wrapped his mouth around my nipple. I moaned at the sudden contact and I started to grind on his hard crotch again. His mouth continued to suckle on my bud combined with the hard metal as his other hand came to pinch my other nipple.

Was it possible to orgasm from nipple stimulation? Normally I’d say no, but the way Spencer’s mouth sucked on my bud was getting me off better then most guys with their hand down my pants. Plus the way his bulge was hitting right at my clothed clit was almost enough to push me over the edge. Spencer must have sensed how close I was and snuck one of his hands in my pants. He deftly worked his finger on my clit which pushed me over the cliff.

“Oh my god Spencer” I moaned out as I rode out my first high of the night. His eyes raked over my form in awe, I had no doubt that he was enjoying this just as much as I was.

After I had come down I slowly slid down onto my hard wood floors not really caring for the pain from being on my knees.

“Thank you Spencer, you were such a good boy” Even though I was the one down on my knees I was still in full control.

Spencer’s pupils were blown wide in lust as I undid his belt buckle and pulled his boxers and slacks down all at once.

I bit my lip as I got a good look at what Spencer was packing not to thick but god was it long. I moaned in anticipation of how good the stretch would feel but for now I just wanted my mouth to work its magic.

He was already painfully hard but I wanted to tease him a bit more so I slowly started to move my hand up and down his shaft. I was purposely barely gripping him, I wanted to see how desperate I could make him. His eyes had shut at this point, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he let out a breathy moan.

“Please do something” he gasped out, so I slowly leaned forward and took his head in my mouth but I still barely gave him the relief he was looking for. He hadn’t begged enough yet.

He tried to apply pressure on my head, I grabbed his hands and pinned them to the couch.

“Holy shit y/n please!” His raspy voice was raised to an octave I didn’t think was possible. So I finally relented taking him back as far as possible into my throat and precum filled my mouth as an indicator of his desire. The sounds that Spencer was making were music to my ears, he moaned loud each time I took him to the back of my throat. I could tell that he was about to cum so I suddenly pulled my mouth off of him with a soft pop.

He whined at the loss of contact, he almost looked like a baby that had gotten his candy taken away.

“Don’t worry baby boy I want you to cum inside me instead. Is that alright with you?” He seemed to enjoy the nickname and bit his lip nodding his head once more.

“Y/n please fuck me.” I loved hearing him beg like the good boy he was. I crawled up into his lap again and slowly sunk down onto his length letting myself feel every ridge of his cock. Spencer moaned the loudest he had all night, which I didn’t even think was possible. His breath was shaky and I could tell it was taking all of his will not to thrust up into me, he was being a good boy by waiting patiently.

Once I adjusted to his length I started to bounce on him making him even more breathless then before. Then Spencer pulled me closer to him and started to play with my nipples again, I could tell he fully appreciated my piercings.

“Your such a good boy Spencer always taking care of me.” I gasped out, my hands wound through his hair and pulled his head back hard. His blissed our state was an amazing sight to see, his mouth was open in a gasp, his eyes were barely open and in a glassy state.

“I’m so close y/n” he whimpers our pitifully

“I’m close to baby boy help me get there with you” My words barely escaped coherently but he understood bringing one of his hands off of my ass to my clit. His large dexterous fingers rubbed tight circles on my clit and suddenly my vision turned white.

After I rode out my high my focus was back on Spencer.My lips sucked beautiful hickies onto his neck that would be a pain to cover up, I honestly didn’t care at this point.

“C’mon baby boy cum for me” I gently coaxed him to his release in a few last hard bounces. His strangled moans accompanied with the ropes he shot into me helped me into another small orgasm that I barely registered was on the brink.

“Holy shit” I gasped out after I had somewhat caught my breath. I started to get up to go to the bathroom, so I’d prevent a UTI when Spencer’s arms wrapped around my frame.

“Stay” he breathlessly whispered.

“I’ll come back and cuddle but I really don’t want a UTI Spencer. You’d be the first one to remind me of that.” He relented and let go, my feet padded through my apartment everything else quiet as I made my way to the bathroom. After I had relieved myself I grabbed a washcloth to clean him up as well. I made my way back to his sleepy form cleaning him up and I let him envelope me again after I was done. We cuddled naked in silence for a while waiting for someone to bring up the awkwardness that would surely come up after a night like this.

I knew that Spencer would never be the one to make the first move, just like with my request to fuck him so I decided to take another leap of faith tonight.

“Spencer”I quietly whispered bringing him out of his thoughts “I don’t think of you as a one night stand or a friends with benefits I truly like you. I-I’d like to go on a date if you want to?” He looked a little surprised also mixed with relief? I couldn’t tell as I waited in bated breath for his answer.

“I’d like that to y/n, I was honestly scared you’d only want this to be a one time thing” he admitted meekly, I basically lunged at him kissing his beautiful lips.

“Round 2?” I asked between kisses

“Only if this time I can be in charge?” He cheekily asked.

“Oh definitely Sir”

----------------------

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #mgg #spencer reid x you #criminal minds smut #smut

877 notes · View notes

bookstantrash · 3 years

Text

A/N: Shoutout to all of those beautiful, incredible supportive and awesome people who encouraged me to write this Emeriel (Azriel x Emerie) one shot. I really like this crackship, and I’m hoping we see more of Emerie in the next acotar books.

With this, I’m officially in ghost mode till acosf and for some time after its release (probably a month). My askbox and dm are open for prompts tho! So feel free to send me any writing requests!!

Falling in Shadows

Azriel was lost.

Not lost as in ‘I don’t know the Cauldron where I am’. Not in the physical way lost.

No, Azriel was lost in the emotional way. Lost as in ‘What the Cauldron I am feeling?’

If he was to be honest with himself, he had been feeling like that for quite some time now. Ever since Cassian had asked him to go to that wooden building and spied a certain female through the clothier’s window.

Azriel was usually uncomfortable around other Illyrians. He sometimes forgot he too was one, his hatred for his people in some occasions being so unbearable he found himself a youngling once again, locked in that dark cell, denied the skies.

How could he be an Illyrian, feel like one, when his own people had cast him aside? Had tried to strip him of his heritage?

That was one of the motives he avoided going to Windhaven. But after that day he visited Cassian and Nesta — he was surprised to see how their relationship was going, despite the circumstances that had made Nesta go to Illyria — Azriel found himself looking for reasons to be in Windhaven.

All because of her.

Because of Emerie, the fierce owner of that clothier.

Once he had gotten inside the shop, Azriel had willed his shadows to fade — few were the Illyrians and Fae not afraid of them, afraid of him and his job in the Night Court — and tucked his wings tight. He knew how the Illyrian females were treated. How they were supposed to look down and not talk back when in the presence of a male. He didn’t want any other reason to scary the shop owner.

To his surprise, however, he was met with a different scenario. An Illyrian female who didn’t look down, was not afraid to speak her mind and didn’t cower in his presence.

Emerie didn’t even bat an eyelash at him or his shadows, not even glancing at his scarred hands when he handed her the money — an act he was already used to.

Azriel was in and out of the shop in less then five minutes.

He met her again some time later, having tea with Nesta when came back to Windhaven. They exchanged a few words and he got even more curious about her.

And then, before he had even noticed how, they had become friends.

Azriel would pass by her shop whenever he went to visit Cassian and would chat with Emerie, sometimes joining her and Nesta for tea — Azriel dragged Cassian with him when that happened, a little scared to be beneath the sharpe of gaze of both females by himself.

Not that he told Cassian, or anyone else for that matter, the truth. He’d rather swim naked in one of Windhaven’s deathly cold lakes.

Azriel had female friends, so it was not like he was embarrassed around Emerie because of that. Feyre was his friend, as was Elain — although Feyre seemed to think there was something between him and her sister, they were only on friendly terms. Elain was still processing what had happened to her, being Made and losing everything she had, not to mention Graysen. The man was one of the finest pricks he’d ever met, but love was not rational.

Azriel and Elain understand each other in some level, her being a seer and him a shadowsinger. But nothing more.

And then there was Morrigan. He’d been in love with her. Once. And he knew she didn’t see him like that.

His feelings had faded over time, leaving only respect and brotherly affection towards her. Azriel knew he sometimes overreacted when it came to Eris, but it was not due to a lover’s anger. No, he felt guilty of what Mor had been through, years ago. He was her friend and couldn’t help her when she needed the most.

His love towards Mor may have changed, but it still hurt to see that she was keeping something from him and flirted so shameless in front of him as to keep him away. Whatever it was that she had to say, he’d understand. So he’d wait, until she was ready to talk to him.

When it came to Emerie, however, he felt something. Something different. Something he could not quite place.

Azriel also felt fear.

Fear of what that feeling may represent. Of what Emerie thought of him. He had to keep himself in check around her, least he loose control of his shadows, who always seemed to get agitated whenever they were together.

Sighing, he shook his head to try and rid himself of these thoughts. He could feel an headache coming, and he had to wake up early to met Cassian and the Camp Lords for a meeting regarding the Blood Rite. He needed sleep.

His feet, on the other hand, had other ideais. Before he knew what he was doing, they had taken him on the way to the small craftsman center of the camp, where Emerie’ shop was.

Maybe he could say he had thought of saying a quick hello, see how the things were going with her sells.

“It’s not that late yet. And I didn’t come today to see her. So a late night tea won’t hurt, right?” Azriel thought, trying to calm himself down.

He sent one of his shadows ahead to see if there was any light on the clothier, just in case. If it was off, he’d take it was a sign to leave it alone and go rest.

But when it returned, Azriel felt his blood run cold, and he quickly moved through the shadows to get there faster. And the scene in front of him made his heart stop.

The shop windows were broken, as was the door, and he could see some of the clothes thrown on the floor by the door.

Azriel heard screams.

Heard Emerie screaming.

He entered the shop to find her being restrained by a male, while two others ransacked the place.

Azriel did not fail to notice how the male holding her looked pissed. Maybe due to his bloody nose and black eye.

Azriel smiled internally. His girl would not go down without a fight it seemed.

“And just what do you think you’re doing” he said, announcing his presence.

Four pairs of eyes looked in his direction, and he got smug satisfaction at the clear fear that shined in the males’ eyes.

Specially when they saw Azriel unsheathing Truth Teller and gave free rein to his shadows.

However, in Emerie’s dark brown eyes he only saw relief.

“Close your eyes Em” he said.

And then Azriel exploded.

He had the two males pinned down by his shadows in no time, bounding their wings and squeezing their throats strong enough to leave them breathless.

And a little purple.

But the one that held Emerie... that one he would take his sweet time.

Appearing behind the male — which quickly released Emerie in hope to attempt an escape — Azriel slammed him down in the polished counter.

“What should I do with you” he snarled, bringing Truth Teller dangerously close to the male’s throat, making a thin cut in his skin.

“P-please,” the male whimpered “have mercy”

“Did you show mercy to her? Did you?!” Azriel shouted, pressing the knife harder “I should Clip you. I should Clip all of you and take my sweet time doing it”

He heard the other two males struggling against his shadows, trying to get away again. Azriel only whiled them to tighten their grip, and he swore he heard one start to cry.

“You will never appear here again. You will not bother Emerie any longer” he leaned down to whisper in the male’s ear “You will tell that to your other friends. To anyone who has ever messed with her. And if I hear that you came back — and trust me, I will — I will hunt you down myself”

“Are we clear?” he added, letting his threat sink.

“Y—yes sir” the trembling male managed to gasp through Azriel’s hold on his neck.

“Go” he said, freeing all three, who quickly left the place, running for their lives.

Azriel then turned to find Emerie with her eyes open, staring at him.

He froze. She had seen him. Had seen him act as the High Lord’s spy master. Had seen him being territorial and scary and—

“I think I’ll have to redecorate” was all Emerie said, her voice trembling a little.

Azriel couldn’t believe it. She had been attacked, her shop destroyed and she had time to make a joke.

He shook his head in disbelief and stopped in front of her, holding himself back to not touch her to see if she was hurt anywhere.

“Are you—”

Her knees gave out before he could say anything else, and he quickly caught her in his arms.

“You put your arms around me and I literally felt my kneels buckle, this is so pathetic” she scoffed, looking at the floor.

“Em...”

“I usually can handle it on my own” she shook her head “Nesta taught me some self defense moves. I can’t leave the shop to go for the training ring and I have no desire to be a warrior”

“This...this was the first time that more than one came” she added in a soft whisper.

Azriel felt a calm rage settle in his bones.

“This is not the first time something like this has happened,” he wanted to shake her until she got some sense in that stubborn head of hers “and you didn’t tell anyone about it”

“As I said, I usually can handle it” she snapped back, finally meeting his eyes “I was closing the shop when they appeared. I tried to fight back, but I only managed to punch one before he restrained me. If you hadn’t appeared I—”

She didn’t finish that sentence, bitting her trembling lip to keep herself from crying.

“You are one headstrong and fearless female, you know that?” he said, daring to hold her closer.

“I was scared”

And to Azriel’s surprise she buried her head on his chest, gripping his leathers for her dear life, her body shaking with silent sobs.

“I know Em” he murmured, one hand caressing her hair in comfort.

His shadows closed the door and gathered the clothes on the floor, putting them on the counter.

“I’m going to take you upstairs, okay?” he asked softly, and Emerie just nodded her head.

Gathering her in his arms, Azriel climbed the stairs to the upper part of the shop, where Emerie lived.

He decided to place her on the sofa. He didn’t want to invade her personal space and walk into her bedroom.

He carefully sat on the sofa, adjusting Emerie in his arms so she’d be comfortable. By the looks of it, she wasn’t letting go of him soon.

Not that he was bothered by that.

“Em...it’s okay. You’re safe now” he tenderly raised her head, both hands cupping her cheeks and brushing away her tears.

“Thank you. For arriving when you did” she sniffed, but then reality seemed to fall on her “Why where you around here at this hour?”

Azriel felt the tip of his ears getting hot, and he almost faded back in the shadows.

“I wanted to see you” he mumbled, so low he hoped she had not heard him.

“What was that?” she asked, and by the way she was trying to suppress a grin Azriel could tell she had heard him loud and clear.

“I’m not repeating it” he said, feeling his whole face getting hot

Emerie laughed, and the sound of her laugh was enough to put Azriel at ease.

“I wanted to see you too” she confessed, looking deep into his eyes.

Azriel could swear his heart skipped a beat at her words.

“You did?” he softly asked, afraid this was all a dream and he’d soon wake up.

“Yes” she said, and tenderly took one of his hands on hers, not flinching at the scars on them “I wanted to hear your voice”

She kissed his fingers.

“I wanted to see you trying to come up with topics to talk with me”

She kissed palm.

“I wanted to see your shadows acting all agitated and you trying so hard to control them thinking I’ll be bothered but,” Azriel took a sharp breath when she kissed his wrist “they’re not a bother. I’m not afraid of them. I like them”

Azriel was falling. He was spiralling down into himself, all the way to his shadowed heart.

“You like them?” he asked so quietly, fear lacing his every word.

“I do. They’re part of you Azriel” she interlaced their hands “What is there not to like?”

Azriel felt like crying. He felt like crying because for the first time someone outside of his family had looked at him and actually seen him.

Not a monster who killed and spied and tortured for his High Lord.

Not an Illyrian who was a traitor to his own race.

Not the quiet friend who was satisfied to be in the shadows.

Not a protector doing his duty.

Emerie saw him.

She saw all the good, the bad and the awkward Azriel so desperately tried to conceal.

And she was not afraid.

“Can I hope then?�� he dared himself to ask, resting his forehead against hers “Can I hope you feel this? This feeling that I can’t quite place?”

“You can” she answered “Because I hoped you felt the same thing”

Azriel still did not know how to name this feeling between them yet. But he was sure of one thing.

He was dying to know what it was.

And Emerie would help him in every path of this discovery.

•

Emeriel Tags: @julemmaes @angrypotatofairy @illyrianwitchling @moe8 @thewayshedreamed @ko0mbayamylord @rosegoldannie @fourshizzle149 @arin1030 @elide-lochan-salvaterre @the-bookish-deer

Fixed Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arin1030 @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @allilal @sensitiveillyrian @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13 @silvernesta @bri-loves-sunflowers @queenestarcheron @imwritingthesewords @vasudharaghavan

{I ended up creating an Emeriel tag list, so please let me know if you want to be added in either the Emeriel or my Fixed Tag list}

#sarah j maas #sjmaas #sjm books #sjm fanfic #azriel #emerie #emeriel #azriel x emerie

130 notes · View notes

theviolencedistrict-archived · 3 years

Text

what do i do with a love that won't sit still? written to: stray italian greyhound characters: mich/ael shell/ey (pre-distortion) & isaac campos (self-insert) words: 1,784 notes: How could he do that so easily? Michael was always the one in his place... walking on eggshells for other people who didn't truly care if he made it across the trap or cracked every shell trying. How was it so natural for Isaac to view him as his equal? As a human being?

Michael couldn't remember the last time he'd been on a date.

He figured it was during high school, and he recalled only one or two occasions where something akin to a date ever happened. With some other peon in the social caste of desks and period bells, desperate for positive attention as he was, and yet... They were always far more eager for his company than he was of theirs. It was never quite right. They were a lot like him in many ways, but they never clicked in a way beyond friendly classmates - not even really friends. He had few he considered that close, and though he realized it was fault of his own insecurities and doubts, it made him feel... guilt. Loneliness. He spent far too much time in those moments wondering if this was how life would be for him, or if he was born in a very wrong place, time, way, something -

"This is amazing!"

The blonde man blinked himself back to reality, as if waking suddenly from a dream. He saw sun rays on the backsplash of his cooking station, just above the oven. What had he been thinking about? He didn't know anymore. How could he? That special voice he could pick out in a crowd of a thousand people piped up behind him, and all he could do was smile and turn to face it, pulling mitts onto his large hands. His gaze met dull greenish eyes wide with enjoyment, a short man with a precious face and a soft sweater, sitting at his tiny kitchen table. It was lucky, he mused, that it was built specifically for two. What he failed to notice was that his smile was a real one. Not the tight-lipped, shy grin he gave to everyone he passed by at work, or to the archivist despite her never returning one. When Michael smiled around this boy, he showed all his teeth - the gap in his two fronts, the few slightly crooked on the bottom, and the snaggleteeth canines on both edges of his top lip.

He was so very sad about the state of those teeth, once. Not here. Not with him.

"Really, do you like it?" Michael's voice nearly cracked like a nervous teenager as he admired his companion sipping away at the contents of his patterned glass, "It's summer beer! Or, well, fruit beer - it's, ehm, lemonade and beer, fruit jellies, watermelon and pineapple and mint - with the other fruit there as embellishments - I-I felt you might be the kind of person who likes tropical flavors. Is it true, in America, lemonade isn't fizzy?" He rambled on, bright blue eyes bouncing from sight to sight, until he found himself calm enough to land upon that face once more... hanging on his every word.

"Mmmm... I never thought I'd like beer... You're very gifted, Michael," The dark haired boy spoke softly, "And of course lemonade isn't fizzy...! Once I find out who created lemonade first, we'll see who's in the right here." He giggled, and Michael felt his heart jumped as he gripped the oven handle behind him. There was nobody like Isaac. Nobody in the entire world.

"Well...! That's only refreshments, ahahah - I-I'm buzzing to see how you'll like the main course," He replied, taking internal note of the way his nervous stutters began to dissipate, and turned once more to let the hot air burst from behind the steaming door, "Hmm, which is better, though? In your American opinion, since you've had both?"

"Hm. I have always been a sucker for carbonated drinks..." Isaac answered honestly, pulling a high-pitched giggle from Michael. Isaac was sweet and carbonated, himself - the way he filled the tall man with tickling bubbles and smiles you just can't deny. With the heat wafting up into his face, the lanky man thought with a light blush that he wouldn't mind a long drink of that boy. Instead of dwelling on that, he allowed it to dissipate like the smoke, lips pursed in an embarrassed pout he hoped Isaac would mistake for focus. With this, he carried the full baking dish to the counter near the kitchen table, waving his mitted hands to help cool the food, though not quite well.

"Is that it? What is it? Can I see?" Isaac was chattery like a child, something Michael had never seen in him outside of their personal time together. It was precious, and it dawned on him that this was probably a side of the small man that only he got to witness. Batting his long lashes, the tall blonde hummed a familiar tune and playfully ignored the attempted peeks by the object of his affections. He professionally sprinkled honey over the main affair of lunch he had prepared for the two. Flipping it perfectly onto a large, kitschy plate, the smoke slowed and slimmed, leaving a trail of sweet scents on its way to the table.

"They are honey bread rolls," Michael began, smiling gently as the black haired guest stared in delight, "Rather simple, but a favorite of mine. It's... comforting. Like childhood... A-ah, ehm, it's, ah, hand-kneaded and baked with honey and sesame seeds. I-I made sure to find a gluten free flour for you, and it still turned out rather fluffy!" The unusual budding of pride germinated in his chest as he finished speaking. The way the other man's eyes glistened as he admired Michael's own home cooking, the genuine smile he wore... Nobody had ever made Michael feel like he did something right - like he was someone special, worth a damn - until Isaac.

"That's amazing! They smell so good! I can't believe you made this from scratch! We can just rip pieces off," The man's tiny hands reached for a corner piece of bite sized, browned bread, softer than sponge, and tore it from it's flimsy connection to the others, "Like this? Is that okay?" Isaac gazed up at the much loftier male with expectancy, as if asking for permission. How could he do that so easily? Michael was always the one in his place... walking on eggshells for other people who didn't truly care if he made it across the trap or cracked every shell trying. How was it so natural for Isaac to view him as his equal? As a human being?

He always did. Without fail.

"That's... Y-y-yes. That's just perfect." Michael uttered out, all effeminate and breaking, unable to will the red tinting his cheeks away. Taking his seat across from Isaac then, he took a piece of his own, happily taking questions from the man and falling into a conversation about cooking - as easy as pie. It was as if they had known one another since they were in cradles. From day one, their chance encounter and quick reunion, that bond weaved between them in the snap of a finger, the blink of an eye. Michael was so, so very grateful. They spoke, and they laughed, and the blonde's cheeks tingled each time his crush dipped a piece of his bread in his homemade cream. His bread, his cream. Those which he had crafted with his own two hands, the same shaky and nail-bitten hands which struggled with boxes and tea and everything in between at the Institute. Now... calmed. Warm.

It took both men by surprise when the sun began to set, the earlier yellowy white rays of sunlight now a dreamlike orange through the windows. The time for fun and games was winding down, and shortly, Michael would have to bid Isaac farewell until they next met - at work, most likely, in a day or two. The honey rolls were long since eaten, drinks finished, hearts full. The older of the two had begun to fiddle with the seams of his shirt, or the stitches of pockets in his pants, timid feelings creeping their way back into his ribcage. In truth, he knew fully - he didn't want to say goodbye.

"Thank you for everything, today. You didn't have to go out of your way for me, a-and it was all delicious. We have to do this again soon, okay?" Isaac smiled from below Michael, standing just outside the door to his flat. A slender hand reached to scratch at the back of his neck sheepishly, face full of starry feelings and most likely glowing. He nodded, chuckles escaping him.

"Y-yeah, of course! You're - you're always welcome back here, you know...!" Came Michael's response, grinning at the man he towered over. A small giggle came from the boy in the sweater, clutching the strap to his backpack. Then, the very same boy made a gesture that Michael didn't quite process at first. He beckoned him with his four little fingers, causing blue eyes to blink, but then obey. How could he not? Undone blonde curls fell over his shoulders and framed his face as he bent his knees and leaned over close to Isaac. Not close enough, clearly, as those same little hands grasped his shirt gently and pulled him down. Michael's mind swam, overcome with dizziness and confusion and rainbows.

This was definitely, definitely, not what he saw coming when he brushed his teeth and pulled on his trousers this morning.

Soft, sultry lips pressed momentarily to the corner of Michael's mouth. It wasn't quite a kiss, if anything at all, and yet his heart drummed maniacally through his entire body. Time stopped, and surely the whole earth did, as well. His face burned fiercely, and when Isaac released him at last, he got a front seat to watching the man lick his own lips.

"Sorry... You had a little bit of whipped cream there," Came Isaac's snicker and the flutter of his washed out green eyes, "I'll see you at work, okay?" He bit his lower lip and walked backwards in his worn down sneakers, watching his host tremble ever so slightly with his mouth ajar, before waving and making his quick exit towards the stairwell.

"T... T... T-t-text when you get h-home safe...!" Was the last thing that broke free from Michael Shelley's tightened throat, receiving a simple sound of understanding in the distance, sounding with echoes of footsteps down the stairs.

The poor man was going to lose his mind. Especially with the sleep he was not going to get that night. Swallowing hard, fingers upon the spot where his beloved's lips had been, he backed into his home and shut the door with a gentle click.

Michael couldn't remember the last time he'd been on a date. However, he was sure the only dates he'd want to be on for the rest of his life were with Isaac Campos.

38 notes · View notes

mylifeisactuallyamess · 3 years

Text

Knowing

I debated posting this, I wrote it at the arsecrack of dawn but it seems to have broken my block, for now anyway and I started a new WIP 🤣 yeah I know I see all my other ones crowding behind me, glaring.

Anyway this is just a quick Poe Dameron x Reader one shot.

Warnings: mention of war, death, loss and grief.

‘That is the most outrageous, nerfherder brained idea I’ve ever heard!’ You threw your hands up as you glared at the smug faced pilot across the table from you. The holomap distorted his features but he was definitely being a smug arsehole. Karabast you hated him! Strutting around here, the Poster Boy of the Resistance. This man got away with everything, he eased himself out of every scrape like it was nothing.

‘Captain….’

‘Utterly ridiculous thinking you can just fly out there undetected….’ You stupid son of a…...

‘Captain….’

‘You may think you're the best pilot in the fleet but one day your recklessness is going to get you killed!’

‘CAPTAIN!’ Leia Organa’s commanding voice finally cut through your yelling and you lowered your gaze. Everyone in the command centre was staring at you after your sudden outburst, no one expected it from you, you never went against your Squadron Leader. You never raised your voice to anyone, not even people you hated, like Poe Dameron. But today was different, you weren’t sure why, maybe you’d had enough of worrying about him getting killed. Maybe the war had finally taken so many people from you that you couldn’t bear the thought of losing anymore. Even though you hated him.

‘I suggest you take a walk.’

‘Yes ma’am.’ You shot one last look at Poe before skulking away and finding somewhere to stew in private. With a sigh you threw yourself onto your bunk and not for the first time you caught yourself wishing you’d never been caught up in this stupid war. It was wearing you down, ripping your soul with every loss. Soon, there would be nothing left of you or any of the fleet for that matter the First Order was tearing you apart time and time again. The ships needed repairs, the fleet needed fuel, food supplies were low and Resistance members were flagging, your outburst wouldn't have helped. People looked up to you, you were their Captain, they needed your courage and strength…..but you were so tired. So tired of carrying all that weight around with you. You wiped your face and realised it was wet, you hiccuped a soft sob at the sight. You never cried, this was new. The door to your room slid open but you ignored it as you faced the wall hoping Jess would eventually leave you alone.

‘You know, as your Squadron Leader I don’t appreciate being spoken to like that.’

‘Piss off Dameron.’

‘Seriously, Leia sent me here to give you a talking to because that was very out of character for you….’

‘I said. Piss. Off. Dameron.’ You couldn’t control the waver in your voice as you grit your teeth hoping he would get the message. The mattress dipped by your feet and you rolled your eyes wishing he would just fuck off.

‘I heard that eye roll from here Captain.’

‘Well Commander you know where you can shove it.’

‘Whoa whoa, I don’t understand what’s happening here? Why has my best and most trustworthy Captain suddenly become possessed?’ You closed your eyes, the tide of emotion threatening to overwhelm you and you wished again that he would go away. Of all the people on the base you did not want to fall apart in front of pretty boy Poe Dameron. You flinched slightly as he placed a hand on your side. ‘It’s taking it out of all of us.’ The weariness in his tone took you by surprise and you risked turning over to look at him. The hollow expression on his face shocked you the most, all his barriers were down and for the first time ever you saw the toll this war was taking on him too. ‘I don’t know how much more we can take, but we have to keep fighting. We have to keep going. We are down to the bare bones of the Resistance, now more than ever we should not give up.’

‘How do you do it?’ His brown eyes locked with yours his hand tensing on your side.

‘Keep going?’

‘Because you never seem like you're suffering.’ He laughed loudly, shaking his head.

‘Is that really how it comes across? Like I’m not suffering?’ You nod, your eyes wide as you sit up slowly. ‘Ok. Shall I tell you a secret?’ The tone in his voice made you think he was going to tell you anyway. ‘I do suffer, every single minute of every single day I suffer. I have lost family, friends, I have the deaths of so many people on my hands. They may be on the ‘other side’ but they are still people! Every mistake, every press of that button I make costs a life.’ He paused and you knew he was referring to the battle above D’Qar. His recklessness had cost the fleet dearly but had also won them a great victory. You and everyone in your Squadron had been behind him that day. You stared at the man sitting on your bunk, his tense shoulders and sad eyes, this was not the Poe Dameron that strutted round the base chatting up people and spreading general cheer everywhere he went. This man was broken, just like you. ‘I’m sorry,’ you whispered. ‘I had no idea…’. ‘No one does. It’s like my super power, aside from flying of course.’ The ghost of a grin pulled at the corner of his mouth and you nudged him gently with a boot. ‘I give you a run for your credits.’ He snorted softly as he pulled his fingers through his dark curls. ‘Don’t tell anyone else.’ He mumbled. You went to nudge him again but he batted your foot away before getting up out of your reach. You stood up and wiped your face rubbing the tears off until he grabbed your hand, his finger lacing with yours.

‘Don’t ever be ashamed of feeling. It’s what makes us who we are.’ Your gaze rose to meet his and your breath hitched slightly as you realised there was a fine line between love and hate. His brown eyes gazed at you as his knuckles gently rubbed your cheek before he stepped away and opened your door with a mock bow. ‘After you my Captain.’ You did a silly curtsy in return and took his outstretched hand, he grabbed you and spun you out the door. A laugh erupted from you as Poe grinned that mischievous smile whenever he was lifting someone else’s spirits. A little breathless and a little giddy from your sudden change in emotion you looked at him wishing with all your heart things were different. He placed an arm around your shoulders and you easily fell into step with him. Your eyes met again as you reached the hangar and you felt like you wanted to tell him, you needed to explain why you had got so emotional earlier. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. He pulled you to him in a rough one armed embrace and planted a swift kiss on your forehead. ‘I know.’ He said gruffly before releasing you and heading to his X-wing.

He knew.

You knew.

And that had to be enough.

#poe dameron x reader #just a one shot #some musing #breaking the writing dam #writers block breaker #poe dameron angst #poet dameron fluff #sassy reader #Commander dameron #poe dameron #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #my writing #mylifeisactuallyamess

93 notes · View notes

zephyoongist · 3 years

Text

jung hoseok found you when you were about to make the biggest mistake of your life.

which was jumping through the low window of the church without anything to cushion you at the bottom while your fiancé, soon-to-be husband, was waiting at the aisle.

“you sure you want to do that?” a voice asks ever so casually, as if seeing a bride clad in white hugging the skirt of her dress as she hunches over edge of the window, is just another occurrence out of the many he’s seen in his lifetime.

“t-that’s my choice,” you stammer out defensively, not expecting for anyone to be having a smoke at the back of a church.

as if you have any viable options.

go back in there and you’ll marry the man of your parents’ dreams.

sneak out from the window and you’ll end up living in some basement on a month-to-month rent, cut off from your parents’ funds and disowned from the choi family name.

“i’m hoseok, by the way,” he introduces himself a heartbeat later.

and because your brain is functioning on a hundred million thoughts per second, you end up blurting “the blacksheep?!”

“well,” hoseok takes a moment to ponder on that name, “that works too.”

“sorry,” your head hangs low.

“don’t worry about it,” he says, dropping the bud of the cigarette and stomping on it before walking over to the window and standing directly below it, arms open wide.

“jump.”

one word. and that’s all it takes for the alarms in your head to go off. for a moment, you even debating setting your feet back down to the floor of the room but you keep yourself rooted on the ledge, “what?”

“make no mistake, i’m not doing this for you. i just like the thought of my asshole brother’s face going red with embarrassment when he finds out he got left at the altar,” so he beckons you again, “jump.”

you remember agreeing that jeon jeongguk needs to have his ego taken down a few notches. then, before you know it, your heart is leaping inside your throat and you’re squealing without restraint as the air caresses your skin.

it takes a moment before you gather the guts to pry your eyes open - you don’t know when you have them closed. and when you do, hoseok is gone. you’d say it’s magic and that you’ve been talking to an imaginary entity.

but then there’s groaning coming from under the layers of ruffles of your skirt and you quickly gather them in your arms before a flock of black hair appears, lying down on the ground.

“oh my god, i’m sorry!” you gasp, but then you’re releasing the layers of ruffles which come flowing down in place before you place your hands on your hips, “see! you shouldn’t have told me to jump. i had it under control.”

“pray tell, in what way can you control one of your ankles to not twist jumping all the way from there?” hoseok winces as he pushes himself up, hand going to his lower back.

you open your mouth, only to let invisible air out and then close it again like fish above water.

“never mind that, we have to leave. now,” then his hand is twined with yours and he’s dragging you behind him as you barely manage to keep up with his physique but the sight of his suited back and bright sky will forever be engraved in your head as you grip his hand and make up your mind.

mistakes will be made and consequences will follow. but today, your only mistake is leaving your pair of white heels in the room. because these blisters will heal.

your parents are furious.

rightfully so when they find you in their home, changed out of the hideously large white dress - it’s your mother-in-law that wanted you to wear such an ugly thing anyway.

“the shame you cast on this family!” your mother dramatically laments as she walks back and forth in the common room, still clad in light violet dress. lipstick as red as her vision.

you get an earful of something along the lines of disgrace and family name and whatnot.

but never do you hear the question why.

why did you do what you did?

why didn’t you tell them anything throughout the preparations of the marriage?

this. this is why.

because they never bother to listen and they never will, even if you did something so out of character. something choi ____ would never have done with her grace and primness.

so that night, when you hear the sound of pebbles on your window and notice a jung hoseok looking up at you, this time, clad in normal clothes. you don’t even bat an eye when he says run away with me.

“...to a place where nobody could find us. somewhere far away.” he tells you as you cuddle with him on the deck, facing the rising sun with no one - no eyes judging you. no fear of your deviousness going around from mouth to mouth.

well, it may - once anna, your maid finds you nowhere in bed. once she rushes to your parents to tell them the grave news.

but you’ll be halfway to new york by then.

years pass and you and hoseok make a home out of the second story apartment. you like plants and he likes vinyls. somehow, it works out. his vinyl player now stands in the corner with your life sized plant which you water everyday and assure him that it’s not going to grow all the way to the rooftop.

the topic of children doesn’t come until much much later.

on a happy accident where you find out and keep it from him for at least a week, gathering up the nerve to sit him down in the kitchen where you watch as his eyes go round and then get filled with fear before the chair screeches as he pushes himself up.

before you know it, you’re being twirled in the air, palms on his shoulders and eyes gazing down at him as he holds you up by your ass.

your marriage is attended by your closest friends at the embassy. your dress isn’t as grandiose but it’s pretty in your eyes. and in hoseok’s eyes too - otherwise, why would he be weeping and wiping the tears from his face.

“hey, don’t cry,” you chuckle softly as you cup his cheek with your hand, your other hand holding the almost wilted bouquet your friend manages to buy off a vendor on the way here.

“you- you shouldn’t be real,” it’s out of character for the ever free jung hoseok but at the same time so - him.

and in your shared lifetimes, hoseok’s only ever cried when you got married, when your first born arrived.

he’s the kind of husband that’ll act tough in front of you and the kind of father to slip a cookie to your kid when you turn your back on them. until you call him out.

“you know, the cookie jar is running low on cookies and you don’t like sweet things,” you say, arms crossed over you chest when he steps into the kitchen with bed hair and an empty bowl of your kid’s breakfast in one hand.

“well, shouldn’t you ask the little one?” he jests, bowl placed in the sink before he starts to tickle your stomach lightly.

“hoseok,” there’s pressure in the way his name rolls off your tongue.

“i swear,” he stands back up, hands raised in a surrendering manner, “i don’t know.”

“mama!” your toddler comes waddling in, hugging your leg with a hand full of cookie.

she gazes up at you with pretty brown eyes that resemble her father’s and the prettiest smile that’s a mix of yours and hoseok.

“my baby! are you done with breakfast?” you take her in your arms, index booping her little nose before trickles of giggles fall out of her mouth.

“and what’s this?” you ask the source of the crumbs that got on her clothes, “did papa give this to you?”

then you turn to him, catching him in the middle of making faces to your toddler to deny your allegations.

“yes! papa! cookies!” your toddler giggles some more.

and you shoot him arched brows and a ‘well?’ kind of look.

“now, which papa is she talking about because it sure isn’t me who gave that to her.” hoseok places his hands on his waist.

“we’ll, talk about this,” you say, and that’s final.

“honey...” he calls after you as you pad towards the bathroom where your child’s bath is long overdue because it’s already 2 in the afternoon and she’s still in last night’s clothes.

“papa! bath!” your child jumps in her spot as you begin to unbutton her shirt.

you shake your head.

kids are so simple minded. you only hope she’ll use hoseok’s wits and your skills to sniff out lies on the boys and girls that’ll be lining up to get even a smidge of attention.

#hoseok scenarios #bts scenarios #hoseok smut #bts smut #hoseok x reader #bts x reader #hoseok scenario #bts scenario #bts fluff #hoseok fluff #bts au #hoseok au #shortings

131 notes · View notes

jamestrmtx · 3 years

Text

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Thirteen | Waterfall (Part 2 of 4)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

You keep repeating to yourself this is nothing but a simple and friendly outing, though it's easy to forget with how insistent Frisk and Undyne have been in terms of suggesting the opposite.

The feeling's made worse when you get down from the ride and see how grand and overwhelming the place you've been invited to is. In comparison to the warm and calm ambiance of a regular bakery or a small coffee shop, you're met with people clad in semiformal outfits and a refined atmosphere -- similar to that of a five-star restaurant. What reminds you this is just a place for eating desserts is being greeted at the front by a humbler-dressed, white-furred rabbit monster labeling himself as the second owner of the shop, the name 'Roger' spelled out on his name tag. He greets you and Sans in, and offers you a pamphlet.

"I remember you," he says, facing Sans with a smile. "You're from Snowdin, aren't you? It's nice to see you've found a date up here!" The excitement in his tone warns he's about to ramble. "It's so refreshing to see other people like us! Honestly, we… We made this shop hoping more would show up, but you two are the second couple I've had the knowledge of serving here so far!"

"Like us?" you ask, facing the monster. "Is your partner human?"

"Yes!" he takes your hand while his nose twitches with pent-up energy. "People always come here talking a little, well... mean about it, so I always have to stay on-watch. The first couple that came here got scared off by one of those customers, but now my girlfriend makes sure to keep an eye out!" He lets go, apologizing after. "I get too excited every time I see pairs like you walk in together, but they always tell me they're just friends! And while I get that, really it's... It's such a joy to have you guys here!"

"We're actually not-"

"I get what you mean." In the spur of the moment, you interrupt Sans when he tries to say the truth. Roger's excitement is too bright to rain on, resulting in you wanting to play along. With how he is, you're sure the skeleton's not going to let you live it down, but one look at the hope in the other monster's eyes is enough to make your heart turn to mush. "This is actually our first date, but we're getting there."

Roger smiles, though it soon fades as he looks at the approaching line of customers from afar. Then, he looks to the shop to see the ones who entered in before you have already sat down. "Sorry for holding you back so much," he adds, huffing as an apologetic look makes its way through. "I try really hard not to get too excited about this kind of stuff, but again... It's so nice to have you guys here!" He points over to the counter, smile reappearing. "Go ahead and stop by the counter, alright? You can order to-go, or sit down, if you want to stay!"

"Thank you," you reply, returning his smile.

You make way into the shop with Sans by your side, avoiding eye contact all the way to the counter. You already know he has a comment on the ready, so it's not much of a surprise when you hear him speak up right before making it there. "So," he says, chuckling. "First date, huh?" He walks a little closer to your side, trying to get you to look at him, but failing. "...Was that meant as a lie, or are you hintin' at somethin' else there, pal?"

"I'm not sure what to think of this myself, but…" You stop halfway, not wanting to admit your own wants just yet. "In the end, I only did it 'cause I couldn't bring myself to get his hopes down." A pink-furred bunnywoman takes your order. The reply you'd given Sans by text is then worded out by him, along with his own order and Frisk's favourite dessert to-go. While you have your wallet close by, you're not told to pay yet, and are instead led to an empty table, where you're both left to wait. You thank the monster as she leaves and go back to your conversation with Sans as soon as she's gone from your sight. "But even if this was a date, I still don't think I'd be able to accept having another one after today's."

At that, his curiosity rises, shown by the subtle flicker in his irises. "What do you mean?"

You avoid his gaze by toying with the cutlery left on the table. "I need to focus more on raising Frisk before going anywhere with my love life."

"Why?" There's honest confusion in his question despite how blunt and intrusive it is without any proper context, something he catches onto by using another one to elaborate his meaning better. "So you haven't dated anyone ever since that day?"

You nod while thanking a waiter, this one a brown bear dressed in more formal wear; he sets two drinks down -- one for you and one for your company. "I haven't, and to be honest I'd…" Your chest feels tight as so does your throat, both of these almost trying to distract you away from what you're about to say. "I'd like to keep it that way for as long as it's needed." You try to stop yourself from saying anything else, though the coziness of the shop and Sans's presence give you an entry for letting out what's been kept hidden for as long as that day came around. "I need to be there for Frisk, and I need to be more careful of who I date from now on." You're not sure what else's making you open up so much, but you don't exactly stop yourself from continuing with your thoughts. "You see, I… I really don't want Frisk to grow up in an environment full of constant fights and disagreements."

As soon as you catch yourself, your brain makes a stop, yet your mouth continues to pour out what's making your heart strain as much as it is currently. "There's already enough of that in the world waiting out there for Frisk when they grow up, so the least I can do is make it a little easier for them right now." Your mind hates you at this point, though you can feel the rest of your body grow lighter, tension releasing itself from it. "That's why… why I didn't really try to stop Jerry when he started to drift away; when visits became just once a month, rather than twice a week. We didn't really get along well after we (had/adopted) Frisk, so that's why… That's why I figured it was best to let him go."

When you hear your voice turn weak, you stop, mind sending endless comments of disapproval into your thoughts. You flinch when you have a napkin offered out to you, but you take it when you see Sans nod, still waiting for you. He then pulls back quickly, still avoiding your touch. "So, what I'm gettin' at here's that you feel just as responsible as Frisk did over what happened that day," he says, voice low and tone solemn. "Or at least, that's what it looks like."

Sans stops and looks behind you. The same waiter from before appears next to you and places your dessert first and later his; once more, you thank him and wait until he leaves the table. When he's gone, your companion speaks up again, setting the plate aside to focus on you more. "Don't wanna assume things right off the bat, but…" He takes a pause, picks up a fork, and pierces it through the pastry. Then, he faces you, continuing with, "You kinda feel like you've gotta make up for that? Limiting yourself that much ain't really the best option there is, though."

You hum, face away, and pick up a portion off your dessert to distract yourself from him. "I just don't trust myself enough to make the right decision again." You take the first bite; the sweet's flavour helps you with the situation.

The harmony of cutlery clicking and outside chatter blend into the background as your conversation with him carries on. While you listen, you take another bite off your dessert to make matters less tense. "Y'know, if this helps, most of us think you did a good job raising the kid." He stops again and brings the cup closer to him. "If you look at it this way, you helped with lettin' 'em make their own choices and decide how to approach monsters back then. In a sense, we're all connected one way or the other -- kinda like how you start off as their teacher, and then take them to an actual school where they'll continue to grow as a person." He sways the drink around and looks down at it for a moment. "And even if it's possible for a kid their age to start shapin' their own mindset and decide what's good, what's alright, and what's not, most of it's still based off what they've been taught so far. They're not fully in control of who they are yet, and that's why it's often a huge responsibility to take -- parenting, teaching, and all that."

He stops again to take a swing from his drink. The view of his skull contorting to allow him a sip was one surprising to watch the first time you saw him and Papyrus eating some of Toriel's vegetable stew the day of the blackout, and even more intriguing the time you invited him over for a meal after finishing with your errands at the school supply. Now that you're seeing it for a third time though, you focus far too much on it, yet you try to brush it off and pay more attention to him. There's plenty of questions present in regard to how monsters worked the way they did -- each different in their own way, given how many types there are -- but you're not quite sure if it would be proper to bring them out so suddenly right now.

"Basically," he continues, setting the drink down. "When you're at that young of an age, you don't have a full understanding of who you are, and that's why it's so important for lil' kids to have good, or at least decent examples for them to follow." He faces you. How direct his gaze feels makes you look away, feeling embarrassment burn your face. "And so pretty much based on how Frisk acted during their time at the Underground, I can tell they've been raised well." His gaze drifts off behind you again, though there's a different look to it this time. In contrast to the one he'd given earlier to acknowledge the waiter's arrival, there's caution present in his irises. "What I'm sayin' here is: you're a good parent, (Y/N). And if you feel like you have to restrain yourself from livin' life, you really shouldn't. You're-"

"Hey, Kevin," a man says, voice coming from behind you. "What did the skeleton say to the hog?"

The strangeness behind his gaze makes more sense now; the voice that sounds from behind you's far too annoying for it not to belong to trouble.

You hear laughter and another voice reply with, "I don't know, Brayan. What?"

Brayan fakes a swoon and attempts to mimic what you can only assume is Sans's voice, saying, "Oh, you're the exact opposite of me -- all fat and no bones. What a catch!"

More laughter.

"Wait, wait," Kevin says, voice now heard from closer by. "I've- I've gotta good follow-up to that one." Even more obnoxious laughter's heard from him, and a not-so adorable snort comes from Brayan. "I might be fat, but you're the real pig here -- liking me only because of those weird tastes of yours!"

"What's bothering you, mi chicharrón*? You're my type. I'm only saying the truth!

"And I'm done with you, you bonehead!"

One of the two men emerge next to Sans and attempts to push him off his chair to follow-up to their impromptu play, with enough flamboyance and sass to make Shakespeare proud.

You step in, grabbing by the arm who you assume's Kevin and keeping him from finishing his joke. He freezes, though he soon recovers, a grin replacing his surprise. "Hey look, Brayan," he calls out. "Piggy's all angry now!"

Done too quick for you to react, you feel something cold pour over your chest and look to your left to see Brayan with a grin on his face and with an empty glass left on his hand. "Cool off," he says, laughing.

Before you can process it, something trips his feet and sends his donkey to the ground.

Both your drink and the skeleton's end up thrown on him as a familiar blue aura surrounds both of the glasses.

"Wh- What the hell, man?" he shouts, flustered. "Who did that?!"

The human owner of the establishment appears right behind him and brings him into an arm lock. She's just as formally dressed as the bear waiter; a long red dress matches with her lipstick and does the opposite with her light skin and bright ginger hair. The name ‘Jessica’ is spelled neatly on her name tag. "Sounds to me like you're the one who needs to cool off first," she says, pulling him to his feet. Her teeth are clenched and a frown shapes her mouth. "Tell your friend he needs to follow me if he doesn't want the same treatment." She drags both men along with her, leaving you alone with Sans -- plus an audience too big for your liking.

The brown bear makes his appearance again. A mess of apologies exit his mouth as he rushes over with two new drinks and a towel hung over his shoulder. Sans helps him by taking the latter and approaching your side.

"You okay?" he asks. Carefully, he sets the towel over you, hands moving stiff and awkward when he tries to wrap it around your torso. You bite back a smile at that, his current reticence helping you forget about Brayan and Kevin's actions. Even with how daring he was while flirting, he was inevitably trying his best not to cross unwanted lines with you. "Was it hot?"

Stop.

That word repeats itself over and over in your mind as you use the towel to pull him closer to you, his hands still holding onto it. You take them, let him hold onto your waist, and allow your smile to shine through, heart pounding all the while. "No," you reply, grinning. "But you worrying about me kinda is." You kiss his cheekbone, murmuring a 'thank you, Sans' close to his ear cavity.

The crowd goes wild, whistles and woots being let out as you keep your lips there for a moment, right until you feel his skull turn hot to the touch. When you pull back, his irises are wide, jumpy, and bright, these trying their best to look away from you. He lets go of the towel, steps back, and sits down on his chair while the crowd settles out.

"Uh..." he mutters, short of breath. "No problem, (Y/N)."

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

*mi (my) chicharrón = Fried pork belly or rinds; a pork dish/snack originating from Hispanic countries.

In this case, it's used as a nickname, like honey, sugar, dear, and all that!

• • •

Tag List (Comment or message me if you want to be added to [or removed from] it!)

@the-simp-express

@nektotersh

@disastrous-l0vebug

@therealchickenjoe

@mintyflakes025

@pandaquick

@timelock97

@candle-creeps

#sans x reader #undertale x reader #lgbt #lgbt themes #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #mother reader #father reader #parent reader #chubby reader #long fic #romcom #adventure #mystery #platonic relationships #slow burn

35 notes · View notes

skrltwtch · 3 years

Text

Scent

Prompt: a & b have been friends since they were children — but they’ve gone their separate ways during college. during that time apart, muse a and b were attacked by a vampire and werewolf respectively, undergoing a transformation they never expected. they kept it a secret from each other, hoping that this doesn’t change their friendship — until they meet up over summer and … holy fucking shit why do you SMELL like that? (Source in master list)

Word count: 5,123 words

Genre: Romance, supernatural

Warnings: Blood

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Impatience composed the rhythm my fingers were drumming on the table. Late. As always. The optimist in me would say it was comforting to know that some things remained the same after all these years. The pessimist in me, the unspoken captain of this ship, wondered why it had to be this gross habit that weathered the winds of change. He suggested this time and place. He had been insistent on meeting in the evening. I didn’t mind either way. I simply figured that being fussy about what time to meet meant that he’d put some effort into being on time.

Because the bar had a flood of new patrons and a dearth of ones contented enough to leave, I went inside and got a table for us first. I didn’t want to have to think of a new place for us to go if the place was packed by the time he got here — whenever that’d be. Time check: fifteen minutes and counting. He was such a lovely friend, and may God never fail to bless every brown hair on his head for every second of his life, but this was infuriating. Not even a text to tell me where he was and what was holding him up. Morgan, please!

His arrival melted away all the indignation I was feeling — and made every hair on the back of my neck stand.

No, that was the pins and needles from sitting cross-legged for too long.

‘Ellie?’ Confusion squinched his eyes. I expected this. The last time he saw me was in college, i.e., some twenty kilograms ago. I wouldn’t have pitched a fit if he’d thought the pictures I used were the result of Photoshop, Facetune, and/or angles. In contrast, he looked exactly as he did when the pictures he used were taken — in college, albeit maybe with a little less baby fat in his face than I’d remembered. Damn. Well, how much could a person change in three years? It wasn’t like he ever needed to lose an ounce of weight, too, let alone twenty kilograms.

When I confirmed I was the same Ellie he’d had the privilege of knowing since childhood, he enveloped me in a hug. I did what had been conditioned into me by the ‘dog’ that I told people was responsible for the scar on my arm the time I went jogging at night because I thought the full moon was bright enough to keep me safe. People were more keen on lecturing me for daring to have that train of thought as a woman in London than questioning what kind of dog it was exactly that could leave a scar like the kind I had, perfectly vindicating my choice of cover for what really happened.

His scent was like a bat to my face. I’d never smelled anyone like this before. People smelled like their diets, their emotions, their likes and dislikes, their best and worst memories: all that made them, them. The scents I’d have associated with him would’ve been the crisp brininess of sea air and the comforting sweetness of chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven. Instead, he smelled like blood, yet it didn’t smell like it belonged to him — or in him. I was also discerning a discomforting whiff of inhumanity, like something in him had been switched off. On top of that, he was clammy to the touch, and, most damningly of all, perhaps — no, no ‘perhaps’, as I pressed my ear to his chest, I couldn’t hear a heartbeat.

I put on my best poker face and released myself from his embrace. ‘You’re late.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’ He sheepishly ran his hand through his hair. ‘God, it is so good to see you. It’s been so long. And look at you! I couldn’t recognise you. (Is it gauche to say that was why I was late?) I only knew — I only had a feeling it was you because —’

‘Because …?’

He clicked his tongue. ‘That’s not important. Listen, I don’t know what I was thinking, asking to meet in a crowded bar … Do you want to go somewhere quieter? So we can talk better without having to shout?’

I downed the last of my drink, which I’d been forced to get earlier than I wanted so the staff wouldn’t kick me out for taking up a table in one of the more desirable corners of their establishment. I agreed with Morgan on the condition that he thought of where to go next. I hated crowds to begin with, and now that I was hypersensitive to all that the five senses encompassed, crowds were, to put it simply, a fucking nightmare. I should’ve put a kibosh on his suggestion to meet at a bar when he made it. I’d be comparing apples and oranges here, but not liking crowds was normal, whereas smelling and feeling like a dead person wasn’t.

We went for ice cream. The first thing he asked me was how I lost the weight. Had we not met on an app meant for matchmaking, his first question would likely have been something else entirely, something to do with what it was that had us seeing each other for the first time since college. I told him what I did to get in shape, which was to watch what I ate and move farther and for longer than the trips I made from my room to the kitchen or bathroom, or from my desk to the pantry or washroom, throughout the day. What I left out was how I’d been maintaining despite having ordered something as indulgent as three heaping scoops of gelato with chocolate brownie pieces and hot fudge sauce: catch something from an animal bite that counted an enhanced metabolism needed to sustain monthly bodily trauma among one of its many symptoms. It really was easy as that.

We opted for takeout and a walk around Hyde Park to pad out our evening. The open space did nothing to defuse his strange scent. It was all I could focus on, and I needed all the brain cells I could get to the office on such short notice focus on our conversation. We’d gotten the answers to simple questions about our lives over text prior to tonight: what we did after college, what we were doing now, how our families were doing, so on and so forth. You know, small talk bullshit. I hadn’t doubted that we’d broach the subject of our break from each other at some point during our reconnection. The elephant had made itself comfortable in the room the instant I received the notification he’d swiped right on me. The thing was, the elephant couldn’t stop another one of its ilk from invading its space, and now they were both arguing over which one of them deserved our attention better.

The almost pristine three-layered sundae drenched in strawberry sauce in Morgan’s hand provided the perfect icebreaker for me to possibly appease either elephant. ‘Are you okay, Morgan?’ I said. ‘You’ve barely touched your ice cream.’ Conversely, I was halfway through mine, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I had hot fudge sauce smeared across my lips.

It wasn’t only his restraint from inhaling his ice cream, the single course of action the Morgan I knew, the one who wouldn’t be smelling like a mortuary, would’ve carried out ages ago. He had been looking out of sorts the entire evening. Even softballs were answered with skittishness and reserve. Really, why’d he agree to meet if he wasn’t entirely over what happened all those years ago? If that was what this was about, that is. Did seeing me in person make him realise that it wasn’t the best of ideas to attempt to rekindle a friendship that’d turned awkward from differing expectations? It didn’t bother me in any way, but that was easy for me to say, considering the role I played in all this.

‘I’m fine.’ He gulped down a giant spoonful of ice cream without flinching. He and I understood the concept of ‘fine’ very differently. ‘Ellie … we’re friends, right?’

He’d wanted to be more than at one point.

‘Yeah,’ I said as deadpan as I could to prevent him from reading too much into my answer. I mean, I would if I were him.

‘We can tell each other anything.’

We sure did.

‘Promise me you won’t take this the wrong way,’ he continued.

I stared at him blankly. Caveats never came before anything good.

‘… Why do you smell like that?’

Wow, what the fuck. I should be the one asking that question, not him!

‘Like what?’ Still as deadpan as humanly possible. Disregard the fact that I hadn’t been human in a while.

‘Like … fuck, I can’t. This was a bad idea.’

‘No, tell me. Like what?’

‘Like the forest. Moss. Tree bark. Leaves. Dirt. And a little bit of raw meat.’ There were no pauses between his words, though the sounds were disparate enough to identify them as actual words. ‘No, a lot of raw meat. No, forget I said anything. Sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight.’

‘Just what has gotten into you, period? Why do you smell like spoilt wine — like blood?’ I wanted to ask as well why he didn’t seem to have a heartbeat. I remembered in time that a stethoscope was required to detect that sort of thing, and I had no business owning one. I wouldn’t even know where to get one, short of robbing the doctor the next time I had to go in for a check-up.

‘Something happened to us, didn’t it? Other than the obvious.’

‘I think so. Say it together on the count of three?’ I needed the countdown to convince myself that whatever had made him like this hadn’t made him cruel. He hadn’t said or done anything that’d wound me. No, what was I thinking? This was Morgan I was talking about. What sacrilege to think he could hurt a living being. I should apologise to him for this.

He agreed to my proposition.

I started the countdown: ‘One — two — three —’

‘I’m a vampire.’

‘I’m a werewolf.’

Together: ‘What?’

‘Are you messing with me?’ he said.

‘Are you messing with me?’

‘Have I ever?’

He had a point. I really needed to apologise to him. ‘How did it happen?’ Why play dumb? I turned into a hulking wolf-woman hybrid once a month. There were obviously others like me. It stood to reason that vampires would exist as well.

‘I … met someone after college. She and I had … stuff in common. I thought she was kidding when she asked if she could feed on me the first time. I let her anyway, and so much about her made sense immediately. I asked her to turn me eventually. Being vampires together was fun at first … and then it wasn’t. I don’t regret it, though. Okay, I do regret not being able to really enjoy food anymore.’ He cast a wistful stare in the direction of his sundae. It was a milkshake by now. ‘You?’

‘I was bitten while I was hiking at night. It was an accident. He’ — I paid no attention to the wince he made — ‘realised what he did and brought me to safety. He revealed himself to me the next day. He taught me everything about being a werewolf. Of course, one thing led to another, and …’

‘He was your ex,’ he said stiffly. For the first time tonight, I smelled something other than blood on him: bitterness.

‘Yes, the one I told you about on Tinder.’ Because he asked. His responses in that part of the conversation, as brief as it was, had borne little to no emotion. Jude and I ended things on a good note. I made that clear to Morgan. There was nothing for him — as a friend — to have strong feelings about. ‘Please, Morgan.’ Us coming across each other and reconnecting on a dating app meant — was supposed to mean — nothing.

‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘I’m sorry for what happened in college. I’m over it, I promise. The time and distance apart helped. I don’t want us to not be friends anymore because of this — because of what I did. I’m happy we got to meet again after so long … and after everything that happened.’

‘It’s okay, Morgan. I wasn’t — I’m not — upset about what happened.’ I wasn’t really anything about it. Okay, I might have been surprised that the roles had been as they were: Morgan glowed up toward the end of secondary school, a development that didn’t go unnoticed by most of the female population wherever he went, whereas I was pudgy, socially awkward, and not the right amount of weird for it to be seen as quirky, and would therefore be likely to latch on to my sole source of male attention. (I was now two out of three of those things.) ‘Things happen. We don’t get to control this kind of thing. I’m happy, too, that you’re back. I missed you. I’m happy you got to work things out and want to continue being friends. Let’s just put this behind us and move on, okay?’

I hugged him. Relief and cheer emanated from him, alleviating the musty scent that made sense to belong to a vampire.

‘I missed you, too. On the bright side, it made the vampire–werewolf confession easier to stomach, didn’t it?’ His grin revealed pointed canines.

I chuckled. We could compare our fangs sometime. ‘What do you do for food?’

He guzzled the entirety of his sundae-milkshake in one drag. I envied the apparent departure of the concept of brain freeze from him. I should learn more about vampire lore from him and see what Hollywood had gotten right and wrong. (It was mostly the latter for werewolves: we were underrepresented and misrepresented. I just could never get a fair shake on the big screen.) ‘You’d be surprised by how well vampires have modernised and worked the Internet to their advantage. Blood bag delivery services, forums and apps for vampires and … vampire enthusiasts to connect. How about you? What do you do on full moons?’

‘I drive out to the woods whenever I transform — whenever I want to. That’s a thing.’ Jude and I spent a lot of our nights together as wolves. I did miss that sometimes. Jude never prepared me for how lonely being a werewolf could be until it was too late. ‘I hunt. I play. I explore. I haven’t killed anyone to the best of my knowledge.’

‘I want to make a “good girl” joke, but you can literally tear me from limb to limb.’ I nodded with a slight air of pride. ‘This is so fascinating. Vampires are pretty straightforward. What you see in movies and on TV is what you get — mostly.’ Ah, hell. ‘Hey, can I tag along whenever you transform? So I can learn how to hunt animals. Blood bags are actually kind of shitty, and I’m trying to keep biting people to a minimum. I — um — I don’t want to accidentally go too far and turn or kill someone.’

I was deeply relieved that he was still the same caring, thoughtful person I knew in spite of the faint unfeelingness I sniffed earlier. I wouldn’t think twice if it were another vampire: maybe that was what was needed for them to survive. I mean … who was I to judge? I gave in to feral thoughts occasionally. Given a choice, the only thing I’d choose to hunt was the perfect red velvet cake. But this was Morgan, the same person I needed to apologise to for thinking he’d say something mean to make me feel bad on purpose.

‘Of course, I’d love to show you the ropes! Just don’t judge my wolf form, okay?’ I said.

‘Shut up. I’m sure you look great. Would you prefer being called cute or ferocious?’

‘Both, please.’

‘I figured. Can you believe I was afraid to tell you about this? I didn’t know how you’d react, especially after …’

‘Same.’ The club that knew what I was, was a highly exclusive one, consisting of only two members at the moment and for the foreseeable future. I didn’t dare tell anyone else. Just how would this come up in a normal conversation? ‘I know we can tell each other anything.’ We did. We were in a world where asking a friend to be more than friends was less cause for concern for one’s mental health after all. ‘And nothing’s come between us. Not even —’

He nodded emphatically.

We found a place to sit in the park and continued talking, sharing stories about our new lives and recounting those from our old ones. Time became inconsequential, as did the fact that it had done so on a weeknight. We left only because the park was closing soon and I got hungry, because enhanced metabolism. A Lebanese takeaway near the park was my saviour. Our conversation persisted into the wee hours of the morning and a long way away from where we’d started. As he turned down my request to have breakfast together before heading home almost at the crack of dawn as we were wont to do in our early college days (and he did so patiently, which was more than what I deserved for being a forgetful idiot), it hit me for a moment that being friends with a vampire might pose a challenge to scheduling, as if his chronic lateness wasn’t already a thing. Then I realised it didn’t matter. I was simply happy to have him back in my life, and while anything about us could change at any time, one thing was for certain: our friendship would be everlasting.

✦✧✦✧

It happened again.

I fell in love with her again.

As soon as I felt the same tingle in my stomach that gave rise to our long separation in college, I knew I had to call our friendship off for good. This couldn’t keep happening. She needed a friend she could count on to be there for her because he wanted to out of cordiality, not one whose intentions she’d constantly be second-guessing. She had to know something was up. She had to have sensed my feelings for her. What could that nose of hers not detect? No, we agreed not to read each other’s emotions using our sense of smell. We weren’t at that level of intimacy with each other, as much as I desperately wanted us to be.

And hell, did I ever want it so terribly. Being what I was, everything I felt was intensified. I didn’t know what I might do to her if I continued to be around her while she didn’t reciprocate my feelings, and I didn’t want to find out. I was prepared to spend all of eternity without her. There’d come a time anyway when she wouldn’t be in my life anymore. Werewolves weren’t immortal. I’d have to watch her grow old — at a slower rate than humans, sure. So that’d buy us at least a decade or two. So what? I’d still have to watch her die. The sooner I ended things, the better it’d be for the both of us. She could get a head start on the life she deserved, one free of a perpetually lovesick wanker.

I’d do it tonight — under the stars at the beach, the breeze appreciable but not disruptive, the waves lapping the shore with calm strokes, the waxing gibbous moon bathing us in a warm, tranquil glow. It was fucking perfect … for what I wished this was instead of what this was supposed to be. It didn’t have to be tonight. Did I want to ruin this lovely picnic she’d so eagerly planned and looked forward to? It had to be tonight. The longer I spent in her company, the more I feared I’d do something that’d push us beyond the brink of repair.

Desire and disquietude were making it difficult to focus on her words. She was talking about … her latest project at work or the 22nd and 23rd cats her sister had just adopted … or something. Her lips were mesmerising to watch. They must feel just as nice to kiss. Jude was bloody lucky to be the only person to know for sure. Fuck. Fuck, Morgan. You’d fucking lost the plot. This shit was exactly why you needed to get away from her. Fucking knob. Fucking loser who thought ‘once bitten, twice shy’ didn’t apply to him. She’d think you were a fucking obsessive creep, and she’d be right.

‘— I can’t stand to visit her. I don’t need to be a werewolf to think that the smell of twenty-something cats in an okay-sized flat is horrendous. And no one would dare call her out on it. You know what she’s like. It’s how she has twenty-something cats to begin with. She wasn’t even a cat person before. Anyway’ — Ellie held up her hands, the movement stealing my attention from her lips, ‘low contact, as it is with the rest of them.’ She popped a pie bar in her mouth. ‘And I just spent the last five minutes ranting about my sister and her lack of self-control. Totally the best thing to do at a time like this, right?’

I could listen to her spout off about the most mundane thing possible all night and find it all so riveting.

I sipped my drink — badger blood to bring out the sweetness of the fruit-heavy dishes and complement the fowl-based sandwiches she packed. I never would’ve thought of pairing the blood of different animals with human food to make the latter more palatable. She revived in me the thrill of being a vampire after two years of languishing under the spell of ennui and regret for an existence spanning all of eternity cast on me by the desolation of my split from Lorelai. And I was likely going to go down that rabbit hole again after tonight. It was for a good cause. I’d rather be miserable than be the source of her headache.

‘Morgan? You’re — um —’ She made a circular motion at my upper body, and then heaved her shoulders in an amused shrug. ‘I wish you all the best in getting all that out.’

I looked over what she’d gestured at. ‘Fuck it. I’d been meaning to toss this shirt anyway.’

I soaked up what I could with a napkin — or five — and took off my shirt before I’d retch from the smell. I practised controlled feeding for a reason. Now I was shirtless and a little bloodied, just in time for one of the most important conversations in my very long, soon to be very lonely, life to take place. Terrific.

‘Ellie, I — I have something to tell you.’

‘I fucked up the dip, didn’t I?’

‘No, it’s not that — it’s delicious.’ For something that didn’t come from a vein, at least. ‘Ellie … I love you.’ Again. Because I was a stupid fuck.

Her lips formed an O. Stop fucking looking at her lips!

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I thought I’d gotten over it the first time.’ It sucked that there was now a ‘first time’. ‘I just get this feeling when I’m around you. I feel safe, happy — I feel like I’m alive again. I don’t have to hide anything about myself. I can be me, yet you make me want to be the best I can be for you. But I can’t keep doing this to you and myself. I don’t want to settle on being friends this time. I know that part of me won’t let me either. And I don’t know what that part of me would do if I continue to be in your life like this.’

‘Morgan —’

‘I shouldn’t have come back. I’ve enjoyed the past year tremendously. But I think — I know I have to leave now while things are still … good between us. It’d be for the best. I don’t want to fuck up what we had since we were kids. I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry. I truly am.’

She simply stared at me. She must be thinking why the fuck she’d been saddled with a right prat for a friend. Where did things go wrong? Did I knock back too many whiskey shots on my 18th birthday? I vaguely remembered her asking me to stop after my eleventh. Why wasn’t she still saying anything? Did I break her?

‘No, Morgan’ was what she said at last — and the only thing she said for the longest time.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Don’t leave.’ Her hand hovered over mine. Uncertainty swam about in her eyes. Her dilemma was plain to see. I took her hand and locked our fingers together. This was the only time I could get away with being this forward. I wanted to savour her warmth as well for as long as I could; I’d miss it so much.

‘I have to. It’s not safe for you to be around me.’

‘But … I want to be with you. Not as friends. Morgan … I’ve fallen in love with you, too.’

‘What are you saying? No, don’t — that’s not —’ Had I put her under some kind of glamour without realising it? Was she humouring me? Every fibre of my being yearned for what I heard to be true. Nothing I’d seen in all the time we spent together suggested the possibility. Nothing we did together seemed out of the ordinary.

‘I’m — I mean it. I should be the one apologising, I think. I’ve felt this way for the last couple of months. I look forward to being with you all the time. I love receiving your texts throughout the night and waking up to them in the morning. Nothing feels like it’s happened until I tell you about it. I get these butterflies in my stomach every time you smile at me and touch me. You remember these small details about us from so long ago. I think the moment I knew was when I was having a tough time transforming for whatever reason and you were just … there for me, holding me, talking me down. I love you. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you sooner. I didn’t know how. I didn’t know how you’d react because of — because of what happened in college.’

She sniffled. Seeing that I was the reason for her tears stung my heart. I wiped them away for her. ‘I love you. I always will,’ I said.

Then our lips met. I’d waited so long for this, and it was both everything I dreamt of and like nothing I could’ve ever imagined. Her lips were so warm, so soft, so sweet. I tasted the tartness of cherries and apples, the smokiness of turkey, the acidic sharpness of vinaigrette, on her mouth, notes I thought lost to me forever. An indistinct thumping sounded deep inside my chest. Her fingers slid into my hair, making waves of it. I pulled her closer to me, my hands gripping her waist, in the hope that the rush of her skin against mine would allay my doubts that this was all just a dream. But how could it be a dream when everything seemed to finally make sense? While Lorelai had promised a life anew in death, Ellie was the promise of a life renewed and delivered from death.

I didn’t want this moment to end. It had to, as my body was beginning to respond to the call of her blood.

She pulled away. No, I wanted to cry out. She must’ve sensed my thirst.

‘It’s okay if you want to,’ she said. ‘I’m not afraid.’

She bared her neck for me. My nostrils flared. I could smell her blood — like red hot ambrosia. Her heartbeat pounded in my ears, growing louder with every second I dithered. Why was I hesitating? I wanted her. I needed her.

I sank my teeth into her neck. She shuddered; a soft moan fled her lips. Crimson flowed out of the punctures I made. Everything I’d imbibed prior paled in comparison to what I was now partaking of: little explosions of flavour — syrupy, racy, robust — went off in my mouth. I feared nothing else could do it for me after this. I lapped up every drop of ruby as if it were exquisite manna; I made sure none of it went to waste. The blood I ingested was making its way south, making a signal for another kind of craving to be met. Not now. It’d be too soon for us. I had all the time in the world to get to know her better.

Her scent and whines were becoming too hard to ignore. I stopped for fear that I was misinterpreting them out of my own bias. I found myself staring into enlarged amber irises in pools of black. Claws had popped out from under her fingernails. She, too, was sporting fangs. Her chest, lightly shining with sweat, rose and fell sharply. The changes reversed themselves in short order. Red spread across her cheeks in uneven blotches.

‘I’m sorry. I —’ she said.

I cupped my hand around her cheek. ‘You can let go if you want to. You don’t have to be shy around me.’ She’d always been sheepish about her wolf form and the lengths she went to for its emergence around me. The incident she referred to had only been allowed to happen because her panic attack drowned out any embarrassment, any diffidence, she harboured about the process. That was the only time I saw her in that state.

She shook her head. ‘I know. I just — I’d want to experience that — our first time — as myself, and I don’t think I can do that now. I hope that’s okay.’

I wiped my mouth and gave her a light kiss on the lips. ‘Of course. We don’t have to rush into things. We have a lifetime ahead of us’, and I wanted every second to be as special as the last. She smiled in agreement and enfolded me in a tight embrace. It startled me how much she felt just like home in my arms. I could do this with her forever, and for a fleeting moment, as I fingered the now unblemished skin where my teeth had pierced, I wondered if there would ever be the chance of her wanting to share in my idea of forever.

#exophilia #terato #werewolf #vampire #monster love #monster romance #mine

30 notes · View notes