#“I have a business card in my wallet and my rates are very reasonable.”

[bonesandpoemsandflowers]

every halloween I'm like, "I should write the short story where the werewolf gets kidnapped by a serial killer," and then for like ten years, I do not.

the whole fun bit, of course, would be narrating in a not close third, so that there's just some guy tied to a chair getting threatened and he's entirely too chill about the whole thing until he realizes what time it is, and then he's increasingly stressed about how he's gonna miss his Halloween date...

[sirfrogsworth]

Adventures in Cooling

The 5-star rated HVAC repair service I used kind of depressed me.

It was almost... too good?

Like, they offer 24/7 service. They have a text message system that lets you know when the tech is coming. Every tech has their own custom van that serves as a giant advertisement. The entire process is documented with a tablet computer. Every serial number and model number must be photographed. He has to follow a diagnostic checklist. And an upsell checklist. And a repair checklist. He had so many checklists that at one point he pulled a card out of his wallet to make sure he didn't forget one of the steps. He had a poorly memorized speech for every upsell. You could tell he didn't have "his" tools, but the company's tools that he borrowed.

None of this was "bad" as far as a workflow. The service was flawless and nothing was forgotten. But you could tell that every detail was micromanaged and if the tech didn't follow the procedures to the letter, he would probably get some kind of demerit.

I felt sorry for my tech. He was in his 60s and clearly had a severe chronic knee injury. He walked slower than I do. He was quite monosyllabic and difficult to make conversation with. Not unpleasant, just not great at communicating.

At one point I asked him if I was a good candidate for a heat pump and he was like, "Everyone is."

End of advice.

Oh, and the uniform.

The uniform was very silly.

Every square inch of his shirt was meant to assure people they have a qualified technician. The one sleeve listed his certifications from some Alphabet Association that certifies such things. And then the other sleeve made sure to let me know my technician was drug tested and background checked.

The entire visit I kept trying to imagine how being stoned might negatively affect HVAC repair. I mean, if he was on a little cocaine perhaps we could have wrapped things up 30 minutes sooner. Marijuana might have helped him communicate. Opioids could make his knee feel better. I don't think shrooms would have been a good idea. If he hallucinated an angry fan monster in my A/C unit that could have been really awkward.

He was a terrible salesman—but for some reason, I fell for every upsell. Actually, I sold all of the upsells to myself in my head. I got a new filter and had him install it because I worried I would forget or I would install it improperly (not really possible, you just stick it in). But for the price I paid I could have bought 6 years worth of filters.

I just wanted everything sorted. I am so stressed and do not have the bandwidth to deal with A/C troubles. So I just said "yes" to everything. But the price kept inflating as we went along and every time it inflated he required a signature on his tablet.

This repair business had been corporatized to death and it made me miss all of my dad's friends from the old days who he would ask for favors. He always "knew a guy." He would trade car repairs for discounts on things we needed around the house. And they all worked for themselves and had their own tools and their own shitty truck and they all said, "There's your problem!" with the same masculine affect.

Their uniform was a flannel shirt and jeans and I bet some of them were high as fuck.

And this elderly gentlemen with the bum knee kept checking his checklist to make sure he checked every check because he feared managerial discipline.

He got to the sales pitch for the fluorescent dye. He was like, "Do you want this? You don't have to buy it." And I started selling it to myself in my head despite his assurance it wasn't really necessary. I worried if I had a big leak and I don't discover it until the middle of July, I would regret saying no in this moment. But then I realized he hated the dye injection process. And his poor salesmanship was mostly him not wanting his hands to be fucking radioactive yellow for the rest of the day. He tried wearing gloves to avoid it, but he still ended up with yellow hands and grumbled, "I really hate this stuff." Which was one of the few unrehearsed things he said to me the entire time.

Once the checklist was complete and the house was already starting to cool, he had one final sales pitch for me. He asked that I give his company a 5-star review and to make sure I mention his name. He told me that in July all of the techs with the most 5-star reviews will have their names put in a hat. And "the boss" will give one lucky employee a free vacation.

This vacation thing sounded like such a manipulation. And I'm sure "the boss" has instructed his techs to tell this tale of the free vacation so customers will be like, "Well, shit. I don't want this poor old guy with the shitty knee to miss out on that."

And it was then I realized just how this company got so many 5-star reviews.

Diabolical.

But the good news... my house is cold as heck.

And I keep shivering because I can't figure out the perfect setting on my thermostat. I guess I was used to the inefficiency and I will have to recalibrate.

[mdawritings]

“Arrested” [Aaron Hotchner X Female Reader]

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Rating: E

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader

Wordcount: 8,510

Summary: 

The BAU is working a case in the DC area: an unsub killing women outside of nightclubs and bars. When you get arrested and manage to end up in the same precinct as Aaron Hotchner, the team discovers that their unit chief has been sleeping with a MUCH younger woman. Even more importantly, they discover that aside from being Hotch's fuck buddy, you have had direct contact with the unsub. Told through cute and smutty flashbacks throughout your relationship with Aaron.

AO3 Link

It had been weeks since you’d seen Aaron. The first week you didn’t see him was because of a case over the weekend in Florida. You had sent him a few scandalous pictures while he was flying home…

You rest your head against the arm of your sofa lazily. You reach for the phone and look at the simple text from Aaron. “On the way home now. I want to see you soon.” Just those words send bolts of happiness, excitement, and arousal through you. You press the top of your phone to your lips to suppress your growing smile. You text him back.

“Been imagining your hands touching me instead of my own”

Aaron picks up his phone at the chime. He reads the message from you and can’t help but start to stir a little. God, the thoughts of you home alone… touching yourself thinking about him. Yeah, that definitely does something to him. It’s not like you weren’t in his thoughts the entire time. It's difficult to focus on a case when all he really wants is to be home, buried under the covers with you, taking in your light, yet intoxicating perfume. Touching your soft, perfect skin. Hearing you scream his name… He almost lets out a moan but catches himself and looks around the jet at his sleeping coworkers.

He quickly replies to your message, “Oh yeah?”

You jump up from the couch, exhaustion rapidly dissipating from your previously sore limbs at the thought of seeing Aaron tonight. Memories of his large hands touching, groping, squeezing your body flood into your mind.

You hurry to slip on the purple lingerie set you bought. You stand in front of your bathroom mirror. You take a few minutes, capturing some, quite honestly, fucking amazing photos.

“Missing the feeling of you buried inside me” You send the photos along. You grow even happier at the thought of him getting a fucking hard-on while just a few feet away from his sleeping coworkers. You revel in the effect you manage to have over such a powerful, dominant, authoritative man. It makes you especially proud to think about his normal demeanor, stoic, hard-faced, serious, and how easy it is for you to reduce him to simpering, whimpering, moaning mess under your touch. Your phone chimes a mere seconds after sending the photos.

“You are torturing me. We HAVE to see each other when I land”

You fell asleep in your bed in that lingerie waiting for him. You didn’t see his messages until the next morning, saying the sitter for Jack fell through and he probably wouldn’t be able to see you until next weekend.

At the start of the second week, he got called away to a case in California. That one took up the whole week and by the time he got home, he was way too exhausted to spend time with you.

This kind of thing went on for two weeks. A full month without Aaron had been torture. It wasn’t like you expected him to drop everything and come running to you. You understand he has a kid to take care of and an FBI unit to run. Plus, it isn’t like you two are really dating. Do you sometimes wish you were? Hell yes. Is it reasonable or feasible? Absolutely not.

That doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy what you have going on right now. He comes over to your place, tired and frustrated from a long day at work, and he— well he fucks your brain out. You’re always working hard on your Ph.D. and Aaron’s job is just plain stressful. You both need and enjoy the amazing stress relieving benefits of casual sex. You do enjoy each other’s company without having sex sometimes. It usually happens on those weekends when you or he or both of you are way too exhausted. But really, it's the moments after sex that make you question what you truly are to one another…

Your heart rate begins to steady and you can’t help but smile up at Aaron. He looks down at you with that small Hotchner version of a smile. It’s a smile that wouldn’t seem like much to anyone else, but you know how infrequently he lets the corners of his mouth turn up in happiness. “How do you do it?”

You soon realize after letting the words out, (and from the confusion on his face), that he cannot, in fact, read your mind and understand what you mean, “How do you go from seeing all that bad out there in the world to lying in this bed with me with that adorable smile on your face?”

For a split second, you think you’ve said something wrong. The smile falls from his face and his brows tense up. You always tease him about his eyebrows, telling him the more he frowns the more wrinkles he’ll get.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to cross a line—”

“I don’t want to pull you into all this… my work. I want to protect you from it.” Your heart practically sinks into your stomach. That’s not the type of language you use with your casual sex partner. Then again, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t worry every time he leaves for a case. You worry that you’ll never see him again. You won’t even find out he’s dead because no one knows about the two of you.

“Y/N,” he pulls you out of your thoughts. His voice cuts through the silent room and you look back up into his soft eyes. They’re searching your face, scanning your behavior. You can tell he’s trying to figure out what you could possibly be thinking.

“Stop doing that,” you warn him, but your tone is light-hearted, “That whole studying my behavior thing you do.”

“Profiling,” he corrects you and runs a hand over your hair. The action is like a natural reflex for him, he’s not even consciously aware he’s pulling you closer to him.

“Right. That. Stop profiling me,” you laugh.

“Well, how am I supposed to know what’s spinning around in your head when you zone out like that.”

“I’m thinking about the fact that you listen to me rattle on and on about statistical physics but you don’t talk about your job.”

“You need to stop talking about physics after sex. It makes me feel like I’m sleeping with Reid,” he laughs and notices your confusion, “He’s a coworker of mine. You’d like him.”

You’d like him. That phrase sticks with you. Does that mean he wants you to meet his coworkers someday?

You’re not sure why you and Aaron never discuss a real relationship. Well, it’s more like Aaron never discusses a real relationship. Aaron doesn’t really discuss anything. The first time you really talked to him you thought his closed-off nature was charming, dreamy…

“Aaron Hotchner… right?” You look over the man who has just walked up to the bar next to you.

He reaches for the beers he’s just ordered, obviously for a group, but stops as you call out his name, “I’m sorry do I know you?”

“You work for the FBI… Behavioral something unit.” Your laugh sounds loud and obnoxious to you, but to him, it’s bright and cuts through the din of the chaotic bar.

“Behavioral Analysis Unit,” Aaron’s eyebrows furrow. He looks you over before turning his attention back to your face, searching it for answers.

“Oh god!” You're not really the type to strike up a conversation with a man in a bar but you’re feeling bold, not to mention empowered by the liquor, “I must seem so crazy. You gave a talk at Georgetown I attended. I’m a Ph.D. student there. It was about criminal psychology.” His face softens as he begins to realize you’re not a crazy stalker nor an obsessed fan. You stick your hand out for him to shake, “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you, again, I guess,” He nods as he shakes your hand. You can tell he’s just trying to be polite and he glances over his shoulder at a group of people at a booth. Their eyes are all on you two. He wants to go back but something about you is drawing him in. “So you’re pursuing a Ph.D. in psychology?” He moves to sit at the bar next to you.

“Actually no.” You feel flush rushing into your face as he moves closer to you and sits down. You can’t help but look over his body. He’s much closer to your height now that he’s sitting down. He’s wearing a black quarter zip and dark jeans. His hair is neatly gelled back. He does not fit into this atmosphere. “I’m getting a Ph.D. in physics. I conduct theoretical research on the experimental implementation of quantum computing with trapped ions in— I conduct research.” Your blush deepens.

Aaron smiles widely at your ranting before jumping in, “So what were you doing in a criminal psychology lecture?”

Your face feels hot with embarrassment, “I snuck in. It sounded interesting.” You shrug slightly and reach for the drink from the bartender. “I almost didn’t show up, but then a classmate told me one of the FBI agents was very attractive.” You give a small wink before reaching for your check for your drinks from the night. “And she was right, Agent Prentiss is drop-dead gorgeous.” Your attempts to keep a poker face fail, your lips curling with delight.

Aaron laughs as he takes the check from your hands. “You don’t have to—” You protest slightly but Aaron holds up his hand to silence you.

“My treat. As a thank you, for breaking the rules to see my lecture.” He shares in your smile as he hands the bartender his card, paying for your drinks. Your ex just broke up with you a few weeks prior so you came out to cheer yourself up. Seeing Aaron Hotchner up close and personal is… definitely a pick me up.

“Do you have a business card or something?”

“Uh… yes.” Aaron is hesitant to hand it over but reaches into his wallet for one. You grab a pen and take the business card from Aaron. You scribble down your number on the back and hand it to him.

“This is my number.” You hold it out before reaching for your purse. He looks down at the number and then back up at you. For a grown, adult man, he doesn’t seem to understand. You can see confusion written all over his face, it’s quite adorable honestly. His face though it seemingly remains emotionless, in just the few minutes you’ve spent talking to him, you see hints of smiles hidden under a professional, powerful exterior.

“Call me sometime. You know, so I can pay you back for that drink.” You stand up from the bar, legs weak from the heavy drinking you’ve done, “Or if you just want some company.” He nods slightly in response and you turn to leave. You can’t help but turn for a second to watch as Aaron walks back to his table of what appear to be friends. One of the women looks back at you and smiles the most infectious, sweetest smile at you. You return it and move to leave the bar.

It wasn’t until late that night that you got a call. The drinking your sorrows away didn’t stop once you left that bar. You were curled up on your couch, a glass of wine clutched in your hands.

“Hello?” you mumble into the phone, pulling the blanket around your shoulders tighter.

“We didn’t really get to talk much at the bar, but I’m pretty sure you made some promises about paying me back for that drink,” A stern man’s voice cuts through the phone.

“Aaron?” you ask momentarily confused, “It—It’s late, are you drunk?”

Your laugh rings through the phone and it’s that laugh that has Aaron so intensely drawn to you. He can’t help himself. He needs to be near you, “Just go to the door.”

You stand up, “My door? How did you get my—oh right. FBI agent,” you muse and open your door. And there he is, standing at the door with the phone pressed to his ear. He pulls it away and hangs up. “This is incredibly creepy, I hope you know that.” You lean against the doorframe, pulling your large sweater around yourself tighter. His eyes run over you. You grin slightly, catching his wandering gaze, and at that, he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“So about that drink you owe me.” Aaron takes a few hesitant steps into your apartment. He closes the door behind him, “How about you pay me back wit—” he starts to talk but you don’t let him finish his sentence. You grip his shirt and pull him close, your lips melting against his.

It’s messy and passionate and needy. You struggle to stumble along, guiding him towards your bedroom and his hands are touching every inch of you. He hurriedly pulls your sweater off and tosses it off to the side before unzipping your dress. You let it fall to the floor and kick it off as you match his frantic pace, pulling off his shirt and pushing down his jeans. He lays you down gently and reaches around to unclasp your bra.

“Holy fuck,” Aaron groans as he takes a second to take in your naked body.

Then he’s leaving a trail of soft kisses down the expanse of your chest and breasts. He travels down further. His lips brush against your inner thighs, his stubble tickling your skin. He smirks up at you wickedly as he grips your thong in his teeth, pulling it down your legs. You already know your soaking wet pussy will give away just how bad you want him right now.

He doesn’t hesitate, he goes to work on you. Licking and stroking and rubbing your clit. Your back arches and you grip the sheets and his hair. You massage your breasts, panting heavily as two of his fingers press into you, his tongue flicking your overly sensitive bud of nerves. “Oh god, Aaron yes!”

His name rolls off your tongue and you continue to chant it like a fucking mantra as his somehow rough yet gentle touch drives you wild. You feel the knots building in your stomach. Your legs tremble with pleasure as your eyes shut harshly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You’re panting intensely at this point and the whole room practically slips away as your orgasm hits and your body feels out of control. Every nerve ending on fire. And Aaron is merciless, he continues to lick and tease as you ride out your high.

He can’t help but grin proudly at the number he’s done on you. As he comes up to plant a few more kisses on your lips, you feel his rock hard erection pressing against your thigh. You kiss him hungrily while fumbling to stroke him through his boxers.

The groan the emerges from his lips is… holy fucking shit it’s sexy. You flip the two of you over so you’re on top of him, your chest pressed against his. You dip your hand into his boxers, pumping the entirety of his length. You feel him getting harder and his cock twitches in conjunction with a loud, throaty groan. “Y/N." His eyes flutter open and he grabs your arm to still your motions. “I need you, now.”

Within seconds he’s peeling his boxers off, you roll the condom down onto him and you slam your hips down on his. You can’t contain the loud gasps and moans as you feel your walls stretch around him. Fuck it’s been too long since you’ve had sex. You’re still for a second and Aaron bucks his hips, needing friction, needing to thrust and feel your tightness around him.

“Oh god." Your eyes are practically rolling back in your head as Aaron takes an agonizing pace, lifting your hips all the way up just to slam them all the way back down again.

He has a vice grip on your hips and you can feel the bruises forming under his fingertips. You grind your hips against his as you ride him faster. “Fuck you feel amazing,” Hotch lets out another one of those agonizingly sexy groans.

“I’m close,” you whine out. Aaron reaches to rub your clit with his thumb as he starts thrusting his hips up to meet yours chaotically. That combined with his large cock hitting your sweet spot sends you tumbling over the edge once again. It’s not long after that you feel his cock throbbing deep inside you, his hips messily thrusting and his face contorted up in pleasure. His panting becomes rapid and it's not long before he’s coming undone inside you. You flip off of him to collapse at his side on the bed.

“So when are we doing this again?” you pant heavily and hear a beautiful sound beside you. The sound of Aaron laughing.

Sometimes you worry if he’s embarrassed by you. I mean, you’re a few years shy of 20 years younger than him. You’re still in school. He was starting college by the time you were out of diapers. He runs a whole goddamn unit of the FBI and you’re still a student. You both are in entirely separate places in life, how do you reconcile that? It’s not as if he keeps you secret. Jessica knows you and you met his son Jack one time. Besides, you’re not really showing him off either. Not that you have many people to show him off to.

Like said, it’s been weeks since you’ve seen him which has just left you to sit around and overthink just about everything.

Aaron is working a case in DC. You saw the news reports the other day. Women were turning up dead in alleyways behind popular nightclubs and bars in the downtown area. Despite this horrifying news, you were happy when he told you the case was at home. It meant less travel. Less travel means Aaron is less tired. Which means more sex for you. And god, did you need sex.

It’s your friend’s 27th birthday and in an attempt to keep her from crying about getting a year older, you and a group of friends promised to go out drinking with her. You reach for your phone to check for any messages from Aaron. You would drop all your plans if he told you he was coming over tonight. There is one new message but it’s not exactly the text you were hoping for.

From: Aaron:

Please be safe for the next few days. Don’t go anywhere alone. Call me if there’s any trouble or if you need anything at all.”

You furrow your brows. It’s not news that Aaron cares about you and wants to look out for you but usually while on a case it’s radio silence from him. Yes, if you were really in danger he would want you to call immediately, but usually, he tells you he needs to focus on the job and nothing else. You dismiss the text, chalking it up to the presence of a serial killer in the city you both live in. Hell, you were pretty freaked out too. You had seen the girls on the news, 20-30, with your hair color and around your height.

You let out a long sigh, knowing you are most definitely not getting laid tonight. It’s time to get stupid drunk with your friends and enjoy your night anyway.

It does not take long for you and all your friends to reach the perfect level of sloppy drunk. Seeing as you all haven’t been out in months, what with some of you pursuing real jobs, grad school, med school, and whatnot, there hasn’t been a lot of time for screwing around as you did in college.

“So come on! You cannot still be single,” your close friend Sarah screams in your face over the music.

“It’s complicated,” you feel your words starting to string together. They’re not quite slurred but it’s getting there, “He just comes over, fucks my brains out, we spend some time together, and then it’s over.”

Your comments provoke a loud response of laughs and cheers from your friends, “So we don’t even get a name? Or a job? Or where you met him?”

“He guest lectured a course on abnormal and criminal psychology a few months ago,” You start to explain but Sarah is cutting you off before the words have left your mouth.

“Months? This has been going on for months?” You roll your eyes. The bartender places another full tray of shots in front of you guys. She nods towards a man at the edge of the bar. As you look up, he gives you a small wave and smiles. Creepy.

“No, I ran into him a few weeks after and I just gave him my number.” You down the shot, souring your face up before reaching for a lime wedge to chase it, “And then things just happened.”

“Name? Job? Age?” Another friend rattles off at you.

“Isn’t this Sarah’s birthday? Shouldn’t we be talking about her?” You try and steer the conversation away from yourself. You turn back to the bar and see that same man who sent you the shots staring at you. Even when you turn away you can feel his eyes boring into the back of your head.

“Well I want to know, so this is a birthday present,” she continues to pry and it drives you crazy. You're just not ready to share what you and Aaron have with the world.

“His name is Aaron and he works in the FBI and he’s 45,” You mumble that last part into your glass as you take a long sip.

“He’s how old?” Your friend’s jaw drops and another friend grins widely. Your face is burning hot at embarrassment and all the attention.

“Can we all just shut up and drink?” you command forcefully before downing your own.

Hotch looks down at his phone, waiting for any sign that Y/N has seen his text. He doesn’t panic though. She has a life, she’s busy. She probably has plans for the evening. Maybe she’s out… with someone. Aaron shakes his head slightly before forcing his attention to the case. But his mind wanders. Would she go out with someone? It’s not like anything between them is defined. I mean, he would never go out with anyone else. He just wants her. If she wants to go out on a date she can do whatever she wants. Yet, Hotch can’t help but feel the jealousy coursing through his body. The idea of someone else touching her… yeah, that makes him angry.

His more rational thinking takes over. Maybe she’s busy with school work. He knows how hard she’s been working on her research. He fails to hide a smile as he thinks about the way her face lights up when talking about her research. The passion she has for her work is extremely adorable...

You hear three short raps at the door, “It’s open!” you call out as you rush to get all your thoughts down on your computer. You hear the door open and the footsteps approaching.

“You leave your door unlocked? Do you realize how incredibly unsafe and unwise that is?” You can hear that Aaron probably has his stern face on, judging by the disapproval in his voice.

“I knew you were coming,” You shrug and gnaw at your bottom lip furiously as you work, “I just need one moment. I was thinking that in a controlled quantum environment...” As you start to ramble Aaron’s hands snake around your waist. He pushes your hair to the side, placing feather-light kisses along your neck.

“Mm,” He mumbles against you.

“Wait, wait,” you moan, “If you keep doing that I’m going to lose my train of thought and I will never forgive you unless you can formulate how to create thermal distrib—” He nips at your skin and gives your hips a squeeze. Your groans grow louder.

“The physics can wait,” Aaron growls against your skin, turning you around so he can passionately kiss you, “I need you now.”

The panic doesn’t ease because Aaron reaches to call you once again. You don’t pick up because well… you’re a little preoccupied drowning your liver. He thinks, if you had just given a small ok text, he would know you’re safe. But he’s panicking. He continues to panic for the next hour until something unexpected soothes that anxiety. The sound of your screaming drunken voice radiating throughout the entirety of the precinct the team is working in. But as soon as the wave of anxiety dissipates, he feels his stomach drop.

“I’m a victim here!” you screech and cement your legs in place so that the officers holding your arms are practically dragging you.

“Ma’am please!” You kick your legs violently as the officers try to seat you in a chair. They undo your handcuffs and redo them so that your hand is cuffed to the desk. “We’re understaffed and backed up so you sit here and shut up while we get you booked.”

“He was feeling me up! Under the skirt over the panties. He grabbed my ass, I’m sure I have a mark you wanna see it? He assaulted me!” you continue to screech and reach for the hem of your dress, ready to flash every cop in the precinct your ass.

“So you smashed a bottle over his head? Real ladylike,” one of the officers steps forward and holds your hand tight to keep you from lifting the dress.

“Don’t I get a phone call.” Now your words are slurred together. That last round of shots before you got arrested is hitting you hard.

“Once we book you.”

“I know a federal agent. From the FBI,” you spell out the letters obnoxiously, “Do you even know what that is?”

“Yes, I’m sure the federal government will come running to post your bail. Stay here. Don’t move,” the officer commands and you hold up your handcuffed wrist to demonstrate that you’re quite frankly incapable of going anywhere.

“Oh my god,” Prentiss lets out a small laugh from the conference room. “I can hear her through the closed doors.”

“Well, most of this room is glass and sound travels through the glass just about the same as it does air. A better insulating material would be a foam or fiberglass or even a mineral wood composite,” Reid clarifies before giving that signature tight-lipped smile.

“She is… really something,” Morgan laughs and nudges Hotch, “Hotch look.”

Hotch turns and sees what he’s dreading. He sees you, drunk out of your mind. Your skimpy dress is somehow simultaneously riding low on top and riding up on the bottom. You have a small cut lip and a little bit of blood on your dress. His brows furrow deeply. “Oh god,” he mutters under his breath.

“These cops are supposed to stay in the bars and clubs for protection. Why are they wasting time on drunk girls?” Rossi finally chimes in.

The cops finally get you settled into a chair and you kick your feet like a child. “Call the FBI! I know them.”

“Oh does she now. You guys know her?” JJ rolls her eyes and laughs, “I am so glad I never got arrested when I was in college. My parents would’ve killed me.”

“College? Girls do not look like that in college,” Morgan smirks.

“We have to focus on the case,” Hotch's jaw tightens as he sees Morgan look over your body. It’s not something new for Morgan but when he’s making those eyes at you specifically, Hotch feels that surge of jealousy again.

“Call them! Call Agent Aaron Hotchner.” You lean back and try to cross your arms, but your right hand is yanked back by the cuffs.

The team all turns to Hotch with wide eyes. “You know her?” Rossi smirks.

“Where exactly do you know her from?” Emily fights the grin growing on her lips as she looks over her stone-faced boss.

“I’m sorry what?” The cop glances down at you.

“Aaron Hotchner with the Behavioral Unit Analysis Science thing or something like that he’s in the FBI he’s unit chief. I know him.” You roll your eyes at the cop who is speechless, “Oh god. Are you that thick? A-A-R-O-N H-O-T-C-H…” you trail off the alcohol inhibiting your spelling capabilities, “N-E-R. Aaron Hotchner! Call him and he’ll tell you to let me go.”.

The cop glances at some of his coworkers before looking at the conference room. You follow his gaze and see Aaron with a large group of other well-dressed agents. “Oh fuck,” you mutter. Aaron opens the glass doors and steps out of them walking towards you.

“So how does he know this girl?” Prentiss tries her best to hide her spying on you and Aaron.

“I got money on babysitter,” Morgan nods.

“No way, she’d be with Jack right now. I’d say she met him at work." JJ leans against the desk, watching Hotch as he looks down at you, crossing his arms.

“Then we���d all have seen her before. Plus she wouldn’t be telling them she knows the FBI. She would technically be part of the FBI. Why not use that?” Rossi rubs a hand over his goatee.

“He’s sleeping with her,” Reid states simply before turning back to his geographical profile on the board.

“What?” Multiple members of the team turn in shock, not only at the statement but at the fact that Reid is the one making it.

“No way. She’s… at most 27 years old.” Morgan shakes his head, “She is not Hotch’s type.”

“Are you jealous that Hotch has more game than you?” Reid teases without turning away from his work.

“When was your last date, pretty boy? Huh?” Morgan hits him on the back of the head playfully.

“Officer.” Aaron steps in between you and the officer. Good thing, because two more minutes with that guy and you would be charged with a lot more than resisting arrest and public disturbance.

“Aaron!” you squeak, “I didn’t know you were here!”

“Well, she’s definitely not a coworker. She called him Aaron.” Rossi nods at the rest of the team still in the conference room. For a team of profilers, their attempts to hide the spying are weak at best.

“I’ll take care of her.” He doesn’t bother looking at you, but he gives the officer his best unit-chief glare.

“Sir we have a process to go through here. We’re still processing her arrest,” the officer attempts to argue with Hotch but you can see the discomfort clearly in the officer. He struggles to meet Hotch’s eyes.

“Please officer, we have much more to deal with here. I want to find this guy before another body drops. We need you out there patrolling the bars for the guys, not the drunk girls the creeps hit on.” Aaron takes on a stern voice.

“Yes agent.” The cop is visibly annoyed but isn’t willing to get into a fight with a federal agent all over your stupid drunk ass.

“Are you injured? You’re bleeding.” He grabs your chin in his calloused fingers, turning your face from side to side to assess the small cuts. You almost moan into his touch but remember the current location.

“No, no it’s someone else’s.” You turn out of his grip, trying to push his hands off.

“Someone else’s? What did you do?” Fuck. Aaron is furious with you. His arms are crossed against his chest and you can see the veins in his neck standing out. The tone he takes with you is harsh and you’re not used to him speaking with you like that… at least not used to it outside the bedroom.

“It’s not my fault okay!”

Aaron holds the bridge of his nose frustratedly, “Y/N. I have a serial killer to profile, catch, and stop from murdering innocent women. Can I just get the truth?”

“This creepy guy kept sending me and my friends drinks all night so when I went to the bar to get us another round he came over. Things got messy.” You shrug your shoulders. “Can you take off these cuffs now?” You hold out your wrists, pouting out your bottom lip. You can physically see him soften at that.

As Aaron reaches for the key and undoes the cuffs, he shakes his head at the stench of alcohol seeping out of you, “You’re gonna have to do better than things got messy.”

“I just…” You pause, knowing the details of the story are going to make him upset but he wants the truth, “I knew he was a little off. Weird and creepy and pushy, you know?” You rub your irritated wrists, “So he starts talking to me, offering me some drink. I know better than to accept a drink from a stranger so I turned him down. That's when he grabbed my arm and well… tried to cop a feel.”

“Cop a feel?” Aaron’s jaw has tightened and his hands are clenched so tightly at his sides his knuckles are pale.

“He slid his hands under my dress.” Your hand ghosts over the sore spot on your bottom where the man dug his fingers into your flesh, “He grabbed my legs and then my ass and then… and then he tried to get his hands in my underwear.” You show Aaron the red marks on your inner thigh. You’re not sure what you expect from him, but his face remains hardened. The only emotion readable on him is anger.

“The blood is from self-defense,” Aaron begins to understand.

You nod, confirming his statement, “I grabbed the first thing I could and smashed him on the head. I think I sliced his eyebrow. By the time the cops came, he was gone and I was in cuffs.”

Aaron looks back at his team in the conference room. In a poor attempt to hide their spying, they all rapidly turn their eyes to their work. He takes a few steps closer to you, his eyes looking over the red bruising on your cheek. He fights every urge to reach out and touch you, stroke your face softly and kiss your lips, “Did he hurt you? We should get a medic to check you out or–”

He doesn’t have a second to finish that thought. “Hotch, another body just dropped,” Morgan and Prentiss come rushing out of the conference room, “We’re going to the crime scene now.”

Aaron nods at his team members, “Call me if anything stands out.” The team nods and Aaron reaches for your arm, walking you towards the rest of the team, “I don’t want you alone right now. You’re going to sit here and keep quiet, understand?”

You bite your lip and look around at the team, still pretending as if they’re not listening in, “Jeez way to embarrass me, Aaron,” you mumble under your breath as you drop down into a chair with a loud sigh like a child.

JJ can’t help but come over to talk to you, “I’m Jennifer." You give her your name, "It's so nice to meet you Y/N, how do you and Hotch know each other?”

“Hotch?” you let out before quickly realizing the nickname for Aaron. You shake her hand, “Oh Agent Hotchner and I are just fuc–“

“Friends,” Aaron cuts in, “Y/N and I are friends. We have a case to get back to,” Aaron frantically changes the topic of conversation but your little comment doesn’t go unnoticed by the team members. Even Reid is smiling slightly at your comment.

You sit back in your chair and take in the sight of Agent Hotchner, Unit Chief of the BAU. The confident and commanding energy he exudes is immensely attractive. It’s not long before the agents that left for the crime scene, Morgan and Prentiss return with news for Aaron.

“Sir we found something weird at the crime scene,” Morgan steps back into the room.

“Weird?” Hotch cocks his head slightly to the side.

“There were droplets of blood over the victim’s dress but it wasn’t her own,” Morgan shakes his head.

“But you called and said she had no defensive wounds, he drugged her like the others. How could he have been injured?” Hotch turns back to the other case files.

“We’re not sure,” Emily shakes her head, “It’s possible it’s unrelated but maybe he might have been hospitalized for something recently?”

“What about any witnesses?” Hotch nods, “Any people at Churchkey bar see anything unusual? A man that was a little too forceful with women?”

You snort slightly at that, “I wouldn’t say that’s unusual for a bar.”

Hotch shoots you a hard glare that shuts you up for good, while Prentiss lets a smile shine through.

“The bar was mostly cleared out. Apparently the bar was packed earlier tonight but it cleared out after a bar fight broke out.” Morgan informs the team.

You bite your lip harshly. Aaron told you no talking but… this is more important, right? “Wait, Churchkey bar?” You finally speak up and all the agents turn their attention to you.

“What about it?”

“That’s the bar I was at tonight.” You trail off at the end of your sentence.

“You remember someone or something off?” Rossi looks over your body language.

“I think I talked to the unsub. I think... I’m the one who injured him." You unconsciously wrap your arms tightly around your body.

“You think you could walk me through the night? Tell me about him, it could really help us,” Morgan moves to sit on the edge of the desk to face you. "We could do a cognitive interview." He nods at Hotch.

"A cognitive?" You look between the two men.

"It's a memory recall exercise. We would walk you through the night and you tell us as much as you can," Morgan explains gently.

"And it could help you find him?" You ask, unsure how much you remember about him.

"You might not realize the type of details that help us form the profile." Morgan places a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

Aaron clears his throat. “She’s not sober enough for a cognitive." You can tell that the fact that his personal life is bleeding into his work is driving him crazy.

“If I can help catch this creep, I want to help. I’m fine.” You touch your finger to your nose a few times in an attempt to demonstrate your sobriety.

“Then you should drink some coffee before we start,” Aaron dismissively addresses you before turning to leave, “And I’m going to want the whole truth.” He stalks off towards the interrogation room.

Rossi runs to catch up with Aaron, pulling him off to the side. “Aaron, you cannot conduct this cognitive.”

“Excuse me?” Aaron snaps, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Take a step back, pretend she’s not someone you clearly care about,” Aaron rolls his eyes at Rossi’s comment but plays along as he continues.

“She’s a young girl… just how young is she?” Rossi raises a brow at Aaron, losing his train of thought.

“Dave.” He lets out an exasperated sigh.

Rossi holds his hands up in defense, “Fine, okay. She’s a young girl, she’s a little drunk, and she’s been sexually harassed in a bar by our unsub. Who do you send in to talk to her?”

“The least intimidating figures to her,” Aaron nods.

“So definitely not the angry boyfriend who wants to kill anyone who touches her,” Rossi clarifies.

“I’ll send in JJ and Prentiss,” Hotch sighs and turns before pausing, “And I’m not her boyfriend.”

Rossi simply smiles and pats Aaron’s back, “Ok boss.”

You sit up in your chair tiredly as Emily and JJ walk into the interrogation room.

“Hi Y/N, I’m Agent Prentiss and you’ve already met Agent Jareau,” Emily sits across from you.

“He can hear us, right?” You bite your lip and look towards the glass.

“Who can hear us?” JJ takes a seat and places a file in front of you.

“Aaron.” You search the glass, knowing that you won’t be able to see him but that he definitely can see you.

“Oh uh-” Emily pauses, unsure what to say in response.

“Do you want more privacy? I can ask the agents to leave.” JJ starts to stand.

“Hearing this would help them figure who the killer is?” You’re gnawing your lip hard enough to draw blood, a nervous habit Aaron never hesitates to point out to you.

“Yes,” JJ sits back down.

“Then it’s fine.” You look over one last time, “Just make sure Aar— Agent Hotchner,” you correct yourself, “Make sure Agent Hotchner doesn’t lose his shit.”

“No promises,” Prentiss smirks and lets out a small breath, “We’re going to walk you through the night. If it gets to be too much you let us know and we’ll take a break, okay?”

Well, now you’re really nervous. You let out a small breath, “Okay.” You close your eyes as Agent Prentiss starts.

“You’re in the bar. It’s crowded…”

“Y/N I think he really likes you,” your friend Sarah laughs. “Come on go talk to him.”

“No, I really shouldn’t.” You feel dizzy and light on your feet from the alcohol the man has been plying you and your friends with.

“Why?” Another friend chimes in, “Big strong Agent Hotchner going to punish you for talking to another guy?” Your friends taunt you playfully.

You smile widely at them, “Yes, yes he will.”

“You naughty, naughty girl!” Sarah laughs. You feel eyes on you and look back to the man at the bar. He’s hunched over in his stool. He looks nervous, but he smiles sheepishly at you and waves. It’s not long before he’s calling the bartender over again and pointing at you animatedly.

“Next round is on me,” you say softly to your friends, keeping your eyes on the man’s face, memorizing every detail you can. His face is young but worn and tired. The wrinkles on his forehead tell you he frowns a lot. They’re lines that appear on Aaron’s face too. You think about how you tease Aaron about smiling more. God, you miss Aaron right now. You wish he was here to make you feel safe. As you walk up to the bar, your presence causes the man to stand up and move closer.

“I was going to order you and your friends more drinks. I ordered you a vodka soda. It’s what you’ve been drinking all night, right?” He stutters slightly as he talks to you. He slides a glass over to you, but you know better. Strange man... drink that you didn’t see the bartender actually make... no way.

“I was actually going to order a beer,” you try to reject the glass, “You take the vodka soda though. You’ll see why they’ve been my go-to all night. He’s been making them very strong.” You look at the bartender, ordering a beer. You pray that the young bartender senses your discomfort.

“Come on it’s a harmless drink.” The strange man moves into you, pushing the glass closer. “You have the drink, we’ll get to know each other better… you’ll like it. I can make you like it.”

Thinking about his words sends chills down your spine. You have to take a moment to let out a shaky breath.

“Are you sure you want to continue listening to this?” Rossi eyes Hotch. Hotch’s face is contorted so harshly into a mixture of anger, disgust, and sadness. His neck muscles tense, his arms are tightly crossed against his body. He doesn’t even acknowledge Rossi.

“Can you keep going?” JJ eyes your face. You nod.

“No thank you, and no more drinks for my friends and I. We can get our own drinks.” You turn to grab your beer but soon the man stops you. He grabs your wrist tightly, placing his other hand behind your back. He pulls you flush against him. His rough, calloused fingertips grab and scratch up your thighs, under the dress. He grabs your ass so hard you want to scream out. He continues to trail his fingers up, hooking around your panties and—

A sickening shattering noise and cracking erupt as you swing the beer bottle at his head. The man screams. “You bitch!” He slaps your face. You stumble back, falling on the floor, cutting your hands on the broken glass from the bottle. Your skin is sticky with alcohol and you glance down at the blood on your dress. The bar grows louder. The commotion intensifies. You feel a friend’s hands wrap around your arms pulling you up off the ground.

“Wait he—!” You look around for the man but he’s nowhere to be found.

“Not long after that I was being shoved into a cop car and escorted here.” You finally open your eyes and look at the two agents.

“I can make you like it?” Emily asks you to clarify. She speaks slowly clearly enunciating her words but you can hear the disgusted tone in her voice.

“That’s exactly what he said.” You wrap your arms around yourself, “Does that all help?”

“Yes, yes it does,” JJ reaches out to touch your hand gently. Your eyes flick back to the one-way glass. You can’t see Aaron but you can tell he’s probably fuming. He probably has that signature scowl on his face.

“Am I—” You clear your throat and try to adjust your dress for more modesty, “Can I go?” Prentiss gives you a sad, pity-filled smile and nods. You stand up quickly and exit the room in a rush, colliding with Aaron’s strong chest as you do. You look up into his eyes and you see something in his face you’ve never seen in all the times you've been with him: sadness. You bury your face into his chest and his arms wrap tightly around you. “I was scared,” You choke out as his large, warm hands rub circles into your back, “I needed you.” You ball up his shirt in your fists. You’re not one to cry easily, but your body shakes as you breathe heavily.

“I know,” his voice cracks as he rests his chin on top of your head. He runs one hand over your hair softly, shushing you gently, “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

You pull away from his chest and frantically pull his lips down to yours. A strong hand goes to your back, holding you close to him. You hear the interrogation room door open behind you, the two agents stepping out, but neither you nor Aaron break the kiss. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” Aaron breathes against your lips, pulling you back into a tight hug. “You’re safe here with me now.”

———

You lift the heavy metal knocker and let it slam down twice, waiting for the door to open. When it does, Rossi envelops you in his arms, a wide smile spreading across his lips. He grabs your face tightly, kissing each cheek joyfully. “Bellissimo! I’m so glad you could make it.” Rossi places a gentle hand on your back and leads you inside.

You walk into the crowded kitchen and the members of the BAU all turn and smile back at you. Aaron moves towards you and quickly gives you a soft kiss on your lips. “I’m so happy you’re here." 

“I’m so glad you’re finally home.” You pull away from Aaron to make the rounds hugging the people who are like family to you at this point.

Morgan wraps a friendly arm around your shoulder and can’t help but tease Aaron, “Hotch, you couldn’t be bothered to pick up your girl?” He turns to smile at you while Aaron shakes his head.

“I had to stop by the research lab so I just had my classmate Tyler drop me off after we finished up." You shrug.

“Tyler, huh?” Rossi grins, hoping to rile up Aaron a little.

“Is he cute?” JJ chimes in with a laugh.

Aaron quickly clears his throat, hoping to change topics. He raises his brows at you, “So do you want to share the news or should I do it for you?”

“Oh my god, you’re totally preggers!” Garcia squeals and runs to hug you again. You glance at Aaron and can only laugh.

“No, no.” You smile as she pulls away and you look at the shocked faces of everyone in the kitchen, even Aaron looks a little rattled. You playfully nudge his arm, “See what you did? Always causing trouble.”

“Me? If I recall correctly you’re the one who got arrested for being drunk off your ass and trying to fight a serial killer.” His comment elicits a series of small laughs from everyone.

"Yeah and it helped you catch him, so really you all should thank me for being drunk." You playfully argue with Aaron. "Anyway, the actual news. No, I'm not pregnant." You point at Penelope as she opens her mouth to say something else. 

“You’re looking at the proud new owner of a Ph.D. in physics!” You do a small cheesy spin as the rest of the team congratulates you, “Handed in my final thesis paper today.” Aaron smiles proudly as you move back to his side.

“Yeah that’s great and all but you’re still two Ph.D.s behind me.” Spencer can’t help but tease you. In the past year, he’s become one of your closest friends, especially since Aaron can’t even seem to begin to understand your thesis research.

“All right cool it kid.” You joke with him.

“Kid? I’m older than you.” Spencer laughs. Aaron comes closer to wrap his arm around your waist. The gesture is comforting and just this touch sends waves of pleasure through your body.

“Reid might have two more Ph.D.s than you but he’s got nothing on your good looks.” Prentiss winks at you.

“She’s got that right,” Aaron smirks as he kisses your cheek gently.

“Ok, ok, enough small talk.” You feel your face flush, “I came here to learn some cooking from chef Rossi, not talk about how hot I am.” You see Aaron roll his eyes with a smile and you pull him close as Rossi starts the demonstration.

“I love you so much, you know that?” Aaron has his arms wrapped around you from behind. He speaks softly so only you can hear.

“I know,” You smile, happiness flooding through your body, “I love you too.”

[youarejesting]

Sly like a... ? Part 2

[Master list] [Sly Master List] Beta: n/a (at the moment) Rating: All Pairing: Hybrid!BTS x FailedHybrid!Reader Genre: Hybrid au, fluff, action, adventure, angst, drama, slice of life. Some marked chapters will contain mature/smut scenes, BUT they will not have plot in those scenes and are 100% skippable without losing your place in the story. Words: 2.1k

Summary: Human’s strive to be better, faster and stronger looking to animal DNA. Thus Hybrids are born. As the rise for designer and Pedigree Hybrids increase, so do the failed attempts. There is one species scientists are unsuccessful in creating, but, folklore says they have been here all along, hiding and blending in with the humans for many millennia. How clever they are.

[First] [Next]

It was your dream to convert a large warehouse on the outskirts of town into a home and education center for Hybrids. Somewhere they could learn to be self-sufficient. You would have professors and volunteers, teaching and fundraising, all for the day you could buy another warehouse on the other side of town. You wanted it to become the norm that these Hybrid facilities would build and grow in every city. Allowing the Hybrids to become an independent race no longer looked down upon by society.

You were on the last day of your heat and craving something savory. As it was late your best option was the convenience store that was always open late.

Things were falling into place as you received an email earlier that day confirming that all the items you had requested were acquired. That meant school books, equipment, and more. You were also granted the first loan for the Hybrids, a loan you would receive every term. The board wanted no less than five and no more than ten participants for an adequate examination of results.

You assumed for the program to be officially approved, you would have to show successful results from Hybrids with different backgrounds during this trial. That meant different ages and different upbringings. Wondering if it was worth visiting the adoption agency or perhaps a Hybrid store, it wouldn’t hurt for more variables.

Shaken from your thoughts by a shadowed figure rustling through the garbage, in a dark alley between the antiques and postal office. Your ears picked up the sound easily, feet scuffing to a halt on the pavement catching the Hybrid’s attention. Their eyes searched the dark for any sign of threat before falling upon you, a deep growl resonating on the wind. It was best to not get involved with stray Hybrids, they tended to be more violent. This is what you were doing the program for, to stop Hybrids from ending up homeless and on the streets. To prove that they aren’t dangerous and are capable of learning.

Struck by an idea, if you could get a Hybrid from the street to join the trial program, you could prove they weren’t violent and show that given the opportunity they could all learn and grow into members of society.

“Can I buy you dinner?” You called out, voice cracking from the cold. Your breath puffed out like smoke visible between you both. The night brought you more energy, it made you feel alive.

Cars passed, their headlights illuminating the entire alleyway and reflecting in his eyes a blood-red. He stalked forward, his body moving gracefully but you could see he was hurt, his shirt ripped and there was a strong scent of blood in the breeze. That was a downside to having heightened senses. You tried to control the disgusted look on your face, “I will pay and there is nothing else to it, just sit and have dinner with me, so I don’t look like a woman in her mid to late twenties eating alone at a convenience store”

He looked you up and down, it was then you noticed his features, he was a feline, not a common house cat. No, he was a big predator.

“Do I look like some charity case? Some pathetic creature who needs help from a human?” His words rumbled from his chest in a growl. You wanted to correct him that you weren’t exactly human yourself but decided against it. Stuck somewhere between Hybrid and human you didn’t fit in either category.

“What’s it to you? My reason is my reason, just take the free meal. Hell! Exploit me for a free meal, anything you want, go crazy.” You shrugged, trying desperately to charm him. He seemed to contemplate his choices for a moment before turning to walk away. You scrambled for your wallet and grabbed out twenty dollars, holding it out to him.

“Wait! At least take this; if you don’t want to eat with me, get something warm, and here is my card if ever you need help.”

He eyed the money but didn’t move to take it. Hoping he wouldn’t rip your arm off, you grabbed his hand. You knew it was risky. His fingers were cold, but you didn’t want to linger and make him mad, quickly placing the money on his palm with your business card.

“Have a good night, mister,” He nodded confused about the whole encounter, before shoving his hands in his pockets and leaving. It seemed even if you tried your best, it wouldn’t be enough to persuade him. He was too defensive, the best you could hope for was that he would stay safe in the cold.

What trials and tribulations must you go through to have these Hybrids trust and confide in you? Hopefully, it wouldn’t be this hard to get through to the group of Hybrids you were soon to obtain.

This was going to be a rather difficult experiment and you weren’t sure if it was going to go well but you hoped with every fiber of your being that you would see this through for the sake of the Hybrids.

That night you dreamed about the group of participants being hostile and unresponsive to the program, it did little to soothe your nerves the next morning. When you received an email about the new house. Jimin would have the key and would meet you outside later that day with the other Hybrids. No matter who they were, you were going to make sure they were achieving the best result they could.

The government had registered two Hybrids in your name, their files attached to the confirmation email. The two participants were so contrasting, Hoseok was a deer Hybrid, from a small farming family. The other was a Lion Hybrid by the name of Namjoon. He was from New Zealand and had participated in another government program regarding genius Hybrids.

Altogether, there were four: Namjoon the genius, Hoseok the country bumpkin, Taehyung, and Jimin. You decided to look for possible participants within the Hybrid store, and rehoming center. That would give you a wide variety of variables for the experiment; each would have a different background and would require different tools to help them.

You started at the nearest Hybrid shop. There were several rooms each with an observation window, a photo card, and a brief description of the Hybrid sitting, reading or playing video games inside. It was such a small space, how could they live in these tiny rooms every day until someone adopted them. Reading their descriptions by the windows you analyzed each of them, your attention caught by one playing video games. He had dark ears that stuck out from his dark hair. He seemed fun and you thought it would be easy to connect with him.

Hello, My name is Jungkook, I am twenty-three and I am a fully vaccinated Melanistic Jaguar.

You didn’t bother reading the rest, thinking you would like to learn about him properly, “Sir, I would like to adopt this Hybrid,” You declared, whilst walking towards the counter to begin the paperwork. Once everything was signed the young Jaguar boy was led from his small room. He looked nervous holding a small store backpack filled with all his essential items.

On the drive to the next location, you were the one doing most of the talking, receiving quiet one-word answers and small fidgets. He seemed excited when you finally parked the car, you guessed he was eager to see his new home.

However, as you walked towards the menacing rehoming center, he grew quieter and quieter, slowing to a stop before the entrance. Looking at his feet crying profusely, you realized how this must look. He must have thought he had done something wrong, how could he think you would buy him and rehome him on the same day.

“Jungkook, I am not abandoning you, I am picking up a brother for you to play with.” It took a few moments to console the young man. Wiping his tears and giving him a few pats on the head careful of his ears.

Deciding anyone younger than Jungkook would be too much to handle. “You have to help me find a big brother, someone you think will be really nice and that you like to play with, what do you think? Can you do that for me?”

Jungkook nodded, sniffing and wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “Okay, I can do that,”

The inside of the rehoming center smelt like disinfectant, you explained you were looking for another Hybrid and were led to a large room. There were Hybrids of all ages all playing and entertaining themselves with different activities.

It was overwhelming even for you, so you grasped Jungkook’s hand and encouraged him to look around, “Hey, what about ping pong?” You grinned at Jungkook who smiled playing a few rounds with you, the two of you giggling.

“Have I told you I am the ping pong master,” an older Hybrid grinned, he had a striped tail. You handed over the paddle and stood near Jungkook. “Do you want to play a game?”

Jungkook nodded, was this boy unable to say no. Either way, the two were getting along quickly, the older Hybrid was very playful and funny, even as he lost you were holding your sides from the laughter and Jungkook seemed to grow really comfortable with him.

Talking to one of the volunteers she explained that Seokjin was a raccoon hybrid and the oldest in the center. She explained that he often took the younger hybrids under his wing. It was an easy decision to adopt him. While you were filling out the paperwork, Jungkook was telling you all about his match with Seokjin.

“And I got the winning shot,” He grinned, swinging his arm like he was hitting an invisible ping pong ball.

“He seems really fun, would he make a good big brother?” It was cute how he nodded wholeheartedly. “Jungkook why don’t you go tell him that he is coming home with us?”

He grew embarrassed again, his dark ears twitching but followed the volunteer nonetheless. You were quick to finish up the last of the paperwork before the two came back laughing volunteer in tow.

“Unbelie-Bubble” Seokjin said before squeaking in laughter. He had all of his things and like Jungkook was nervous, but he showed it through talking.

You felt good with your selection, there was a Hybrid for every walk of life and socio-economic background. This would be perfect for the trial. They all seemed like lovely young Hybrids and you could already see them forming friendships.

It was on your way out that you saw a familiar face struggling against Hybrid control. “This is your last time, you know what happens to strays.”

“Wait!” You shouted, everyone in the lobby froze turning to look at you, the cold room felt quite warm with all of the attention “He is mine”

They froze looking between you and the hybrid before letting him go curiously. The injured Hybrid staggered over to you, knowing this was his best chance at survival, “why didn’t you tell them my name?” you asked him curiously but he kept his head down.

“This white tiger Hybrid is yours?” The handler spoke in disbelief, practically accusing you of lying. “why is he not microchipped, or registered in our system?”

“I was supposed to register him last week when I got him but I had been busy with work, I would like to properly register him under my name today,” You didn’t break under this man's pressure, you could notice the more he held eye contact the more he seemed to falter himself. “so that you will stop taking him in when he is harmlessly walking the streets”

The man opened his mouth to argue but you blinked up at him, watching him lower his hand.

“I am so sorry miss, we didn't mean to cause you trouble?” It wasn’t exactly odd behavior, you often found your arguments nullifying this way. You liked to think that your self-confident stare was what made people give in.

“Miss we have just noticed some suspicious activity in your account it says you have adopted four Hybrids today,” The woman behind the desk said, “We are legally required to ask your intentions or we can detain the Hybrids from you”

Almost questioning her, you remembered the government was placing two Hybrids in your name; they would be arriving today as well. With a smile you removed a folder from your bag, “I have a grant from the government.” You said brandishing the signed document, “I will be placing these Hybrids in my care”

[First] [Next]

Tags:  @simplymemyself @lolsiiike (please make sure you have tagging setting on so you get notified when the story updates)

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[robinofgothamcity]

♡ prompt: "you accidentally get sent into the future and see how you both turn out.”

♡ pairing: dick grayson (anyverse / nightwing) x fem reader

♡ lyric inspiration: “I said that’s life and as funny as it may seem, some people get their kicks stomping on a dream but I don’t let it get me down cause this fine old world keeps spinning around.” 

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes / again like what I said with my Jason fic, you don’t necessarily use the TITANS universe to imagine this fic. i just used this version of dick for no reason. 

“god, this is the last time I do any kind of work with ANY OF YOU!” you yelled at Dick as he bit on his inner cheek. all of you had been fighting off a bunch of crooks and at first, you thought it was okay.....that was until one of the crooks pulled out his hidden magical abilities, “at the very least, we could’ve called Klarion for help!” 

Damian gave you a look as if what you were saying was stupid, “I’M JUST SAYING! WE’RE ALL FUCKING HUMAN AND ZATANNA ISN’T EVEN IN THE COUNTRY TO HELP!” you yelled back. 

Dick was trying to remain calm as he hadn’t seen one of the criminals approaching him. he was too busy charging one that was heading towards you. you; however, had saw them out of the corner of you eye and practically sped to Dick which is what the criminal wanted. 

he wanted you and Dick out of the way in order to get Damian trapped. as you and Dick had passed each other with the notion to save each other, the crook pulled out a gadget that opened up a portal. 

“NIGHTWING!” “( YOUR HERO NAME )!” 

+

the two of you went to grab each other but it was too late. you and Dick had gotten sucked into the portal as you let out a piercing yell. Dick tried grabbing you, hoping that wherever the two of you landed, he would get the hardest impact. 

soon enough, both you and Nightwing collided with the ground. you instantly shot up, preparing to fight whoever was around. Dick had took in the surrounding and whispered that the two of you were safe. 

“where the hell are we?” you asked, trying not to panic, “we need to find another portal back. Damian is on his own!” you fidgeted with your fingers as Dick waved you off. 

“if anything, Damian might be more in his element,” he whispered, “you forget how Damian grew up. I think he’ll be fine. he probably already called Bruce or one of the boys.” you tried to figure out how the hell Dick was so calm about the situation. 

Dick took off his mask as you followed along, “I think are biggest issue might be trying to figure out what year he took us too. I can’t imagine he took us in the past so we might just be in the future,” Dick explained. 

both of you walked down the hill that you had landed on and saw you were in Bludhaven, “I think we’re in your home territory,” you murmured. Dick sighed in relief. he was more relieved that both of you landed in his hometown because had you landed in Gotham, he felt like that would’ve landed you in more trouble with the Bat, “I didn’t think Bludhaven was this ran down,” you told Dick. 

“hey!” he exclaimed, “it isn’t as bad as it looks!” you giggled trying not to catch attention from anyone. the two of you made it down the hill when the realization hit you. Bludhaven had snow falling all over the town and you nor Dick were even mildly dressed in clothes to handle the cold. 

“do you have clothes in your apartment? it’s freezing out here!” you exclaimed. Dick gave you the side eye, “I do but if we landed in the future, my future self might be there. we can run into a store and get clothes there.” 

“and do you have cash? bc if you’re carrying a debit card, that would be really weird to see a transaction from the future,” you replied. Dick took out his wallet and pulled out a crisp 100, “I stand defeated,” you murmured. Dick rolled his eyes as the two of you saw a department store at the corner of the street. 

before you could pull in, you heard someone scream you hero name, “hey! those are sick cosplays!” they said running up to you. you gave him a confused look before realizing, you had to pretend that you weren’t actually yourself, “thanks! it took a lot of work,” you tried to say. 

“I bet. it looks super realistic too! ever since she stopped fighting, it’s been super weird not seeing ( your hero name ) around.” you stood confused, wondering what he meant by that, “oh! you’re supposed to be Nightwing! that’s awesome! do you think I can get a picture!” he asked. 

you looked to Dick who just shrugged and agreed. the two of you smiled for the photo as he scanned it, “thanks! I swear, you look exactly like her too! but clearly that can’t be right since the actual ( your hero name ) is pregnant allegedly!” he said as he turned around to leave. 

“pregnant?” you yelled, holding onto Dick who was laughing hysterically, “it’s not fucking funny! I’m pregnant in whatever year this is!” you yelled. Dick could see the panic in your eyes, “he never said it was actually true. he said it was alleged that you were,” Dick tried to emphasize. 

you walked into the department store, which ended up being a Target, and ran to the women’s section, wanting to get out of your hero costume as soon as possible. once you and Dick grabbed the clothes, he quickly paid for it before the two of you darted to the bathrooms to get dressed. 

you managed to come out faster than Dick as you held onto your costume by hand. with curiosity plaguing your mind, you saw a magazine and looked at the date. 

December 22, 2024.

you sighed in relief. the two of you had only gone three years into the future which was a good thing....right?

“we’re three years into the future,” you told Dick. he nodded as you walked outside, “we can check if future you is actually home and if he’s not, you making some portal to get us back home!” you threatened. 

“at this rate, I would’ve preferred if Damian would’ve been the one to come along,” Dick retorted. you pushed him to street, making him stumble over his feet, “say some snark shit again and see where that gets you,” you told him, “plus, you think I want to get stuck in the future with you? I would have preferred Jason if we’re going to be honest. at least he would’ve been more entertaining to be around.” 

Dick remained quiet, not knowing how to respond. 

the two of you had a weird relationship with each other. at times, the two of you got along, to the point where some thought the two of you were together while other times, you practically hated his guts. no one knew why the relationship was this way but his heart felt a pang as you confessed that you would have rather been here with Jason than him. 

“way to kill a mood,” Dick said. you rolled your eyes, “you literally just said you’d rather be with Damian! don’t blame me for this shit. plus, if it wasn’t Damian, I’m sure you would wanted Starfire next,” you added on. 

Dick looked at you stunned, “what makes you say that?” he asked. you rolled your eyes, “please, it’s not hard to tell that you and Star have a thing for each other,” you said, this time more quietly than before. Dick didn’t know how to respond but quickly for him, he didn’t have to. the two of you had arrived to where lived or at least hope he still lived there. 

the house wasn’t big, not in the slightest; however, it was big enough for him on his own. the two of you looked inside of the window and saw that someone was facing their back towards it. 

“whose that?” you asked Dick. he shrugged, half of him annoyed at you and the other half not knowing who it actually was. the two of you remained looking at the person, hoping they turned around so you could get a look, “it looks like you if I’m going to be honest,” Dick replied. 

you sighed, “I don’t think it is but sure,” your statement was quickly taken back as the person finally turned around. it was in fact you...fully pregnant and opening up the window. you let out a piercing scream as Dick quickly covered your mouth, trying not to get caught. 

“can you shut the hell up?” he whisper screamed, “you’re going to get us caught!” he continued. you took his hand off your mouth, “do that shit again and you’ll be dead before you can even see your future self,” you threatened, “plus! that’s me! pregnant as fuck!” 

Dick tried not to laugh at your last statement but couldn’t, “if you’re pregnant, I wonder whose kid it is and why the hell you’re even at my place,” he wondered, “it’s probably yours,” you joked, making the both of you laugh quietly. 

you remained looking through the window, watching as you stood up and got different things from a box. you were whispered things you couldn’t exactly heart but one thing you did notice was the huge ring on your left finger. 

you whipped your head to look at Dick as his eyes widened. his future self had walked into the living room, giving you a peck on the cheek before bending down and kissing your stomach, “hey bubba! treating your creator well?” he asked. 

both you and Dick looked at each other speechless as you put two and two together. you were pregnant....with Dick’s child, “you better because your mom might kill me if you’re giving her a hard time,” he joked before placing a kiss on your lips, “we should eat before John gets hungry and your dad thinks we ditched out on the plans,” you mentioned. 

“John?” you whispered to yourself, wondering why the hell you named your future kid John, “John was my fathers name, you know, before he passed,” Dick confessed. your eyes widened, “oh, is it?” you murmured back, not knowing what to say. 

the two of you walked closer the door as you noticed your belly again. it was bigger than you realized as Dick had to help you down the stairs. you watched yourself get into Dick’s are as you were struggling to put the belt around you. eventually, Dick drove away and left the two of you alone again. 

the air was thick with silence as you had no idea what to say, “parents huh?” Dick asked with a chuckle of nervousness, “yup....and you’re the dad,” you added on. Dick nodded as you sat on the curb with your hands on your knees, “and you’re the mom,” he replied. 

you let out a laugh of disbelief as you couldn’t make up anything to say, “crazy right? I think we’re married too,” you finally looked at Dick as he stared at you, almost lovingly, “is there an issue with that?” he asked as seriously as possible. you shook your head no, “nope. just weird that we were the ones that ended up married and having kids together,” you said. 

Dick slowly grabbed your hand and held it softly. 

“I mean it could be weirder...it could have been Jason or Tim,” he said out loud. you shrugged, “I mean, that would have weird too,” you played with Dick’s fingers and bit your lip, “I guess we should try and find our way back? we wouldn’t want to change the future,” you gave Dick a hopeful look. 

he nodded as he helped you up but without hesitation, he pulled you in for a searing kiss, “I’ve been meaning to do that for a while now,” he whispered as he put his hand on your cheek and caressed it softly with his thumb. 

a few seconds later, both of you saw a portal opening with Damian screeching from the other side of it, “COME ON YOU BUNCH OF IDIOTS!” he yelled dramatically. you laughed, looking to Dick, “you heard the boy, let’s get the future started,” Dick nodded grabbing your hand and stepping into the portal. 

[iam93percentstardust]

A very happy birthday month to you! I’m a fan of your Stony fics. If you’re still taking prompts, could you do one with a Las Vegas backdrop? Maybe Steve’s first time there with Tony for some reason? I was supposed to have my first trip there ever but Covid cancelled it. Maybe at least they can have a happy ending there. 🙂

Thank you! I’m glad you’re enjoying the Stony fics!

So sorry your Las Vegas trip was cancelled, that’s really awful. I sort of went to Vegas once (it was a layover in the airport). The only thing I remember about the whole thing was the 5 bajillion slot machines in the airport terminals

Since I know so little about Vegas, I ended up going with the getting married in Vegas trope instead of something about the casinos. I also hope you don’t mind that I used this for my bingo square, but I saw the happy ending part in your ask and got inspired for my happily ever after square (details below the cut)

Here’s to Las Vegas

The day after Steve gets married, he wakes up in a Las Vegas hotel with a ring on his finger and Tony Stark snuggled up beside him.

Most days, Steve wakes up the second his alarm goes off, alert and ready for his run. This day, however, he drifts into wakefulness slowly, comfortably lying on his back. He’s warm and there’s a heavy weight on his stomach and chest, pressing him down into sheets that feel so much nicer on his bare skin than the ones he has at home. That’s the second thing he notices: he’s not wearing any clothes, not even the boxer-briefs he normally wears in lieu of pajamas. And the third thing he notices is that there’s something soft tickling his chin.

He slowly blinks his eyes open. He’s somewhere with high vaulted ceilings and an expensive-looking chandelier, which means it’s not Tony’s place (he thinks chandeliers are tacky) and it’s definitely not Steve’s (he can’t afford a chandelier). Whatever it is on his chest shifts and Steve looks down. Tony is draped across him, the top of his head tucked under Steve’s chin, their arms and legs tangled together. He’s breathing deep and even, still asleep even though sunlight is pouring through the window.

Steve smiles at the sight and raises his head enough to kiss Tony’s curls. He doesn’t often get to wake up with Tony. Steve lives in Brooklyn and Tony lives in Manhattan and they’re both so busy—Tony with SI’s R&D and Steve with his teaching—that they decided early on in their relationship that spending every single night together was a bad idea because one of them would always end up late to work. So this makes for a nice change.

Tony stirs, inhaling deeply. Steve brings his hand up to stroke over Tony’s hair, the way he likes it when they both have a rare day when neither of them have to be anywhere so they can spend the night. That’s when he sees it.

The ring.

The one that’s sitting on the ring finger of his left hand, exactly where it should be—except he’s not supposed to be wearing it for another week.

In the sleepy haze of waking up, he’d forgotten what they’d done last night but the memories are filtering in. Flashes of Tony excitedly talking him into finding a chapel and wrangling a couple witnesses from off the street and filing the marriage license a whole week early because both of them were more than tired of the wedding planning, the swell of emotions he’d felt at hearing Tony declared his husband and sweeping Tony off his feet and back to their hotel, kissing the whole way and probably scandalizing their Uber driver.

He groans and tips his head back against the pillows. Tony makes a low sound and yawns widely before slowly opening his eyes. He looks a little like an adorable kitten and Steve can’t resist kissing the top of his head again.

“Wuzzgoinon?” Tony mumbles sleepily.

“What’s going on,” Steve says, “is that your mother is going to kill us. No, she’s going to kill me, because you’re her darling angel who can do no wrong and she’s never once thought I’m good enough for you.”

“No, you’re better,” Tony says around another yawn. “Why is my mama going to kill you?”

Steve picks up Tony’s left hand and waves it in front of his face. Tony goes cross-eyed trying to make out what’s different about his hand. “Oh,” he says eventually and lays his head back down on Steve’s chest.

“Oh?” Steve asks. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“If Mama didn’t want us to elope, she shouldn’t have sent us to Vegas by ourselves to pick up the rings,” Tony says, as though he’s pointing out something reasonable, even though this is the most absurd thing that’s ever happened in Steve’s entire life—and his best friends are Bucky and Sam. Those two are the very definition of absurd. “Everyone knows what happens in Vegas.”

“This is your fault,” Steve informs him. “If you hadn’t insisted on this particular jeweler—”

“Hmm maybe I was planning this,” Tony hums, closing his eyes again.

And that’s… that’s actually entirely possible. Ever since they got engaged, Tony has been complaining about the big white wedding Mrs. Stark wants them to have and threatening to steal Steve away to the courthouse to elope. Steve had thought he’d calmed down about the whole affair after Mrs. Stark’s tearful outburst about her just wanting her baby to have the perfect wedding (Tony is nothing if not his mama’s boy), but maybe he’d been planning on this instead. He had thought it odd when Tony had insisted on a small-name jeweler in Las Vegas who wouldn’t ship to New York, thereby forcing them to travel to pick up the rings, but if Tony had been planning this all along…

“Did you?” he asks before he can stop himself.

Tony stares up at him for a long moment, blinking. Then he dryly says, “Yes, Steve. I, who has never made a decision that wasn’t impulsive even once in my entire life, somehow managed to both plan out a trip to Vegas to get married and keep it a secret from the love of my life who knows everything I’m thinking before even I know it.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Steve says, grinning at him. What they’ve just done hits him and he laughs giddily. He sits up, pulling Tony up with him to give him a closed-mouthed good morning kiss. “We’re married.”

Tony smiles happily and kisses him again. “Yeah, we are. Good morning, Mr. Stark-Rogers.”

He likes the sound of that. He really likes the sound of that. Another kiss. “What are we going to tell everyone?” he asks.

“Hmm. How about we got so caught up in the thrill of picking up the rings that we abandoned all reason and got married here? It’s not like the big white wedding my mama wants even really matters in the grand scheme of things. It’s the marriage license that counts.”

“She’s still going to want it.”

“Undoubtedly. And we’ll give it to her. But this is nice, isn’t it?” Tony peers up at him anxiously. “No fuss, no caterers with ten different meal plans for all the restrictions, no Great-Auntie Mildred who shouts for the minister to speak louder. No stress at all.”

Steve leans back against the headboard, thinking about it. Tony’s right. They dealt with a lot less stress by getting married this way. But it isn’t just Great-Auntie Mildred that they left behind, it’s their friends too. It’s hard to know how he feels about that.

But then he starts thinking about the wedding picture the photographer had handed them before they left the chapel last night. Steve had tucked it into his wallet for safekeeping, and he reaches over to the bedside table to grab it, pulling the photo out so he can look at it. It’s a picture of their kiss. They’re holding onto each other so tight he’s not sure a piece of paper would fit between them, smiling so broadly that it’s barely a kiss at all. And he thinks about the engagement pictures Mrs. Stark had sent out in the announcement and wedding invitations: poised and perfect and not a smile to be seen anywhere.

“Yeah,” he says eventually, pulling Tony against his chest. Tony snuggles in, warm and beautiful and all Steve’s. “This was pretty damn perfect.”

Tony sighs contentedly and presses a kiss right over Steve’s heart. “Good.”

“But your mother’s still going to kill me.”

“We just won’t tell her,” Tony replies dismissively. “We’ll get married again and we won’t have to worry about the wedding because we’ll know we’re already married.”

“She’s going to notice the rings.”

“Not if we spend the whole week here.”

Steve stills. He hadn’t thought of that. It would solve a lot of problems, not least that Mrs. Stark would finally have free reign to do whatever she wanted with the wedding without any input from either of them. She was doing anyway, but at least now, they don’t have to hear about how their small family affair has turned into the society event of the year.

Tony continues in a wheedling voice, “Call out all our friends, treat it like an extended bachelor party—or our first honeymoon, take your pick.”

Steve stops him right there with another kiss, lingering this time. “And what are we going to do on our first honeymoon?”

“Blow all our money on slot machines. Count cards at the poker table. Go see some really truly ridiculous shows,” Tony says with a shrug. “What everyone does when they’re in Vegas.”

“Hmm somehow I don’t think counting cards is what everyone does.”

“I suppose everyone didn’t grow up with Ana Jarvis,” Tony muses. Steve laughs because it’s true. Howard might think that Tony is a troublemaker all on his own, but everyone knows that Tony learned it from the best.

He’s distracted out of his thoughts by Tony picking up his hand and gently kissing his wedding ring. “It’s the first day of the rest of our lives, darling,” Tony murmurs. “We can do whatever we want.”

Details for @tonystarkbingo

Title of Fill: Here's to Las Vegas Collaborator: iam93percentstardust Card Number: 4012 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29676711 Square Filled: A3 - Free Square Ship/Main Pairing: Stevetony Rating: T Major Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Established Relationship, Fluff, Marriage Summary: The day after Steve gets married, he wakes up in a Las Vegas hotel with a ring on his finger and Tony Stark snuggled up beside him. Word Count: 1558

[matryosika]

shoot me, chapter VI

pairing — changbin x reader

rating — 18+

genre of the overall series — smut, angst, fluff if you squint

prologue chapter I chapter II chapter III chapter IV chapter V chapter VI

word count for this chapter — 4.1 k

warnings — mentions of alcohol and emotional abuse

note — this chapter has no smut in it. still, the love-story gets completely developed here. next chapters will be filled with smut and angst so stay tuned! i haven't read this chapter because i wanted to upload it as soon as possible, so it may contain grammar mistakes. i will check it later since i have to go out with my family to have dinner! <3 hope you enjoy

taglist:@cozyblues @ahgasearmyfan @binnie-m00n @minaamhh @pinkishwen @spilledtee

*

[changbin's pov]

"so?" you asked him, modeling one of the dresses that you had previously selected from the expensive clothing shop "what do you think?"

she looks like a goddess.

"good" changbin limited to reply. "is that the last one?"

"c'mon you are not helping at all" you grunted, turning around slightly on the mirror to see the full silhouette of the dress "this might be the one, don't you think?"

i think so. i think you look perfect in all the things you have tried on, actually.

"it's alright" the dark-haired man reply "just take that one and let's get this over with"

"jesus, changbin" you whined "you are such a pain in the ass. if you were in a bad mood then you shouldn't have accepted to drive me here so i can buy a dress for the wedding"

you had been in korea for a month and 2 weeks now, your relationship with changbin growing unconciously intimate as you often engage in sexual encounters with him. you wouldn't say the both of you were close, but each day that passed by you could feel how you learned more about him just like he learned more about you too. you wouldn't consider him a good friend, since hostility made a presence every now and then between the both of you, but you had learned to spend time with him without feeling the need to put plugs into your ears and a blindfold to stop acknowledging his existence.

"if you needed help picking a dress" changbin interrupted, standing up from the seat he had been occupying for the last 45 minutes "you should've asked hyejin or ryujin to come and help you out, not me"

"hyejin is busy" you were quick to respond "ryujin had work today and you were the only other person i know that owns a car"

"cabs exist"

"yeah well" you made a pause, swallowing hard "i don't like cabs"

"you could've asked arthur to lend you his private driver" changbin tilted his head slightly.

"i get uncomfortable with strangers" you answered after a few seconds of being completely silent, changbin's gaze making you incredibly nervous.

"really?" he inquired, one of his hands traveling all the way to the pocket of his jacket as he pulled his wallet out. "why won't you just admit that you wanted to spend time with me?"

"fuck no" a grimace of disgust was quick to appear on your face "don't get confused. i would rather be dead than to spend more time with you than i already have to"

"yet you are still here" he teased "maybe i'm not as unbearable as your mind is trying to convince you i truly am"

with lazy steps he took the bunch of dresses that were piled up on the chair next to him, putting them all over his shoulder as he walked to the counter. "what are you doing?" you asked, still wearing the last dress you tried on.

"you are indecisive and i am starving" he said without even looking at you "i don't need to spend another 45 minutes here looking at how much you struggle to pick between 5 dresses, just have them all and pick one when you are alone"

you looked at him in desbelief "do you have any idea of how much just one of them cost? are you stupid?" you almost yelled in astonishment, looking at the figure of changbin slightly turning around to face you.

"i am not stupid" changbin reply "like i said, i am just hungry"

and currently thinking about how beautiful you are looking right now with that look of amazement on your pretty face. if i could, i would buy you the entire world just for you to destroy.

[y/n's pov]

"i will pay every single one of those dresses back before i leave" you mumbled, eating your food as if you had been starving for days "i had money, i didn't need you to come and rescue me as if i was some sort of damsel in distress"

"you were in distress though" he added, taking a sip of the drink he ordered "you took almost 30 minutes just to pick one dress to try on, you are really undecisive"

"yeah well, it's not like i had anywhere else to be" you replied.

"isn't arthur going to have a small gathering at his house today?" changbin inquired "like a pre-celebration of the wedding or something?"

you shrugged your shoulders "i don't know and i don't care. i am just here for the wedding and then i will be finally free"

you kept on eating your plate of food, confused as to why changbin's gaze stayed fix on you. "what, do i have something on my f-?"

"are you leaving right after the wedding?" he asked in a very hostile way, almost as if he had completely forgot that you were not going to stay forever.

"not right after but that's the main reason i came here, yeah" you replied, having a mixture of feelings inside your guts.

you couldn't deny the fact that you missed tsukuba, but living there meant to be trapped in the university dorms 24/7 just studying. but still, the lifestyle you have had for the past time was absolutely something you could get use to it: ryujin, hyejin, going out on the weekends, being free from school, changbin...

changbin?

"i still don't know the exact date though" you added "school doesn't start for me in another months so..."

"how is your life?" he asked, earning a weird look from you as you couldn't quite understand his question "in Japan, i mean"

you sighed. you had thought that living in japan was really good and you felt utterly comfortable living there until you arrived to korea and discovered a whole new life style that you had already learned to love. not only that, but leaving everything here was going to get you a bit nostalgic in the future. "it is great, better than people say it is honestly" you responded as he nodded "i live at the university dorms so life is pretty much everything but rushed. i spend my days at the library studying, i sometimes work as a shadow teacher for like 4 or 5 kids and on weekends i go and visit my mom and her partner"

"your mom got married after divorcing arthur?" changbin followed, just in time as he finished his dish of food.

"uh, it's complicated" you gave him a smile "she lives with someone and she is very happy"

"and are you?"

you were about to answer the question when you felt a pinch on your heart. a month ago you would have replied "yes" without a doubt. you thought you were happy living in japan, you thought you were happy when you visited thea, your mother, and reiko, her girlfriend. you thought you were happy when reiko made you her special coffee and you thought you were happy when they ocasionally visited you on winter nights at your dorm. you thought you were happy when you worked with children and spent time with them. you thought you were happy when you rode your bike from school to work and you thought you were happy when ryejin visited you and your mom on the holidays.

however, you had learned a new definition of happiness here.

"are you?" you fired back.

changbin slightly tilted his head as he laid completely back on his seat "i could be"

"what is exactly stopping you from being happy?" you asked him, intruiged.

"even if i explained it to you" he mumbled "i don't think you will be able to understand it"

"ah, there you are again" you scoffed, slightly rolling your eyes "your god complex has not show all day. i guess you missed it."

"c'mon" he grunted, raising his hand at one of the waiters at the restaurant "let's go somewhere else"

"where exactly?" you laughed "to your place? your car? a motel? jesus changbin, you can't really go a day without fucking, can you?"

"that's not actually what i had in mind" he replied, taking out his credit card as he saw the waiter approaching the table "but i mean if you want to fuck i won't say no"

"you had something in mind?" you asked, faking excitment "for me? you planned something for me?"

"if you want i can drop you at arthur's place right now so he can force you to have dinner with him and his bride. it's up to you"

you weren't really feeling like spending "quality time" with your father, and you also knew that hyejin was probably not going to attent the dinner, so there was no point of you being there. but at the same time, the thought of spending time with changbin doing non-sexual activities was something that it always made you nervous for an unknown reason, and you were feeling particularly nervous today.

"whatever"

*

the evening went on peacefully and that alone was unreal. he drove you to the center of seoul and suggested to take a walk around the most popular avenues because "the city looked better at night", something you have always believed too.

changbin was attractive and, even though your personalities crashed every damn time, you couldn't deny the fact that there were some sort of intimate bond going on between the both of you since that very first night at the bar. still, you wouldn't accept it. you wouldn't accept that the one person you disliked the most was starting to change your mind.

and you couldn't get yourself to trust him either. you couldn't trust any men, for that matter.

"have you thought about which dress you are going to wear tomorrow?" he asked so casually, his hands inside the pockets of his jacket as his gaze diverted from building to building.

"no" you replied, trying to get back at the trail of thoughts you had been threading since you left the restaurant with him. "have you?"

"have i thought about the dress i am going to wear tomorrow?" he laughed "i don't know, it will depend on which one you lend me"

"i got distracted" you admitted "but i will try on all the dresses tomorrow morning and i will give you the rest of them so you can return them to the store"

"i won't do that" he clicked his tongue "i bought them for you"

your heart skipped a beat after hearing those words and it was everything but pleasent.

"i don't want them"

"you can't reject a gift" he mumbled "that's the whole point of a gift"

"i will sell them on the internet" you threatened.

"do it, at the end of the day they are yours" he gave you a side look while smirking "but i wouldn't sell them if i were you. you look good in them"

"oh so you want to give opinions about the dresses now, huh?" you asked, mildly annoyed "you could've help me back at the store but you chose to be grumpy"

"at least i am helping you now"

"you are unbearable" you whispered.

a bright smile was quick to appear on his face. a genuine smile, as if he was enjoying the conversation. not only the conversation but the whole moment: you and him, walking around the city and talking about something so casual and trivial like which clothes you were going to wear tomorrow or which dress he liked best on you.

and for a moment it felt nice.

you felt safe.

"the red one was pretty" he added. you looked at him confused, once again lost in your trail of thoughts. "the red dress, the one that you tried on last"

"good" you responded "i'll make sure not to wear that one"

"you hate me that much?" he teased while a faint chuckle left his lips.

"oh changbin, you have no idea" deep down knowing it wasn't more than a vile lie.

*

you looked in the mirror one last time before you heard hyejin calling your name once again "y/n, how long will you take? i need to stop by the bakery to pick up the wedding cake"

"i'll be out in a minute" you replied, noticing how your hands got sweatier by the second.

you were quite nervous, but couldn't really understand why. maybe the sole thought of your father having his "happy ending" made you jealous because you knew that he did not deserve that at all; he didn't deserve the love he had.

the emotional abuse your mother and you suffered throughout your childhood and adolescence was not something that could be fixed in a month or two and you were certain about it. no matter how happy your father was, you couldn't help but to feel jealous about how he never had to suffer like you and your mother did.

and even though you got over your negative feelings towards him, the scars and aftermath of an abusive household still caught up on you: the mistrust, the negativity, the hostility and the lack of commitment were things you had to deal with on a daily basis.

of course he was the one to blame. but you were an adult now, and you were supposed to deal with all those issues by yourself. no one was going to fix them for you.

"jesus y/n, we are running late" hyejin busted the door open "are you ready now?"

"yes" you were quick to respond, grabbing the purse on your bed and trying to quickly divert from your sister's gaze.

"wait" she mumbled, gripping both of your shoulder as you intended to the leave the room "why are you tearing up?"

"i am not" you replied "i yawned"

she didn't look convinced, but still decided not to push any further "i'll meet you in the car, i just have to grab a few things"

you nodded and made your way through the hallway. because of how rushed she was, you didn't have a chance to tell hyejin how gorgeous she looked. she was wearing a golden shiny dress that embraced her body just fine and carrying a maching clutch with it. she was really pretty, maybe the prettiest woman you had ever seen, and not only that but she was also very smart. any guy would be head over heels for her, but she still decided not to engage in a "silly love story" as she called them because "it is a waste of her precious time, and time is money"

you wished you had the same mentality as she did, but you grew up getting educated on how love was portrayed in books, movies and television. it was ironic how you were the first person on earth to deny that love actually existed, but you were still a hopeless romantic after all.

*

[changbin's pov]

"changbin, are you too far from the church?" haeun, his mother, asked desperately as changbin picked up the phone.

"i'm right outside" he grunted "i told you i was not going to be late"

"we are sitting on the second bench at the left of the altar" the old woman added "hurry up"

changbin hung up the phone and cursed under his breath. the weather today was maybe too nice for his own liking and his clothes were a bit too uncomfortable to be wearing them under the sun.

as quickly as he could, he closed the door of his car and started walking towards the entrance, making sure that the ceremony hadn't started just yet so he wouldn't make a scene.

"did you bring the gift?" jang-yeop inquired as he sat down next to him and changbin nodded "did you also bring your mother the pair of shoes?"

"yes" he responded "how long is this going to take?"

"40-45 minutes?" his father replied "i have no idea, what time is it?"

"7:02 p.m." haeun was quick to answer "now, the both of you shut up"

right after she mumbled those words, music started to sound on the church. changbin, being in a rush to get to his seat before the ceremony started, didn't notice that arthur was already standing up next to the altar and waiting for his soon-to-be wife. changbin's gaze was fixed on arthur, then it diverted into the bride walking down the aisle and then returned to arthur once again. he never thought about marriage or building a family. hell, he never thought about having a romantic relationship that would last longer than a few months actually. but as he grew older, and as he experienced new stuff, he wasn't sure if he still had the same mentality he used to have last year.

to changbin, arthur seemed genuinely happy. his half-lidded eyes along with that bright smile he was wearing indicated that the man was living one of the happiest days of his life. and as changbin witnessed that romantic scene, the question that popped up in the conversation he had with you last night grabbed his attention once again.

what exactly is stopping me from being happy?

and before he could respond himself with words, his eyes had already found the answer: standing on the bench at the right of the altar and wearing that promising dark red dress that could drive any man insane, the woman he never dreamed of looking just as beautiful as the very first day he met her.

not being able to have her completely.

*

[y/n's pov]

after the ceremony, a big party was held at a very elegant event hall located in one of the tallest buildings of seoul. you were not particularly excited about having to see arthur's side of the family, but you still managed to keep yourself together the whole time.

"you are wearing the red dress" a sudden voice whispered into your ear as you were counting the tables that were still missing their dinner plates, an order given by hyejin. you slightly turned around to meet changbin's breath dancing on your neck and nape, goosebumps filling every single inch of your skin due to the proximity.

"congratulations" you sighed "your vision is crystal clear"

"i have been watching you since the ceremony" changbin added "i can't help but think about how pretty you are going to look when you are taking that dress off for me"

a spark of electricity traveled around your whole body and directly into your core. you immediatly looked around and notice a few people who worked for arthur's company sitting not that far away from the both of us "do you really want to do this here?" you asked "aren't you scared of being caught by any of arthur's friends?"

"are you concerned about that now?" he chuckled "that didn't seem to bother you at the company's elevator"

"c'mon" you whispered, your back slightly pressing against his chest "i have to help hyejin with some stuff"

changbin slightly gripped your hand and guided you to the dancefloor that was crowded with couples dancing around "i am sure that she can handle all of this by herself"

before you could protest, you took out your phone and sent her a message with the information she asked for. you had no idea what changbin was up to, but you still decided to follow him.

changbin positioned his hands on your waist as he gracefully dragged you across the dancefloor, looking for a spot in the middle of the crowd so it would be easier for the two of you to get lost.

"you are spending the night at my place" he mumbled over the slow songs that were now playing. it wasn't a question nor a petition, it was an order.

"yeah right" you chuckled "if you are too desperate to fuck we can do that, but i am not fond of sleepovers"

the thought of you spending the night with him was terrifying, but you would've been lying if you said that you hadn't think about what it would be like to wake up next to his him.

"i wasn't asking" he responded. "tell me when you are ready to leave".

with a swift movement, your whole body was pressed against his, his hands resting on your lowerback as you both swinged from side to side, following the rythm of the song. this was a whole new side of him that you didn't know it existed, and you couldn't deny that you were loving every second of it.

"who thaught you how to dance, huh?" you asked, your gaze fixed on his eyes that looked even brighter because of all the lights adorning the hall.

"there is so much about me that you don't know" he replied.

"oh i know everything there is to know about you, changbin" you scoffed "but let's see if you can keep surprising me"

*

it wasn't even midnight but people were already starting to get completely intoxicated with alcohol. arthur had spent the night dancing with ara and, after she was done being the unofficial wedding planner, hyejin ended up getting wasted with the small group of friends she invited to the wedding. you, on the other hand, spent the night dancing with changbin and eating your dinner with him.

it was not unusual to see the both of you together since you spent too much time at the company, but tonight it was sort of different. the looks he gave you, the way you two danced for hours on end, the way he was treating you... it felt different, a little bit more personal and intimate. his parents probably noticed this too, since they made a lof of comments about "how happy they were about us being really good friends". if only they knew.

"i think i am ready" you said to changbin after telling hyejin that you were going to spend the night somewhere else. she nodded her head and agreed to say, if asked, that "you were at ryujin's" even when she wasn't invited to the wedding in the first place. you just smiled at her and nodded, not leaving without telling one of her sober friends to look out for her.

"don't worry" the pretty pale girl mumbled "she will stay at my house tonight"

you glanced over to arthur and ara who were still having the greatest time of their lives on the dancefloor, and proceeded to walk away from the party with changbin. "you parents will stay here?"

"yeah, they will leave in an hour or so" changbin replied "i told them that you wanted to go home and that i was going to drive you"

"perks of living alone i guess" you joked.

the walk through the empty corridors of the building felt eerie as the loud sound of the music were still ringing in your ears. even though you were walking on your own, you could still feel changbin's ablazing touch on your body and that only provoked your heartbeat to go even faster.

as you waited for the elevator to open their doors, changbin's lips unexpectedly crashed against yours. it wasn't a passionate kiss, and it wasn't rushed either. it was just a kiss, an innocent kiss, a kiss you give to your significant other as a demostration of how much you love them. his soft lips dragged against yours as his teeth bite softly your bottom lip, earning a small whine from you. his hands, that were now located into your waist, guided you to the insides of the elevator once the doors were opened.

"you look so beautiful tonight" he whispered interrupting, his breathing getting faster each second that passed by "i can't get you out of my head"

his lips left yours to meet the sensitive spots on your neck, peppering soft kisses all over the surface. your gaze found the reflection of the scene in the mirror of the elevator, looking at how changbin was tasting every inch of your skin with his eyes closed, his rushed hands traveling all the way from your waist to your lower back trying to memorize every single trace of your body.

"i don't want to hurt you tonight" he continued "no roughness, no pain, no petnames. i want to make you completely mine, in the most pure way"

and for the night, you agreed to let your feelings out and let go.

no fear and no mistrust, you were ready to face the overwhelming feelings that had been building up inside you since the day you met him.

even if you could potentially regret it later...

[otterbagel]

The Reunion (Part 1) Simon x Reader

Reader makes a rash decision, one that has long lasting consequences.

(Notes: There are two parts to this! Next part should be out next week. I'll probably start spacing out my posts after this so I don't get burnt out like last time. Also, didn't get to edit this one as much as I should've; the whole thing ended up pretty long and would take a long time everytime I tried to edit it. Can't believe it took me this long to finish one about Simon!!!)

"Hey, this is quite the unusual find, you gotta admit."

   Your eyebrow raised without hesitation, your eyes looking down to check your shoes. "Not really," you remarked softly, eyes going back up to meet the object of the discussion: a PL600 android.

   The salesman, who had uncomfortably started hounding you for the sale after you had curiously drifted towards the humanoid, was gesturing towards it flippantly with a toothy grin. "At this price?! Tell me, no, tell me where you found one this cheap— in this good a condition?"

   Your mouth automatically frowned. The arms were covered by a dark undershirt that made most of the skin unseeable— any damage not on the face and hands wouldn't be factored into the buying purchase. You had a feeling this clothing choice was intentional.

   "Just three hundred bucks!" The seller's round face turned into your line of sight. You quickly looked away out of discomfort.

   Your eyes landed onto the android's clear blue ones. You hadn't looked very closely at any androids before, despite walking amongst them nearly every day. Did they all look this lifelike? 

   Maybe you were looking way too into it. 

   You swallowed, aggressively fumbling for your wallet with a grunt of annoyance. "Okay, fine. Three hundred."

   With a pleased noise, the seller took off with your card, waving it in the air between two of his fingers. 

   You crossed your arms beside the android, who didn't seem to take any notice of what had just transpired. 

…

   Reality had begun to hit you like a truck on the way home.

   By the time you opened the door to your tiny house, you realized just how big of a rash decision you had just made.

   The android stood behind you quietly and without complaint as you released the door handle, letting the door softly bang against the wall. You stared dumbly into your own house, coat hanging limply from one of your dangling arms as you searched your brain for a solution. 

   You frowned, shaking your head rapidly. "I have no room for this."

   "Excuse me—"

   You jumped at the android's sudden intrusion into your own self reprimand, a small noise of fright escaping you before you could even begin to think of holding it back.

   "—would you like me to get started?"

   "Uh, yeah yeah yeah, uh… do whatever you want," you waved it off awkwardly, holding a hand to your chest as you attempted to catch your breath. You hurried inside, embarrassed of the whole situation. 

   You sat down on the couch as the android closed the door and walked past you and into the kitchen.

   Without turning it on, you stared at the TV as your fingertips rubbed against your face in nervousness.

   That had been such an impulse buy. You couldn't believe you had done that.

   The faucet turned on for a moment. You think you had put a cup in there, but there wasn't much else to clean.

   It seemed to be working properly. The guy who sold it was certainly odd and abrasive, but all in all it was a pretty good deal. Usually they were more than twice as much; newer models so expensive that the thought of you owning one was impossible. Even if it had some cosmetic damages, that was a small issue compared to its functionality.

   Trying to ignore the strange new entity in the house, you flipped on the TV. It was the news.

   There was some story about a recent fire that had decimated a small apartment building on the outskirts of Detroit. The police said it likely had something to do with Red Ice, although most evidence would probably be destroyed.

   The android had finished whatever it was doing in the kitchen and had quietly begun watching the TV from the archway. 

   You looked at it as it parted its lips in preparation to speak. "Are you a fan of the news?"

   "Sort of," you chuckled, looking back to the screen. "I work at a newstation— not this one, but I like checking it out from time to time."

   The android nodded, continuing to watch the screen as it held its hands politely behind its back.

   You looked it over, getting that feeling of nervousness again. "W-what's your name?" You blurted out quietly and without any grace.

   It blinked at you, the LED spinning blue for a second. "My previous owners named me Simon. Would you like to change my name?"

   You shook your head to yourself. "Do you like your name?"

   It squinted at you in confusion before returning to its natural, composed look. "It's good," it responded.

   Although you tried to maintain a jovial body language, you weren't doing a good job. "Great! Si… Simon is a great name," you chirped out awkwardly.

   "Thank you," Simon replied, giving a small head bow.

   You turned your head away from it as you felt your face grow warm with embarrassment. 

   What on Earth was happening to you?

   

…

   You had been having a strange dream about work when you heard someone calling your name.

   "...huh…?" you called out groggily.

   Your name again. "...I think you're going to be late for work at this rate…"

   Your eyes fluttered open. Simon was fiddling with his hands as he held them in front of his chest, eyes moving between you and the clock beside the bed.

   It said 8:32.

   The comforter was flung nearly off the bed as you jumped up in a panic. "Oh geez, yeah I'm gonna be late…" Random clothes filled your arms that you grabbed from your drawers as you prepared to go to work. "Thanks for waking me."

   Simon quietly made his way over to you as you tried finding a pair of socks. "I didn't hear you walking around this morning," he said with a chuckle. "And where you stayed up later than usual last night… I figured…"

   A laugh escaped you as you headed off towards the bathroom to get ready.

   He had been living here… maybe three months? It had seemed like a much longer time than that. In that amount of time, things had definitely changed between you two.

   Despite it being his intended purpose, it felt strange to have someone doing all your housework for you. It became an odd ritual pretty quickly: once you got home, you would work on chores together. Not that there were many— that was one of the perks of having a small house— but it just made you feel better about the whole thing.

   The whole process was a bit cathartic for you; away from the hustle and bustle of the busy, stressful life at the newstation and into a warm, domestic one.

   You hurried to the front door to slip on your shoes, Simon leaving his spot on the couch to see you off. 

   "I think I'll make it on time," you joked as you looked up at him. "Thanks again."

   "No problem…" he responded quietly, struggling to retain eye contact with you.

   As you rose to your feet, he gave you a brief hug. Your face immediately began to burn bright red.

   "Have… have a good day at work…" he stuttered out before walking in quick strides to the kitchen.

   You were still frozen in place by the time he exited your vision. "Y-you too…" you blurted out before fumbling out the door, realizing your linguistic blunder before you had even closed the door.

   As you headed down the street, you let your hands touch your heated face. 

…

   You had nearly run home out of excitement.

   It had been such a small thing, but the prospects of your future career had your mind going nuts.

   After fumbling to get the key in the door and tossing it open, you slung your coat off your arms in a fluid motion. "Simon! Simon! You won't believe it!"

   He was sitting on the couch— like he usually had been over the past year— engaged in some overly dramatic show you weren't particularly fond of. His eyes were wide at your sudden entrance. "Yes?"

   You let the door make its way closed before you kicked it shut behind you, holding your arms out. "They said they liked my article!"

   Simon stared for a moment before his LED flashed in excitement. "THE article?" He sat up on the edge of his seat, smiling at you as he was filled with a wave of positive energy.

   "Yeah!" You nodded. "Not to get you too excited, but they're showing it to some of the higher ups, but it looks like I might get my own schedule slot soon!"

   "Oh wow!" He exclaimed, rising to his feet and taking you into his arms to lift you up for a split second. "I knew it would happen! I'm so proud!"

   You erupted into a fit of giggles as he held you, almost enjoying his praise as much as your own success. "Thanks Simon, I couldn't have done it without you."

   He released you, letting his hands rest against your sides. "That's not true," he responded quietly, his face red as he looked to the side.

   With a warm smile, you nodded to him. "Yes," you drawed out for effect. "You even came up with the idea. And, not to mention, the moral support."

   He stepped back a little, crossing his arms as he attempted to hide his expression of happiness. "You're too kind."

   The TV played in the silence, Simon fiddling with the edge of one of his sleeves as he pulled it down.

   Your mind raced as you looked at his hand, debating on bringing it up right now when the mood was so light.

   "They mentioned… uh... increasing my pay," you began, watching his expression for any hint of distress. "I thought that maybe… we could finally… you know… get that fixed…"

   His hands trailed along his sleeve as he nodded to himself, seemingly lost in thought. "Yeah," he responded. "That would be nice… but it would be so expensive… are you sure?"

   It had taken a few weeks to first see it, and even longer for you to see the full extent of the damage, but your initial thoughts had been correct. The long sleeves had been put on him for a reason, and it had seemed as though it had gradually become a personal choice as well.

   His forearms and biceps had a lot of physical damage, certainly from his previous owners. 

   Luckily, it had been almost purely cosmetic. Aside from a few light dents and scratches to his actual body, it was just a matter of getting the covering fixed. As of now, the white sheen of his android body was always visible underneath his sleeves.

   You wrung your hands together out of nervousness. "I just know how you said that you wanted it fixed," you took in a sharp inhale. "It won't be a problem to actually do, I've already been saving for a while…"

   He smiled, rushing in to hug you again. You, a bit caught off guard this time, was frozen in place.

   "I'd like to put the past behind me," he said as you finally came to and hugged him back, albeit still in a bit of a shock. "I think this is the first step."

   As you embraced, you couldn't help but feel a pang of excitement and anxiety.

[milstrim]

Comfort in My Shadow

Chapter 4: Uninvited

By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Ned Leeds, James “Rhodey” Rhodes

Summary: Soulmates are definite in the universe. Nobody knows exactly why they exist, or what dictates who is bonded to who, the only thing known is that they are never wrong. But Peter’s not so sure about that.

Living at the group home had taught Peter a lot about laying low and how to stay alive when nobody cares. But he’d always clung to the hope of the shadow at his feet reflecting his soulmate that had watched over him for years.

Typical that his soulmate is actually a superhero that Peter is convinced shouldn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe, just this once, the Universe was wrong.

But Tony Stark is desperate to prove that it is right.

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

---

Peter didn't really wake up the next morning, because he hadn't really fallen asleep last night. He'd been incredibly tired, but his hair hadn't been able to lay flat and he hadn't been able to block out the overwhelmingly disgusting smell of Mr. Fowler's closet. He'd been it the entirety of the day and even throughout the night when Mr. Fowler stomped into the room and passed out on the bed. The lilting stumbles in his steps made Peter think he'd been drunk and had likely forgotten about the kid trapped in his closet.

So he hadn't really slept, but his eyes had been closed--the darkness of his eyes was better than that of the closet--until the door had finally swung open, allowing Peter his first full breath in almost a whole day. The dankness of Mr. Fowler's room was a thousand times better than the closet. An arm had grabbed his own, pulling him roughly to his feet and out of the closet. His legs had ached with the disuse, but he'd stumbled to his feet nonetheless.

"Are you going to talk back to me again, son?" Mr. Fowler had asked, a horrible pleasantness to his voice. Peter had shaken his head. Something had been shoved into his hands, and he'd fumbled only to realize it was his wallet. "There. The card doesn't work anymore, so you can have that piece of shit back. Now get out of here."

"O-okay. Thank you," he'd said, stumbling out of the room and into the bathroom that he'd been deprived of for almost twenty-four hours. Once he'd finished and washed his hands, he'd searched through his wallet.

His few crumpled bills had been taken, but the pictures stuffed inside had been left alone, and the black card had sat crammed in a pocket. He'd grabbed it with fumbling fingers, brows furrowing. It didn't work anymore? Had the man maxed it out? Peter had swallowed, a pit forming in his stomach as he thought about what the hell he'd bought to do that. Probably a lot of alcohol had been his guess.

He really, really hoped that Mr. Stark couldn't see his purchases.

After a quick shower, in which he'd had to sit down his vision had swam so much, he'd rushed out the door with his beaten up backpack swinging off of his shoulder. He knew he probably should have stayed to check on the other kids who'd had to listen to the fight last night and might need help with homework, but the teenager couldn't stand to be in that house for any longer. Everything smelled like Mr. Fowler's awful closet and he just needed to be out in the bright Sunday sun. He wanted to find just a little comfort in his shadow that he'd been deprived of the night before.

So he'd changed into his suit and swung around for most of the day, flipping for some overly excited middle schoolers and directing an old man from Ukraine visiting his son who lived in Harlem and ignoring the pain in his stomach. When there was a lull in the late afternoon, he strung a web between two buildings and just did as many daring flips and handstands as he could. It was a feeble attempt to distract himself from the events of the past few days.

Hits and threats from Mr. Fowler were nothing new, in fact, they were a staple in the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys, but last night had been different. He'd never been trapped like that in the group home. He'd always had a lot of free reign as long as he operated within the curfew and got his chores done, but yesterday was like someone had flipped a switch on that, and he was still reeling from the terror.

Or that could be the hunger eating through his stomach. Peter stopped flipping on the web for a moment, instead laying down and balancing himself on the thin string as his stomach growled so hard he flinched. He wouldn't even be getting anything today. When did his grounding end again? He was pretty sure it was Thursday, but he wouldn't be surprised if Mr. Fowler extended it after last night. Maybe he could stop by Ned's and get a granola bar or something.

The teenager looked down at the ground to stare at Mr. Stark's shadow, blinking as he realized it was no longer clothed in normal attire, or a sharp business suit, but rather the larger outline of what he could now identify as the Iron Man armor. He narrowed his eyes, wondering what the man must be doing. Probably something really important.

Peter sighed, moving to sit up, when a sound made him pause. He cocked his head before finally turning in the direction of the mechanical whine to make out the Iron Man suit flying towards him.

Huh.

He tried to feign disinterest, laying back down on the web and placing his hands underneath his head as the suit landed on the nearest building rooftop and Mr. Stark stepped out, but Peter couldn't lie to himself about how excited he really was to see the man.

"Hey, Mr. Stark," he greeted from the web.

"Hey, kid."

"Um, thanks for the letter." Please don't ask about the card. Please don't ask about the card. "Are you sure about the phone, though? I mean, that thing looks like it could cost as much as a house."

"Keep it, kid, I gave it to you for a reason," Mr. Stark said, waving him off. Peter watched him warily as he sat down on the edge of the building, shuffling nervously. Peter smiled to see the man very clearly out of his element, as if he would let him fall anyway. "So, how's your day been?"

Peter shrugged. "Fine."

"No hangovers or anything?" Peter froze. "Can you even get drunk? Cap can't."

The teenager hesitated before answering. It was either 'I bought a bunch of adult stuff with your credit card' or 'My foster father bought a bunch of adult stuff with your credit card.' He wasn't sure which one was better, but there didn't seem to be much to win from lying, not that there was much to gain from telling the truth either.

"I don't know," Peter responded honestly as he sat up on the web to stare at the shadow on the ground. The imitation felt more comforting than the real thing at that moment.

"You don't know? You bought three hundred dollars of pure liquor."

"Three hundred--Oh, jeez. I'm really sorry, Mr. Stark."

Mr. Stark blinked at him for a second before his gaze softened.

"You didn't buy any of that stuff, did you?" Peter shook his head. "Who? Andrew Fowler?" A moment. A nod. "Okay, I'll just deactivate that card and give you a new one."

"No, it's fine, Mr. Stark," Peter said, pulling his wallet out of his hoodie pocket and showing him the black card. "He gave it back. I think he was annoyed that it was, like, maxed out or something."

"Well, it is most definitely not maxed out--there's a lot more than three hundred on that, kid--but I'm glad you got it back."

"Thanks."

There was a minute of awkward silence before Mr. Stark rolled his shoulders and sat up straighter.

"So, no tower yesterday?"

Peter suddenly remembered the little note at the end of his letter. He shrugged bashfully, mumbling, "Yeah, sorry, uh Mr--Mr. Fowler kept us pretty busy yesterday. Chore day, so."

"Wanna stop by now?"

Peter looked up at him in surprise. It was a wonder this man didn't hate him yet. The foster parents Peter had before Mr. Fowler had gotten sick of him pretty quickly, or just hadn't been very attached in the first place, while the majority of his teachers regarded him with either pity or disdain at his situation and record. As far as Mr. Stark knew, he had an accident-prone, snotty teenager as a soulmate whose favorite pass time was to be a juvenile delinquent.

And yet, the mechanic regarded him with a soft smile. A little strained, but welcoming nonetheless. It unfurled something in his chest.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Yeah!--I mean, sure sure, that'd be fun." Mr. Stark gave him an amused smile as the teenager stepped off of his web and onto the roof of the building. With a quick glance and a rare smile, Peter leaped off the roof, enjoying the way Mr. Stark yelped in surprise. Peter called, "Beat you there!!"

He did not, in fact, beat Mr. Stark to the tower. To be fair, the man was in a suit that flew faster than a jet and Peter was only propelled by physics and muscles.

The teenager watched from a short distance as the Iron Man suit paused in front of a higher point in the tower, faced him for a moment, and then dove through the window. He raised an eyebrow, but doubled down in catching up to the man, only barely managing to swing himself high enough so that he wouldn't have to crawl his way up more than a couple of stories.

Finally, just a few minutes later than Mr. Stark, he rolled through the window and landed hard on the floor just a little unsteadily, not that he cared in the slightest. There were much more interesting things to care about in that moment.

"Whoa..."

"You like it?" Mr. Stark called from across the lab. Peter nodded dumbly, staring, widemouthed, at the state of the art equipment decorating just about every inch of the room. There were cases of Iron Man armor lining the walls, robots rolling around--he managed a laugh at one with a dunce cap sweeping the ground with a broom inefficiently--and tables filled with projects Peter couldn't even begin to dream of. "You can take your mask off here, kid. No one's going to see you."

Mr. Stark's voice pulled him back to reality, drawing him further into the room hesitantly. He glanced at the man, but realized dimly that his spider sense had finally calmed down. This wasn't the danger he'd felt after being fished out of the lake, or the feeling that had been following him since, it was a normal calm mixed with just a hint of nerves.

He tugged his mask off.

Mr. Stark stared at him, a soft look on his face, before finally tearing his gaze away when Peter shuffled uncomfortably.

"Sorry, kid," he apologized. "Didn't mean to freak you out. Just..."

"Just what?"

"It's just nice to see you, Peter."

He didn't know what to say to that, so he just offered the billionaire a strained smile and stepped over to the desk the man was standing at. He felt more than a little out of place, but his curiosity overwhelmed his discomfort as he glanced over a shiny metal case held lightly in the billionaire's hands in interest. Mr. Stark tapped it when he caught the boy looking.

"This, kid," he said, sliding it over, "is for you."

Peter caught it effortlessly, his fingers light and hesitant as he glanced from it to Mr. Stark, his head down.

"I can't accept this, Mr. Stark. You already--"

Mr. Stark interrupted by reaching over and pressing something on the case. It sprang open, spooking Peter enough for him to take a step back but holding his attention as he caught sight of the bright red fabric. The eyes were what really caught his attention, looking unreasonably cool and intimidating. Peter mumbled, "This is the coolest thing I've ever seen."

Mr. Stark chuckled. "Good thing it's yours."

"It's--" He gaped at the man. "Mr. Stark, I really can't accept--"

"Too bad," he interrupted. "It's a gift and it's rude to turn down a gift. So, there's a bathroom right over there if you want to try it on. Give it a whirl?"

After a moment of hesitation, he closed the case, thanked Mr. Stark, and headed to the bathroom to change.

  ---

When Peter stepped out of the bathroom in the new suit, Tony couldn't help but frown. He covered it up as quickly as possible, but the sentiment still remained as his eyes roamed over the kid. He was muscular, sure, but he was so thin that it practically hurt. The teenager's ribs were practically there just for him to count and worry about. He filed it away for later as Peter turned to look at him, the mask's eyes narrowing.

"Looking good, hotshot," Tony said. "How's it feel?"

"It's awesome, Mr. Stark," Peter responded, his hands held out in front of him as he tapped the webshooters. "It smells like a new car!"

Tony couldn't help his laugh. "If you think that's cool, just wait. Friday, Babysitter Protocol."

"Babysitter--" Peter cut off with a confused yelp as his suit lit up blue, the AI in his suit supposedly greeting him. The kid cocked his head. "Oh, hi. Nice to meet you too."

Tony turned away, letting the kid and the AI get acquainted as he pulled out his phone and ordered a few pizzas. Five might be enough. Steve had always eaten a lot, and even if he didn't manage to burn through the best pizza in the city, the kid could definitely use leftovers. He entered the order and shifted back to observe the kid again.

"--uh, Liz? No, no, that's weird. How about Karen?" A moment as he waited for a response. "Fun. Nice. Cool, this is so cool."

Tony smiled, unable to tear his eyes away from the kid. His soulmate. His little shadow. 

Peter turned to look at him after a few minutes, muttering a quick goodbye to the AI--Karen, he guessed--before tugging the mask off again. There was a hesitant smile tugging at his thin face. Much too thin. How many pizzas would it take to get the kid back to even a semi-healthy weight? Probably way too many.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Stark," Peter said. "I really can't thank you enough."

"Please, you can thank me by not thanking me. Pepper says my ego's already a little off of the charts." Peter laughed and Tony couldn't help his grin. "Wanna stay over for dinner? I ordered pizza."

Peter hesitated, but after a moment he answered, "Alright," which was so much better than the kid regarding him defensively or looking like he was constantly on the edge of running away again. And, as it turned out, Peter fit more easily into his life than he could have thought.

In barely thirty minutes, the kid was sat beside him at a desk filled with vials of web fluid and pieces of Iron Man armor, an old, frayed hoodie of Tony's slipped over the suit, and a stack of freshly baked pizza laid out in front of them. Peter sat in the chair next to him as the mechanic ran through the schematics of his suit, hanging on every single word.

"...most of the framing is between the protective layers of your suit, completely waterproof by the way, if you ever get yourself into another lake. You also have a parachute if you pass the three thousand feet threshold."

Peter glanced over his shoulder in surprise. "There's a parachute in this thing? How?"

Tony tapped his back where he knew the spider logo was. "A magician never reveals their secrets."

"Did you compress all the air out of it? Or build it into the wiring on the patch on my back somehow?"

"Both are true." He took a bite of pizza. "You're pretty smart, huh?"

Peter ducked his head with a shrug. "Sorta. I can figure out chemistry, but that's about it."

"I don't believe that for a second, but we'll stick with the modesty for now." Peter huffed out a laugh, spinning the hologram of his suit and staring at it in complete adoration. It dragged a smile onto Tony's face.

Peter had a sort of ruggedness to him, a desperate scrappiness, but it was embarrassingly easy to see that that wasn't all there was to the teenager. His rambles were fast and excited, his scarce smiles adorably bright and always lighting up his doe eyes. There was a kind of spark to Peter that Tony couldn't explain, and, though he was sorry that the kid was saddled with him, he couldn't have wished for a better soulmate.

Apparently, five pizzas ended up being a great number, because Peter ate everything Tony offered him. He was practically a human garbage disposal, though much more polite. Tony was glad that the kid was filling up, but it made him seriously question how much he was getting at that group home. After letting the kid get comfortable for about an hour, he voiced it.

"Do they feed you where you live, kid? I swear, you just put down over ten thousand calories."

Peter paused on the slice he was eating, swallowing before putting it back on the plate nervously, and Tony immediately regretted ever opening his big, fat mouth.

"Yeah. They--Mr. Fowler feeds us fine. Just, enhanced metabolism, so." He shrugged. It was said so nervously that it felt like an outright lie, but Tony left it alone.

"Okay. Good to know. Just make sure to use that card whenever you get hungry, kid. I'm not having my soulmate starve."

At his mention of being soulmates, Peter glanced over his shoulder to stare at their shadows. Right now they almost looked like their own shadows, mirror images of each other, but if you looked hard enough you could see the slight difference in hair texture and the distinctive widths of their shoulders.

"It must've been weird," Peter said. Tony glanced at him in confusion. "Not having a shadow. You didn't get one until I was born, right?"

"Oh. Yeah," Tony agreed. He swallowed as he admitted, "Thought I was broken for the longest time. It was the best day of my life when your tiny little baby shadow appeared at my feet... What about you? Always had a grown man following you around, huh?"

"That sounded creepy, Mr. Stark." Tony just grinned cheekily. "It was nice, actually, always having you there. Like--like a guardian or something."

"And now you've got the real thing." Peter rolled his eyes and Tony pointed at him. "Ah, there's that good ol' sass I was looking for. I was afraid I'd lost it."

"Uhuh. You're kinda weird, Mr. Stark."

"Right back at you, little shadow." Peter smiled at the nickname before glancing out the window where the sky was a deep russet red. "Time for you to head out?"

"Yeah. I've still got some homework to do."

The two stood up and walked over to the window. Peter moved to take the hoodie he'd been wearing off, but Tony stopped him. "Keep it. I've got plenty."

"Oh, thanks, Mr. Stark."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm so generous. Have fun with the suit, kid, I'll see you soon."

"When?"

Tony paused, looking over at the kid who had only just begun to pull the mask over his head, hopeful eyes staring at him. He desperately wanted to tell the kid he'd pick him up from school tomorrow so that they could hang out in the lab again, but he knew he genuinely didn't have any time. He'd been putting off packing for a few too many days.

"After we move. I'll pick you up from school on Friday. We can go explore the compound together. Sound good?"

Peter nodded. "Yep. Real good, Mr. Stark."

"You can call me Tony, Mr. Parker," he joked.

Peter pulled the mask down and jumped out the window with a call of. "See you Friday, Mr. Stark!"

Tony's shoulders shook with laughter.

  ---

Friday. Peter couldn't wait for Friday. With a burst of excitement and energy he hadn't had in a while, Peter flipped in the air and let out a WHOOO! only catching himself at the last second before flipping back up.

"Wow, this suit is so intuitive!" he exclaimed, shooting another web.

"I am glad you think so, Peter," Karen responded, shocking him so bad he nearly let go of his web. Oh, yeah, he'd forgotten he had an AI now. Man, Mr. Stark was so cool. "I am currently taking feedback for the suit's systems in case anything needs to be changed on Friday. Would you like to rate the suit's webshooters?"

"Oh, full eleven out of ten, Karen. It's great."

"Thank you for the feedback, Peter, I have sent a note to Mr. Stark."

"Oh." Peter blushed. "You didn't have to tell him that, Karen."

"Why not? He has asked for feedback."

"No, it's not--" He cut himself off, sighing as he flipped himself into a large arc. "I just don't want to bother him. He's already been so nice to me."

"Mr. Stark has asked for feedback, Peter."

"It's not the--it's not the feedback, Karen," he tried to explain.

"I do not understand."

He spluttered and then sighed, waving it off. "Whatever. It's fine, Karen, just forget it."

"Of course, Peter. Would you like me to show you the quickest route home?"

Peter hesitated. He did have a lot of homework to do, and Eric probably needed help with his reading, but he had to swallow down fear at the thought of being in the same room as Mr. Fowler again. It was irrational--it was so stupid--and Peter knew it, but he couldn't stop the way his hands seemed to shake and his entire body quail.

"Actually, let's take the scenic route. Really test out the suit, y'know?"

"Of course, Peter. Planning now."

A blue line appeared on screen, leading Peter back to the group home. He muttered, "So cool."

Spider-Man was only halfway back to the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys, finally across the bridge and back into his home territory, when his spider sense went off again. He immediately glanced down at his shadow, which had lengthened as the sun set, for some kind of comfort or guidance. But of course, there wasn't one. It was just a shadow.

A little put off by the shiver that had run down his spine, he attached himself to the side of the building, staring out over the street. Nothing too out of the normal. People hurrying on the sidewalk, cars honking down the street, and shadows following along aimlessly.

"Karen. What's going on?"

"What do you mean, Peter?" the AI asked.

"It's just--there's something wrong. Maybe--" At a second shiver up his spine, Peter turned to look at where his senses were directing him at the ringing of a bell.

It was a small bodega, its door swung open as two men stepped inside in unreasonably thick coats for the warm weather. He narrowed his eyes, and the suit zoomed in with him, scanning the men before they disappeared through the door.

"What's the time, Karen?"

"7:30."

"Alright, we're good then. Plenty of time." He swung over to the bodega, attaching himself to the wall above the door, out of sight of the occupants inside. His senses had yet to calm down, so he assumed that he was right about this being a robbery. "Ready to test out the suit, Karry Berry?"

"I am always ready, Peter."

"Y'know, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

"Does that mean I should assign you a nickname too?"

"Definitely! Think about it for a moment and get back to me after we do this," Peter exclaimed in an excited mumble, straining his ears to hear whatever was going on inside. There was the tense calm of nothing for a moment, and then a shuffle and a squeak followed by a spike in his senses. He muttered to himself. "Finally."

He kept his ears strained on the actions going on inside, dropping down in front of the door quietly to watch what was happening. There was a teenager at the register, her hands fumbling with the register while the two men from earlier in their dark coats pointed shotguns at her. He could see tears streaming down the girl's face, clearly terrified.

Peter crept forward, picking up on the muttered conversation inside.

"--just open the register, keep it quiet," the closest man said in a raspy voice. "Hand everything over nice and quick."

"It's--it doesn't open," the girl cried. "It doesn't open unless a purchase is made and--"

The man flinched forward. "Do I look like I care? Just open it!"

Finally having heard enough, Peter placed his fingers against the door and pulled it open as quietly as possible.

Ding!

Peter froze. Heads turned. Curses flew.

The superhero darted forward as the gun pointed at him, firing a shot that missed him completely as he dove behind a grocery aisle of gummies and pregnancy tests. Bodegas really were something. Peter crouched down, muttering under his breath, "Fuck that stupid bell."

"Would you like me to alert Mr. Stark to your predicament?" Karen asked.

"What? No! I can deal with this, Karen, just watch."

"I like the new look," came the voice of the man that had shot at him. "New government sugar daddy or something?"

Peter blanched. "I really wish that that would stop being people's first assumption. People can be platonic y'know!"

There was a scoff and the sound of something warping. Peter's eyes narrowed, peeking around the grocery shelf and then immediately ducking back. The man, the one who hadn't shot at him, had pulled out a large and glowing weapon that looked incredibly similar to the one that had been at the ATM robbery. Man, he was getting really sick of those things.

The teenage girl had looked okay, shivering behind the desk and thankfully not making any moves to alert the police, as far as he could tell anyway. The last thing he needed was cops showing up in such a tense situation. And his first time using the new suit! That would be just plain embarrassing.

"Platonic or not, I don't give a shit," Normal Gun Man said. "A new look isn't going to change your situation. So either come out, or we shoot you."

"I don't know if you can shoot me while I'm back here soooo."

There was a click and a squeak. "Yeah? What about her?"

Okay. So that was a little different.

Without hesitation, Peter stepped out from behind the aisle shelf, his arms raised half-heartedly in the air. The two men had ski masks over their face--not quite as fun as the Avengers masks, but it'd do--but he could still see the honestly nervous smile of the man holding the gun. Clearly he hadn't expected the arrival of Queens favorite vigilante.

"Good to know that you can comply," Normal Gun Guy said. Alien Gun Guy had the weird blue gun pointed at Peter, but the shotgun was still directed at the worker. He chose his target.

"Not really."

With a flick, he webbed the shotgun and slammed it into the wall. There was a startled scream at the same moment his hairs stood on end. Peter only managed to jump forward before he was encased in a blue light that gave him quite possibly the worst headache of his entire life. He hated the feeling of that stupid thing. He didn't quite know what it was, but it felt like something out of The Incredibles. Like Syndrome and shit.

"Ugh! This thing is so weird!" Peter complained in a warped yell. Alien Gun Guy gave him a brutish look and then swung him through the window.

Peter grunted as he crashed through the window, wincing at the clinking shatter of glass that broke under him, but, surprisingly, none of the glass managed to grab at him and slice through his skin, even as he was shot across the street from the force of the alien weapon, only stopping when he thudded against the wall. He groaned as the air was forced out of him.

At least the suit had kept him from getting cut.

"Ugh... The hell." The teenager shook his head, forcing himself back to his feet, clinging to the wall for just a moment as he blinked out dizziness. Remembering himself, he turned back to the bodega across the street, panicking when his head pounded. That wasn't from being hit, that was his spider sense.

The men ran out of the door, hulking along a cash register and a handful of cigarette packs, but the teenage girl had yet to leave and his head only pounded harder. Spider-Man dashed across the road, leaping through the already broken window, his breath catching as he caught sight of the purple thing sitting on the ground in the middle of the bodega. It whined, louder and louder.

Bomb. Bomb!

Peter's head shot around so fast he physically winced, but he caught sight of the teenager behind the counter. Working on instinct, he jumped over the counter as the whine reached its apex, wrapping his arms around the girl and pushing himself between her and the bomb. He squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as possible, gritting his teeth.

The world shook and she let out a surprised cry into his shoulder but didn't let go. Peter barely managed to hold down a whimper of fear. Be brave, be a hero. Be brave, be a hero. He could do it. He was fine.

He was fine.

Peter blinked his eyes open, moving carefully to peer over the counter.

"Dammit," he muttered. The rest of the windows had shattered, and just about every product in the store had been knocked back and now littered the ground. A tile fell from the ceiling, making him tense his shoulders. They'd gotten away. Some hero he was.

"I have a nickname for you, Peter," Karen said in his ear. He frowned in annoyance. Well, he had told her to tell him once the situation was over.

"Great," he snapped, stepping over the counter, his boot crunching on the glass. "What is it?"

"Peter-butter!"

"...Okay that's actually pretty good."

  ---

After double checking that the cashier was alright, Peter had fled the scene, cursing himself for how bad it had gone. Nobody had died, but that wasn't really the standard he was looking for. If anything, he'd really just made everything worse. Stupid, Parker, stupid!

The teenager sighed, dipping into the dark alleyway where his backpack had been left earlier. He grabbed it from under the crate of boxes where he'd hidden it, pressing the spider emblem on his chest, allowing the suit to cascade off of him. Frustrated, Peter ripped the mask off and untangled himself from the fabric at his feet, stuffing the items in his faded blue bag and jumping back into his own clothes, and, after a moment of hesitation, slipped into the hoodie that Mr. Stark had given him.

He pulled the bag over his shoulder and buried his hands into his pockets as he stepped out of the alleyway and back onto the streets in the direction of the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys. His brows were furrowed and his face squished into a deep frown. He couldn't believe he'd been given a superhero suit by literally Iron Man and he'd screwed it up immediately. He chittered nervously at the thought of Mr. Stark seeing what had happened at the bodega and realizing just how shit of a superhero his soulmate was.

As he was debating the likely-hood of Mr. Stark taking the suit back and never talking to him again for his screw up, his phone buzzed. Hesitantly, Peter pulled it out to find two texts waiting for him. One from Ned and one from Mr. Stark.

He clicked on the one from Ned first. The text app opened up to show Peter a grainy picture of him in his new suit followed by Ned's message of 'Excuse me??? tf is this?? tell me everything rn or im going to die'

Peter smiled faintly, making a mental note to call his friend in a few minutes. With a deep breath, he clicked on Mr. Stark's message.

Mr. Stark: I saw the news. You okay?

Peter blinked. He wasn't mad? He chewed on his lip as he sent a response, 'All good. Sorry I freaked you out.' 

Mr. Stark texted back almost immediately, 'No problem. Just glad you're good. Text ya later, kiddo.'

And that was that, Peter supposed. No...no nothing, really. He'd expected a lot more resistance or opposition from the billionaire, but he wasn't mad that he hadn't gotten any. He was about to call Ned when his phone buzzed again.

Mr. Stark: 'P.S. You can talk to and text Karen through your phone. Knock yourself out, Peter-butter.'

Well, that was embarrassing. But still kinda cool.

With a shake of his head, he finally dialed Ned's number. His friend only picked up after two rings with a breathless greeting.

"Yo, what the hell is up with that suit? Did Mr. Stark make it for you? Are you super hero buddies now!!? Officially his sidekick!!?"

Peter smiled, shaking his head in amusement as he stopped at a streetlight. "Yeah, Mr. Stark made it for me. It's cool right? It even has an AI!"

"It has an AI!!? Please, please, tell me you'll let me look at it."

"Duh. Yeah, you can look at it. We can go to your house after school." Peter thought for a moment, thinking of the alien weapons. He'd messed up today, probably disappointed Mr. Stark, but if he could take the whole operation down... "Besides, I need your help with something."

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

[reybitesback]

13 for the drabble thingie <3 also your art is MWAH chefs kiss <3

AWH thank you sm!!! Also I’m gunna assume this is for bkdk so sorry if you wanted smth else!! Also a little longer than planned but I had fun with it! Enjoy!!! 

Also sorry for grammar mistakes! It’s almost midnight and I don't wanna bother my beta rn ^-^

13: "Kiss me" Established relationship BKDK (Pro Heroes)

Rated T for language (1,181 words)

Izuku was pissed.

Not his run of the mill, misplaced keys or stain on his favourite shirt kind of angry. Izuku rarely got angry in the first place, so these were rare occurrences, but today was something different.

Being a part time tutor at UA and fighting for the spot of number one hero (against two of his best friends nonetheless), he had the time for nearly nothing. It had been months since he had gone out alone, let alone with his boyfriend of four years. 

Boyfriend of four years, who was very quickly going to be demoted to ex if he didn't show up to this restaurant soon god dammit-

They had booked a table for Izukus favourite restaurant weeks, no, it was months ago now. 

Of course your favourite place to eat is some high end expensive shit. Why don’t you wanna go eat somewhere cheap as shit and easy to book? Katsuki had whined.

It was his favourite place too.

Combined, they had been to this specific restaurant at least 120 times over the course of their 8 year relationship. 

So it was only reasonable they visited for their anniversary. 

Well. One of them would visit alone, it seemed.

Izuku was aware, very aware of his hero partner and boyfriends... complicated relationship with being on time. He was either 20 minutes early or 35 minutes late, absolutely no in-between, and had been chewed out by his PR time more times than he would care to admit for being so late to so many different live interviews.

But this? This was absurd.

Izuku, once neatly pressed suit now crumpled as he slouched in his seat, sipped on his fifth cup of red wine and moped. Izuku didn't even like wine, let alone red. 

He had been sat there, alone, in a bustling restaurant, for fifty minutes.

Fifty fucking minutes.

Unbelievable.

A waitress, meek and short, stumbled over. “W-Would you like to order some food sir? You’ve been here for quite a while. Unless you want another drink I could grab that for yo-”

“No he’s fine, we’ll call you over when we want something.” Snapped a harsh voice. Izuku raised his head from where it leant on his arm to see the waitress scurry off into the backroom, practically bowing on her way.

Slowly, he pulled his head up to meet his boyfriends eyes.

Katsuki stood tall, suit the most neatly pressed Izuku had ever seen on him. He never looked as neat at this, even at his own friends weddings.

A blazing glare met Katsukis. The grin he once sported dropped.

“Nice of you to show up, Katsuki.” Words driving with laced sarcasm. Wow. He really was pissed.

“Really, Deku? I’m fuckin’ here, aren't I?”

“I don’t want to argue here. Let’s just leave.” Izuku retorted, not even wanting to entertain Katsuki, who was definitely enjoying seeing his boyfriend so wound up. Izuku stood to grab his suit jacket, thrown over the back of the chair and fished his wallet out to pay his tab. Katsuki’s hand slapped over the card he had placed on the table.

“No. Not yet, don’t leave.” He breathed out, head dropping. “Let me explain myself, please.”

He looked regretful. This was an unusually look on Katsuki. Izuku sat back down and Katsuki pulled the chair across from him to seat himself. It scratched against the floor uncomfortably loudly.

The bustle of the restaurant likely drowned the screech out. Still, it rang through the tense air between the two men.

“I can explain.” Katsuki started, immediately fidgeting. Izuku internally smirked at how uncomfortable this was clearly making Katsuki. Good. He deserved this for humiliating him for so long. Asshole.

“Marry me.”

“What?” 

Izuku hadn't planned on interrupting his boyfriend, instead opting to hear him grovel with no indication whether Izuku would accept it or not. But this? This was unexpected.

“Fuck. Wait I didn’t mean to ask like that. I mean I was gonna- fuck let me start again. Shit. Sorry.” He bumbled over his words. His hand shot out to grasp at Izukus, who pulled away.

“Kacchan that’s not funny. None of this is fu-”

“No please, Izuku. Let me explain.” His eyes were sincere, bubbling and swirling with emotions like a bath about to overflow.

“I’m sorry I was late. I should’ve texted you first but I... fuck I didn't want to let you onto this. I guess. Um.” Their eyes met, green and red, quizzing each other. Izuku nodded for him to keep talking. Katsuki’s lungs pulled in a breath.

“I was late because I was run-in’ round tryna find the right ring, okay? The first shop had the right one in the wrong size and the second place was like a twenty minute walk but I thought if I ran I could make it before it closed but I was too la-” Izuku’s hand shot out and grabbed at where Katsuki’s rested on the table, thumb stroking his own.

“I was too late. The shop fuckin’ shut before I got there. I’ve been so busy I couldn’t find one any other time. It had to be tonight and...” He paused, sighing regretfully. “I failed. ‘M sorry ‘Zuku...” He mumbled over the last line.

“Oh Kacchan... It’s okay...” He said, slipping his free hand off the table.

“No it’s not. I fucked this whole fuckin’ night up. I embarrassed you. I’m so fucking sorry Izuku.”

“You absolutely did embarrass me. But,” Izuku started, then slipped off the chair he was perched on.

“I’m about to embarrass you even more...”

And in one motion, slipped down onto one knee.

With a ring box in his hand.

If it could, Katsuki was sure his jaw would have hit the floor so hard the tiling would have dented.

“Nerd?”

“This is why I was so upset. I thought the one day I had to do this was being ruined by you and your disastrous time management.”

“Well technically it was but...”

“Yea well. I guess we were on the same page about this then?” Izuku chuckled, motioning the velvet box in his hand. He flipped it open with a finger and presented it towards the blond man in the chair.

“Kacchan will you do me the honour of- woah!” 

Katsuki moved to grab the front of Izuku's suit, green tie and all, and pulled the shorter man up from his knees.

“Kiss me.” He huffed. “Then pop the question, idiot.”

Izuku giggled. “That’s definitely not how it works. I thought the kissing came after.”

“Whatever, nerd. Kiss me, right now, or I return the ring and you to the store.”

Sighing, Izuku smiled. Acutely aware of the crowd of restaurant goers now gawking at them, ready to clap when one of them eventually said ‘yes’ but not quite finding it in him to care, Izuku pulled himself toward Katsuki and planted a firm kiss against his warm lips. 

As the pair melted against one another, Katsuki mumbled something only Izuku could hear through the rasp in his voice.

“Yea, I’ll be your husband...”

[puddygeeks]

𝑾𝒂𝒓 𝑶𝒇 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 - 𝑪𝒓𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒔, 𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒅 𝒙 𝑶𝑪 - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 8: 𝑮𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝑶𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Summary: 𝐴𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑜𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠. 𝑊𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝐴𝑈 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦, 𝑚𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑡.

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC

Status: Ongoing

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑑𝑢𝑙𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑤. 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑢𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟, 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑏𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 & 𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝐴𝑈'𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘. 𝐼𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑢𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑑, 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤.

Eᴘɪsᴏᴅᴇ: Pʀᴇ Sᴇᴀsᴏɴ 1

Chapter Eight

“You know, it’s remarkably similar to Brighton Pier here.” I commented, fanning myself in desperation under the scolding sun and Ricky pushed his large sunglasses down to allow me to feel the full force of his judgement. “Well, except that it’s unmistakably hotter, obviously.”

“How dare you compare this beautiful sandy bliss to your pebble filled nightmare?” He remarked with a sweeping hand gesture at the beach, before sipping out of his straw with offence and I rolled my eyes at him.

Ricky has always been a force to be reckoned with, but as he got older, he only grew more confident and I was constantly inspired by how comfortable he was in himself. His thick brunette hair reached his collarbones now, but he currently had it pushed back out of his face with a colourful bandana so that he could tan. In order for him to worship the sun to his full capacity, he was wearing a worryingly small pair of shorts and had stretched himself across a lounger like the diva that he absolutely was.

“Hmm. Your actual beach is better, I’ll give you that one. But you’re seriously lacking on drag queens, quirky cafes and fancy boutiques to shop in.” I pointed out, fondly recalling the whirlwind weekend that we’d spent in the British city the last time that he’d visited me and he shrugged in defeat.

“Touché. You win this round.” He admitted, laying back to bask himself again, whilst I shuffled my sensitive skin further under the sun umbrella that he’d reluctantly agreed to allow me to bring over on the condition that it didn’t cause a single shred of shade over him.

It was a beautiful day, only improved by the quality of my company and I had to admit that I was endlessly pleased to have decided to extend my stay for another few days. Despite the years that had passed since we had last been in each other's physical company, Ricky was still able to put me at ease in a way that no one else had ever been able to emulate and I cherished the opportunity to simply relax with him at the Virginia Boardwalk.

“So, what’s it like being an FBI agent?” Ricky asked, turning his attention back to me with a smug expression. “Is it wonderful knowing that you have the power to stop anyone in their tracks? I would absolutely abuse my power for evil, but I know you’re too pure for that.” He muttered with delight and I chuckled at him knowingly. The things that he would use an FBI badge to accomplish didn’t even bear thinking about.

“Darling. I already told you. I’m not an FBI agent. I’m still a technical analyst for Interpol. I’m just on loan.” I repeated, already losing count of how many times I had made this distinction, but he still seemed as unconvinced by this as he was the first time that I told him.

“Oh, semantics! Sounds to me like you’re working for them and considering that you saved a girl from a burning building like a freaking hero, I’m just going to treat you like one.” He argued, seeming amused as if I were simply downplaying things, when realistically, it was a case of him dramatising the arrangement, as he did with most things. “We have an FBI agent in the family. That’s pretty cool.”

“There is absolutely no reasoning with you.” I groaned, shaking my head in embarrassment and he shrugged dismissively, as if this were an obvious fact that I should have accepted already. “How’s university going? Have you sorted your accommodation for your second year yet?”

“College is going fine. I’ve done a fantastic job being the life of the party, so I have plenty of offers for people to live with. My only struggle is choosing people who aren’t completely filthy as housemates. I can’t live in a grubbly little student hovel.” He explained, seeming repulsed by the very idea and I raised a brow at his diva attitude. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not being dramatic. My first year in dorms, I shared a bathroom with straight men. You don’t understand the trauma that I’ve lived through.”

“Does your mother know that you haven’t arranged housing yet?” I interrogated, already sensing a hint of dishonesty in him and his features quickly contorted into a guilty look. “Rituparan! I understand being picky, but you’ll end up with no choice other than to live with the grimy jocks if you don’t hurry up. You need to get organised.” I scolded, earning an eye roll so severe that I worried his face might never recover from the strain.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Alley Cat. I’ll get it sorted. Now, drink your mocktail before it gets too diluted.” He ordered, sipping down the last of his drink and placing the little umbrella from the top in his hair with a flourish. The moment that he faced me, I knew that he had mischief in mind.

“Okay. Are you ready? Who am I?” He pouted so dramatically that his cheeks all but disappeared and I almost choked on my drink.

“Oh, too easy! That is the unforgettable Lola, the only woman on the planet who considers a cocktail umbrella the perfect hair accessory for any occasion.” I answered, earning a cheer and wicked laugh of satisfaction from him. “You know, I love having someone else to mock dad’s exes with. You’d think the fact that he only dates women my age would mean we’d have something in common, but alas, apparently a sense of humour isn’t shared by age group.”

“Of course they’re not funny! The only thing those girls come with is a price tag.” He sassed, flipping his hair back out of his face in a ridiculously bitchy gesture and I was immediately reminded of just how much I loved him. “At least you don’t have to pretend to like Tanya anymore. Honestly, if she had a second brain cell, she’d be dangerous.”

“Oh, no! They broke up?” I gasped, almost sounding convincing with my upset and he whipped his head around with drastic confusion. “I guess she had to bleed my dad dry of pocket money eventually.” I drawled, prompting a small yelp of surprise and a quick high five from Ricky.

Tanya had been dating my dad for just over six months now, so I knew that she was likely to be approaching her expiration date soon. His routine was well known amongst the entire family now and in an effort to counter the embarrassment that it caused for my mother and I, it had become a running joke for us all to share.

“Didn’t you hear the details?” Ricky crooned, turning to face me fully on his lounger with a devious expression and I shrugged nonchalantly. “According to Maji, she tried to charge her lip fillers to his business credit card. Caused all sorts of uproar at the office. I guess she’ll be making that duck face at someone else’s wallet now.” He divulged, pouting into an exaggerated model face for effect and I struggled not to splutter my drink everywhere in response.

Ricky’s mother always seemed to know everything that was happening in our family and I’d long believed that this was where he’d learned to dig information out of people. She was abnormally gifted in guilt tripping the truth out of even the most hardened family members and yet, she doted on Ricky as if he was the very thing that made her world turn. If I ever wanted to know what was going on in my dad’s life, I knew that I could rely on her to be up to date with events.

Before I could manage to recover enough to speak, my mobile rang with it’s sharp tone and I had to clamber around in my bag to find it. As soon as I saw the private number, my eyes grew wide in dread.

“Oh, no! The bat phone?” Ricky asked, seeming genuinely horrified that I might be called into work and I quickly nodded, before holding a finger to my lips to shush him.

“Agent Hawthorne.” I answered, feeling utterly ridiculous referring to myself this way in my current company. This insecurity was only made worse by Ricky sliding his shades back on in a judgemental manner and I gestured to him to stop distracting me.

“Alice. This is Hotch. Are you still in Virginia?”

The voice on the other end of the phone was as serious as ever and though I was enormously relieved to find that it wasn’t anyone from Interpol trying to order me home, I felt nerves building in my chest already.

“Yes, Sir. I am.” I reported, noticing Ricky raising his brows at me in interest and I knew that he was dying to know what was being said.

“I realise that you’re spending time with family, but would you be able to come into the office for a meeting? I have a matter that I would like to discuss with you in person, if possible.” Hotch requested, allowing me absolutely no hint of the cause for this meeting and I felt my face change into one of alarm.

My mind had already begun racing with all of the possible complications that I could be facing for my actions at the base now that all of the documentation for the case had been submitted and I was terrified that if any further charges were brought against me, they could contradict the deal that I made with Interpol to avoid imprisonment.

“Yes, Sir. I’ll come in right away.” I stuttered, attempting to fight down my terror. My hands shook with nerves as I hung up on the call and Ricky looked positively thrilled to have been given the opportunity to witness this conversation, as if he’d just been personally included in a matter of national security.

“It’s a good thing that you went for virgin cocktails, my dear. I have to get back to Quantico.” I confessed, quickly burying my nerves so that he wouldn’t sense trouble.

“Oh my god! This is so exciting!” He announced, hopping straight to his feet and flustering to grab his belongings that were spread across every surface around him. “One cab for Agent Hawthorne, coming right up!”

--⥈--

Outfit: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/460070918191621506/

Standing in the lift of the Quantico building, I was overwhelmed with anxiety. I had been in such a rush to get here that it hadn’t even crossed my mind to change clothes, or to do anything to prepare my appearance at all. Though I knew that I didn’t have any more office clothes with me anyway, I acknowledged that I could at least have found something that provided a little more coverage and didn’t leave me feeling so exposed.

The idea of walking through an office where everyone was dressed smartly, wearing a white floral mini dress was an absolute nightmare and I realised that I only had a few minutes to make any changes. All I could think to do was to untie my waist length hair, shaking it out to at least cover some of my arms and attempting to make it look styled.

The doors opened to reveal a full office, with most of the team present at their desks and I gulped nervously. My dress felt as if it had actually shrunk in size since the beach now that I would be seen in it by people that I had worked with and I had to remind myself that I had bigger things to worry about with being called to come here than my attire.

JJ’s heels clicked on the polished floor as she entered the reception, her professional appearance clashing horribly with the casual style of my low top converses and I tried not to feel intimidated.

“Alice! I know that I said we wanted to see you again soon, but this is a little crazy.” She breezed as she approached me with a warm smile and I tried to force myself to relax. “Hotch is just finishing a call and he’ll be out to meet you.” She explained, before her gaze fell onto my outfit and I felt myself physically become stiff under her scrutiny. “You look pretty!”

“Oh, thanks. I was just on the beach. I’ve already worn all of my work clothes so, um, this is all I have?” I offered, shifting awkwardly and she smiled sympathetically at me.

“We’ve all been called in at unexpected times. I was literally collected from home in my pajamas once. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” She soothed, leaning closer to me as she spoke so that no one would overhear my concern and I let out a long breath in relief.

“Besides, I know that Hotch is just going to appreciate you being able to come in at such short notice. I hope you got to enjoy at least a little bit of your time off before we intruded?” She asked with an honest concern in her eyes and just as I opened my mouth to see if she could give me even the slightest hint of what to expect, Hotch stepped into the room.

“Alice. Thank you for coming so quickly.” He stated in his usual serious manner, reaching straight to shake my hand and I complied immediately, forcing a smile through my nerves. “I’ll try not to take up too much of your time. Let’s talk in my office.” He offered, opening the glass doors to the main office for me and I stepped through hesitantly.

Within approximately two steps of entering the space, I could already feel eyes on me and tried not to allow myself to be unnerved by the attention. The anxious voice in the back of my mind screamed that I was the most inappropriate looking member of staff to ever enter this office, but I forced myself to keep my head held high as Ricky had always preached.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Spencer was watching me from his desk as if he’d been stopped in his tracks and I waved subtly at him, prompting him to hurriedly do the same back in a fluster. Morgan passed Hotch distractedly, before he noticed that I was following him with obvious surprise.

“Looking good, Poppins. Welcome back.” He muttered as he squeezed beside me, sneaking a charming smile and thanks to the combined warmth of the two men, once again I felt my nerves beginning to settle slightly.

Hotch encouraged me to take a seat in his office, before closing the door behind us and I felt as if I couldn’t think straight in the silence that followed. He settled into the seat opposite me, knitting his hands together on the desk between us and despite feeling before that I had reached the point where I could understand his expressions, his face at this moment was completely unreadable.

“For a start, I want to discuss what happened at the Twenty Nine Palms base.” He opened, his stern eyes studying my face for every minute reaction and though my heart sank at the suggested topic, I nodded back calmly.

“Whilst it can’t be denied that your actions resulted in saving a young girl's life, they were also unacceptably reckless. You demonstrated absolutely no regard for your own safety and jeopardised the reputation of the whole team. You are aware that we appreciate your support, but I’m not convinced that you realise we are legally and morally responsible for your wellbeing whilst you are under our service and that I would be personally held accountable for your death as a result of your irresponsible actions.” He lectured, his voice sounding even more severe than it had when I was in the ambulance and I felt my confidence crumbling with every word that he spoke.

It became clear that he had paused his speech to allow me the chance to explain myself and I cleared my throat to speak with a feeling of terror.

“I’m truly sorry for my actions, Sir. You are entirely right. I was reckless and selfish, and I didn’t consider how my behaviour would reflect on your team, and especially on you. I’m not going to make excuses. I just want you to know that I accept any and all consequences that you feel are appropriate.” I answered calmly, ensuring that I kept my tone calm and respectful, and he sighed as he studied me.

“I didn’t call you in here to punish you, Alice. This is a conversation, not a lecture. What I aim to understand is why an agent with no field experience, or any personal stake in the case, felt that they had no choice other than to risk their own life to save a child who they’d never met?” He clarified, his entire demeanour remaining unchanged even as he moved to a gentler tactic of questioning and I chewed on my lip.

It took a few moments for me to consider how best to answer this, but eventually I decided that I respected this team as a whole too much to lie. I prepared myself for a conversation that I knew would likely change his opinion of me permanently, but assured myself that honesty was a necessity at this point.

“When I was fifteen years old, my mother was abducted.” I began, glancing down at my hands as I spoke to avoid the intensity of his gaze. “It took four months for her to be found and when she came home, she was a different person. I never saw the mother that went missing again.” I paused, clearing my throat to keep the emotion from my voice before continuing.

“Three years later, a girl at my university went missing. She wasn’t the first, but the stakes were high as all of the others had been found murdered. I obsessed over everything that my mother had survived to come home and I couldn’t imagine how awful it would be to endure that at just eighteen years old. So, I began looking into the case and after a while of digging, I compiled enough information to anonymously assist law enforcement in safely recovering the missing girl. I realised then that I had the skills to make a difference to the world and I kept going, one missing person at a time, until Interpol found me.”

“You were given a choice between conviction, or working for them?” Hotch asked knowingly, as if he’d seen this very situation many times before and I recalled the recent conversation that I’d had with Penelope about hackers frequently being recruited through their questionable activities. I nodded slowly in response, deciding that this wasn’t the time to divulge any further information about the circumstances of my hiring.

“I didn’t join this field by choice. It was never the plan for my life. Don’t get me wrong, I always wanted to help people. I actually trained to become a psychiatrist, like my dad, but a job like this had never even been on my radar. Yet, here I am.” I explained, shrugging awkwardly as I realised that this sounded like I was ungrateful for the mercy that I was shown and I tried to be more careful with my wording when I spoke again.

“When I was standing in front of that building, watching the smoke pour out of it, all I could think about was how my mother told me that she spent every minute of every day that she was in captivity praying to come home. I could just imagine Amanda doing the same thing, hoping with everything she had that someone would save her and I was right there.” I stopped as frustration seeped into my voice, allowing myself to regain control so that I could resume my explanation.

“I knew that there was a chance that she was still alive and I felt like everything that had happened, all of the crazy unplanned situations that had led me to being there at that exact time were so that I could save her. It sounds insane, but it was like my legs moved before I had even decided what I was going to do. For the first time in my career, I trusted my team, this team to have my back and with all due respect, Sir, it was the right thing to do.” I finally finished my rant, forcing myself to meet his eyes to allow him to see my sincerity and I was shocked to find that his face was filled with understanding, causing me to realise that he was already filling in the blanks between my words.

“You said that this was the first time that you felt this way about your team. You shouldn’t be working with people that you can’t rely on. In our line of work, we are forced to face horrors that most people can’t even begin to imagine. The people around you should be your anchor in the storm.” Hotch advised, causing my eyes to become watery and I sniffed back my emotions, desperate not to cry in front of him. “You have options, Alice.”

“What options? Prison?” I scoffed, recalling my conversation with Shepard with a flinch.

Though I had thought in detail about leaving Interpol many times since my recruitment, I knew in a serious light that it was merely a fantasy and nothing more. Without my employment to them, I was considered as nothing more than a threat to security and returning to normal civilian life was no longer something that I could consider.

“Join our team.” Hotch offered, causing my mouth to drop open in shock and I noticed the corners of his lips twitch slightly upward at my reaction.

“It’s clear that you are neither happy, nor valued at Interpol. You have already proven the difference that you could make across multiple cases and the entire team have agreed that you make an excellent addition.” He elaborated, listing reasons that I struggled to even associate with myself and I couldn’t seem to form a response, as I stuttered in the silence.

“But, I-Sir, we just discussed how I jeopardised this team. I don’t mean to seem rude, or ungrateful because I absolutely am not, but I fail to see how I’ve given you the impression that I would make a suitable field agent. You already have Penelope for technical support, so I’m not sure what else you could need me for here.” I pointed out, hardly able to wrap my head around the sudden detour that this conversation had taken and found myself baffled at the very concept of him offering to employ me.

“When your team brought you for the Valeno case, you showed potential that they were purposefully dismissive of. After you left, Gideon suggested that I speak to you about a position within the BAU. Unfortunately, at the time we didn’t have the available resources to do this. Due to the recent successes of this team, we’ve been granted the budget to expand and I would be foolish to ignore a candidate who has already contributed to that success. You are a good fit and the first choice of every member in this unit.” He presented, completely disregarding my concerns and when I looked at him with confusion, he sighed.

“I have discussed the recent incident with Gideon and we share the opinion that with the correct mentoring and the support of a team that believes in your worth, you could be an exceptional field agent.” He divulged, causing me to raise my brows impossibly higher in surprise.

It was bizarre enough that Hotch wanted me to join the team, but finding out that Gideon had been the instigator for this offer blew what remained of my psyche to pieces and Hotch cleared his throat to regain my attention from my inner turmoil.

“The offer would, of course, be conditional. It would be based on your own commitment to overcoming your experiences. None of us are immune to personal biases and each of us have elements of our pasts that make certain cases more challenging for us than the others. However, we rely on each other to hold us accountable, and have all learned to be objective and to know our limits. If you think this is something that you can also undertake, then there is a place here for you. As long as you want it.” Hotch clarified, causing me to stare back at him in blatant disbelief.

“I-I honestly don’t know what to say.” I stuttered, fiddling with my hair anxiously and Hotch cracked a rare smile at me. “It isn’t as simple for me as just changing state. My life is in France now. I’ve already left my mum behind once in England. I’d also have to renounce my dual nationality and become an American citizen.” I thought aloud, considering the enormity of the decision before me and Hotch nodded in understanding.

“Can I have some time to think about it?” I asked nervously, unsure of what else to say and Hotch seemed completely unsurprised by my reaction, as if he’d actually been expecting it.

“Of course. It’s a serious decision that you aren’t expected to make right away. Take all of the time that you need.”

--⥈--

“Girl. Your life is crazy!” Ricky gasped, studying me with a fascinated expression and I had to laugh at his dramatic reaction, despite mostly agreeing with the sentiment. “You’re gonna say yes, right?”

I sighed deeply as I considered this question and the way that he considered me now revealed exactly how insane he thought I was for even needing to think about it. In order to avoid his prying eyes, I stood to start clearing away the takeaway boxes that littered my hotel room bed, but Ricky refused to be silenced.

“Alice. Honey. What are you doing?! Life at Interpol has been miserable for you since day one. You said it yourself. I can’t imagine anything there that could be worth turning this offer down for!” He scolded, staring at me in complete disbelief and I shook my head at his youthful attitude to things.

“It’s more complicated than that. I never planned to work in this sector at all, much less as an FBI agent!” I explained, still struggling to process the fact that this was even an option that was open to me. It felt as if it had come from nowhere and I was already overwhelmed with the mere concept of making such a serious life decision.

“This isn’t just a job that we’re talking about here. It’s a completely different life. I need to be sure that I can handle it, before I move away from everything that I know. I’d hardly ever get to see mum and Roger.” I clarified, struggling to make him understand the severity of the situation.

“You never visit your mama anyway! I should know. I overhear Maji talking to her about it enough.” He groaned, only causing me to feel even worse about the idea of moving even further away from her.

“Besides, if you took it then you’d be living right near me and there isn’t any better benefit than that!” He added, posing across the bed as if he were the most important factor in the proposal and I chuckled at him with fondness. He sighed at my lack of enthusiasm, before dropping to a more serious tone.

“The most important thing for all of us is your happiness. You’d be crazy to stay somewhere that is making your whole existence taste like bad Aloo Gobi. And you deserve better than that! You deserve for your life to always be like Maji’s cooking, full of love and happiness.” He described, seeming as if he’d distracted himself along the way and he glanced back down at his plastic container of curry with disdain.

“You realise that you have a gift for being able to relate literally anything to food, right?” I remarked playfully, observing him with amazement and he shrugged carelessly.

“Food is one of the most enjoyable things that sustains us. It’s important.” He argued passionately and I couldn’t think of a single point to dispute his statement with, having to allow him the pleasure of being correct. “Fortunately, Mumbai Gardens is able to provide an almost authentic experience, right here in the heart of Virginia. A good meal can heal many things, you know. Even the stress of your biggest ever life decision.”

“That’s high praise coming from you. Could it pass the home test though, do you think?” I queried with curiosity as I disposed of the remaining trash with the Mumbai Gardens logo on it and he scoffed as if I’d asked something utterly ridiculous.

“Not a chance! Even Mama would be able to tell you that it wasn’t completely correct. You know, she’s actually been with Maji long enough now to have better cooking taste than some of my other actual Indian friends.” He revealed, showing his love for his step mom, who happened to be my paternal aunt Heather, clear in his voice.

I couldn’t withhold a wide grin as I thought of my aunts, both filled with a warmth that radiated even in my memories. Heather and Ricky’s mum, Nabhitha, had been married for almost ten years now and were the main reason that I still had any faith in true love. They had done an admirable job of raising Ricky together, with Heather always treating him as if he was her biological son and I was endlessly proud of them. Thanks to them, Ricky had grown into the confident, funny teenager that I loved. Their blissful blended family gave me hope for my own future.

“I just had an idea.” Ricky breezed, sitting up particularly straight as if he could barely contain his enthusiasm and I turned back to face him with interest. “If you take this job, we could totally rent a place together! I could be your stylist extraordinaire, in-house councillor and professional Indian chef.” He suggested, his eyes gleaming with excitement and I scoffed loudly at the idea.

“Absolutely not. I’ve already got enough on my plate, without considering parenting you, Ricky.” I laughed, wincing at even the thought of dealing with his dramatics on a daily basis and he gasped at my refusal, seeming as if he could never have expected me to refuse his generous offer. “You can be as offended as you like, but I still don’t have the energy to deal with a college kid in my space. I’m not gonna be your easy way out of student housing. Pick some other teenagers to live with already.”

“Fine. I was offering you a lifestyle of sheer luxury, but I guess I’ll just have to take my fabulous self somewhere that I’ll be better appreciated.” He announced, acting as if he were hurt by my denial, before quickly softening back into a smile barely a few seconds later. “You should definitely think some more about taking the job though, queen. You deserve a fresh start.”

“We’ll see.” I conceded with a chuckle, desperate to simply end the conversation. “Now, which film do you want to rent?”

[rezdogsyonder]

Changing

Pairing: Peter Parker x Tall!Reader

Summary: Peter has found his soulmate but does she feel the same? Basically a soulmate au but different

Warnings: kidnapping, drugging,

A/N: Peter is aged up. Also I changed his powers just a tiny bit just one thing and the rest is the same.

This peice is unfinished and it will remain unfinished because I’m leaving tumblr and will not be returning. If you wish to continue this you may.

*********

Fuck. Not right now. Not today.

That’s all you can think as you’re nearly late for your first day as an photographer. It isn’t the first place you wanted to work for but you need the money. Well probably not a “real” photographer. You’re not hired for the job on a regular basis, but for their front page photos of Spider-Man. It’s cool, Spider-Man won’t let anybody else take his photos.

Well, it’s not really your first day but it’s the first day that Jameson is actually considering you as his official Spider-Man photographer. Before you usually would email him asking if he needed more photos and now he is finally now telling you that you’re going to be the official photographer for the weekly Spider-Man pieces.

You have started a blog for the hero and hopefully it will gain traction and maybe you’ll get to make an income from it. But for now you have to sell your photos to the Daily Bugle.

The rent is due Friday and you get a check from the gas station you work at that day, it won’t be enough to cover it though. But with a check after each batch of photos you provide will put you way over the green this pay day.

You’re rushing about your medium sized 1 room apartment. This place was a gem, the only reason this place was as cheap as a studio is because a billboard was directly across from the extremely large windows. Lighting up your entire apartment. It didn’t bother you much, it saved on electricity from never having to turn on the lights and all you needed was blackout curtains in your room.

You are not changing shirts but you squeeze into a pair of black pants. The grey boyfriend cardigan getting tucked in the back, but it doesn’t deter you from running to the bathroom and vigorously brushing your teeth. You’ll have to forgo the entire makeup routine but you have time for foundation and mascara.

Rushing back into your bedroom you pull a pair of socks from the top drawer of your dresser and look at your alarm clock. 9:42. 18minutes till you’re late. Well you know in Jameson’s eyes you are already late but he screams at you no matter what.

Your second shoe is tied, you got your purse and it has your wallet, phone, and keys already. You run out of your room and in the hallway of the complex. Fuck, locking these doors seems to be the longest part of leaving. 3 locks, self installed with the extra long screws. Never needed this much security before but some blind asshole next door seems to always be getting into fights. Like what the fuck, how hard is it to not fight someone, and then he leads them here.

Once the doors are locked and you’re out of the building you look at your phone. 9:44. 16 minutes to go around 2 miles. Well broadway cuts across, so probably less, but anyways you gotta run it. Now you’re not the most fit person, but you are able to push yourself more than what others would think you’d be able to.

Dodging people and avoiding running into the road, you make it to the first turn. Basically a straight shot now, but it seems as though people are wanting to be in your way today. You would love a bike right about now. Though you’d have a really high chance of getting hit by a car. But it’s right about the same risk since you are not stopping at the do not walk signs.

One car almost did hit you, but it braked in time but not without you slapping the hood as you went by. Not on purpose but from loss of balance. Well you probably would have slapped it anyways. Your face burns from the run, and the heat, it is the end of summer but it is still pretty hot out.

Oh god, this is awful, you’re just a more than halfway and you nearly ran into an old man and his wife outside of m&m world.

“Sorry!” You shout back but it’s not very loud and sounds winded. You won’t stop though.

Just a couple more turns. Just two more turns. Just one more. You keep telling yourself that you’re almost there, legs straining the muscles from the over exertion.

You get into the building and run to the elevator. You know you probably look unprofessional right about now but you don’t care. You just need to catch your breath.

You press the right floor and dig through your purse. The small mirror being a lifesaver as of recently, since being late is seeming to become a common ovccurance. You pat your forehead with the sleeve of your cardigan. You don’t look too bad, but not the best. You check the time, 9:58. Not bad, you’ll be just 1 minute early. The elevator ride giving you just enough time to breath properly.

The elevator doors open to the busy floor, and you go over to Jameson’s assistant, not even reaching her desk before she points her pen behind her to his office.

“L/N!” He immediately shouts, “Where are those photos?” He is still looking out the window behind his desk.

“Right here sir,” you pull the envelope out of your purse holding it out for him to take it. Which he does, ripping the lip of the envelope and begins examining your photos.”

“850. Tell Betty on your way out.” He plops you’re photos on his desk.

“850? That’s not my rate, there are 12 photos there.”

“These just aren’t worth your usual rate. 850.” He argues back, you’ve seen this before, had you been any smaller or even sitting he would have put his hands on his desk and leaned towards you to seem intimidating, but right now he looks like a child with his hands balled at his side.

“65 per photo or I go to The Post.” You won’t back down. That’s nearly a thousand, and you don’t want to let it go, even if it is less than 200 more than what he offered but you need it.

He stares at you, he’s turning red now in the ears. You collect your photos calling his bluff.

“Fine,” he grumbles, he presses a button on the small speaker on his desk, “Betty, write out a check for L/N for 975.” He released the button and you put the photos down. “Get out of here, she’ll call when we have another piece.”

“You’re a peach,” you smiled as you back out of his office. “Hey Betty, how’re you doing this week?”

“Just fine, but his wife wants me to control his anger as soon as his meds are sorted. Not looking forward to that.” She finishes filling out the check on her computor, and with one last click that is so familiar to you now, you know she printed it.

“Jesus, I do not want to be here for that.” You step back four steps to the printer and rip off the receipt at the bottom that she needs to keep and hand it to her. “Good luck, because you will need it. Thanks, see you next week!” You wave bye as the doors close.

Letting out a sigh of relief, and tucking your check into your wallet. You’re glad you won’t have to worry anymore. With this check you’ll have four or five hundred more than you’ll need for rent, meaning you won’t have to scrape by for grocerys.

You better hurry though, you have an hour till your next shift at the gas station and you still need a shower.

**********

The hours are going by slowly, with few customers to keep you distracted. Just 4 more hours and you get to call it a night. It has already been 6 hours since you clocked in and there had only been a handful of customers, making the day uncharacteristically slow.

Your phone begins vibrating on the small fridge below the counter, the shift managers name on the display screen. Seeing as there’s no customers you think it is fine to answer.

“Hello? Debby?” You greet subconciously.

“Y/N I have some bad news.” She pauses, “the person who is supposed to relieve you is refusing to come in. She quit.”

“What am I supposed to do? I’ve been here since 11:30, I don’t think it’s allowed for me to work past 1. Wasn’t her shift supposed to last till 8?”

“Yes I know but you are legally allowed to work till 4:30, and that is when I’ll take over because I cannot find another person to cover her shift. It’s only alright because I’m switching your shift tomorrow with Alex and you’ll have the day off to recuperate. Then it’s your usual day off the next so I think that’s enough time to get back to normal.”

“So I’m leaving at 4:30?” Disbelief evident in your voice.

“Yes, I’m sorry, I would get there now but John doesn’t come home until late tonight because he took the graveyard shift at his job and I can’t leave J.C. alone.”

“Yeah I understand, family comes first.”

“Thank you, you’re the best. See ya later.”

“Yeah, see you.”

You put down your phone and mentally prepare yourself for another 11 hours.

**********

Three red bulls, and a seasonal pumpkin spice coffee from the dispenser and it was almost midnight.

Many more customers has came in after the call, the universe seemingly wanting to tire you out further. Then it began slowing down again after 9. The time you were supposed to be going home if Patricia didn’t fucking refuse to come in.

It was about that time that a young man came in, wearing a dark suit but without the blazer. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Light brown hair and pale skin, he looked breathtaking. He quickly rounds to the back grabbing three of the big bottles of water.

“Just these for me...” he trails off as he sniffs, then he looks up and makes eye contact with you.

You two are staring at each other for a few seconds, his stare becoming unbearable and you look away.

“Ok sir... that’ll be 5.97.” You still feel his gaze. Refusing to look up, you bag his things. You hear his card slide through the machine.

“Thank you sir, have a nice night.”

“Yeah... you too.” And with that he was gone. Leaving you to think about this stranger for the rest of your shift.

**********

As promised, Debbie came at 4:30. You left to walk home. It was nice living basically across the street from your work. A short walk, but you still felt a sense of unease.

Looking all around you, you don’t spot any suspicious people. Not even one heading in the same direction as you. You let out a small sigh as you cross the road. But it does nothing to calm your nerves.

You’re trying not to seem panicked as you try to get through the door to your building but it might be obvious with how you’re shaking.

Past the door you let go if your breath that you didn’t know you were holding. Finally able to calm down. You walked to apartment, using the elevator instead of the stairs.

Once at your door your heart beat seems to have gone back to normal, but before you even put your key in the door you feel the hairs at the back of your neck stand up. You don’t know what it is, maybe it’s just a chill.

Unlocking all the locks you go inside, greeted by the bright pink fluorescent lights. You shut the door behind you and drop your bag on the floor. Too tired to care. Moving to go into your room, knowing that you’re not going to change into pajamas either.

Well probably take of the pants. Yeah, jeans are never comfy.

Shoes kicked off, pants off, bra off with some difficulty from your long sleeves, blankets pulled back and you’re ready for bed. You’re getting in when you hear a creek in the living room, but you don’t see anyone so it’s maybe the upstairs neighbours.

You turn around once more to lay down and you feel a pinprick at your neck. You slump over and you feel hands at your shoulders, picking you up in their arms.

Eyes won’t open, and you are quickly losing consciousness.

“Shh, you’re safe with me.”

*********

Your head is pounding, that’s what wakes you up. You still feel groggy and it makes your eyelids feel incredibly heavy. You want to sleep for more but your eyes keep fighting to open.

Once they do you are met with a room that is not your own. Everything is white, except the headboard which is a light grey, matching the bedside table. You look around, about 6 feet from the foot of the bad is a back door and there’s a bathroom to the left of the bed with the door wide open.

You run to the closed door, you grasp the handle but you get a head rush and are unable to turn the handle for a good 5 seconds. It’s no use though, the door was locked, and it doesn’t seem like a regular lock. It seems more advanced, it’s a regular handle but it’s warm, and doesn’t have any keyhole. It’s also not as big as a hotel handle, like the ones with the scanners. Irrelevant, but your mind is running a million miles an hour and you’re trying really hard to not panic.

You realize that you aren’t wearing your pants but a pair of sweats were at the edge of the king bed. You quickly pull them on. Your kidnapper has already seen your ass, but it’s a little bit comforting. Your bladder is full and it is more apparent now than a couple minutes ago.

They aren’t here yet, better be quick. You half jog into the bathroom it has a large sink and a nice looking shower, but you don’t want to use it due to there being no lock on the bathroom door and the shower door is glass. Not even one of those blurred glass doors, it is crystal clear.

You had already peed and we’re washing your hands when you hear a small beep and the locks opening. You’re drying your hands when you hear a knock at the door. You don’t answer.

Another knock, you stared at the door, a low sigh is heard and the door swings open.

It was the man from last night, except now he was covering his eyes with his hand.

“I swear I’m not looking but please come out right now.”

“... alright.” You’re voice is a little rough and just above a whisper.

“Thank you.” He turned around leaving the door open and you follow.

“Come with me.” he waves his hand over the lock and the beep is heard again.

He leads you through the door into a long hallway, when he turned to the left so did you. There’s no point in running when he would catch you in less than 2 seconds.

You pass by 4 doors, one on your left and three on your right. The fifth door on the right you entered and it was an office.

“Sit.” And you did, he sat behind the large desk and leaned forward with his elbows on it. “I need to tell you something that would be hard to hear. Hell, hard to believe, but just know that everything I’m telling you is true.”

You nodded when he paused and looked at you. You felt so out of place and uncomfortable. Heart beating so fast and hard, it feels as though it’s bursting out of your chest. Your hands slightly shaking and feet tapping where you sat on the edge of this obviously expensive chair.

“I’m going to be frank with you alright? You are my soulmate.”

You freeze, “wait... what?” You didnt believe it, he was right. He’s crazy. Soulmates were a rare thing in this world. How would he know? He only knew you for 5 seconds so why does he know? Why would he take you?

“We are soulmates. I felt it when I first met eyes with you, I know that you did too. I took you here because, to put it simply, you would be safe. There are many people after me and if they learned of your existsence they would find you and use you against me.”

“H-how do I know your not lying?” You stare at the lines in the wood of his desk, refusing to look up. When you look him in the eyes you feel the same pull that you did back at the gas station. You hear rustling and you glance up for just a second, then you look back when you realize it’s just his arm that he wants you to look at.

He begins rolling his sleeves like the way you saw last night. Or was it even still the next day? You don’t know. Not seeing any clock or any windows since you were at your home.

Beautiful lines are spread across his forearm and you realize it wasn’t there before. “Can you look at your arm?” His voice is gentle, like he’s trying to be comforting.

You stare at his arm as you pull your sleeve up, then you look down at a blank arm. You pull up your other sleeve just as roughly and see the same tattoo that he has. You touch it gently as though it’ll smear if you are as rough as you were two seconds ago.

“Mine showed up a little after I stepped out of that store. I guess you didn’t notice yours.” You rub at yours and it won’t come off, and the skin isn’t raised as though you have a regular tattoo.

“What does this mean?”

“This means that you are now mine.” You feel tears welling in your eyes.

“So I can’t go home?”

“No, and some things are going to change.” You look at him wide eyed, fearful for the changes that he has in mind.

“So I’m sure you have heard of the powered people of New York, and I am telling you that I am one of them. Not only that, but I am a member of the avengers.” He pauses, you feel his eyes on you and you can only assume he is trying to gauge your reaction. “But I didn’t achieve my abilities through government testing or anything of the sort. I was bit by a mutant spider and I gained the spiders abilities.”

“You’re... Spider-Man?”

“That’s right. Now that you’re here, I will have to give you the same abilities I have so that we will be on equal grounds.”

“How are you going to do that?” You look up at his face.

“I will bite you of course.”

[wistfulcynic]

A Uniquely Portable Magic

Summary: Tucked into the crossroads of the world we know and another one that we very much don’t, there lies a bookshop. Killian Jones knows the moment he enters that there is more to it than meets the eye, but he has no way of knowing just how much it holds in store for him until he meets its owner, Emma Swan. 

In which there is tea and cake and books and magic, a witch and a cat, and a lost soul finding his home. 

-

HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS to the wonderful @katie-dub​, who some time ago now gave me a prompt about a magical bookstore, possibly my FAVOURITE EVER THING, and perfect for witch!Emma. There’s also a bit of inspiration from Neverwhere and of course the tea is Bird&Blend. I hope you have the most fantastic day, my dear, and that you can feel all the hugs I tried to write into this for you 😘

Thanks of course and always to @thisonesatellite​ and @ohmightydevviepuu​​ for keeping things tight. 

- 

Rating: T Words: 8.5k Tags: magic, magic AU, witch!Emma, bookstore, bookstore AU

On AO3

-

A Uniquely Portable Magic: 

He’s not sure what draws him through the door. The look of it, perhaps, the twisted grain and the knotholes, polished to a patina by centuries of wind and rain and hands upon it. Some hands much like his own and others very different. He finds comfort in that, as he places his hand on the door. His hand. 

His only hand. 

On the other side of the door is a bookshop. He knew that of course, from the sign in the window, another thing tempting him inside. It’s far too long since he read a good book, too long since he let himself get lost in stories other than his own. He’s not quite ready for what he sees. 

The shelves are made of the same wood as the door. Carved from it, it seems. Hewn might be the word. The knobbly, knothole-y wood that even his limited carpentry knowledge tells him could not form straight shelves. It doesn’t, yet they hold the books. Row upon row of them, dizzying rows. His head spins when he tries to look at them, like a kaleidoscope or a funhouse mirror, too many things, too many angles, too little space. 

He blinks, and everything is fine again. It’s just a bookstore. 

“It’s just a bookstore,” he tells the cat in the window, a huge grey tabby with long, silky fur and pale blue, unblinking eyes. 

“Of course it is,” the cat replies. “What were you expecting?” 

“I—what?” 

“Meow,” says the cat. 

“Can I help you?” asks a voice to his left and he turns, grateful for an excuse to look away from the cat. 

“Yes, I’m looking for a… book…” 

The woman gives him a faint smile. “Well, we do sell those.” 

She’s an ordinary woman, quite stunningly beautiful but dressed in a plain ivory sweater and jeans, hair pulled back in a tidy ponytail and not whipped to a frenzy by eldritch winds as she raises her arms to call down the midnight sky. Of course it isn’t. He blinks and shakes his head, and when he looks at her again her smile is still in place. 

“Any particular book you’re looking for?” she asks. 

“Erm, no,” he replies. “Something meaty. Complex. But no politics or business or murder. Something… something that feeds the soul.” He has no idea why he says that, but the woman’s smile softens. 

“That’s a tall order,” she says. “But I think I can fill it. Come with me.” 

She leads him through the maze of shelves, muttering under her breath and pulling books from them seemingly at random. He tries to look at the books for himself but she moves so quickly he gets little more than a glimpse of their titles as he takes long strides to keep up. He recognises none of them. 

They emerge into the back of the shop where a small cafe nestles into the wall. Its counter is made of the same knotted wood, its display case filled with cakes and pastries laid out beneath a curving pane of glass he’s somehow certain was hand-blown. It’s softly rippled with a pearlescent sheen and inside it the baked goods glow. 

He blinks again and they are simple cakes. 

Small tables and chairs are scattered throughout, wrought-iron painted eau-de-nil, and onto one of these the woman drops her armload of books. “Have a look through these and see if any of them appeal,” she says. “Take your time. I’ll have Ruby make you a coffee.” 

“I—” 

“Don’t be silly, Emma,” says another voice, that of a tall and sleek red-streaked brunette who saunters up from behind the counter. “He’d clearly prefer tea.” 

“I—” he doesn’t really want either, but then it’s been so long since he’s had a book and a nice cup of tea, and so “I would,” he replies. 

“And cake.” Ruby grins, wide and only a bit predatory. “Tea and cake.” 

He doesn’t dare argue. “Thank you.” 

“Coming right up.” 

He sits at the table and opens the book at the top of the pile, glances into it, and is absorbed. It’s the tale of a lonely man, a wanderer without a home who finds his place in the hearts of those he meets along his travels. It grips him so entirely that he fails to notice Ruby as she sets a pot of tea before him, with a mismatched cup and saucer and a plate bearing a thick slice of cake, fragrant with lemon and dotted with plump blueberries. Absently he prepares his tea—a splash of milk, no sugar—and sips it as he reads. It has a bright, floral aroma but a rich flavour that reminds him of the Earl Grey his brother favoured, and he has to pause for a moment to allow the ache to pass. It does, faster than it once did, and so he risks another sip and sighs this time in pleasure. It’s delicious. He settles deeper into the chair and the book, sips the tea and nibbles the cake and doesn’t notice either one disappearing or the afternoon sunshine fading into twilight beyond the windows until Ruby comes to clear the table with a clatter of silver on porcelain. 

He startles at the sound and looks up, frowning. 

“Sorry to interrupt you,” says Ruby. She sounds the opposite of sorry. “But we’re closing soon. Can I get you anything else?” 

“Oh. Sorry. No, I’ll just take this book. And… do you think I could get a list of these others? For reference?” 

Ruby grins, and there’s something triumphant in it. “I’m sure Emma would write them down for you,” she says. “She’s at the register.”

“Thanks.” 

She nods. “Come back soon.” 

~

The woman—Emma—is waiting at the register, a large apothecary-style chest equipped with all the cash-and-card accoutrements necessary to a modern retail establishment. He wonders why this surprises him.  

“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asks, with a professional smile and an undercurrent of something in her voice that he can’t quite put his finger on, a depth to the question that makes him hesitate before he answers. 

“Aye,” he says after a moment’s pause, endeavouring a lightness he doesn’t feel. “This one sucked me in and I don’t think I can rest until I finish it. I’ll take it now, and, er, Ruby said you would also make a list of the others for me, so I can find them again?” 

“I’ll do you one better,” she says. “I’ll leave them here at the register, and you can choose another when you come back.” 

There seems to be no question in her mind that he will come back. He’s not certain he cares for the presumption, but he agrees with a smile. “That would be lovely, if you don’t mind keeping them from your other customers.” 

She gives him an odd, sharp look. “It won’t be a problem.” She tears a sheet of paper from a pad next to the register and continues “If I could just get your name?” 

Once again he hears a weight in her words that doesn’t seem to belong to them. It’s a simple enough question and the answer hardly a secret, and there is surely no reason at all to feel as though he’s giving anything away by replying. 

“Killian Jones,” he says. 

“Killian. Is that with a C or a K?” 

“K.” He keeps the smile on his face as she writes his name on the paper and places it atop his stack of books, then tells him the price of the one he’s buying. As he reaches into his pocket for his wallet she flicks her fingers at his sleeve, the tiniest twitch of motion, barely noticeable even if he were watching her do it. 

He doesn’t notice. 

He pays for his book and gives her another smile, one that she returns warmly. He notices again how beautiful she is, how her green eyes sparkle, and feels foolish that he ever imagined that there may be something sinister in the way she spoke to him. She’s just a lovely woman who runs a lovely bookstore, and of course he’ll be coming back again why wouldn’t he? 

He turns to go and finds the door is easily visible from where he’s standing. Of course it is, he thinks, why wouldn’t it be? He shakes off the feeling that his way to the back of the store was far more convoluted than his way from it, and takes his leave, ignoring the unblinking gaze and swishing tail of the cat in the window. 

Emma watches him go, and once the door clicks shut behind him she takes the hair she plucked from the sleeve of his sweater and places it carefully on the sheet of paper that bears his name. She folds the paper several times upon itself until the hair is safely enclosed within it and puts it in her pocket. 

~

The moon is high in the sky, round and luminous, when Emma lights the fire beneath her cauldron with a flick of her wrist. She tosses in a bit of this and a pinch of that, gives it a stir and lets it simmer as she consults a crumbling, leather-bound book. 

The grey cat leaps onto her table, delicately avoiding the bottles of potions and powders that litter it. He sits on the edge and curls his tail around his paws, regarding her with his cool blue eyes.

“He saw you,” the cat says. 

“I know.” 

The cat flicks the tip of his tail. “He heard me.” 

“I know, David!” Emma huffs in annoyance as she stirs the contents of the cauldron. 

“Who is he?”

“That I don’t know.” 

She tips a handful of bright blue powder from a glass bottle and into her palm, then tosses it into the cauldron. The contents bubble up with a hiss then settle into a smooth, flat surface. Onto which, when she drops the single dark hair upon it, resolves the image of Killian Jones. 

“But I intend to find out.” 

~

He’s back again three days later, having finished his book and found himself unable to stop wondering what other gems may be among the pile that Emma has tucked away for him. The one he bought was more satisfying than anything he can recall reading since his youth, when tales of adventure kept him awake late into the night, reading beneath the covers with a flickering torch so Liam wouldn’t see. 

Killian knows now that Liam did see, but kept it to himself. 

He feels so little these days other than tired, worn threadbare by stress and sadness, and a book that not only holds his interest but actively engages it is an inestimable treasure. These past few nights have seen him sleeping soundly through them, his mind too exhausted—in the good way this time—to keep him awake with remembering. And all because of a beautiful woman who found him a book. 

This Emma has a gift, he thinks, and with it she’s given him one. He’s deeply grateful but he wants more. Needs more. Needs to know more about her. 

The cat is not in the window when he arrives this time, nor is Emma anywhere to be seen. The shop itself is perfectly normal—he’s not sure why he thought it might be otherwise—with its crooked shelves standing straight…well, not straight precisely but lined up, er, in a line… He sighs. It makes sense in his head. 

He heads back towards the cafe, which is empty save for the cat and a young woman with short, dark hair upon whose lap he’s sprawled, his pose relaxed but his gaze sharply observant. The woman is petite and very pretty, reclining in her chair at an odd angle to accommodate the cat’s generous size, holding her book carefully in one hand and stroking his head with the other while a cup of coffee steams invitingly on the table beside her. She casts the cup a longing look from time to time, but it’s too far away for her to reach without disturbing the cat and so she leaves it be. 

Killian isn’t sure the cat would move even if she did disturb him. His purr is audible from across the cafe and his expression one of perfect, smug contentment. He regards Killian coolly, fluffy tail flicking, daring him to make something of it. 

Killian raises an eyebrow and strides purposefully across the cafe, keeping his eye on the cat as he slides the woman’s coffee cup across her table. She casts him a grateful glance and he nods, smirks at the cat, and when he looks up again Ruby is there behind the counter grinning her wide grin. 

“Hey, Killian,” she says. “It is Killian, right?” 

“Er—yes.” 

“Yeah. Emma said.” 

“Oh.” He feels an odd thrill at the thought of Emma mentioning him. Thinking about him after he had gone. “Er, yes. Is she here?” 

“She’s in the back. Is there something I can help you with?” 

“Um.” He shoots a glance at the woman. Her attention seems wholly on her book, and though the cat continues to stare, Killian figures there’s nothing he can do about that. “Perhaps you can,” he replies. “I left some books here on my last visit, and Emma said she would hold them for me. I’d like to look at them, if I could, and choose another.” 

“Killian Jones.” It’s Emma’s voice that speaks, from behind him and just to his left. The sound of it shivers across his skin in a way he’s not entirely sure he likes. 

He definitely doesn’t not like it, though. 

He turns to see her smiling at him. Her hair is loose today, curling over her shoulders in soft waves, bright against the blue of her blouse. She’s wearing jeans and sandals that reveal red-painted toenails and she looks completely unthreatening. 

Of course she does. He gives his head a little shake to clear it.

“Have you come for your books?” she asks him. 

“Yes. If that’s all right.” 

“Of course it is. Let’s go have a look. Ruby, would you make him some tea?” 

Killian doesn’t bother to protest. He accepts that the tea is inevitable, and actually he’s quite looking forward to it. 

He follows Emma to the register where she retrieves the stack of books and watches intently while he looks through them and makes his selection. He watches her watching him, noting the subtle changes in her expression and body language each time he picks up a book to read the blurb on its cover. He lets her reactions guide him, and when he holds up his final selection her approving smile lights up the room. 

He blinks and the light is as it was before. 

Killian holds the book carefully in his prosthetic hand and scratches his ear with the other. 

“Lass,” he says. “I hate to ask, but—” 

“Can I hold the rest of these here until the next time you come?” she says, deadpan but with a twinkle in her eye. “Of course. It’s no trouble at all.” 

“Are you this kind to all your customers?” he asks with a grin. 

Her lips curve in response, into the most peculiar smile he’s ever beheld. “No,” she says. “I’m not.”  

His heart thumps and for a moment he feels his old self again. “So I’m just lucky then,” he says. 

“That remains to be seen.” 

She holds his gaze a beat too long for comfort then turns away. 

He takes his book back to the cafe where Ruby has tea waiting and a slice of cake. At first he’s disappointed to note that it’s a different cake than he had the last time and a different aroma emanating from the teapot but once he’s had a sip and a bite that disappointment turns to delight. The cake is soft and mildly tangy with a crunchy pecan topping and the tea is rich and malty and perfect with a splash of milk. 

Killian sinks into it, into all of it—the cosiness of the room and the tea and the cake and the book, and the sunshine through the windows and the purr of the cat. He melts into the story as he reads, lets the pages enfold him and wrap him up in their embrace, and when the dark-haired woman eases the cat from her lap with soothing words and a kiss on the top of his head, he doesn’t notice. Nor does he hear the chat she has with Ruby or the petulant mewl of the cat, or sense her walking past him when she leaves. 

Other customers come and go as well. There’s a slight man in round spectacles accompanied by a Dalmatian whom the cat, much to what would have been Killian’s astonishment had he been watching, seems to adore; they curl up together beneath the corner table as the man enjoys a cup of coffee and a slice of buttered raisin bread. There’s a haughty woman, sharply dressed, who sweeps in and holds a hissed conversation with Emma at the back of the shop then leaves with the same sweep and several parcels wrapped in brown paper beneath her arm. There’s a man in a tattered velvet jacket and a few too many scarves; Emma’s smile strains at the edges as she helps him and the flash in her eye has a dangerous edge. There’s a man who takes his coffee black like the typewriter he pecks at in an armchair beneath the window as Ruby rolls her eyes, and there’s a little boy with a bright, eager face and incessant chatter who drinks hot chocolate dusted with cinnamon and makes her laugh. 

Throughout all the intermittent bustle and quiet of the day Emma watches Killian read. She watches as the tension drains from his shoulders and the frown fades from between his eyes, and as he gets lost in the story his expressive face reveals the sharp intelligence and wry humour that struggle valiantly beneath the weight of his burdens. Killian doesn’t notice her gaze but he feels it all the same and all the same it warms him, soothes him even when he sighs and leans back in his chair to roll his shoulders and rub his neck and it sharpens, just briefly, with something darker. 

All too soon the day begins to fade behind the windows and when Ruby comes to clear his table he looks up at her with a smile. 

“Closing time already?” 

“It sneaks up on you sometimes, doesn’t it?” she replies. 

“Aye.” 

He stands and stretches, glances over to see that Emma is on duty at the register. As he approaches her expression softens in a way that makes his heart do a little skip in his chest. 

“How was it?” she asks.

“Brilliant. I’ll take it.” 

She beams. “I’m so glad. Ah, that you liked it, I mean, not that—” 

“Aye. I know.” 

She rings up his sale with a flush on the tops of her cheeks that captivates him, and when she hands him the bag her fingers brush against his. Killian gasps as the world explodes with colour and sound and light, but when he blinks it’s gone and Emma is smiling at him, the same as before. 

He thanks her and starts to go, still all of a whirl, but something stops him. He turns back. 

“May I ask you a question, love?” 

“Sure.” 

“How did you know? What books to choose for me, I mean? These two have been—well, exactly what I didn’t realise I was looking for. I’d never have found them for myself. How did you know?” 

“I’m afraid that’s a trade secret.” She grins and taps the side of her nose. “Let’s just say I’m good at reading people.” 

He clears his throat. “And what do you read in me?” he asks. 

Her tone is light, draped over something deeper. “Would you really like to know?” 

“Aye,” he says gruffly. “I think perhaps I would.” 

She places her hand on his arm and this time the light is gentle, the sound is soothing harmonies and the colours soft as a rain-washed meadow. 

“Another time,” she says. 

~

It’s not long before the bookshop becomes a part of his routine, such as it is. Routine is important in recovery, so he’s told, and he does his best to set and stick to one. He gets up at the same time every day—early, as always, the habits of a lifetime are hard to break—he cooks and eats and exercises, and attends his meetings. And two or three times a week he stops by the bookshop for tea and cake and a new addition to his rapidly growing personal library. He makes a mild joke to Emma about affording all this luxury and she replies with a careful smile. 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

And it is. His navy pension barely covers his expenses but although he buys a book each time he finds he’s never short on funds; rather he always seems to be discovering twenty dollar bills in trouser pockets and handfuls of change from things he can’t remember buying. 

He adores the books, of course. They fill his lonely nights and give his mind the respite it craves, an alternative to painful memories or sluggish retreat. But they are not what draws him back to the shop, again and again. It’s also not the cake. 

It’s the way that Emma smiles at him, the warmth that radiates from her and into him, that seals the fissures in his soul. The conversations he so treasures that begin with books and end in a pause, a we’ll talk more next time, but they never do. There’s always something new to discuss, next time. 

He thinks about her often as he goes about his day, when he finds something he thinks she’d enjoy or sees sunlight dappled through the trees the way it is through her hair. He looks forward to the glint in her eye and the twist in her smile when she tells him she’s added a new book to his pile; he forces himself not to rush as he reads. The books will still be there tomorrow, he reminds himself, and the next day and the next, and he is determined to savour them. 

Determined, though he knows all too well the fragile nature of this kind of happiness. 

~

The greenhouse is lit by moonlight alone, the only light that doesn’t kill the Nocturnam dentifolia with its glow. Emma wakens the plant with a gentle stroke of her finger down its curled-up frond, and smiles as the frond unfurls and wraps itself around her palm in greeting. She begins harvesting tiny beads of venom from the plant’s sharp teeth, ignoring David when he leaps onto the table and sniffs the dentifolia in feline disapproval. 

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he says. 

“I’ve been harvesting dentifolia venom since I was ten years old—” 

“You know that’s not what I mean. I hope you know what you’re doing with him.” 

Emma considers dissembling but decides it’s not worth the effort. “I do,” she replies. 

“Do you, though?” 

“He’s lonely, David. And sad. He needs me.” 

“And what about what you need?” 

She shakes her head, willing away the thoughts of Killian and his crinkly smile and the pain behind his eyes and the way those eyes light up when they see her. 

“I have everything I need.” 

“Yeah? Then what about what you want?”

Emma focuses her attention on catching the venom in her vial, made of a hardened smoky quartz that won’t dissolve on contact with it. It’s delicate work, and requires concentration. 

David hisses and the tip of his tail flicks. “You take too much on yourself, Emma.” 

“I can handle it.” 

“I know you can. But you don’t have to do it alone.” 

Emma sets the venom down on the table with a sharp thunk. “So what do you think I should do, David? Force him to give up everything he knows—” 

“I doubt much force would be required.” 

“—drag him into an entirely new world—” 

“Not entirely new.” 

“—when he’s known more than enough suffering already in his own?” 

“You don’t have to do everything alone,” David repeats. “Let him help you.” 

“He’s the one who needs help.” 

“You’re so damned stubborn, Emma. Don’t forget that I saw the same things you did in that cauldron—” 

“Pah.” 

“—I saw who he is, and who he could be. To you. All you have to do is let him in.”

“I’m fine as I am.” 

David’s tail swishes as it whips across the table and his ears turn back against his head. He catches her gaze and holds it as he reaches out with his paw, a single claw extended, and with slow deliberation tips over the vial. They both watch as venom oozes out of it and through the cracks in the table, dripping down to burn a sizzling hole in the concrete floor. 

“I’m going to spend the night at Mary Margaret’s,” he says.  

~

As the days become weeks and then ease into months, Killian begins to notice certain things about the shop. They enter his consciousness in a slow drip, never too many at once, never more than he can handle. The shelf by the register lined with candles and powders and tinctures in crystal vials. The arcane symbols carved along the edges of the bookshelves and the ones formed of silver and set with cut glass that dangle in the windows and twist the sunlight into rainbow hues. The odd way that the time stretches, the depth and stillness of the shadows, how the tea is always hot. The glimpses from the corner of his eye, gone the moment he blinks, of Ruby’s smile baring dripping fangs and David’s crystalline eyes in a human face. 

Killian is a practical man, well-educated and vastly travelled, and he accepts the existence of things in this world that lie beyond his ken. He’s seen hints of them all his life, faintly on the misty edges of Cornish cliffs in his childhood and more clearly during his years in the navy, around corners he turned down on a whim and on the faces of those people whom most folk barely notice. The bookshop and its patrons are the clearest yet, unlike anything he has encountered before. This doesn’t trouble him in the least though it thoroughly intrigues him, just as everything connected with Emma intrigues him. 

The last traces of spring have faded and the air is warm and fragrant, with the gentle weight and drawn-out softness of an early-summer twilight, on the day Killian leaves the bookshop and turns, quite without any intent to do so, around a corner that he’s never noticed before. He finds himself in a narrow alleyway far darker than the street, still and close and vaguely menacing, though he feels certain that it means him no harm whatever it may hold in store for other travellers. He follows it to where it ends in a stone archway and a rusty iron gate which swings open before he can reach out his hand to push it, beckoning him into the hazy gloom beyond. 

This is how mortals end up kidnapped, Killian thinks, and yet he barely hesitates before stepping through the arch and through the gloom and into a garden bright with golden sunlight and riotous with colour. Woody vines and trunks of trees twist together to form a wall that marks its boundaries on three sides; those he recognises are apple and hawthorn and cherry and yew. Two greenhouses make up the fourth side, one a fairly typical model in his estimation and the other much the same, except its windows are all stained a smoky black. Together they frame a wild carpet of blooms in hues that range from bright white to deepest indigo, nodding atop stems and stalks in every shade of green. 

It appears random, Killian thinks, but there is method in it, a species of order underlying chaos that is so familiar he feels no surprise at all when the greenhouse door opens and Emma emerges. 

“Oh!” she cries and stops abruptly, staring at him. “Killian! What—how did you get here?” 

“I... don’t know exactly,” he replies. “I’ve never turned down this path before.” 

“No,” says Emma, “I don’t suppose you have.” 

She’s annoyed, he thinks, though not with him. “Is all this yours?” he asks, indicating the garden with an expansive gesture of his arms. “It’s extraordinary.” 

“Yes, it’s mine. It’s where I grow the ingredients for my—” She snaps her mouth shut and looks at him warily.

“For the things you sell in the shop,” he supplies, with an encouraging smile. “The candles and balms and… the like.” 

“Er—yes.” 

“You make them all yourself, then.” It’s less a question than a gentle acknowledgement, to let her know that he knows too. 

She softens. “Yeah. It’s, um, kind of a family tradition.” 

“And a lovely one. May I see it?” 

She hesitates. “Do you really want to?” 

“Aye, of course I do. I’d love to know more of your heritage.” 

The look she gives him is both sweet and sharp, tenderness with an edge that makes his gut clench. She nods. 

“Follow me.” 

~

It’s those damned eyes, Emma thinks, as she leads him on a tour around the garden, stopping to introduce each plant and explain its properties and uses. They’re so interested, so intent on her and on everything she says, and the sadness ever lurking in their depths breaks her heart. 

They’re shining now, though, as he looks around her garden, and when he looks at her she feels lit up from within, warm and glowing in a way she never imagined she could feel without using magic. 

This is magic. 

Emma ignores the whisper in her ear just as she’s been doing now for months. No cauldron is going to tell her what to do, she thinks obstinately. She’s perfectly capable of managing her own fate. And anyway, cauldrons are designed to observe, not predict. If she wanted to mess around with the Foretelling she’d get herself a damned crystal ball. 

“And what’s in the greenhouses?” Killian’s voice snaps her back to herself, and she realises that they’ve made a full circle of the garden. 

“Oh. Um. Just more things I use. For, uh, more specific needs.” 

“For personalised spells.” 

“Well, yes. Things that people request that need to be tailored to them and—wait, what?” 

He turns to her with that dimpled smile and so much warmth in his eyes. “Emma,” he says gently. “I’ve been around the world ten times over and seen many things on the way. I know a witch when I meet one.”

“Oh.” She stares at him as he continues to smile. “And that doesn’t, um. Freak you out at all?” 

“Of course not.” 

He’s so close she can feel the heat of his body and she shivers despite it, and despite the warmth of the evening. He sees of course, just as he sees everything in her, and she hears the catch in his breath, feels the tension straining in his every sinew as he steps closer still. His fingers brush across her cheek and trace the edge of her jaw and she gasps at the sensation, grips tightly to his shirt to keep from falling as he whispers her name across her lips and she rises on her toes to meet his kiss. 

~

Killian feels suffused in light, bursts of it behind his eyes and sparks that dance along his skin. He thinks at first that it must come from Emma but no, he realises, it’s within him, pouring out from him and into her. 

He catches her startled gasp with his lips and takes the kiss deep, slowly savouring the taste of honey cake and of mint tea—a sweetness and a burn that’s so very her—until the noise she makes at the back of her throat nearly ends him. With a growl he pulls her closer and just for a moment she goes, melting into him and firing his blood, but then she shoves hard against his chest and breaks the kiss and the light is gone. 

She stumbles backwards, staring at him with a tangle of emotions in her eyes, apprehension and longing and the heat of both passion and pique. “I felt—” she whispers, raising a trembling hand to touch her lips. “I thought—but you can’t—I—I—” 

“Emma,” he says softly, taking a hesitant step towards her, but she holds up her hands and backs away. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “It’s too much. You can’t—we can’t do this. I’m sorry.” 

“Emma!” he calls after her as she turns and flees across the garden, heedless of her precious plants, but the name returns to his ears in a hollow echo when she slips through the solid wall of trees and then is gone. 

~

He gives her space, and time. She needs both, he knows, and plenty of them. Emma is not a woman who accepts lightly, or deals easily with things outside her control. When the time is right to return to her he’ll feel the pull. 

It doesn’t come for nearly a month and when it does he goes without hesitation. His arrival finds the shop empty of customers and eerily silent, a still, expectant silence so deep that the swish of David’s tail along the knotted wood of the windowsill is deafening. 

Emma is standing where she was when he first beheld her, beneath a tall window and swathed in moonlight, though the sun is high in the sky. Her hair is loose and wild around her shoulders and she wears a flowing crimson gown. The same gown he saw her in, that first time. The same gown and the same moonlight.  

“You see me,” she says. 

“Aye. Of course I do.” 

“No, but—” she breaks off as her eyes turn to David, now standing in front of the window in soft leathers and silk, very stern and very human. “You see me, I mean.” 

Killian nods. “I see you both.” 

Emma sighs and the scene around them melts away, gently as chalk in the rain, and the bookstore is as normal. The swish of David’s tail is drowned out by the bustle and hum of customers, and Emma is dressed in jeans and a sage green sweater that brings out her eyes. 

“Emma,” he says, stepping closer and taking her hands, the bright magic that flares up at their touch familiar now. “What does this mean?” 

“I don’t entirely know,” she admits. “Magic doesn’t always have an explanation. Sometimes it just is.” 

“And what magic is this?” 

“True love magic,” says David, and Emma flushes. 

“True love?” Killian repeats as he twines his fingers in hers. He imagines this should feel like a revelation, but it does not. 

“Maybe,” she says, biting her lip. “I mean, it’s possible, or maybe more like potential.” 

“Potential true love?” 

She nods. “The seeds are there,” she whispers. “We only have to let them grow.” 

“Growing seeds is something you do remarkably well, love,” he says with a soft smile. “What will we need to nurture these ones into full flower?” 

She huffs a little breath through her own, reluctant smile. “Don’t torture the metaphor,” she retorts, and then her face grows solemn. “It’s not as simple or straightforward as nurturing something until it grows,” she says. “Magic isn’t for everyone. There are dangers—” 

“I’ll face them,” he assures her, tightening his hold on her hands. “Whatever may come, I’ll face it with you.” 

She shakes her head. “You don’t understand, Killian.” 

“Then explain it to me.” 

Emma pulls her hands from his and twists them together anxiously as she speaks. “We can’t talk about this here,” she says. “Come with me.” 

She leads him back to the corner of the shop where the register sits beneath a tall window and opposite an archway of precisely the same material and shape as the one that brought him to her garden, though this one is fitted with a sturdy wooden door. He’s seen her pass through this door a hundred times, into ‘the back,’ as it is known, with no other name nor explanation ever given. The door swings open as Emma approaches and he follows her through it, David at his heels, and if anyone finds it odd that he’s gone with Emma into a place where no customer before has ever been, they do not show it. 

“Ruby,” Emma calls. “Bring tea.” 

The room they enter is long and narrow, with the same tall windows that grace the bookshop on either side. Along one windowless wall is a cluttered wooden workbench and the other is lined with shelves that stretch from floor to ceiling, crammed with supplies. There are ceramic bowls of all different sizes, glass vials and stone ones, herb bundles and crystals and lumpy leather bags, and, Killian notes to his amusement, no fewer than three cauldrons, one copper and one iron and one that appears to his untrained eye to be carved from moonstone. 

Beneath the nearest window two armchairs sit, deep and inviting ones made of worn brocade. A table like the ones in the cafe nestles between them, and onto this Ruby, appearing quite suddenly through a smaller doorway that opens up from between the shelves, places a teapot and three cups. 

She flashes her feral grin at Killian and saunters away. Emma gestures for him to take one of the chairs and he does, watching wordlessly as she settles herself into the other and pours the tea. David leaps onto the arm of her chair and sits like a sentry at her elbow, accepting the cup she balances in front of him with regal grace. 

She hands Killian the second cup and takes the third for herself, and the three of them sip in silence for a moment. A dozen questions clamour on the tip of Killian’s tongue, but he holds them in. He waits. 

“Magic,” Emma says finally, “is a capricious, tricksy thing. It doesn’t sit comfortably in the world you know.” She sets her cup down on the table and folds her hands together in her lap. “It can exist only at the edges of it, deep within crannies and around corners and on certain people, a part of those things but also outside them.” 

“Beyond them,” says David. 

“Yes. It extends beyond what most can perceive and into a place that’s much wilder and less ordered. One that’s run on arcane powers and ruled by the people who wield them, and wielding them sometimes requires a darkness and a sacrifice that changes those people, makes them less than human. Dangerous.” 

Killian nods. “But such people exist in my world too,” he points out. “The ones who sacrifice their humanity for power. The difference, it seems to me, is only in the nature of the power.” 

Emma frowns as she considers this. “I see what you mean,” she says. “But. I’d guess that the people who wield power in your world don’t take any particular interest in you?” 

“Decidedly not.” He can’t hold back a bitter laugh. “I’m quite insignificant, really.” 

“In your world.”

Killian looks at her sharply. “But not in yours?” 

“No.” 

“But—how can that be?” He scowls. “How can I be of importance in a place I’ve never been?”

 Emma picks up her tea again, and her fingers tremble as she wraps them around the cup. “Killian, why did you come into the shop, the first time?” she asks. 

“I wanted a book.” 

“Was that all?” 

“Aye… although perhaps not.” He frowns, trying to remember. “The shop just—appealed to me, in an odd sort of way.” 

“Odd how?” 

“Like it was beckoning to me, almost. I’d been down this street dozens of times before, hundreds even, and never noticed it. Then one day I did.” 

Her expression doesn’t change, and he realises she was expecting this very answer. “And why did you keep coming back?” 

His mouth quirks. “To see you.” 

She huffs a short sigh, though her cheeks flush faintly. “And?” she presses.

“And, well, I suppose it kept beckoning.” 

“Did you never think to wonder how?” David interjects. “Or why?” 

“David!” snaps Emma, but Killian replies calmly. 

“No, mate, I confess I didn’t. I’ve learnt not to question any good fortune that happens to come my way. I prefer to simply enjoy it”—he pauses as he thinks of Liam—“for as long as it may last.” 

“Are you happy now?” hisses Emma, glaring at David. “Do you have anything more you’d like to contribute?” 

David looks away from them and begins to wash his face. 

“It’s a reasonable thing to ask, though, love,” says Killian. “Why didn’t I question it? Should I have?” 

Emma gives him a searching look, as a sunbeam from the window falls across her face. “Would you have stopped coming here if you had?” 

He wishes he could say no, but “I’m not sure,” he answers truthfully. “Perhaps.” 

She nods. “That’s why you didn’t question it.” 

“But I still don’t understand,” he says, setting down his empty cup. Emma refills it without asking, and without thinking he takes it up again and sips some more. “Why did the shop call to me? Why me?”

“True Love magic is extremely rare,” David says, ignoring the scowl Emma turns on him. “And powerful. It behaves as it must to draw together the people capable of sharing it.” 

Something in his voice, a bleak sort of yearning, catches Killian’s attention. “You, and the brunette,” he says. “Mary Margaret, is it?” 

David’s tail swishes, and though he doesn’t clench his jaw he gives the impression of it. “Yes,” he replies. “And we have suffered for it. Magic that powerful can do incredible things, so you can imagine there are many people who seek to harness it for themselves.” The light bends and he shifts, from cat to man and back again. “By whatever means necessary.” 

“That’s the danger you spoke of,” Killian says, looking at Emma. “You’re worried something similar might befall me.” 

She nods. “Or worse.” 

“But not necessarily,” says David. “You have to tell him everything, Emma.”

The anxiety is back on Emma’s face, evident in the wrinkling of her brow and the way she bites her lip. She replaces her teacup in its saucer with a clatter and clasps her hands again, digging the nails of one into the flesh of the other.

“Killian,” she says, “I'm so sorry to unearth the painful past with this, but—what do you remember about your mother?” 

He blinks in surprise. “Er—not much. She died when I was very young. I remember that she was beautiful. Blue eyes like mine but red hair, a dark auburn red. Her name was Alice. Alice Pendyr, as she was born.” 

“Pendyr,” Emma repeats, her expression sharp and sorrowful. “Cornish?” 

“Aye. Meaning end of the—” 

“—land,” Emma finishes. “Alice of the land’s end.” 

“Aye.” 

She pauses and the silence builds, settling like snow upon their shoulders. “But,” she says softly, “of what land?” 

 Killian starts, and stares at her. She meets his eyes calmly, though her hands remain tense and twisted in her lap. He makes a fist of his own.

“How can you know to ask that,” he whispers. “No one outside my family ever learned of it.”

“What land, Killian?” Emma presses, gentle and implacable.

 He forces his body to relax, unclenches his fist and lays his hand flat against the arm of his chair. “Nobody knows,” he replies. “She was found in a basket on the edge of a cliff, wrapped in a blanket of a weave and fibre none had seen before, less than one day old. The couple who found her raised her as their child but with her own name, a name for her origins, they said. They were called Chenoweth. I—” he frowns. “I don’t know why no one ever questioned that. The difference in names, I mean, when they always called her their daughter.”

“How did she die?” 

“I—” He shakes his head. “I’m not certain. As I said I was very young. One day she was fine and the next—we went for a walk.” He blinks again as the memory, so long forgotten, returns in vivid force and he is there again—there on the wind-whipped precipice, clinging to his mother’s leg as clouds swirled above them and rocks churned the sea into a lather far below their feet. “We walked right to the edge of the cliff and she told me the tale of how my grandparents found her there, on that very spot where we stood. Then she… she stared out at the sea for the longest time, and when she looked at me again her eyes were so sad. She said it was time to go home. I held her hand the whole way back because I didn’t want her to be sad, and she laughed and hugged me, as she always did. But then… the next day she was gone. My father told me she had taken ill in the night and died before sunrise.”

There are tears in Emma’s eyes, and she clears her throat before she asks “Was there a funeral?” 

Killian’s frown deepens, and he rubs his temple. “I—I don’t—I don’t remember one.” 

Emma smiles, a small smile full of heartrending empathy. “I see.” 

“What—what are you saying?” Killian demands. “That my mother didn’t die?” 

“She did not,” says Emma gently. “She went home.” 

“Home. You think she was from this magical world.” 

“Yes I do, and I don’t think that it truly surprises you to hear it,” Emma replies, and he swears the earth tilts as she speaks, telescopes around her until she is all that he can see, her voice the only sound in his ears. “It explains a lot that’s never quite made sense to you, I’d bet, like why you’ve always felt slightly out of place wherever you are and why you spent so long wandering. Why you are able to see more than you should.” Her gaze is intent now, her face and form aglow with the moonlight that empowers her. “Because you do, don’t you Killian?” she says softly. “You’ve always seen things others don’t, seen and accepted them without judgment. You embrace the world in all its strange and wondrous tapestry because deep down you’ve always known that there is more to it than meets the eye. Haven’t you?” 

“A-aye.” Killian clears his throat. There’s light behind his eyes and on his skin and in his very bones. “I believe I have.” 

“You wandered for years observing that world and seeking your place in it,” Emma continues, “until the time was right and you were called here, to a haven for the lost and the cursed.” 

He nods. He can feel her words, and he can feel the truth in them, a truth he’s always felt but never understood. “Why was the time right now though?” he asks, a wealth of pain behind the question. “After so many years, why now?” 

“Because now is when you truly needed it.” 

“I needed it before—” he chokes, but she shakes her head, tears shimmering again in her eyes. 

“Now is when you truly needed it,” she whispers. “And I—I need you.” 

She takes his hand, smiling as he catches his breath at the magic that leaps between them. “It won’t always be like this,” she says. “If you come to me, eventually our magic will settle. Right now it’s really new and you just—excite it.” 

He smiles at this, and at the flutter in his chest. “I excite your magic?” 

“Mmmm,” she replies with a wry smirk. “Among other things.” 

David swishes his tail and gives a hacking cough. 

“Hairball?” queries Emma sweetly. 

“But love.” Killian turns his hand in hers so that their fingers entwine, shivering at the power that crackles between their palms. “What do you mean if I come to you? And why do you say our magic?” 

“You don’t think that all this only comes from me?” Emma gestures at him, at the silvery light from his hand that mingles with the golden glow of hers. “You have magic too. It’s what had me so scared that day in the garden. I had been shown your origins and the True Love potential, but not the magic. There’s so much in you, Killian. If you come to my world, you’ll learn just how much.” 

“Come to your world?” He stares at her in awe. “I can do that?” 

“If you wish.” She smiles at his expression, then her own turns solemn. “But it’s a one-way journey. Once you go, you can never come back. Not fully.” 

“I’ll go.” 

She shakes her head. “This is a big decision. You need to think about it.” 

“I don’t believe I do.” Killian feels as he is sure a ship must, when docking at last in her native harbour after a journey long and fraught and rife with loss. It’s a homecoming he has never known, not truly. Not until now. 

“The world I’m in holds nothing for me now,” he says. “Everything I once had is gone—my family, my career, even my bloody hand. I was barely living anymore... until I met you.” He draws their clasped hands to his lips and presses a kiss to the back of hers, and their magic sings. “If we have True Love, or the potential for it,” he continues, “if there’s a chance I might see my mother again—well, I don’t have to think about either of those. I want them both, and if there is danger to be faced in the pursuit of them, I’ll face it. I’ll go.” 

The light of Emma’s smile holds no surprise for him this time nor does the joyous dance of their magic through the air, though David’s approving purr does rather take him aback. Emma stands and he follows, their hands still joined, by touch and by magic and by choice. 

“Come, then,” she says. 

As she speaks the shimmer between their hands brightens to a glow that spreads out from where they stand, silver light entwined with gold and curling open as a spring bud unfolds, until it reaches the arched doorway that leads to the shop. The light bursts—blinding for a moment—then it fades into a gentle gleam and the door swings open. 

Emma’s hand tightens in his, and they step through the doorway together.

- 

@kmomof4​ @stahlop​ @mariakov81​ @teamhook​ @winterbaby89​ @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @shireness-says​ 

[enigma-im]

He Was a Satyr Boy

 Rating: Explicit Relationship: Satyr X Female!Human Warning: Fluff, Respecting boundaries, Penetration, Satyr and human relationship, Critical Role mentioned, timid or shy characters

Word Count: 8604

A shy Satyr catches the interest of the cute comic book store girl

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Today is slower than usual. Generally, comic book stores aren't super busy on a workday but today was especially boring. I've gotten all my work done around noon leaving several more hours of my shift left to fuck about. I lean against the glass counter near the register and look over the empty store. I huff and try to entertain myself by reading the posters around the room for the hundredth time.

Reading the green lantern motto for the 6th time I'm ecstatic to hear the chime of the front door. Looking over I see a satyr walk in. I immediately notice his antlers protruding from his curly brown hair. He is a skinny man, not particularly tall. Might be the same height as me if I were to guess. An inch or two taller. He is sort of cute, not my normal type but still eye candy. Especially wearing a fitted hoodie and loose pants. He has a softness to him, a gentle aura.

I don't call out to him, welcoming him to the store. I just watch as he shoves his hands into his pouch then looks around way too much. As he walks further inside he catches my eye. He gives a curt nod then walks around with his head down. I watch as he paces through each aisle before stopping at the books. He skims through them and picks out two. He cradles them close to his side then makes his way to the register. Only briefly glancing at me he sets the items on the counter.

"This all," I ask. He glances up and nods.

"Yes, this is all. I don't have money for more, your stuff is expensive," he sort of rambles. Edge of my lips quirks at him. I scan his items and wait on him to either pull out a card or cash. He fumbles with his pockets to his loose pants and pulls out a wallet. He produces a card and swipes it to the machine.

He pays and a receipt prints. I push the books to him and hand him the paper. He doesn't say anything as I pass him his things. He takes them quietly and nods before heading to the door.

"Have a nice day," I surprise myself by calling out. It seems to have startled him too. He looks over and gives a nervous smile.

"You too." With that, he leaves. I watch till the door closes, a little captivated by his departure. When I finally look away to the now empty store I hardly notice to half-smile gracing my face.

I'm a little confused to see him the next day around the same time. The store is a little more full, normal for a Tuesday since there is a sale going on for comic books. Perhaps that's why he is back? I try not to pay him any mind as I ring up people but I can't stop glancing at him curiously. He wonders around the store, catching eyes with me a few times. This piques my interest even more.

I barely listen to the man rambling on and on about god knows what. I give him a few nods but couldn't care less. I keep glancing over his shoulder at the nervous satyr browsing the store. I'm not sure why I'm so inquisitive but he is keeping my attention. Perhaps its why he is back after saying he had no money. Or the fact he isn't even looking at the comics that are on sale. What could he possibly need?

I lose focus on him when someone comes up with a question.

"Do you guys have any captain marvel comics," a stout woman asks.

"Far-right wall, under the popular section," I point behind her. I hope this is the end of the conversation but sadly it isn't.

"Oh. Can you show me, I didn't see it over there," she gives an apologetic smile. I look over at the satyr, then back at her.

"Yea, come on," I walk from around the counter. I lead her to the right wall. She keeps asking questions even when I found the box for her. She draws on so long my coworker works the register and checks out the satyr. I see he bought another DnD book, Just the one. He leaves before I even get back to the counter.

I don't see him the next day, hardly surprised. I actually don't think about him, having no reason to. My fascination is but a product of boredom mixed with seeing someone so cute. I've never seen him before, knowing most of the people around the town. It's rare to see someone new and even more rare to see them two days in a row. Still, it seems he is gone now.

I think as such till I see him Thursday. I don't notice anyone walked in as I clean the glass countertop. It isn't until he sets his item down beside me that I acknowledge him. I give him a confused look for a second, wondering what he is doing back here.

"Hi," he curtly smiles, "I forgot the monster guide." I look from him to the book, another DnD guide.

I look back up at him," so you did." He nods as I grab the book. I scan it and prepare the machine for him to pay. I watch him pull out his wallet, I felt the need to fill the silence.

"You know we hold campaigns here every Thursday night," I cock a brow at him. He seems to startle before staring back.

"Oh," he tilts his head. His hair brushes over his forehead and the corners of my mouth quirk.

"They are run by Steven who set it all up, anyone is welcome. Starts tonight around 7, if your interested," I inform.

"Oh, thanks but I don't think that would be good for me. I'm busy around then but thank you. I appreciate you telling me. I guess you figure from all the books I've bought that id be playing this but it's just to read. I don't actually play, I've just been watching a campaign online. I wanted to follow along, you know," he rambles. I don't feel like interrupting, just resting my elbow on the counter. "It's a good show, very funny. I don't know if you have heard of it, but you might have. Its a bunch of voice actors playing DnD, so they get to use their acting skills to bring the characters to life. It's super neat," he continues.

"Critical role?" I cock a brow.

He grins widely, "yea, do you watch it?"

I tilt my head and regard him," not really." He deflates, it almost makes me wanna lie just to get him to ramble some more.

"Well, it's worth a listen. Even if it's super long," he collects his book off the counter," well ill see you around. Bye." I wave then he turns and walks out. I watch him the entire time, huffing in amusement when his antlers scratch against the door.

I stand back up with a little smile, "what an adorable man."

I stay a bit after, organizing some of the figurines in the displays. I know I'm sticking around just to see if he shows up, I'm not going to convince myself otherwise. I'm also not surprised to see he doesn't show up. Which is fine, it was a bit last minute so I can't expect him to not have plans.

It is a surprise when he shows up next week.

The week was slow and I hardly thought of the cute satyr. I noticed he hasn't been back since last Thursday but that was the extent of my thoughts. By Wednesday I've forgotten him, mostly.

Thursday night comes and I'm sorting through the comics for ones that don’t belong. I hear the gang setting up near the back. Getting the table together and their items out. I finger through the thin booklets, pulling out any that wasn’t Batman. I lose focus when I hear the bell at the front door. I look up and chuckle when I see the satyr. I stop what I'm doing and head over. Noticing immediately that he was fidgeting. He was looking around a lot and bouncing from leg to leg. He stops when he catches my eye.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I was a little confused about where the campaign takes place. I looked on the website and it said that it happens in the store, which is what you said, but I don’t know where in here it is and I didn’t want to just walk on in and wander around," he nervously laughs," it is tonight right?"

 my lips quirk," Yes." I won't elaborate, seeing if he will talk some more.

"Oh, good," he looks behind me then back at me," I've been looking through the books. Good reads, it's so elaborate. Still, it’s a lot to learn. I tried to do a crash course on them last Thursday but I was too worried id make a fool of myself. So that’s why I didn’t show up, I didn’t want to be the one asking all the questions. It would take away from the fun of everyone else. I mean I still might ask questions, there is a lot to learn. I hope that no one minds a newbie joining. I really studied, which sounds weird to study for a hobby, but I was nervous. You know, I might actually just watch, or come back later. I don’t want to take the fun from everyone else." I listen to his ramblings, cocking a brow as he tries to talk himself into leaving. Deciding to help him out I step beside him so we are both facing the room. I notice that he is just an inch or so taller than me.

"Come on," I nudge his shoulder then walk ahead. He startles but follows along, keeping his hands in his hoodie pockets. I smirk to myself as I lead him to the back. Once we turn the corner the patrons perk up. All of them looking towards us curious. I glance over at the satyr and see he is hiding in himself. Bunching his shoulders and ducking his head into his jacket. I nearly coo at the sight.

"Who's this," Steve asks with a friendly smile. I don’t answer but nudge the Satyr to speak up. He jumps, staring over at me shocked before looking back at the group.

"Uh, I'm Jensen," he nods in greeting," hello." I quirk a smile at the greeting. Jensen.

"Well, howdy there Jensen. What brings you to our little hobble," Carley asks before anyone else could. Jensen looks from her then back to me. I nod towards the group as encouragement.

"I'm here for the, uh, campaign," he nearly stutters. I find myself taking a step closer to the poor lad. Matt notices and passes me a glance, raising a brow. I pay him no mind and wait for Jensen to join the group.

"Well that’s great, we always have room for another traveler," Steven shouts jovially," please come sit." I look from the gang to Jensen, content with his wide grin. He walks forward and takes a seat between Matt and Steven. I take one more look at the lads before turning to leave.

"Would you like to join," Carley calls. I turn to face them, the words 'no' ready on my lips. I'm a bit surprised to see Jensen practically begging me with his eyes. Watching me with bated breath for my answer. I'm still ready with the 'no' but looking at him makes me want to change my mind.

I have never played with the group, having been invited nearly every night. I generally have things to do and rather get home quickly once they finish up. It's not like I have anything pressing at home, I just rather be there. I begin to doubt my choice, near caving just to get to spend time with the nervous Jensen.

"Ok," I answer shortly. I nearly smile when I see Jensen's little grin. He has a cute smile.

"Really," Matt tilts his head. I don’t answer but walk towards the table. I grab a chair from the wall and sit on the opposite end of Steve. I look at the three's suspicious faces, knowing they are probably trying to figure out any reason why I'd choose now to join. Of course, the genius bunch looks towards Jensen and piece together their own theories. I'm not above admitting it, I want to hang out with him. He is cute and I find his rambling adorable. Depending on how tonight goes I may develop a crush.

The night goes alright, everyone was boisterous and engaged. Everyone seemed to have fun, including me. Jensen was shy at the start but grew into his own as everyone kept him included. I appreciated that. I didn’t want to be the only one trying to keep him out of his shell. Id hates to look over and see him cave into himself with nerves.

Around two hours later the gang packs up and says their goodbyes. I walk away before they could start interrogating me, getting started on the work I put off. Once I hear the chime of the bell I head back over to the table, startling when I see Jensen still packing up. I grin to myself and head over, sitting across from him.

He looks up and smiles," Hey." I nod in greeting," man those guys are so nice. The woman, Carley was it, she gave me some of her dice. They look so cool, got a holo look to it. Reminds me of opals, it's so cool." he holds the 20-sided die up and rotates it back and forth. Showing off the rainbow reflection on it.

"So ill take it you had fun," I cross my arms and lean back in the chair. I smile at him, feeling his own grin to be contagious. He looks from the die back to me, his toothy grin making me feel gushy.

"Yea, it was so grand. Steven has such an imagination on him, this wasn’t what I expected at all," he leans onto the table with his elbows," I can't wait to come back and partake in whatever the next adventure will be. I might try being a sorcerer next time. That is if we are allowed to change our characters. I like mine right now but I do wanna experience the other classes. Does he do different campaigns every time?" 

"Yes," I nod.

"That’s great! I'm so glad I came, I was so nervous that I paced around my apartment before coming here. I figured since I just moved here it wouldn’t hurt to make some friends but I was nervous mostly for that reason, not knowing anyone. It helped that I know you, I was really banking on you being here. If you weren't I would have probably walked out," he nervous laughs, looking at the table," also thanks for joining, I could tell it isn't something you usually do."

"No problem, it was fun," I answer honestly.

We chat for a little longer before I have to shut down the store. He leaves shortly before, promising he will be back next week. I find myself getting a little giddy at the idea of seeing him again. Tonight went well, I think I can confidently say I have a crush on him.

He visits twice before Thursday, one of the days I heard from Matt when he was the one working. The day I got to see him was nice, we chatted a bit before it got busy and he left. Along with his two visits, I've been getting the 2nd degree from Matt.

"So you like him," he cocks a brow as he lounges against the counter. I shrug noncommittedly, knowing it's going to rowel him up. He drops his head back and groans at my non-answer," Don’t give me that. I don’t know the last time you were interested in someone, I've only heard stories of your past boyfriends. The tall hunky lads with more muscles than sense. So excuse me for wanting to boy talk with you." I pass him a glance, debating on being a prude with my thoughts. It was none of matt's business on who I liked and didn’t like. Still, I'd admit that the idea of gossiping is tempting.

"Yes, I have a thing for him," I bite my cheek to stop from smiling. I don’t need him poking fun just yet. He startles at my words, perhaps shocked I even said anything.

He twists around and leans his elbows on the table," I was just teasing before, I didn’t think you actually wanted him. He is so not part of your portfolio, he is so timid and lithe. Hard contrast to your previous interest." I pass him a cheeky grin while pretending to read the magazine in front of me.

"He is cute, and I think his ramblings are adorable," I answer. Matt deadpans at me, not really getting what I'm saying.

"You like his ramblings? What happened to the woman who dated big bulky men, hell the last dude I heard you dated was an orc. Like how would you go from something that big to someone like Jensen," he tilts his head trying to catch my eye. I glance at him but continue to look at the pages.

"I just like him, not everything has to be dissected and viewed from every angle. I think he is cute and I enjoy his company," I answer bluntly. Not everything has to be over analyzed to its basic form. I don’t have to uproot my childhood to figure out why I find Jensen so attractive. I just do, and that’s ok.

Matt doesn’t like my answers but he leaves me alone after another five minutes of arguing.

Thursday comes quickly to my joy. The gang sets up and Jensen shows up shortly after they do. I watch him walk from the door straight to the back, resting his bag on the table as he too sets up. I stay in the corner, finishing up my work. I'm content on just sitting this one out, but of course, if he asks I can't say no.

"Where is she," Jensen asks as he looks around.

Steven looks up at him," she is working. She generally doesn’t contribute to these things."

"Oh," Jensen looks dejected. I actually feel bad for having to work. I guess if I rush I could come over for a little. I bite my cheek as I try to figure out anything I could close early.

Around an hour later I make some time, skipping out on stocking for the night. I can just do it tomorrow anyway. I step around the bookshelf and watch the table from the sidelines. Listening to Steven paint the picture, then the gang reacting. I watch Jensen for a bit, smiling a little as I see the enjoyment on his face.

I startle when Carley calls outs," You just going to stand there or you going to sit down?" Everyone turns to me, only Steven turns back to the table.

"Oh hey," Jensen grins," Come, sit." he pulls out the chair next to him. I walk over and take the offered seat, not missing Matt's big smile.

I spend the next hour listening to and watching their game. Keeping quiet on the sidelines just enjoying their jovial behaviors. The mission comes to an end, leaving on a happy note. I stretch and get up before the others could begin packing. I wave to the group and go back to closing.

I count out the register as Jensen stops by the counter," Hi." I finish off the set of ones and give him a friendly smile.

"Hi," I say back.

"Watcha doing," he rests his elbows on the counter.

"Counting out the drawer, make sure I'm not missing anything," I answer as I count out the twenties.

"Are you the manager here or owner," he asks. I get what he is doing, trying to start up a conversation. I appreciate the company, so I answer.

"I'm technically a manager, but it feels like I'm the owner most of the time," I shuffled up all the money and places them back in the drawer.

"Why is that," he watches as I close out the register.

"I do everything here. I make the calls, stock the store, fix the store, advertise for the store. I think the owner just wanted to own a comic book store but not actually run one," I walk around the counter and to the backroom. Jensen follows, staying at the door when we get to the office. He keeps me company as I deal with the paperwork of the day. Dealing with return receipts and new stock.

The night feels like it goes by quickly, probably Jensen to blame for that. He is nice to talk to. Once he comes out of his shell he is funny. Still rambles but it's with fewer nerves and more just enjoyment of the topic. I finished up my work about twenty minutes ago but I didn’t want to send him away just yet. I'm content listening to him talk about his job as a Graphic Designer. He seems to be very passionate about it, grinning widely as he talks.

The conversation starts to die down as we both begin to yawn. I look over at the clock and see we are forty-minute past close. We both decide its time to leave. I walk him to the door and he waits for me as I lock up. I turn back to him and prepare for goodbye.

"Well, today was nice. Thanks for chatting with me, I didn’t mean to make you stay so late. I know I tend to talk too much, I get it can be a little annoying so don’t be scared to tell me to shut up," he tries to laugh but it’s a little self-deprecating. I watch him for a minute, probably making him feel uncomfortable.

I find myself sputtering out the first thing that came to mind," Do you wanna go out sometime?"

He startles, "What?"

"Do you," I point to him," Want to go out with me," I point to myself. He still seems lost.

"Uh," he short circuits, not really getting what I'm saying. He looks uncomfortable and I can't lie, it hurts a little.

"Hey, you don’t have to. It's ok if you don’t," I try to give him an out.

He shakes from his stupor, "No, I want to. I'm just a bit shocked."

 I regard him curious," Shocked? Why?"

"well," he rubs the back of his neck," its just-because- you know."

I smile," No I don't think I do know."

"Its cause- because," he huffs," Because you are you. The super hot comic store girl. I didn’t think you would like me." I can't stop my chuckle. I've never had a guy assume I wasn’t into them, especially when I feel I've been obvious.

"Well, I do. So would you like to see a movie this weekend," I try again since he never really answered.

"yea," he grins widely," I'd love to."

I give Jensen my number and tell him to write. We depart with dorky grins on our faces, leaving for our respective homes.

The weekend comes quick and I meet Jensen at the store. We walk together in a bit of awkward silence. I can basically feel his tension rolling off him. I can't help but try to think of ways to relax him, make him feel comfortable. So I ask him about his job and he takes the in. This seems to work until we make it to the theater. when we go to sit his tension rise again. I try to keep the conversation going but when the movie starts its harder to keep him calm.

I watch him out the corner of my eye the entire film. He fidgets his hand in his lap, not really focusing on the movie. I feel bad he cant enjoy this. I'm running out of things to try, so I go for broke and grab his hand. I interlock my fingers with his and rest them on the armrest. His grip is a bit tight so I rub my thumb to his skin in an attempt to calm him down. Surprisingly it works, he loosens his grip with a sigh. He gives me a quick squeeze then leans back in his seat. I go for broke again when I lay my head on his shoulder. He jumps but doesn’t do anything to push me away. I will take the win.

The movie ends and it wasn’t that great. Probably should have picked a better one. Still, I had fun, only because it was with Jensen. After we got up he grabs my hand again and we walked out together. It was sweet, which is something I never had with my exes. They were a bunch of dumb jocks looking for their next nut. It was fine at the time because I wasn’t expecting much but it was unfulfilling. This, with Jensen, feels good.

We walk back to the store where we chat under the awning. With a brief hug, we part ways, making plans on the phone for another date. I sit in bed that night smiling like an idiot, not wanting to put the phone down till I nearly pass out on my own.

We go on a few more dates after that, nothing getting too intimate besides a kiss on the cheek. We see movies, go out for dinner or go to one of our places to cook. Then every Thursday we talk for hours, even texting once we got home. I like him a lot.

One day while talking at the store he kisses me. I'm startled when it happens, he gets embarrassed and tries to back away. I don’t let him get far and kiss him. Since then the relationship has gotten more intimate. Spending dates snobbing anywhere private like a pair of teenagers. He shocked the gang one night when he kisses me hello. They all had their guesses but we never gave them answers. Since then they have taken to picking fun of us, trying their best to get us to blush. Of course, I was a little harder to crack than Jensen. Still, it was cute to see him get all flustered. Sometimes I joined in on the teasing and give a big kiss to his cheek.

As much touching as we have done we never have gotten around to discussing sex. It was becoming more prominent as some make out sessions left us both a bit bothered. He never initiated anything so I didn’t push, it was fine. But one night while we are sitting on my bed talking he surprises me.

We lounge on my bed looking through his phone at videos he saved. One thing leads to another and we start making out. I have my fingers buried in his soft curly hair, my other hand petting over his chest. I want to badly run it under his shirt, feel his skin on mine. I don’t try to push my luck, wanting him to take the leap.

His fingers clench at my hips making my insides burn. He hesitates in the kiss, but not stopping as his hands play with the hem of my shirt. He slides them under my shirt, gliding them over my hips up to my waist. I find myself gasping and leaning back. Our breath mingles together as I wait for his next move. I can feel his finger shake as he tries to move up but he can't bring himself to do it. I resume petting over his chest, leaning up and kissing his cheek. Telling him in actions that it's ok to go on.

He gains some of his nerves and smooths his hand over my skin. Petting and groping up to my bra. His breath stutters as his thumb timidly traces over the fabric. His breathing stops when he hooks a finger underneath, sliding over till his index touches my boob. He sucks in a gasp, pausing his hand as he catches his breath. I continue kissing his neck and petting his hair. Giving him all the time he needs.

Jensen rests his head against mine before moving to cup my chest. He sighs, tickling my head with his breath. His palms are warm against me, if not a little sweaty. He gropes softly, rubbing his thumb over my hardening nipple.

"so soft," he mumbles to himself. I peck his neck in answer. He continues to grope and squeeze, content in just this for the time being.

Soon he leans back and tugs at my shirt. Asking with his eyes if I could take it off. I don’t even hesitate, I lean back and pull the clothing off. I throw it onto the floor. When I look back at Jensen I nearly laugh, he is captivated by my nearly bare torso. I grin at him as I lead his hands back to me, hinting at him to take my bra off on his own. He catches on and fumbles to unhook the back. He manages well and helps pry the straps off my arms. He tosses the bra off the bed and doesn’t take his eyes off me. He reaches for my chest, watching as his fingers rub my nipples. I leave him to go at his own pace, sighing at the sensations of his hands. He surprises me by leaning down and taking me into his mouth. I choke on my words as his tongue swirls over my bud. I pet along his head, tugging softly on his hair when he sucks on me.

He laves attention on both sides, taking his time to both enjoy and make sure I enjoy it. I feel the all too familiar weight in my stomach, my crotch throbbing with need. I know better than to force anything but its starting to get hard too. I'm happy when he takes another step, pushing me back and crawling over me. He leans down and captures my lips, giving a rather fierce kiss. He continues to cup my chest with one hand, seeming to not be able to get enough. I press my luck and slide one of my hands down his chest, sliding under his shirt and feeling his warm stomach. He gasps into the kiss but doesn’t react. I continue moving up, pulling up his shirt as I go. He lets me, even leaning back to take the clothing off himself.

Once the article is removed he smiles down at me before kissing me again. I return the kiss but turn away so I can get a good look at his newly revealed torso. He pecks down my neck as I pet along his chest. I go up to his shoulders then going slowly down over his pecks, rubbing his nipples as I go past. He licks over my neck before sucking on my skin. I gasp with a grin then trace my nails over his stomach. I chuckle when he sucks in a breath, his stomach clenching as I near his pants.

He stops his assault on my neck, waiting patiently for my next move. I reach over his hips, sliding into his pants as I do. I feel his soft fur, raking my fingers through it as I pet his hips. He rests his head against my neck, watching my hand between us. His antlers rake against the headboard but neither of us pays it any mind. I cautiously run my hands towards his front, keeping my pace deliberately slow in case he wants me to stop. He doesn’t react, perhaps not even breathing as I reach towards his cock.

When my fingers are finally touching him we both jump. His antlers thud against the wood startling me. I pause my hands near his dick. He takes a minute to catch his breath before leaning down and pecking my shoulder. I take that as a sign to continue. I reach down and wrap my fingers around him. I hold him then wait for any signs he wants to stop. His breathing is shallow and rushed, his posture tense. Still, he kisses my shoulder, nuzzling his face to my neck.

I stroke him in a loose grip, enjoying the feeling of his hard cock. He is a well-hung satyr, staying on par with a lot of my exes. He is thick but perhaps averagely long. He is warm and I can feel something wet running down from his tip. I'm curious what he would taste like.

Getting too caught up in the feel of him I don’t notice his whimpers. For a moment I think they are good till he lifts his head away from me. I look at him from the corner of my eye, stopping my motions on him. His eyes are clenched and his breath is still shallow. It doesn’t come out even but in ragged, scared patterns. He looks more than a little nervous.

Without much thought, I retract my hands from his pants. Petting up his stomach and chest to his neck. I tilt his head towards me and give him a peck on the lips. He squints open his eyes, I finally get to see the fear in them. That decides it.

I roll him off me and lay him on his back. He follows without a fight, looking at me curiously and worried. I give him a smile before reaching for my blanket and throwing it over us. I lean over to my nightstand and grab the tv remote. I lay down beside Jensen, laying my head on his chest. I rest my hand on his stomach then turn the tv on.

He doesn’t say anything as I boot up YouTube. He is still breathing hard but he has rested his hand on my naked back. I pull up my unfinished video then fully rest against Jensen. The video plays and I can feel him perk up when he realizes what we are watching. I've been watching Critical Role so we had more to talk about, its not a bad show but its so long.

Soon Jensen relaxes and watches the show. At some point, he started petting my back and holding my hand on his stomach.

"Thank you," he mumbles. I turn my head and look up at him. He adjusts and looks down at me. He looks calmer now, if not a little content. I hum in acknowledgment and kiss his chest. He hums too with a relaxed smile on his face. We turn back and watch the show.

We never say anything about what happened, it being pretty self-explanatory. He wasn’t ready, and that’s fine. We soon fall asleep half-naked in each other's arms. It’s a peaceful rest, best night sleep I've had in a while. 

I wake up the next morning to the feeling of something repeatedly touching my face. I squint my eyes open as I feel something wet against my nose. I first see Jensen smiling at me. He leans down and places another kiss to my cheek then to my chin.

"Morning," he mumbles as he kisses my lips. I hum into the kiss, happy to return it full. I sit up and cup his face as we make out. It’s a bit sloppy for a morning kiss but ill take it. He reaches over and pets over my back, his cold hand causing chills over my spine. I gasp into the kiss making him smile.

He surprises me by sitting up and pulling me over his lap. I balance myself by holding his shoulders. The coldness of the room makes me shiver as I remember my lack of a top. Of course, Jensen doesn’t seem to mind as he slides his hands up my thighs, over my hips, on my stomach to my chest. He watches his hands as they cup me. He pinches at my nipples, smiling when I suck in a breath. He leans forward and begins kissing up my collar. Trailing licks and nibbles over to my neck then jaw. He drops his hands to my hips and grinds me down onto his hard cock. I startle at the suddenness, curious if not pleased with the turn of events. What a way to wake up.

Using whatever bravado he has gotten this morning he grabs my ass and squeezes. He huffs against my neck as he bucks up to my crotch.

"You seem excitable this morning," I gasp near his ear.

"I have a wonderful woman in my arms, what's there not to be excited about," he chuckles. I laugh with him before grinding my hips to his, relishing his groans. We go back to making out but this time he reaches between us and cups my crotch. I startle, sucking in a breath as he fingers me through my pants. He pets me a few times but decides it isn't enough. He slides his hand into my pants and touches me directly. Petting along my slit then diving his fingers inside.

"Very excitable," I gasp. He leans back against the headboard and watches me. Having a pleased grin on his face. A better look than last night. I can't help but lazily smile back, happy that he is comfortable.

His fingers pump and curl inside me, testing out every bump and crevice to see which makes me groan and gasp. I enjoy this different side of him, his smirk is all the more arousing. He adjusts his hold and gets his thumb to rest over my clit, giving timid circles. I try not to grind with him, not wanting this to end so soon. Just enjoying the soft strokes and pumping fingers. His other hand pets over my thigh, everything moving slow. He takes his time, just looking pleased to watch me.

I look down at his chest, my hands following my gaze. I feel his chest rising and falling quickly, his heart pounding at his chest. His face is calm despite his rushing blood and hard cock poking my ass. My fingers trace over his stomach and down to his pants. I feel the tufts of fur poking up, the happy trail disappearing behind his bottoms. As I play with his pants he slows his motions then removing his hand altogether. His face is focused but still calm. He rests both of his hands on my thighs, not moving or giving any indication of what he is feeling.

I hook my finger on his pants while keeping eye contact. I cock a brow in question. His lips quirk slightly, his emotions very different than last night. He nods his head while petting up my thighs a bit, fingers twitching with hidden nerves.

I sit up off him and pull his pants down to his knees, keeping his boxers on. I can't help but smirk at the tent in his underwear, feeling a little confident because of it. I reach for his bottoms but look up at him again, just making sure.

"I trust you," he mumbles while giving a nod. I grin like an idiot, feeling butterflies in my stomach. I hook my fingers to his boxers, brushing my nails against his skin. I pull them down just enough for his cock to spring out, slapping back against his stomach. I suck in a gasp, feeling a wave of arousal flow over my cunt.

"Oh," I gasp. I stare at his swollen member, appreciating its girth. His tip is red and wet, his shaft presenting a lovely prominent vein. I can barely see his balls, just seeing the curly hair flowing under his underwear. Using a finger I push his bottoms down more, brushing against his sack. He jumps at the contact, making me snap my eyes to him. He is chewing on his cheek, seeming a bit nervous. Not nervous like before but a little self-conscious.

He catches my worried look," I'm fine, just… you are staring."  he looks away still chewing his cheek, his fingers fidgeting at his sides. I want to coo but I know it will embarrass him. Instead, I lean forward, my stomach brushing against his cock, and kiss his cheek.

I whisper near his ear," you just look so good, I kind of want a taste." his shoulders drop as his head thumps against the headboard. He clenches his eyes and groans.

"God," he drops his head to his shoulders," maybe later." I lean back to look him in the eyes but he is still tilted away from me. So I grab his antlers, guiding his head back to me.

I cock a brow," later?" he stares at me a bit wide-eyed, worried he said the wrong thing. To ease his tension I lean forward a peck him on the lips," I like the sound of that." he smiles. I take his lips for mine again, introducing my tongue to his mouth. He meets mine as his hands grab my hips. As our tongues mingle I reach between us and timidly grab his cock, worried he will reject me again. Not that I'm bitter about last night, I understand. It's just going to hurt the second time.

He gasps into the kiss, his fingers holding me a bit harder, but he doesn’t stop me. I grip him a little tighter and pump. Feeling the bumps and grooves of his cock, squeezing a bit at the tip. I feel his pre coat my palm, smearing it over his head then the top of his shaft. He bucks into my grip while forcing his tongue into my mouth. His hand reaches to the hem of my pants, reaching in and fingering my clit.

We touch each other, grinding into the other's hand as our tongues intertwine. Our gasps and groans feed each other's wants and desires. I feel on the cusp, my finish nearing because of his fingers. Yet I don’t want him to do it just yet, I want to cum on his cock.

I lean back from the kiss, stopping my hands. His fingers curiously stop, he watches me for my next move. I remove his hand from my pants, nearly whimpering at the loss. I sit up and shimmy out of my pants. He catches on and helps me remove the clothing before tossing them to the side. I rest back on his lap, my cunt sitting at the bottom of his dick. He looks at me with wonder and eagerness.

Curious, I grind my pussy over him, spreading my slick over his shaft. His head drops back as he groans. I watch him with a smile as I repeat. Grinding over him, feeling his warmth partially part my folds. His back arcs as he pushes his chest out.

"Please," he whimpers," let me be inside." I look at his hooded eyes, them begging me along with his words. I nod before sitting up and hovering over him. I look between us, grabbing his cock. I stroke him once or twice then positioning his tip to my entrance. I let just his tip slip in, my insides practically burning with the need. Still, before I can give in to my greed I check to make sure he is ok. I refuse to use him, he means too much for me to do to him what I did to my exes. He isn't just a body to me.

Our eyes meet, his hooded gaze is locked onto mine. He looks like he is in divine torture, biting his lips just waiting with bated breath. He passes a quick glance to where we are about to meet then looks back up at me. He nods once, telling me what I needed to know. Without preamble I drop down on him, taking his cock quickly.

We both cry out as we meet, sitting flush on his lap. I take a second to enjoy the stuffed feeling, resting my palms on his stomach. I watch as his head drops to his shoulder, his eyes clenching as he bares his teeth. I pet over his stomach, giving him a moment to catch his breath.

"Tight," he whimpers as he looks at me. I huff with a big smile. He grins at me as well, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

We sit there for a second as he catches his breath, I wait for his cue. It doesn’t take long for him to raise his hands and cup my hips. He grabs me and grinds me into him. We both suck in a breath, then he does it again. I get the idea and circle him, listening to his sharp breaths and tiny whimpers. I introduce a few short thrusts, using my thighs to lift myself. I watch as his eyes flutter close, his lips parting in a sigh. I ride him, using my hands to balance myself as I lift higher.

I set a fair pace, bouncing on him while gyrating my hips. I stroke over his stomach to his chest, feeling his racing heart. Watching his face contort in pleasure, each fall causing his mouth to part just a little more. I soon lean forward and kiss his cheek. Giving soft kisses under his eye then near his nose. He startles me when he wraps his arms around me. He sits up and begins to give shallow thrust upwards.

My breathing starts to get harder, panting near his ear as our bodies meet. I grind myself into his stomach, my clit stroking over his fur. I groan at the image of his fur flattening from my slick. I start to whimper against him as I feel my pleasure begin to peak. I rest my cheek against him, petting up his chest to his neck. I card my fingers through his hair, just barely touching his antlers. I squeeze my eyes shut as his cries increase my own. His noises spurring me on more.

"God, you feel too good," he pants. I can’t speak now, I just nod. I focus on the feel of his cock sliding in and out of me. Stroking my walls and reaching deep inside. I cry out louder on his next thrust, tugging his hair as I follow my peak.

I don’t have time to warn him before I'm clenching around him. I stop my falls as my legs give out. He chokes on a gasp, grunting into my neck. I feel some drool drip onto my shoulder as he bucks into my convulsing cunt. I slide my fingers up and grasp at his antlers, clenching them in a white grip. I cry with each thrust, falling apart over him. I barely notice when he stills suddenly, feeling something warm and hot inside myself. He lets out a long groan, bucking once or twice more.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, as do I. he holds me close, adjusting to relax his head to my chest. I still grip his horn tightly but I pet his back as I try to even out my breathing.

"Thank you," he still huffs.

"Don’t thank me for that," I laugh," I had fun too." he kisses my sternum as he too chuckles.

"Not that, but thank you for that too," he sits up, not before nuzzling one more time to my boob. He rests his head against the backboard and looks up at me with a fulfilled smile. "Thank you for giving me time," he clarifies. His hands slide down to my waist and keep me close. I stare down at him feeling happy. There is no other way to say it, I'm just happy.

"of course," I pet some hair out of his face," I wanted our first time to be comfortable."

"Most people wouldn’t have stopped," he nuzzles against my hand. Pressing a kiss to my palm.

"Then most people are awful," I joke," I couldn’t use you like that."

"And that why you are so wonderful. Even when it looked like my body wanted it you knew me well enough to see I wasn’t ready and for that I thank you," he leans up and kisses me. It's slow and wet, if not a little lazy. It's nice.

"I love you, Jensen," I find myself mumbling to his lips. He sits back abruptly with eyes wide. I watch him cautiously, feeling the heavyweight of panic in my stomach. Before I could say anything he buries his face to my neck, grinning widely against my skin.

"Aw," he coos," you don’t understand how terrific it is to hear you say that." the panic evaporates quickly and is replaced with a gushy feeling. I rub my cheek to his head, my forehead hitting his antlers. I can't stop smiling or blushing as he rubs his nose and continues to coo. "You beautiful woman, I love you so much," he kisses my cheek," Love you when you joined me in my first campaign. Love you when you held my hand at the movies, relaxing me when I was a nervous wreck. And I love you most when you didn’t force me last night, I will love you forever because you are just too wonderful." I hide my face to his shoulder as he peppers my face with kisses.

"stop," I laugh," my face is going to catch on fire at this rate."

"How can I stop? The cute girl from the comic book store loves me! I never thought id even get the guts to talk to you let alone have sex with you," he rubs his nose near my eye. His grin is wide and his heart still beats wild. I try to fight my smile but it comes out anyway. My teeth showing as my lips curl from ear to ear.

"I thought you were cute when I first saw you too, I wanted you then and now," I kiss his cheek. He shutters and slumps on me.

"You are going to make my heart burst," he mumbles near my ear," first you are kind to me last night, then you are watching Critical Role for me. Next you get me to trust you so much that we make love. And you tell me that you like my stupid awkwardness! God, you are too much." I nearly get teary-eyed at his words, making me feel like a saint when all I did was care about him. I definitely love this timid satyr.

"Do you work today," I wrap my arms around his shoulder. He slides his hands around my waist and hugs me close.

"No. Do you?"

"No," I kiss his neck," would you like to spend the day in bed?"

"I'd love nothing more," he quickly flips us over. I laugh as he settles above me with a big smile. He looks down between us and kicks off his bottoms. Quickly he catches my eye again and cocks a brow in question. I can't help but laugh before grabbing his face and kissing him again.

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PSA: you can withdraw consent at anytime. This is for both genders. just because a girl is wet, doesnt mean she is ready or willing. Just because a boy is hard, doesnt mean he is ready or willing. communication is important and No means No.

On that note, I really wanted to write a story where the guy wasnt ready. its always the girl not ready to take the leap but it happens to guys too. they arent always the cumbrains we mistake them for. sometimes they need time to trust and open up to a person.

Archive | Main Blog | Critical Role YT Page

[thesevillereport]

In Focus: Square to $250 Billion

I last discussed Square back in March after the company acquired a majority stake of Jay-Z's streaming service Tidal. The acquisition marked another step in Square's new direction. The company that I've long referred to as this generation's cash register machine was moving away from just being a cash register machine company and becoming a full fledged manager of brands.

Benzinga reported last December that Square CEO Jack Dorsey's vision was to have multiple businesses under one brand,and acquiring Tidal was a part of that vision. Since the acquisition, I've patiently waited for what would be next.

Over the past few weeks Dorsey has announced that Square would create a hardware crypto wallet and also create a decentralized finance platform.

Decentralized finance or DeFi allows consumers to use the blockchain to make traditional financial transactions instead of using a traditional centralized financial institution. Lending, borrowing, investing, and making payments can all be done through DeFi platforms. According to DeFi Pulse there is over $2 billion currently locked into DeFi platforms.

In my last piece on Square and in other places I've discussed how the look of what we deem to be a financial institution is changing right before our eyes. Square is one of the companies spearheading the change, and it's not gone unnoticed.

Mizuho analyst Dan Dolev states that buying Square now is comparable to buying Morgan Stanley in 1871. In February Dolev put a price target of $380 per share on Square, behind the thought of Square's Cash App possibly becoming a neo-bank.

Companies like Square and PayPal continue to expand on their services. My thought is that before long they will begin to compete with traditional banks and financial institutions over general loans, car loans, and maybe even home loans.

Square to $500/Share

At a $250 billion valuation, that would give Square a greater valuation than Wells Fargo (WFC), Morgan Stanley (MS), Citigroup (C), American Express (AXP), and Goldman Sachs (GS), but still below Bank of America (BAC), PayPal (PYPL), Mastercard (MA), JP Morgan Chase (JPM), and Visa (V). But what's the catalyst for Square getting to plus $500 a share?

If you haven't realized it yet, Square is building an ecosystem. As investors we've seen how profitable ecosystems can be. Apple's iOS ecosystem has paid off nicely for the company, Google's ecosystem is the best in the world and has rewarded Google shareholder's handsomely.

An ecosystem that links a company's cash register to its own mini-banking platform the Cash App, and links Cash App users to company's using Square terminals. Adding a DeFi platform to the mix will only broaden and strengthen the ecosystem.  From the Cash App, users can purchase cryptocurrencies, and through a DeFi app the Cash App users can use their crypto as collateral for a loan or loan their crypto to small businesses using Square terminals, and receive a higher interest rate than traditional banks are paying on loans. Also included in the ecosystem are Stitch Labs, Squares software management operation, and Weebly, the company's website building platform.

While the DeFi part of the equation could be months or years away, as is, the current business is in good, if not great shape. Revenue in 2020 doubled 2019's revenue, and the company also reported a profit on the year. Revenue for Q1 2021was 266% greater than revenue in Q1 2020. Hardware revenue was up 39% year-over-year in Q1 2021, which points to the company's ability to still grab market share. The company's Cash App generated $4 billion of revenue and $495 million of gross profit, which marked an increase of  666% and 171% year-over-year, respectively. Dan Dolev believes Cash App could reach $30 billion in gross profits by 2031.

There's also room for super expansive growth. Currently card payment acceptance with the Square app is only available inthe US, Canada, Japan, Australia, Republic of Ireland and the United Kingdom. China is the region that gets investors excited when U.S. based companies talk about penetrating foreign markets, but I don't see Square in China. However, I could see Square in a host of other countries and regions, which will allow the company to add small populations of users in each region to the ecosystem.

The Technicals

In mid April the stock made a double top and then began to slowly fade. At its current price of $237.52, the stock is trading slightly below its 20 day moving average. Its 200 day moving average sits at ~$220. I don't expect many people to jump on Square bandwagon, as many people don't understand the significance of the crypto wallet, the DeFi platform, and still don't see the ecosystem the company is building. For those reasons I could see the stock trading down to its 200 day moving average, which would be a great time to enter.

The last bounce off of the 200 day moving average came in mid May of this year, and that was at around $200 per share. The bounce of the 200 day moving average propelled the stock to a high of $254 per share, but then the momentum died and stock started to fade again. A stronger area to enter would be at the $200 level, and price level where the stock has found heavy buying in the past. After the Tidal acquisitions, investors not in love with the deal sold Square, but when the stock fell below $200 per share, investors saw a deal and quickly bought the stock back up. Who says Wall Street doesn't know value?

Brands, Brands, Brands, Ecosystem, Ecosystem, Ecosystem

Brands and ecosystem, there's big money in collecting the right brands and providing a good and useful ecosystem, and Square is attempting to do both. Amazon has become the digital version of Berkshire Hathaway, with Prime, AWS, Alexa, Fire, Kindle, and Twitch all under one umbrella. Google's ecosystem of G-Mail, Google Drive, Chrome, Google Docs, Google Maps, YouTube, and a host of other apps have locked customers into the Google ecosystem and have generally made life a little easier.

Square is the process of collecting brands and building an ecosystem. At the company's current $108 billion valuation, we're still in the early stages of something I believe is going to be very, very big.

[horansqueen]

You & Me : chapter 8

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his. -4.1k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

- notes: thank you for all of you who read this but mostly to those who comment, send asks, reblog, like... it means so much to me. it means a lot to writers. i sort of want this story to never end.

requests! : only ONE for this chapter but all the OTHER requests used in this chapter will be posted in the next one. they sort of happened in this chapter, but well find out in the next so i decided to put them in chapter 9 to make sure i dont spoil anything haha!

Chapter 8 : Her chapter

OLIVIA

After trying at El's (where I knew Louis was), Harry's and Julie and Liam's, I knew I was fucked. I stared at my phone for about half an hour before I dared calling him. I just watched the percentage of my phone's battery drop with time and finally sighed and closed my eyes as I waited for him to answer.

I was pretty sure he'd say yes but I didn't know what his girlfriend would say. I knew it was bad of me to say, but I felt like there was no chemistry between them. Physically, it was incredible. I didn't particularly think that Heidi was pretty but I couldn't pretend she didn't fit exactly society's standards. Next to Niall, they aesthetically looked perfect and although I would never admit it, it hurt to see them together. I remembered looking at pictures online and feeling my whole body in pain at the simple sight of them holding hands. However, spending time with both of them showed me that they were awkward together when it came to everything else. I couldn't pretend it didn't make me feel better. I really was reassured that he didn't seem to really fit with her and I started wondering if people thought that about us when we were dating.

I watched him leave for the kitchen to go get an other bottle of wine and got up quickly to reach the door. I opened it and smiled at the delivery guy, telling him to wait a second. I quickly found Niall's wallet but when I opened it, I stopped moving and held my breath. I saw a bunch of unruffled bills and something I never thought i'd see again. I licked my lips, feeling my hand shake very lightly as I reached for the card before bringing it up.

'Kiss the person you love the most in the room'

I stared at it for so long I forgot where I was and what I was doing until something moved in the corner of my eyes. I quickly grabbed a bill and handed it to the guy, apologizing quickly and putting the card in my pocket. I was not sure what to think of it and I didn't want to ask him, at least not yet, but I knew that at some point, I would be too curious not to ask.

We ate in silence and drank more alcohol, even if I kept telling myself it would be the last glass. I felt nervous, like being around him was not natural anymore, like something was actually happening between us, and I wanted to hate it but the truth was, I loved it.

"I see you glancing at me." Niall said after a while, making me raise my eyebrows and turn my head his way.

"That means you're glancing at me too." I pointed out, making him laugh.

"Touché."

I smiled more and licked my lips, tilting my head.

"You actually pronounced that right."

We both laughed this time and although I knew it was better this way, I wished I was sitting on the same couch than him. I missed him, it was true. It was already surprising that I could admit it to myself but I would never admit it to anyone else. I missed Niall. I fucking missed him. As a best friend and as a lover.

"It's a bit late, can you show me my room?"

His eyes ran slowly on my face and after a few seconds, he nodded. I grabbed my bag and followed him slowly, staring at his nape and back. It brought so many memories to my mind and I swallowed hard, trying to get over all of this. I thought I was over him, but I could lie to myself again, nothing would change the fact that I loved Niall and always would

"Here." he said, pushing slightly on the door. "If you need anything, just ask."

I stared at him again, leaning against the door frame, and nodded slowly. He took a step closer to me and my heart jumped in my chest as his eyes dropped to my lips. Last time we saw each other, he almost kissed me and I backed away. Would he try to kiss me again today? Would he try to kiss me every time we'd see each other? Would he give up after a few times of trying? My heart jumped in my chest at that thought and it made me realize that I didn't want him to give up. Suddenly, I felt extremely guilty and swallowed hard, taking a step back before he could do anything.

"Thanks, you're sweet."

I walked in the room and heard his footsteps as he left further in the hall, probably to his room. Slowly, I got undressed, leaving my clothes on the floor and brushing my hair for a few seconds before bending down to grab my bag again. I sighed and searched through it to get a pajama, which consisted of a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, only to realize that I had brought two pairs of pants instead. I groaned and put one on before taking the shirt I was wearing earlier and putting it on. I could ask Niall for a shirt, right? Did that consist on cheating?

I waited a few minutes and finally got up, walking up to his room and peeking inside. The room was empty and it took me some seconds to allow myself in. I heard a noise coming from the adjacent room and frowned, walking quickly and pushing on the door. I held my breath as my lips parted when I saw my ex boyfriend in the shower. He didn't notice me, he was too busy, and I was paralyzed. I watched him, his eyes closed and his hand against the shower wall, as he moved his other hand on his dick. The sight in itself made my whole body throb but the fluttering stuck between my legs as I realized what he was doing.

"Fuck..." his voice was louder than I would have expected and even if I was far, I realized that I remembered exactly how he looked naked. "Holy..."

I let my mind wander, imagining I was the one touching him or even better, imagining I was on my knees in front of him and that I could take him in my mouth deeply until he'd reach the back of my throat. I closed my eyes for a second, letting out a short whimper that he couldn't hear because of the sound of the shower.

I shook my head and moved completely out of the room, leaning against the wall and panting low. I desperately wanted to touch myself too but I simply pressed my thighs together feeling the throbbing intensify. I heard him groan from the next room and my face twisted in pain. If I wanted, I could go there and kiss him. I could get in the shower with him and touch him. I could let him take me against that fucking shower wall and cum with him like we used to do. But I couldn't and without thinking, I slipped my hand in my pants and bit my bottom lip, feeling a lot hornier than guilty. I knew it was wrong and that I shouldn't look at Niall naked without his consent but hearing him curse and watching him jerk off did something to me that I couldn't explain.

I let out a muffled moan when I felt myself getting close to an orgasm and felt one of my legs shake slightly. Even without touching me, Niall could bring me close to cum in a very short period of time and it surprised me every single time. I heard him groan again and closed my eyes tight, thinking about what I had seen only a few minutes before, and felt a rush to my brain as an orgasm spread all over my body. I shook harder than I thought I would and had to bite my lip hard not to let out a sound, making the whole thing even more intense.

"Oh holy shit, fuck!"

I heard his voice and my heart jumped in my chest when he cursed. I leaned my head on the wall and closed my eyes, thinking about him cumming and I stopped breathing immediately when I heard him whisper. Did he fucking whisper my name? I felt my heart thump in my chest and against my rib cage as I frowned, not really sure of what I heard. Did he really say my name or did I just imagine him say my name because I wanted him to get an orgasm from thinking about me?

The shower stopped and I held my breath before rushing out of his room and walking back in mine. I sat in bed as I panted, probably from the fear of being caught, and I started feeling extremely guilty. I didn't have the right to invade his privacy and the fact that I even masturbated with him without him knowing was not only wrong, it was pathetic. I groaned, realizing it could be the cheesy start of a bad porn movie and rubbed my eyes.

It took me a few minutes but I ended up under the covers of the large bed, lights off but looking at my phone. I thought about the card I had found in Niall's wallet and sighed. Could it be possible that this was still as important for him as it was for me? No, probably not. I shook my head, realizing that perhaps, he put the card in his wallet a long time ago and simply forgot about it. He probably wouldn't even notice that it was missing, since he most likely didn't even remember it was there. That thought made my heart jump and I swallowed hard. Did I want him to care about me and miss me the way I missed him? Yes. Did I want him to still have feelings for me, to still think about me, to still dream about me? Fuck yes. But there was no reason why he would still feel like that.

I thought about the almost-kiss we had and closed my eyes, remembering how good his mouth felt as it brushed against mine. The memory made me lick my lips and I gripped the sheets of the bed hard, the same way I had when I had heard his words and felt his breath on my skin.

A soft knock at the door took me out of my thoughts and I jumped slightly, my lips curling when I saw Niall, leaning against the door frame. My eyes got bigger and my heart skipped a beat when I thought about him in the shower but I tried not to show.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Can I come in?"

I nodded but remained laying down as I watched him get closer. He stood next to the bed and my eyes roamed on him as I tried to suppress a smile. He was wearing shorts and a t-shirt and his hair was still damp from the shower. He raised his eyebrows at me and I chuckled, rolling my eyes, before moving the covers. He sat in the new spot and lied down next to me, his body facing me as he held his head with his hand.

"You're wearing the same shirt." he pointed out with a small smile. "You forgot to bring an other one, did you?"

I grimaced and groaned slightly. I didn't have to admit anything to him, he knew he was right and he just chuckled a bit before sitting up. I watched him take off the shirt he was wearing and held my breath as my eyes got bigger. I looked at the skin and hair of his chest, swallowing hard as I remembered him naked in the shower. What the fuck was wrong with me? He turned my way to hand me his shirt and I looked away, unsure if he had noticed that I was staring at him.

"Here, you can have mine."

I turned to him and looked down at his shirt before looking back in his eyes. He raised his eyebrows and I licked my bottom lip before nibbling on it. Could I wear my ex boyfriend's shirt? Was that considered cheating? I pressed my lips together realizing it can't be worse than masturbating in the next room while he was jerking off in the shower and finally sat up too, taking the shirt in his hand and making sure our fingers wouldn't touch.

"You should... you should turn away while I..." I stammered a bit, making him shake his head.

"Yea, oh yea definitely, good idea." he let out before turning back.

I was not sure what he meant by that but I spent a few minutes just staring at his back. My eyes moved up to his nape and shoulders and I swallowed hard. It was not even sexual. I just wanted to move closer and pepper kisses on the back of his neck and brush my mouth on his shoulders just to feel his warm skin against my lips. I brought my hand closer without thinking but stopped as the tips of my fingers were about to reach him. I shook my head and quickly took my shirt off before putting his on. The scent invaded my nose and my eyes fluttered close as it sent a rush to my brain, like I was reconnecting with an old drug I was addicted to. Could we be addicted to someone's scent? Could we be addicted to someone?

"You done?"

I blinked a few times and moved my upper body back.

"Mmhm."

He turned around and his smile faltered a bit when he looked at me. I saw his eyes roam on me and I held my breath. He was not even ashamed, the way I was only a few seconds ago. He let his eyes roam on my face and down to his shirt that I was wearing. I cleared my throat, trying to get his attention and he looked up in my eyes, his lips curling more.

"Tired?" he asked as I shrugged.

"Not really." I lied back down and his eyes followed me as I moved the blanket over my chest.

He moved in bed and lied down next to me, his hands under his head as he looked up at the ceiling. I could still smell him and turned my head to look at his arm close to me. It was so tough to know what he was thinking about and I wasn't sure why he was there with me. Perhaps he only missed the conversations we used to have late at night, and if I wanted to be honest, I missed them too.

"I'm glad you're here."

His words made me smile more and I turned my head as he did the same. We smiled at each other for a few seconds and he finally moved his whole body so he was facing me. All I could think about was brushing my fingertips on his cheek and it suddenly hit me how beautiful he was. It hit me so hard I could feel my heart literally beat harder in my chest.

"Like, really glad." he added with a chuckle. "Like, really fucking glad."

I chuckled and turned my body to face him too, feeling a bit nervous at how close we suddenly were. I could tell him that, right?

"I'm glad i'm here too." I admitted in a low tone. "I didn't think I'd be but, I am."

His facial expression changed and he looked down for a while. I didn't like how sad he seemed and as I was about to say something, he looked back up in my eyes.

"I'm sorry for last time." he apologized with a sigh. "I'm sorry for Heidi's tantrum and for the whole mess but mostly, i'm so sorry if I made you feel bad or guilty or angry or... anything, when we... when we were in my room together."

My lips parted at his words and I felt something twist in my chest.

"You.. you regret it?"

He frowned slightly until his eyes got bigger.

"If I regret wanting to kiss you?" he let out with surprise. "No! No, Olivia, I don't regret that at all. But I feel like it made you uncomfortable."

"No, I wasn't uncomfortable." I let out in a whisper.

"I just thought... you backed away and I thought, I thought I went too far."

I kept silent but swallowed hard again before my lips parted. He was so close and I could swear he got closer as we spoke. Did I imagine this? Was I the one who got closer?

"I still want to do it. I still want to kiss you."

The room was dark and it was late at night. Why did it always seem like we were in an other world at this time of the day? Why did I always feel like we were on an island just the two of us when we were in the dark? Why did everything seem unreal, like a dream? I didn't know, and perhaps, that's what made me pronounce the next words.

"Do you know why I stopped you, Nee?" I waited but he didn't move and I licked my lips. "I know it's going to happen. I know we will kiss. I know I will give in, one day. I know. But i'm gonna resist because it's wrong. I'm gonna resist with every fiber of my body because you have a girlfriend, and i'm getting married."

I shook my head and took a pause as something inside me started aching. Admitting I wanted to kiss him felt almost as bad as doing it.

"Even right now, Niall, we're just... On joue avec le feu." I finally added. "We're laying together in bed and we're so close."

"Okay, maybe we're tempting fate but..." he sighed and I saw him shake his head too. "I mean, if it'll happen, why not do it now?"

His words made sense but I couldn't get myself to do it. Not because I didn't want it, but because I was scared I would end up regretting it. Why did he even want to kiss me? Because he missed what we had? Because he wanted a reminder of what we used to be? Of what I taste and feel? Did he just want to kiss me to find out if he could?

I felt him move lightly on the bed and before I knew it, his breath was hitting softly my mouth, making my lips part again. I felt his bottom lip brush on my upper one and closed my eyes. Last time, I was the one who did that and at that moment, I was the one enjoying it. I loved the contact of his mouth with mine. I loved it too much and backed away.

"I can't, Niall." I breathed out.

He stopped moving before nodding slowly but as he backed away, I felt his fingers reach my hand that was laying between us and he squeezed it hard.

"This is so wrong."

"We used to do that all the time. We slept in the same bed, cuddled, spent nights talking." he pointed out gently. "This is no different, Liv."

"It is.. completely different, Niall." I argued but let him hold my fingers. "We were just friends back then. I was already in love with you but we were still just friends. But then we dated, and everything changed."

When we started dating, everything changed for the better but then he broke up with me and everything changed for the worst. if 10 years ago, someone had told me Niall and I wouldn't be best friends anymore, I would have laughed. Nothing would have seemed more ridiculous than that.

"You're still my best friend."

I smiled fondly at his words but my heart dropped in my chest. It seemed like we were both holding on to a dead feeling, an old relationship, a sensation of closeness that we were both fighting to keep, or bring back.

"Maybe we can be best friends again." I shrugged a shoulder. "I don't know."

It depended on so many things and one of the biggest obstacles seemed to be our significant others. My thoughts went on Dylan and I sighed low, closing my eyes. He was away and he trusted in me. What would he say if he saw me, laying in the dark with my ex boyfriend? Would that hurt him? Would he start doubting us?

"We can if we want to."

I starting nibbling on the inside of my cheek as my mind kept running. I thought about Niall's girlfriend and how jealous I was of her... how jealous i've always been of her. When he told me she wasn't there when I called, I felt a relief invade me but also something else that I couldn't seem to define. It's only when he explained that she was gone for the weekend that I felt something break inside me. For some odd reason, I sort of had convinced myself that he had broken up with her after our almost-kiss, and finding out he hadn't made me sadder than I thought it would.

"It's not that easy." I confessed in a whisper, letting my thumb run on the top of his hand. I should take my hand back and not touch him but I wasn't strong enough. "No one will ever see us as only friends. No one will ever believe there's nothing between us. Heidi and Dylan will always have doubts about us and honestly, can you blame them?"

"I can't blame them because I know there's something between us. You feel it too, right?"

I felt it. I really did. I felt it deep inside, in every pore of my skin, in every fucking bone of my body. I felt it pierce my heart, linger around my soul, form a lump in my throat. Fuck yes i felt it.

"Niall, I-"

"I just want to hold you tonight." he let out quickly, cutting me. "Just spooning, like we used to. I won't touch you. I won't try anything. Just you, sleeping in my arms."

I stared at him, now that I could see him better in the darkness and I could swear I saw begging in his eyes. I could swear I saw a need that he couldn't explain, and the problem was, I felt the exact same way. What was cheating based on? Was it based on emotions or only on actions? If I had feelings for Niall but never did anything sexual with him, was I still cheating? I couldn't control my emotions but I could control my actions. Should I marry a man I love if i'm in love with an other man? Should I just cut all ties with Niall and try to forget him?

I swallowed hard, trying not to tear up at the realization that I would never be completely happy if Niall was around but we weren't together. I was fucked, I knew it. I just didn't know what I wanted because clearly, I was not ready to let go of him, not now that he was finally back in my life, even if it made such a mess of me.

"Okay."

I breathed in and turned around, feeling his arms wrap around me quickly. He pulled me closer and brought the blankets over us. I felt the warmth of his chest on my back and his breath in my neck and he moved his legs to press them against mine. I felt his crotch press on my ass for a few seconds but he moved slightly away and I thanked him mentally, knowing I wouldn't have had the guts to do it myself.

I felt safe in his arms, the way I always did. I felt good like nothing had changed between us, like I could trust him the way I used to trust him. It was a lie though, an illusion. It had to be.

"Goodnight, Nee." I let out low, scared that my voice would crack.

"Goodnight, petal."