#HOW ARE YOU 6’4 AND A WANTED CRIMINAL

[shoyoist]

how i feel about this image of shuji

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it? 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen PT I & II. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Epilogue. Soundtrack.

********

TWO: G & G.

You know that there are those in the world who strike fear into people’s hearts and souls.

But you’ve never seen anyone react to a single human being the way they do the duo that struts into the bar in their leather cowboy boots. 

You’ve never seen the saloon so quiet and still before then when the duo steps into the scene. A tumbleweed could blow by with how silent it is.

Everyone’s eyes stay planted on the tall, handsome men oozing with confidence and intimidation standing among the swinging doors, appearing like sexy phantoms in the night.

There stands Geto Suguru, the 6’4 long-haired gunslinger with the perfect, black locks that cascade down his broad shoulders and back, seductive eyes, and skillful hands that he hides behind two riding gloves.

He usually is seen riding a black Bronco that is just as big as him and sporting a black cape with black riding pants, boots, and a low-brim cowboy hat. Black fits him so damn well. The only thing that isn’t black on him is the red vest that is so low-cut that you can see the outline of his pecs. 

Beside him is his partner (and lover as it’s rumored) Gojo Satoru, the lean, confident, cocky, blindfolded bandit standing at 6’3 with snow-white hair, a sly smile, leather gloves that hide some skillful and deadly hands, and a blindfold covering his eyes that have never been seen but are said to make a man go cold with fear where he stands.

In contrast to Geto, the white-haired cowboy is doused in colors: a denim jacket that matches his slacks where a star-shaped belt buckle hangs from his crotch; brown boots with spurs; a red bandana wrapped around his neck; and a white cowboy hat sits low on his head. He, too, has his own horse: a brown Bronco that is recognizable from its hooves clicking across the ground.  

They are a match made in heaven and hell. Handsome, skillful, and deadly. They are known for their impressive yet terrifying speed when it comes to cocking and shooting their pistols. You’ve heard of them killing all kinds of wanted criminals and even other gunslingers in other counties.

Everyone knows them and so do you. 

If a record was playing, the damn thing would be scratching by now with the way the saloon reacts to seeing the gunslingers in the flesh. Whispers begin to rise from the silence, including from Yuki, Mai, and Maki who have wandered over. “Oh, my God,” Mai gasps. “It’s the Gunslingers!” 

“What the hell are they doin’ here?” Maki wonders aloud, peering at them from behind her spectacles. “Are they lookin’ for someone? I thought they had been arrested!” 

And they did, last year. At some point, the articles of gunslingers, corporation owners, and high rollers found dead with bullets in them and a note from “G & G” left at the scene stopped when they were arrested after that train heist. And you know it has everything to do with their connection to your boss. 

“Who cares?” Yuki dreamily sighs as she stares at the gunslingers with heart eyes. “I get to admire them in person now! Aren’t they delicious?” 

“Keep it in your pants, Yuki,” Choso grumbles, tugging on a lock of the blonde’s hair as she giggles. “They ain’t even all that.” 

“Of course not,” Yuki purrs, making Choso blush. “Not above you, Chosi, but a cowboy hat would do you so well!”

Even you will admit that the “wanted dead or alive” posters don’t do them justice: they are fine as all hell, straight out of a woman’s wet dreams. But they are also outlaws. And you despise outlaws…for personal reasons. 

The duo begins to look around the silent saloon, Gojo’s head slowly turning despite his blindfold. When his head turns toward you, you feel as if the air has been stolen from your very lungs. Despite the fabric covering his eyes, you feel as if he sees you. All of you. 

Gojo nudges Geto with his elbow before waltzing over to the bar, his boots thudding across the hardwood floor. Geto follows, ignoring the whispers and stares in their wake. The piano has begun to pick up again, but it does nothing to ease the tension swimming in the air. Quickly, you turn to face your drink while the girls scatter to work, leaving you to fend for yourself. 

Geto sits on the stool beside you while Gojo takes the one beside him. You feel the air around you become stiff and tense as the cowboys settle into their seats. “So what’s a cowboy gotta do to get a drink round here?” Gojo asks with a smirk. “Can ya help a guy out, miss?”

He gives Shoko a flirty look, not knowing that this girl is gay as hell. “I could damn sure try,” she replies, barely giving him a smile. “What will you fellas have?” 

“I’ll take a Long Island iced tea,” Gojo says then laughs. “Just kiddin’! A beer, please.”

Geto takes a moment to examine the shelves of alcohol behind Shoko. He then looks at your pretty drink. “I’ll take what the lady is havin’,” he answers. “Actually, what is that you got there, miss?” 

His dark, enchanting eyes meet yours and you ignore the butterflies they invoke inside of you. “Whiskey smash,” you blandly reply.

He hums thoughtfully at the name. “Hm…is it good?” You tick your eyes at him briefly, secretly admiring his features. “If you like your whiskey with some sweetness to it, sure.”

A slow smirk appears on his face. “Oh, I definitely do,” he drawls. “I like sweetness with my everything.” 

You swallow hard, so sure you have a cherry pit in your throat. Gojo chuckles from beside his partner, flashing you a white-toothed smile. “Oooh, me too. I’ll third that order, ma’am!” Shoko nods and shoots you a look before wandering off to fix the drinks. 

You do your best to keep calm and act normal, sipping your drink and trying to relax. At some point, the silence becomes thicker, prompting one of the gunslingers to speak on it. “Welcomin’ place,” Gojo sniggers. “I feel so at home.”

Geto quietly chuckles from between you and Gojo. “Let’s just settle, Satoru. We won’t be here long.” 

‘Settle what?’ you wonder, but you know that they are here for Kento. Shoko comes back with the frothy, red drinks, lowering them in front of the gunslingers. 

“Thank you kindly,” Gojo chirps before taking a sip. Geto nods his thanks but doesn’t drink his right away. Instead, he goes into his pocket and retrieves a folded piece of paper. He unfolds it and slides it across the bar to Shoko. “I don’t suppose you know who this guy is,” he says. 

You peek down at the paper, finding it to be a “Wanted” poster with your BF and boss looking back at you. Kenzo aka “Valentine” looks much different than when you met him. On the poster, he is clean and shaven, has longer, shaggier hair, and has a distinguished scar on his left eye.

But of course, this is the gunslinger who robbed people blind and just pulled a train heist and massacre in the town of Cherrywood a year before with his crew, Geto, and Gojo. The man who takes his place now is Kenzo, a humble saloon owner who sometimes dabbles in illegal activity to fund his saloon.  

Valentine, a criminal on the lamb and your outlaw boyfriend, is known for using his looks, charm, and violence to get what he wants. He is a man who loves money, women, and jewels. As a notorious criminal and outlaw, he has bounced from place to place, county to county, robbing folks and then laying low before starting again. 

He was arrested for robbing the Cherrywood regional train and having his crew massacre all of its employees and riders before you met him. Originally, he was given a fifty-year sentence but escaped after serving five weeks just by seducing a male prison guard and then knocking him out to steal the cell keys. 

You were hot on his trails when he showed up Blackwater a year later and met you in a whorehouse that you purposely took a job in since he frequented those. He took one look at you and immediately fell in love with you (and your body), proposing you a job at his saloon. “You could be mine,” he told you. “My girl.” You agreed and the rest is history. 

“I’ve heard of him, yes,” Shoko replies as she cleans a glass. 

“Is it possible you’ve seen him around?” Geto ponders aloud. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but he escaped Cherrywood a year ago after robbin’ a train and massacrin’ everyone in it. He’s wanted in about nine different counties.”

Shoko takes another brief look at the poster before someone flags her down from down at the bar. Saved by the bell. “I can’t say I have seen him, fellas,” she apologetically says. “‘Scuse me.” 

She hurries off, leaving you with the two cowboys. “How about you, ma’am?” Geto asks, passing the poster to you. “You recognize this face by any chance?” You look down, studying Valentine’s face.

You have, but first, you need to read these guys. “I’ve seen him in the posters, but not in person. May I ask why you two are here?” 

You keep it casual and curious, making sure you don’t sound too suspicious. “We were paid by a private source to track down Valentine for his crimes,” Geto vaguely explains. 

“And for personal business,” Gojo adds with a smirk. “You see, we were in, uh…business with Valentine some time ago and never got our cut.”

He doesn’t need to go any more into detail than that. You know exactly what he’s talking about. “We don’t like bein’ played with,” he says, his voice dipping an octave, sending a chill down your spine. “Or when someone’s money is funny, so we came here to exchange words with him.” 

‘Words or bullet?’ you want to ask, but you instead bite your tongue and sip your drink. 

“We’ve been told he was last seen in this town,” Geto explains. “We figured everyone comes to saloons so why not check here?” He slides the poster away from you, a kind yet flirty smile crossing his beautiful face. “But even if he isn’t, we can still enjoy a drink with a pretty lady.” 

You roll your eyes, having heard that line before. “Does that line work with all the girls?” you scoff. Gojo coughs up his whiskey as he laughs, but Geto doesn’t take it to heart. In fact, he chuckles.  “I see not with you,” he replies. 

“I like that,” Gojo states once he’s recovered, his blindfolded eyes set dead on you. “You’ve gotta be the first person who isn’t scared of us or tryin’ to jump in bed with us.”

You passively shrug, twirling your tongue around the rim of the glass. “I’ve been around gunslingers in my time.” 

At this, the duo share a look unbeknownst to you, quite interested in the pretty thing sitting with them at the bar. “Oh, really?” Gojo drawls and you realize your mistake. “Any of these encounters you’d care to share, little lady? I’m quite interested.”

Geto nods, his gaze like molten fire. “I am too.” 

You suddenly feel your mouth grow dry and your cheeks become hot. Your body reacts in a way it never has with any man you’ve been with, not even your first love! The way they continue to stare at you, giving you their undivided and unwanted attention, is even worse.

What is wrong with you?

Luckily, your boss comes to the rescue, barreling up to the bar like he wasn’t watching the duo from afar and shaking in his boots. 

“Oh, gentlemen!” he shouts, giving them both a hard, eager handshake. “Welcome, welcome! Can I offer you two another drink or a dance free of charge?”

Gojo ignores him like he isn’t even talking, leaving Geto to handle this. “Thanks, but no thanks,” he says, plastering on a kind smile. “We’re here for some information about him.” 

He passes Kenzo the poster and you watch in real time as the color in your boyfriend’s face drains. “Have you seen this guy anywhere?” Geto asks, squinting at him.

Gojo peers at him from under his hat, his stare intense even with the blindfold covering his eyes. Kenzo clears his throat and leans in to whisper to Geto. You pretend to ignore them though you secretly strain to hear. “Let’s talk in private,” he whispers. “Even the walls have ears, I’m afraid.” 

Geto nods and nudges to Gojo who sighs and downs the rest of his drink. To your shock, Geto puts a hand out to you for a shake. Though hesitantly, you take his hand and feel the room grow hotter than a sauna when he places a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “It was a pleasure meetin’ you, ma’am,” he softly says. “Hopefully, we’ll cross paths again.” 

His eyes gleam as he tips his hat at you, leaving Gojo to follow Kenzo upstairs. Gojo doesn’t follow right away, instead digging into his pocket for some coins and placing them on the bar in front of you. “For your drinks and yours,” he says with a crooked smile. “Have a good night, little miss.” 

Then, just like Geto, he leaves as if he didn’t just steal the air you breathe with it. It takes a moment to get your head back, but once you do, you down the rest of your drink and get up from your seat. Shoko catches your eye and gives you a look, her eyes telling you a message: 

“Don’t get caught,” she warns you. “And don’t get killed.” 

You nod, blowing her a kiss, before following your boss and the duo upstairs.

[azrielslostshadow]

Modern!Azriel Headcanons

Modern! Azriel/ Navy Seal! Azriel x reader

Wordcount: 900ish

Warnings: annoying drill sergeant, couple curse words, not super gendered (like one mention of a dress)

A/N: az is a cutie in this one too :)))

Modern!Azriel who grew up in the same trashy neighborhood as you and cass and rhys. 

Modern!Azriel who was determined to make it out despite what his shitty father and half-brothers had to say about it. 

Modern!Azriel who was somehow top 10 in your graduating class despite missing like half of junior and senior year to work and help his mom pay the bills. 

Modern!Azriel who got a 1500 on the SAT and a 96 on his ASVAB (Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery) test. 

Modern!Azriel who knew that his best chance out of the hood was the military (also probably not the best way to work out all his anger)

Modern!Azriel who convinces cass to join him and they both enlist in the battle buddy program together. (they both deploy together so they always have a homie to rely on)

Modern!Azriel who is a fucking 6’4” unit and is recruited by the navy bc he’s massive and a genius and secretly speaks like 5 languages (bc his mom is an immigrant and they’re like that) 

the drill sergeant just about dropped and foamed at the mouth at the sight of azriel and cassian (drill sergeant goes on a tangent about finally getting some “real sailors” and the rest of the unit literally hates them bc yeah he’s right they don’t compare)

Modern!Azriel who (alongside cassian) gets asked to apply to seal school and they graduate with some of the highest BUD/S scores the navy has ever seen (his mom is super proud and makes him mole de pollo bc its his favorite and she loves her son and his friends)

Modern!Azriel who makes it to captain in six years instead of the average nine bc he’s just that good

Modern!Azriel who always remembered you as his kind coworker from his trashy minimum wage dishwashing job in high school and definitely not as his friend’s cute younger sister.

Modern!Azriel who remembers every time you brought him dinner and badly lied about how you hated to waste food and didn’t know what to do with the leftovers so he wouldn’t feel bad about eating it (bc times were tough in HS and he really wasn’t eating enough at all)

Modern!Azriel who just kind of slowly blinks at you when him and his unit walk into the museum that you’ve been working at. 

Modern!Azriel whose chest tightens with something strange when your whole face lights up after recognizing him. 

Modern!Azriel who has only had casual flings (mostly bc he was always away for work) but feels his heart drop to his feet when you press your lips to his left cheek and give his arms a little squeeze. 

Modern!Azriel whose whole body relaxes when you pull him into a hug. who’s knees almost give out when you rub your manicured hands up and down his biceps and whisper about how you missed him–how you were worried about him. 

his whole team will harass him later about his reaction and beg for the details behind your history because even though they’re navy seals they’re really just chismosas on the inside. 

Modern!Azriel who is seriously so confused as to how you (someone who was so kind and loving) could be involved in counter-terrorism.

Modern!Azriel who is shocked when you explain to him that the art world is full of criminals and that terrorists especially love to use expensive art as methods of payment for whatever horrible acts they want to commit. 

Modern!Azriel whose chest puffs with pride when he hears you tell your boss that you have full faith in his unit and their abilities bc “azriel isn’t the kind of man who lets people down”

Modern!Azriel who is supposed to be paying attention to the baroque painting on the wall but can’t take his eyes off of you in your beautiful, floor-length, velvet gown. 

Modern!Azriel who takes out two things in one night: a secret terrorist cell and you to dinner. 

Modern!Azriel who realizes he hasn’t been able to have a serious relationship bc he’s been in love with you this whole time (read: since he was literally 9 years old and you told him he had the prettiest eyes in the world)

Modern!Azriel who wears the matching bracelet you got him every single day. especially when he’s deployed bc a photo of you might actually be too dangerous for the field

Modern!Azriel who never tells you exactly what he does just that he’s the captain of a navy seal unit bc its classified, but you still worry (especially bc you’re a historian and can almost immediately tell where he’s been in the world based on the souvenirs he brings you)

Modern!Azriel who almost bursts into tears when you tell him you love him first bc he’d  been struggling to get the words out for weeks

Modern!Azriel who gets to experience softness from someone other than his mother for the first time in his life

Modern!Azriel who is in a healthy, positive relationship with someone who loves all of him including his flaws. 

Modern!Azriel whose partner teaching him about emotional maturity and communication and slowly walks with him down his healing journey

Modern!Azriel who is pathetically in love with his partner and can’t wait to start their life together. 

[dismightyman]

I finally have the time so imma drop some Vice stats cause she deserves it (this is gonna be long I’m sorry)

She’s 5’9 and honestly a little bitter about it cause her whole family was like 6’4 and above

Not many scars as most of the time she’s behind the wheel or in the air

Which doesn’t mean she can’t absolutely destroy someone when she wants too, she just doesn’t get the opportunity as often as the other Taskforce members

She prefers to be on the ground in a vehicle to flying. She’s an okay pilot but is truly a wizard behind the wheel.

She has a very dry sense of humor, so occasionally in the middle of an op you might hear her make a comment about the weather or talk about what’s happening like it’s rush hour in a busy city and not an active war zone.

She is very ride or die, the minute she feels like she’s found her forever home in the taskforce she is down to fuck shit up for any member of her team, zero hesitation.

Her love language is definitely giving gifts lol as soon as she feels like she’s been accepted into the taskforce she’s constantly giving people things, nothing crazy. But she’ll start carrying specific bands of cigarettes for the smokers, she’ll grab food from the mess and bring it to people just so they don’t have to walk all the way there. She’ll have Hair ties for the people with longer hair just in case they need it. It’s her version of showing she cares, that she’s thinking of them.

Her grandfather was a bit of a figiter so he taught her how to use scrap and bend metal and make little things to pass the time, eventually she got really good at making origami with really thin sheets of scrap. After a bad mission those will end up in the hands of her team too, tho not as open as the cigarettes. It’s too close to home for her to acknowledge our load but the team knows it’s her.

And now the origins lol

Growing up her dad was a criminal who helped move “product” for whoever had the cash for it and her mom was not in the picture.

So she lived with her grandfather most of the time. He was an old Vietnam veteran pilot (which is where the teeth came from lol) and taught her everything she knows about machines, inside and out. He was all she had most of the time and loved him to pieces. Her sense of humor, her wit, almost everything she was, was based around him. She did everything he did, fixed cars, flew the frankly death trap of a helo that he managed to get a hold of and fix up. Even did a little boonies racing with the boys when she was old enough.

Occasionally her dad would make appearances, a few weeks at a time and before she knew any better he had passed on some of his “magic” as he called it. Slight of hand, how to make something “Disappear”, how to add some special pockets to things. She started carrying her dads brand of cigarettes in her pockets-

(Lucky strikes. He always thought that was funny. “A little extra luck never hurt anybody” he’d say with a grin.)

-Hoping every time she could maybe get him to stick around a little longer if she was useful. When that didn’t work she’d pack around more things. His favorite whisky, gum, you name it. He’d just pat her on the head and keep moving to greener pastures.

It wasn’t until after he got caught up in the scene and was killed that she saw that “magic” for what is was. He was trying to teach her to be just like him, to take up the “family” business. It disgusted her but she realized this skill was all she really had left of her dad and she could never break the habit. Always kept a pack of Luckies on her, just in case.

Just before she graduated high school her grandfather passed away, it was his time but still it was devastating. He was her everything and now she had no one. So in an effort to keep his memory close and find some semblance of community she joined the army.

She kinda floated for a while, making some friends here and there but not really finding the family she craved. For the most part she kept her skills to her self. The driving and her “magic”. Didn’t want to stand out, to make herself different from the people she’d gotten used to. Sometime in the middle of all that her squad mates noticed her penchant for making things disappear and reappear. It was almost muscle memory for her at that point, she didn’t even realize she was doing it.

One night, they were out on patrol when one of her squad was mentioning wanting a drink and out of nowhere Vice produced a little shooter. Everyone was flabbergasted, eventually someone made a joke about what else she had and suddenly a pack of cigarettes, a can of chew, and two more shooters appeared. After that they’d just ask her what’s on the menu when they wanted something.

Thus Vice was born.

(that’s kinda all I’ve come up with lol I’m not sure how she joins the taskforce so I’ll have to think on that but here’s a deep dive on my girl)

[moonlitceleste]

I highly recommend wearing headphones or earbuds while listening for the full effect! The song used in the audio is Parasite Eve by Bring Me the Horizon; the rock I listen to usually isn't this heavy but this song seemed fitting for the plot.

The audio and story were a bit rushed, and I was also really tired when I wrote this so sorry for any mistakes!

Let me know if you want me to continue making these! They take a long time, so if you enjoy them I’d really appreciate if you interacted with this post :D

The low purr of Jason’s car slowly died as it came to a halt in what was one of Gotham’s considerably least shitty parking lots.

And when he said “least shitty,” he meant it. Nothing in Gotham was good, let alone extraordinary enough to deserve higher praise.

Jason got out of the sleek black vehicle and closed the door, taking care to lock it before he stuffed the keys into the inner pocket of his faux leather jacket.

It was of high quality and material; he wouldn’t have bought it if not for the behest of Tim, but now he admitted the purchase was a good one. A few years ago his younger brother gained rapid interest in someone by the name of MDC; within a day, he easily found out the young designer’s identity and somehow pestered her into taking him on as a client. If Bruce was any indication, he probably left her no choice.

Speaking of the designer, she was partly responsible for his current situation.

A year ago MDC revealed her identity to the public and started to appear by Jagged’s side on tour, both as a designer and a performer. How she managed to do this while running a business and taking commissions, Jason had no idea—but he respected her ability to juggle all that work, especially since she was only a few years younger than him.

(It was worth mentioning that he didn’t learn this all this on his own—between Tim and Dick’s constant discussion of her, the information was practically drilled into his head. They were the fanboys, not him.)

A while after her reveal, Jagged announced he was going on a worldwide tour for the first time in years. It was only natural that one of those stops be his hometown, so the rockstar sent Bruce enough VIP tickets for the whole family and then some—which is why Jason was currently standing in the middle of a kind-of-shitty parking lot.

He hadn’t planned on going to the concert, rather opting to stay at home, go on patrol, and relax with a good book. But his plans fell through with the unusually low crime rate. He circled around various areas multiple times, but the only disturbances he stumbled across were petty thefts. It was as if all the criminals had collectively agreed to stop their plans for the night.

Yeah right, as if they’re all going to attend Jagged Stone’s concert or something.

Jason snorted at the thought.

He shook his head, pulling himself out of his thoughts to continue walking. He was already an hour late, not that it mattered.

A loud whoop caused him to tense, but Jason relaxed slightly at the sight of a small group.

There were three girls and one boy; none seemed particularly threatening, judging by appearance and gait, but it was Gotham. One could never be too careful.

One of the girls, short-haired and clearly tipsy, slung her arm around a blonde’s shoulders and pulled her in for a sloppy kiss. Their friends chatted loudly beside them, disturbing the relative quiet of the night.

Damn, I’m lonely.

Jason sent a harsh shut up to whatever voice in his head that decided to say that and approached the usher at the booths near the venue entrance.

He showed his pass and was pointed towards his destination, but the directions were unneeded. The booming music and cheers were more than enough to let him know where he was supposed to go.

After pushing past countless bodies and showing his pass to a security guard, Jason finally reached the VIP floor. He tuned out the music, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of his family, and spotted them within a matter of seconds. It wasn’t hard considering how large their group was.

Stephanie was the first to see him. She waved him over while shouting something, presumably his name, and he followed.

Jason winced internally as he sidled up next to them; whoever was stuck behind his 6’4” frame was likely very annoyed.

He took a few seconds to settle in before turning his eyes to what everyone else was looking at.

In the middle of the elevated stage was Jagged Stone, shredding on his guitar and bobbing his head up and down to the beat.

He was costumed in an intricate, eye-catching outfit—quite literally.

The rhinestones on his black jacket caught and reflected the purple lights that shone above, and he shimmered with every movement.

Accessories were piled top to bottom, with his signature black lace gloves only being one of them.

Jason didn’t know much about design, but the outfit came across as intentionally showy rather than garish, which seemed like an impressive feat considering the sheer amount of components included.

Speaking of design, the girl a few feet away certainly didn’t escape his attention.

She was adorned in a short red dress with thin straps, a cowl neck, and a satin material. A leather jacket, combat boots, and the same lace fingerless gloves the older performer was sporting completed the look.

Damn, was the first thought that came to Jason’s mind.

Although he knew better than to underestimate women, he found himself shocked by the powerful vocals that spilled from her mouth. For someone so short, she certainly had a large pair of lungs.

Her voice was a far cry from Jagged’s growls and classic rock screams, but fit in nonetheless.

If anything, it was a light contrast to the heavy-hitting beat and the bass which reverberated through the venue, like how chefs used lemon to cut through the heaviness of a dish.

The way she moved with such poise was captivating, and the smile she wore as she lost herself in the music reeled Jason in.

He could only stare as she belted each note with ease, and the fleeting thought of what she’d look like in his leather jacket passed through his mind.

This train of thought was abruptly cut off as Steph sent a sharp nudge into his side.

Jason looked over, and she started mouthing the lyrics to the song rather aggressively while making exaggerated motions. He assumed this was her way of telling him to start dancing with the crowd.

She looked at him expectantly, to which Jason rolled his eyes, but when she looked away he subtly started moving his feet to the music.

Maybe going to a concert with his family wasn’t so bad—and when he thought of a certain designer, he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t grateful for those backstage VIP passes. Now all he had to do was make sure he asked her out before Tim could.

PERMANENT TAGLIST (some of you might not remember asking, but I was reading the comments under my first fic and saw that you asked to be added. if you don’t want to be on the list anymore, just ask and I can take you off!) @avengerthewarrior​ @bluesimani @enternalempires​ @flower-girll​ @freesportspalacesalad​ @glastwime859​ @h1sss​ @heart-charming​ @jalaluvsu​ @kitsunebell​ @moongoddesskiana​ @nathleigh​ @too0bsessedformyowngood​

[avengerscompound]

It’s You and Me - Chapter 5

It’s You and Me: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x  F!Reader

Word Count:  2575

Rating:  E

Warnings:  Action, mentions of sex and death

Synopsis: You and Clint Barton go way back.  Since you joined the circus as a child, he took it upon himself to keep you away from the people who really wanted to hurt you.  For years the two of you danced a line between dark and light.

When he chooses light the two of you go your separate ways.

Fifteen years later he tracks you down.  Those feelings the two of you shared never went away, but now he is not only an Avengers but a single father.  Can the two of you make it work after all this time when your lives have gone in such different directions?

A series told in flashbacks and current day.

Chapter 5: Now

You blinked over at the three children that were sitting watching morning cartoons.  All had dark hair, light eyes, and pale complexions, with a smattering of freckles over their cheeks.  They all definitely looked related but none particularly resembled the blond 6’4 archer who was claiming to be their father.  The oldest was a boy around thirteen years old that sat on the recliner with his legs crossed playing a game on a tablet.  The girl was the middle child and only a couple of years younger than her brother.  She sat on the couch with a glass of orange juice, her eyes fixed on the episode of Adventure Time currently playing.  The youngest which you assumed was the one Clint had called Nate, was sitting in front of the coffee table with a plastic cup of milk.  He was much younger than the other two by a lot.  You figured he couldn’t be older than five but was more likely three or four.

As you took it all in, the shock didn’t seem to abate at all.  You looked at Clint with your brow furrowed.  “Why didn’t you tell me you had kids?”  You whispered.

“I didn’t think you’d be here when you woke up,” Clint said, sliding the dinosaur pancakes onto a colorful melamine plate.  You watched on as he added more batter to the griddle and then syrup to the pancakes and attempted to get your head around what was going on.  He took the pancakes and put them in front of the little boy before coming back to you and taking your hand, leading you back into the stairwell and up a few steps.  You noticed the girl notice you.  She watched as her father led you up the stairs and then turned back to the TV.

“What… what… what the hell, Clint?”  You said when you were safely out of earshot.

“Okay,” Clint said, putting his hands up like he was surrendering.  “We haven’t seen each other for years.  Years and years.  I had a life.  That’s all.  And I didn’t tell you yesterday because you seemed so flighty.  I figured what was the point.  You’d run off in the night and we’d go back to being exactly where we were before yesterday happened.”

“But you blew up my before yesterday life,” you argued.

“I know,” he said, and relaxed his hands, gingerly taking one of yours.  “I know, okay?  I’m sorry.  Can we start fresh?”

You let out a breath and nodded.

“Hey,” he said.  “Remember me?  It’s Clint.  I met you at the circus when you were still a kid.  Shit, I was still a kid too.  I taught you how to use a sword and ride a horse.”

You smiled a little.  “Yeah, I remember.”

“What have you been up to?”  Clint asked.  “Me?  I joined the government organization, SHIELD.  I was a spy and assassin.  I bet you didn’t expect that.  But I have to admit, I wasn’t great at either.  Then I was an Avenger.  You’ve heard of those guys?  They’re like Superheroes?  It’s kind of a big deal.  Anyway… what else?  Oh right.  I got married.  She was a single mom.  I ended up adopting her kids, and then later we had one together.”

“Where is she?”  You asked the sudden concern that you might have helped Clint cheat on his wife hitting you.

Clint frowned.  “She died,” he said.  “Car accident on the way home from the store.  A drunk driver slammed into her at a T intersection.”  He closed his eyes and shook his head.  You let him have time to work out what he wanted to do with the emotions he had attached to the memory and when he opened his eyes again, he looked a little sadder than he had before.  “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.  I kinda assumed you’d bail on me.  But I am totally here for you sticking around too.  I wanted you to come with me back… before.  That never changed.  So if you wanna try - whatever.  Or the kids are a deal-breaker.  Whatever.  Just… I’m here.  Okay?”

You nodded.  “Okay.”

“I know you never liked kids…”

“I liked kids,” you interrupted.  “I just never wanted them.”

“Right, well,” he said.  “You want to meet mine?”

“Sure,” you said with a small nod, closing your hand around his.

Clint led you back downstairs and flipped the pancakes on the griddle as he passed it.  “Hey kids, I want you to meet my friend.  She’s going to be staying here for a bit,” he gave them your name and then began to indicate to each kid.  “That’s Cooper over there.  Then Lila.  And the little guy is Nate.”

“Hi,” you said, aiming for cheery.  “It’s nice to meet you.”

They all echoed their hellos not particularly giving you too much attention, the way most kids did when you interrupted them doing something they enjoyed.  Clint’s dog ran to the door and began wagging his tail and a second later the door opened.

“Oh and this is Ebony,” Clint said.  “The nanny. She lives here too.”

Ebony had a flustered look about her as she sidestepped Lucky with a large basket of laundry.  “Here’s the clothes.  I really gotta go.  I’m meeting people in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Thank you.  I mean it, thank you.  You’re a lifesaver,” Clint said, taking the laundry basket off her and thrusting it into your arms.  “I owe you one.”

“You owe me at least fifty,” Ebony said.  “Do not call me unless it’s the end of the world.”

“Right, of course.  Have fun,” Clint said as she grabbed her purse.

“See you, trouble makers,” she called as she hurried back out the door.

Clint returned to the pancakes and served up another batch before adding more batter again.  “Your clothes are in there,” he said, indicating to the basket.  “She agreed to do an emergency load of laundry for you because she said it would be a crime to force you out of the house in old Mrs. Wheeler’s clothes.  And don’t worry, she knows how to launder armor, she takes care of mine.”

You laughed.  “I like her already.”

“Go up and change and I’ll have breakfast waiting for you when you get back down,” he said.

When you came back downstairs, Clint was plating up the last of the pancakes as well as bacon, eggs, and fresh fruit.  It was a little startling to you given the last time you’d seen him he lived on coffee and cold pizza.

Clint smiled at you and when you approached, he put his hand on your arm and drew you in a little closer.  Just before his lips touched yours he looked into your eyes.  “Is this okay?”

You swallowed and nodded, not exactly sure if it would be, but wanting it nonetheless.  Clint brought his lips to yours.  This kiss was brief, but passionate, like you were doing something forbidden and clandestine, even though there was nothing about the two of you together that should feel like that at all.  When he pulled back, he tapped your ass and grabbed his plate.  “Come on,” he said.

You grabbed your breakfast and followed Clint to the couch and sat down on the only available recliner.  “Alright kids,” Clint said, as Lucky came and put his head in his lap, in the hopes Clint might give him bacon.  “We have a little bit to get done today and you’re with me.  We’re gonna take the subway into the city.  I need to drop something off at work.  I might see if Auntie Nat can hang out with you for a bit.  You all okay with that?”

They all agreed and then he turned to you.  “We can go over to your place after that if you want.  Grab some of your stuff.”

“You gonna go armed?”  You asked.

“Naturally,” Clint said, dropping a wink at you.

“Then after all that, we can do something fun.  You wanna go to Central Park while we’re in the city?  We can go to the zoo or on the carousel.”

“Can we stay late and see a musical?”  Cooper asked.

Clint raised an eyebrow at him.  “Of all the things I expected to come out of one of my kids’ mouths, that was not one of them,” he said.  “What do you guys think?  I guess we can see Aladdin.”

“Matilda,” Nate said, excitedly.

“Oh yeah?  You want to see a play about someone like your Auntie Wanda?”  Clint joked.

They all talked plans over breakfast and you sat quietly feeling a little out of place.  It was clear that Clint loved his kids a lot, but even more clear was that he wanted to give them the happy, healthy, childhood that he’d been denied.  There was never a suggestion that was thrown out without discussion.  Nothing was a bad idea.  It also explained the effort that he’d put into breakfast.

There were signs of the Clint you knew when you left though.  The dishes were just dumped into the sink and rather than putting the weapons he planned on bringing in a case, he just shoved them into a duffle bag.

The dog came along on the trip and for a while, you wondered how he was going to get him on the subway.  But when you got there he was put awkwardly into a backpack that Clint had been carrying and Clint wore the golden retriever on the train.

The kids and the dog were dropped off with the person you only knew as Black Widow from news reports.  Thankfully your criminal activity was fairly low key and more of the civil disobedience kind, so the Avengers ignored you. But you knew people who had had run-ins with her, and it never turned out well for them.

Then Clint had taken you up to see Captain America and Tony Stark.  They’d obviously been alerted to his presence and the reason for him being there because both were dressed fairly casually (the Captain in a light blue t-shirt that clung to his skin and a brown leather jacket while Stark had a t-shirt with a science pun on it over dress pants), but they were both waiting for him.

“Got it,” Clint said, pulling the microdrive out of his pocket.  Stark snatched it and patted Clint on the cheek.

“Not just a pretty face after all,” he said, going over to one of the consols and plugging it in.

“And who is this?”  Steve asked, nodding to you.

“This is my friend,” Clint said.  “We knew each other at the circus.  She helped with this, but I got her burned.  You think she can … you know…?  Join up?”

“Just going to start recruiting people, Link from the past?”  Tony teased, without looking up from the computer.

“What can you do?”  the Captain asked, ignoring Stark and looking you over.

“Whoah,” you said holding up your hands.  “Who said I even wanted to be part of your elite group of do-gooders?”

“I like her,” Tony said. “She’s got my vote.”

The Captain rolled his eyes but that was the most he acknowledged either you or Stark.

“She’s good, Cap,” Clint said.  “She can fight, and she’s agile as hell.  Can get from one side of the room to the other without touching the ground when it’s just a room with a few other people.  She can even balance on the blade of a sword.”

Steve looked at you, impressed.  “Well,” he said.  “If you ever change your mind, you’re welcome to try out.  If you can keep up with Clint and Nat, you’re in.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you snarked.

“Alright,” Clint said, shaking his head.  “Enjoy your intel.  We have a couple of other things to do today.”

The Captain looked at the duffle bag Clint was carrying.  “Do you need any help?”

“We’ve got it,” Clint answered.  “It’ll probably be nothing.”

Clint couldn’t have been more wrong.  When you got to the rundown building you lived in, the security doors were both broken wide open but when you got to your floor, the door was still closed.

“Ready?”  Clint asked as you looked over the door for any signs of tampering.

You nodded.  “Wonder what their plan is?”  You said.  “You think they’re inside?”

He nodded.  “Either that or watching us through that apartment and they want to block our escape route.”

“Should we go through the window?”  You asked.

“Nah,” he said.  “Might as well take them head-on.”

You shrugged and pushed open the door.  Jasper meowed at you impatiently and hissed in the direction of the neighbor’s door.  He was the only life to be found in your place and you sighed.  They were planning to ambush you.

“Lock the door and push the table up against it,” you said.  Clint nodded and you went and started shoving things into bags.  It was hard to decide what you wanted to keep and what you didn’t when you were under pressure to decide.  You tried to balance things that you needed now, with things that had some kind of sentimental value.  Thankfully, the circus had meant you’d gotten good at packing light and didn’t have a lot of things that you had a strong sentimental attachment to because it was only a couple of minutes before they were banging on the door.

“Might want to hurry, sugar,” Clint said, as someone fired at the locks.  He nocked an arrow and pointed at the door.

“I’m hurrying,” you said, and grabbed a jacket and put it on.  “Jasper, come here buddy,” you said, picking up your cat and zipping up your jacket around him.  He wasn’t exactly happy to be in there, but thankfully despite your kevlar not being strong enough to keep out snake fangs, it handled cat claws fine.

The door shoved forward a little and Clint loosed an arrow, pinning someone's hand to the doorframe.  Whoever it was screamed.  One of Zelda’s snakes slithered through the gap as whoever it was that was pinned to the door tried to muscle it open.

“Time to go,” Clint said, rushing to your side and wrapping his arm around your waist.  You let him hustle you to the window and he shot a grappling arrow at the building across from yours.  “That open window, there,” Clint said, pointing.  “You got this?”

“Please, look who you’re talking to,” you said.

The two of you hoisted yourself through the window and jumped as the door was shoved open.  Clint let you go as you arced over the gap between the buildings and you launched yourself off Clint’s thighs, stretching out, whilst holding your bags close to your body, so you dived headfirst through the window over the road, tucking yourself into a ball and rolling as you hit the ground. The old lady who lived there started screaming.  Clint, came through the window feet first just after you, forward rolling to break the impact.  “Sorry, ma’am!”  He announced as he rolled straight to his feet and grabbed your arm, running to the door.  “Avengers business!”

You started laughing as the two of you ran through the door and out into the hall.  “Oh my god, Clint!”  You shouted.  “I missed this!”

Clint grinned at you as he jumped over the staircase railings.  “Me too, babe.”

// NEXT

[whumpeeblog]

A coworker who is ten years older than me began touching me. It started with small fist bumps on the shoulder and got to the point where I was on the ground curled up in a ball with him on top of me “tickling” me and getting far too close to places he shouldn’t be. He also asked me to hang out several times and made some comments that scared me. He got more and more touchy each day, even grazing areas a couple times but not enough for the cameras to pick it up as intentional. Most recently, and I still don’t know for sure if it was intentional or not, he slapped my ass with a piece of merchandise while walking by. I wasn’t sure if any of this could be considered sexual harassment or if I was simply overreacting, so I went to my family. My boss is known for gossiping and not being able to keep discretion and secrets within the company, making me uncomfortable telling her. I called my sister and my mom and made them promise, as Christians, not to get involved but to simply tell me what they thought and if I was overreacting. I asked them how I could ask this 6’4, bigger guy to back off without hurting him or creating a huge scene at work. My sister saw him as a huge threat. She promised she wouldn’t say a word, but then went behind my back and messaged him on a fake Facebook profile. She threatened him and told him that if he touched me again or slapped my ass again, she would personally come down to the store and fight him. She also told him that if he told me or the boss about her message, she would mess him up.

Well I go into work the next day, only to be called to the office by my boss. She proceeds to bait me and lie to me by saying that another store was having sexual harassment issues and that there were going to be new rules in place. That’s when I said to her, “Well since you’re doing this, I needed to talk to you anyway. I didn’t want to do this, and I don’t want to name names...” She cut me off telling me that I have to name names. I told her that I was having issues with that guy. She then told me that she already knew. She said that the guy had come into her office crying and showed her the text that my sister sent. He was scared, and my sister believes that that’s because he’s been in and out of jail. Here’s the catch though. A few weeks ago, he was talking to the other guys. They didn’t think I could hear them, but they were discussing how he was leaving soon and had applied at other jobs. They were the only people he had told since he didn’t really have a good reason to quit. When he went in to show my boss the text and get the jump on me, he told the boss that “he’s not gonna be accused of rape and sexual harassment and that he’s leaving because of my accusations.” (Which is a complete lie, and only two people other than me know that). I explained my side of the story to my boss. I told her that I didn’t want to create a scene, which is why I went to my sister in the first place. I trusted her word as a Christian, and I needed to know if I was being a bitch and overreacting or if there was a way I could discreetly ask this guy to back off. Plus I’m scared of him. He has made it very clear that he could easily hurt me if he wanted to, but I didn’t tell her that cause it’s embarrassing to me. My boss said that she was upset that I went to my sister, and that “what happens at work stays at work. Nothing that occurs at work should ever leave the workplace and I should have come to her.” She said that the guy admits to tickling me, but that none of it was meant sexually and he doesn’t remember slapping me (there were no cameras in the place that he did it.) He only admitted to the stuff they have on camera. She then proceeds to say that even if what he did was sexual, “boys will be boys.” I told my boss that that’s great if it wasn’t meant sexually, but that he should not have been touching an eighteen year old female in the first place, sexual or not. His touch was not welcome and I never said he could touch me like that. I was too scared to tell him no. Plus, I didn’t want to hurt him. My boss then said that there were gonna be new rules thanks to me. No more joking, talking to each other at work, and everything is strictly business because any of those things could be taken as “sexual harassment.” It was like she was mocking me and saying that I’m being dramatic. I then asked her who knew details and who she was telling. She claimed that only she and two other people knew the details of the situation and that everyone else did and would continue to think there was just an issue between two workers and sexual harassment. I believed her and took her word for it. She claimed that no one would treat me any differently and that we would just sweep it under the rug and pretend it didn’t happen.

I went into work yesterday and was avoided like the plague by everyone. My boss watched me like a hawk all day and almost no one spoke to me for the entire day. The guy who had been touching me wasn’t there, but my boss spent the entire day accusing me of stocking stuff wrong and treating me like a criminal trying to prove my innocence.

After she left, I asked my coworker, who was one of my closest friends and who had also been avoiding me and almost ignoring me, what she knew about the situation. She told me that she knew everything. The boss had called each employee into her office individually, and showed them my sisters text. She had told them the entire situation with details and said that I was the reason that guy had chosen to leave and that it was my fault we couldn’t have fun anymore. I was left humiliated and still have to face that guy on Wednesday.

I am hurt and angry. My sister admitted to what she did and apologized. She felt guilty about lying to me, but said she saw me being threatened and went mad dog on the guy. My boss still doesn’t know that I’m aware of her lying to my face. But I can’t go into work with being avoided and stared at. They talk about me behind my back when they don’t think I’m around they’re treating me like the bad guy here. Am I wrong? Am I overreacting? Is this all my fault? I need opinions and help before this drives me insane. I’m being treated like the bad guy because a coworker touched me and I went to my family about it. Was I wrong in taking that outside of work? As far as I’ve always known, when a guy is physical with you like that, you have no obligation to keep it private at work, and I had every right to ask for my familys opinion before going to my boss who is known for her love of drama and gossip. What can I do to stop self loathing and to stop being self conscious going into work.

[chainsthatbindthisrouletteofmine]

Metamorphosis au

So I took the Puppet!JJ theory and went a little further with it. So y’all know Henry Jekyll and Edward Hyde? Imagine that but with a few differences. I also took some liberties with Anti's design. This does take place in the modern day, and the septic boys are all real people in this. Also taking some inspiration from Hellboy and League of Extraordinary Gentlemen(the movies, sorry y’all). Supernatural and magic is sorta known in the world(a massive portion of the population is unknowing of it) but I’m taking some liberties with that as well. Same for the superhero stuff. So, let’s introduce the boys, shall we?

Jameson Jackson

Was a 21 year old silent film actor in the 1920’s; was gaining popularity when a strange man introduced himself to Jameson, promised him wonderful things and such. At first, Jameson was suspicious and brushed the man off but after a while, agreed to work with the man. However, as soon as they shook hands, Jameson fell to the ground, screaming in pain before his body began to shift and twist into something not natural, losing consciousness as the change progressed. He woke up ten days later, sickly and ill, somewhere in his shredded clothes and newspapers of an unknown creature. Jameson has been around since then. Stands at 5’7.

Anti “The Puppeteer Demon”

No one knows what this thing is, how old it is, or where it’s from; not even the Providence. It’s vengeful, petty, dangerous, murderous, and quite powerful. Takes bodies of humans, twists them into what it wants, uses them, and then discards them. Most of these bodies die after the first change, some even make it to a second change before becoming nothing but a mangled corpse. Which makes Jameson a bit special and of course, the thing’s favorite body. Also, will claim “puppets’. Will explain the process of becoming a puppet in a later post.

Description when using Jameson’s body: 7’4, extremely long limbs, sharp and long talons, massive row of sharp teeth, unhinged jaw with skin torn around the mouth, hair is greasy and longish, long creepy tongue, red eyes, no pupils, covered with black gunk( some of it defies gravity and floats upward), spikes poking through the back. This dude crawls on the fucking walls and ceilings chasing you while he laughs, fuck this guy.

Jackie Brody aka Redbull

26, little brother of Chase Brody, vigilante. Suit looks like Daredevil’s suit but with a red hood and blue mask. Didn’t come up with the name, the people did. Went to college to study Criminal Law but dropped out and now works at a coffee shop, thinking of going back to college and majoring in Forensic science. Quippy and witty, very energetic and positive with a good dose of snark. Hella good at cooking. Best friends with Marvin(and maybe more).

Superpowers: super strength, sonic scream, increased agility, speed, and endurance. A small healing factor, not much though.

Henrik Von Schneeplestein

39, doctor of medicine and physics. Very intelligent and very eccentric, a lot of sarcasm with a smile but is kind as well. Sometimes can’t tell if he’s joking or not, and he revels in it. Would wear a hawaiian shirt under his white coat and crocs and wouldn’t change. Jackie goes to him for his injuries. Close friends with Chase.

Chase Brody 

32, big brother to Jackie Brody, youtuber. Divorced, father of two. Took care of Jackie for most of their childhood. Poor mental health; depression and suicidal idealization. Recovering alcoholic. Lately, Anti has taken an interest in him with the desire of turning him into a puppet, mostly to get back at Jackie and Marvin.

Marvin Beauregard

26, absolute recluse and hermit; hardly ever leaves the apartment. Mage/wizard; associated with Providence, works with them, not for them. Deals with any supernatural case given to him(think Constantine; the movie, again, sorry). Always tired, a lot of dry and deadpanned humor. Main job is as a techie, works from home. Normally wears nice long-sleeve shirts under jackets/hoodies with sweatpants but when outside(only at night) or around people he doesn’t quite trust yet, wears a dark blue cloak and his mask(flat, white, fullface, the four symbols, you know the ones. Not a cat mask, sorry y'all). Stands at 6’4. Has some, uh, features from a transformation spell gone wrong; his first attempt at magic actually. He hides them.

Ask any questions or send prompts, please!!!! I crave for that shit!

also, credit to @sandinthetardis! they helped me make this au!

[blahblahwritings]

When It Rains, It Pours.

A/N: Heres to pumping out bad writing to try and resuccitate the writer inside. This didn’t turn out how I wanted it to because the evidence points aren't really explained but whatever its getting late and I'm too tired to care. 

Words: 2103.

Warnings: Well its a criminal minds fic so murder mentions, drownings, abuse mentions, kidnapping the usual.

The past few weeks had been exhausting for the BAU team, with back to back cases they rarely had time away. Their current case involved an unsub who was drowning women in their 30s one a day for the past three days. With Spencer by your side, you made your way to the medical examiner to look at the bodies for further analysis.

The abrasions around the victims wrists and ankles showed they had been restrained with rope and struggled against the binds. There were scrapes and scratches on the heels that had pieces of concrete embedded into the skin meaning that they were kept somewhere possibly underground in an old abandoned building or factory or even in someone’s basement. Reid, your husband, continued examining the body of the third, most recent, victim as you read over the reports.

“It says here they were drowned and that their lungs contained traces of common fertilisers and pesticides. So we’re looking at a rogue farmer?” Your eyebrows furrowed slightly in question. You glanced out the window, the rain streaming down the panes of glass just as heavy as it had been the past few days.

“Most likely. Given the geographical profile of where the women were last seen and where their bodies were found there are three hundred and twelve point six square meters of farmland but the problem is pinpointing which area the unsub is working in because the fertilisers are so commonly used.” He replied without breaking focus from the body in front of him. A small smile found its way to your face, his knowledge always impressing you.

“Okay, Sherlock, so what are you thinking?” You asked, putting down the report and moving towards the table. He stood to his full height, turning to you with tired eyes. “That we should call Garcia, I’ll tell her what to search for and hopefully she can give us a lead.” He almost managed to finish his sentence without a yawn. Almost. “Well you can do that in the car, you look drained, I’ll drive.” You kissed his cheek as you took the keys from him, intertwining your fingers and guiding him through the office until you reached the exit.

-

The team were taking shifts, Reid, Rossi and Kate were asleep in the hotel around the corner from the precinct while Hotch, Morgan, JJ and yourself worked on the case. You had dropped Reid off before driving through the storm to get a round of coffee to bring back to the rest of the team, your own tiredness starting to set deep into your bones. It was 11:30pm and the white noise of rain wasn’t doing anything for your sleepy state but the promise off coffee kept you from turning around and going straight back to the hotel for some much needed Zs.

You parked up outside the first 24hour coffee place you saw, ordering four of the strongest drinks they had. The lights were blinding in comparison to the streetlights outside but you stood, patiently waiting for your order. The only other customers were what looked to be two construction workers in hi-vis jackets, probably form the road works a little while back. They sat at a table in the corner, almost asleep until the guy at the counter shouted their order, causing them to startle awake. A few minutes passed and your order was called. Collecting the cup holder you jogged back to your car, opening the passenger-side door and setting them down on the seat.

As you started to walk to the drivers side, you shot a text to JJ telling her you’d be about five minutes, getting soaked in the process. Rounding the back of the car you bumped into a man, dropping your phone. Alarms sounded in your head, every muscle kicking into action as you took several steps back, a guarded look on your features. He was in his forties, well-built and had at least a foot on you with a face like clay, pushed and pulled and contorted. His boots were covered in mud and his jeans had dirt on the knees. Your phone was behind him. Your gun in the car.

Three strides and he was on you. As you opened your mouth to scream, he covered your mouth with a cloth, the sound muffling and the pungent smell of chloroform filling your nose. You held your breath and tried to fight, flinging elbows and feet behind you in a futile attempt to break free. Your last thought as you started to go limp was Spencer. Then it was dark.

-

It had been over an hour since JJ received the text from you. After her calls kept going to answer phone, Morgan had left with Hotch to try and find your car, tracking the GPS location of the vehicle to the parking lot you’d been taken in. JJ rang Reid once they had confirmed you were missing with your phone found smashed near your unlocked car. By the time he and the others arrived at the station, Morgan and Hotch had sent the security camera footage to the precinct. Spencer stood staring at the screen, fear manifesting in every fibre of his being as the only image was of your struggle against a man clearly much larger than you then your body drooping as you passed out. His vision blurred, his mind somehow coming to a standstill, unable to move or breathe.

“Spence.. Reid” JJ shook him gently. He didn’t flinch, instead turned slowly to his friend with tears in his eyes, hair messy from his hands running through it over and over. “We’re gonna find her, I promise.” But the words didn’t seem to process in the genius’ mind. Right now, all he could think about was the slim chance that you’d get out of this alive. His jaw clenched, a look of anger took over his usually soft features before he started working on the case again. He wouldn’t let you die like this, he refused. He needed you by his side and he would stop at nothing to ensure your safe return.

-

The first thing you felt was the sting of your feet being scraped against the floor, then the ache in your arms and shoulders as you realised you were being dragged by the rope binding your wrists down dark, cold hallway. You were still groggy from being drugged and couldn’t bring yourself to fight against the unsub but you tried your best, pulling at the binds. Your kidnapper grunted in response, the attempts not concerning him in the slightest. He picked you up, lying you in something cold and smooth then tying you down so you couldn’t escape. You shook yourself further awake.

“Who are you and why are you doing this.” You mumbled, the words tumbling carelessly from your lips. No response. A calloused hand found its way to your face, his thumb rubbed against your cheekbone and a whimper was heard from beside you. “What’s wrong?” You tried showing sympathy but still got nothing in return. The room was pitch black and you could only make out his silhouette. He stood, walking somewhere out of sight before you heard a door shut and lock. Your head lay back against the hard material behind you, arms hanging above and your legs folded over some kind of edge. You felt anything you could get your hands on and found you were tied to a thin pipe of some sort but nothing really became any clearer.  

A loud metallic clang sounded above you and freezing water rained down on you, soaking your already damp clothes. The light from the opening revealed you were lying in a bathtub, hands by the taps and your legs bound so you couldn’t move. You jumped at the sudden drop in temperature. Panic rose in you and you started thrashing around but to no avail. You were trapped. The only spark of hope was that the team would find you. That Spence would find you.

-

“Okay so I analysed the footage and ran it through different software and it looks as though our unsub is about 6’4” and built like a bull but thats all I can find.” Garcia’s voice rang out through the tinny speakers of the phone.

“Alright babygirl, I’m gonna need you to look for men in their mid thirties to forties who possibly works on a farm or lived on one as a kid.” Morgan began. “Yeah that’s only the entire population of the town you’re in, c’mon I need more than that.” She quipped.

“Crosscheck that with a history of violence against women or a history of abuse during childhood, the victims are a surrogate for a woman in his past possibly a parental figure as they all share similar physical attributes.” Spencer added, his brain spitting out words quicker than Garcia could really process. Rapid typing could be heard on the other end of the phone a moment after.

“Oh good doctor you are brilliant, there are two men who fit the criteria and live in the comfort zone, one being Mr. James Bailor, a 38 year old farmer who has been arrested on three accounts of domestic violence against his wife. He lives on the farm, recently ordered a batch of the same fertiliser found in the victims’ lungs and lived on a farm with his aunt at the age of eight due to abuse from his parents.” She explained before continuing. “The other is Mr. Grant O’Connor, a 43 year old farmer with a long list of felonies consisting almost entirely of beating on women and drug use. His mother died a week ago but he was taken into care at a young age because… oh my god… she tried to drown him in a tub when he was just six years old claiming his birth defects were ‘against god’ and he should be ‘cleansed and sent straight back to hell’.” She finished breathless, their backgrounds clearly upsetting her.

“Thats him. Thats our unsub.” Reid declared, grabbing his gun from the table as he stood. “Whats his address?” He asked, shaking with too many emotions to count. There were two, one being his current home and the other being the farm his mother used to live in. The team leapt into action, speeding off to the latter address.

-

The water had reached your chin, the shivering long subsided as hypothermia took over your body. You couldn’t remember when you had begun to sob, the hot tears a sharp contrast against the coldness of your skin. “PLEASE.” You wept, hopeless. “Just let me out.” Your voice broke. Exhaustion had washed over your body a long time ago, the lack of sleep, the drugs and the cold all beating you down and preventing you from fighting with any real strength.

The water continued to rise and as it reached your nose you flailed about in the water, managing to get very little air. Then the unsub came in, wrapping his hands around your throat and pushing you down into the water as you fought. A loud siren pierced the noise of the room, startling the unsub but he kept you under. You held your breath for as long as possible but you could only do so much. The door to the room burst open, slamming against the wall, muted voices shouted but your world started to fade, your hearing going too.

A shot rang out and the water turned red. You kicked your legs and felt someone cut the ropes at your wrists free, pulling your top half out of the water. Coughing up the water you’d taken in, you gasped and clawed at the body lifting you out of the water, horrified cries the only thing left to leave your mouth. Two arms wrapped around your torso which you quickly identified as Spencer’s.

“Sh sh shhh. You’re alright, I’ve got you, love, you’re safe.” He cooed, trying to calm you down as well as himself. You curled into him, sobs wracking your body as you gripped onto his shirt. You thought that you’d die here, never to see him again, never to see your friends or family. The horror and anxiety snapped your chest in two, breathing becoming even more difficult as you broke down in his arms.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again, I love you so much, I’m so sorry. It’s okay now. It’s okay.. It’s okay…” His voice broke as he too cried, repeating those two words as you rocked back and forth.

[im-a-ramblr]

Day 12, Clenched Fist

Ares wasn’t quite sure how his life had become such a mess. Actually, he did know. It was Henry’s fault. 

This particular problem wasn’t actually Henry’s doing, but it felt more appropriate to blame him for it than Gregor.

He sighed and started to swing his arms, then froze as the man attached to the other end of one stumbled. “Sorry.”  

“It’s okay.” Gregor regained his footing and after a moment of tense silence hesitantly started to swing his arm.

Ares kept his eyes straight ahead but swung their interlocked hands. They must have made quite a sight. Ares, a 6’4 tall black man, holding hands with 5’6 Gregor. Despite how odd they must have looked, and a slight fear of swinging too hard and knocking Gregor off balance, it was nice. Henry had never cared much for this habit of his.

“I’m also sorry. About this.” Gregor added, drawing Ares’s attention. The brunette used his free and to waved to their glued together hands. “I swear it wasn’t what I was trying to do.” 

Ares smiled. “I know Gregor. Besides, it’s a lot less binding than what I got you into.” 

“I’m not too sure about that. But it was kinda fun.” 

“I suppose that is a word for it.” Ares thought back to that night. It had been exhausting. He’d been ditched, framed, fake married as an alibi, proven innocent, gone to his ‘wedding reception’, had some bad edibles, gotten sick, and woken up just in time to rush to catch his plane. After a while of enduring his friends teasing about his new friend who had saved him the previous night, he realized that he had no way of contacting him.

It had been sheer luck they had bumped into each other. It had not been luck that Gregor had super glue all over his hand due to a project he’d been working on with his sister and father.

The following greeting had been downright awkward. It wasn’t that Gregor and Ares didn’t like each other. They’d bonded over the several hours of chaos, and certainly wanted to be friends, but what did you say to someone after a night like that. Gregor had fixed that problem by accidentally getting them stuck together. It was a little uncomfortable, having their hands clenched together, but that is why they were hurrying to find an appropriate remover. 

(000000000000000000000000000Line Break000000000000000000000000000)

Sometime later, and several short arguments about who paid for the goods, both of their free hands had shopping bags in them. They were both a little hungry but agreed it was best to get unstuck before trying to eat.  Where to get unstuck was a harder question to answer. In the end, they went to Gregor’s neighbor’s place. Mrs. Cormaci hadn’t asked any questions about why the two were glued together; though when Gregor hadn’t been looking, she gave him an exasperated, though fond, look. 

After soaking their interlocked hands in warm water, rubbing in some oils, and swapping nail polish remover on some spots, they were free. They both washed their hands a few more times, just to be sure it was all gone. Mrs. Cormaci ushered them to the table and won’t let hear any protest as she plated up some food.

It was wonderful, and when they were done, they thanked her plenty of times while walking off. She smiled and told them to behave, then closed the door. Gregor shifted from his weight from foot to foot, though it seemed much less nervous than before. “Uh, is this goodbye?” he asked.

That caught Ares off guard, and he shrugged. “I guess?”  

“Can I get your number? Before you leave?” Gregor straightened, suddenly a lot more confidence. Ares blinked and nodded. They swapped numbers and as Gregor stepped around him to get to his door he blurted out, “Would you like to meet some of my friends? The ones I was texting earlier. They were there for everything, and I think they would like to meet you again.” 

“Oh!” Gregor’s face lit up, “Sure. Like right now or…”

“Now is good. If you are free?”

“Yeah. Where we going?” 

The pair made they’re way out of the building and Ares pointed him in the right direction. They chatted as they walked. Between everything that happened in Vegas and then being glued together; they had spent a decent amount of time together but hadn’t really had time to talk. Ares learned that Gregor had done track in middle and high school, and that he’d learned saxophone from his dad, and that he really only had two friends outside his family his whole life. Ares found himself admitting that he was also a loner growing up and that despite how large his friend group was now, he didn’t feel super close to most of them. He’d originally been drawn to Henry because they were both ‘bad boys’, but that their friendship had disintegrated when Ares had grown out of it. 

They were in the middle of comparing hideouts when someone called Ares’s name. Neveeve was walking towards them, and Ares bit back a groan. She came to a stop in front of them and Ares resisted the urge to snap at her. Neveeve might have been a nice person, but she was one of Solovet’s lackeys and at times Henry’s. She definitely preferred Henry to himself in any case. 

“Hello, Neveeve.” Ares said, flatly. Gregor pressed a little closer to him, put on guard by Ares’s tone. 

“Ares.” Neveeve sniffed. She gave Gregor a once over and raised an eyebrow. “And who is this?” 

“I’m Gregor. I don’t believe we’ve met?” Gregor’s tone was steady and polite. 

“Neveeve.” Neither offered their hands for any kind of greeting. “How do you know Ares.”

“He’s my partner.” Ares cut in. “Not that that is any of your business.” 

Neveeve sniffed. “Partner. How nice. Well, I hope it lasts.” She looked like she wanted to add more to it but didn’t. She merely nodded and walked off. Gregor turned to watch her and frowned. 

“What was that about.” 

“Neveeve was a friend of Henry’s grandmother,” Ares informed him. “Neither are happy about what happened.” He looked down, realizing that they had been grasping each other’s hands again. He tugged his out, but Gregor held on. He gave Ares’ hand a squeeze then let him pull it out. “And all three thought the idea of me having partners amusing. Henry was a close I ever got to…” he trialed off but Gregor got the idea. 

“I’m sorry. You deserved so much better than him.” he made a face. “And that’s not just a boast about how great I am. You deserve someone better than me too.” 

Ares let out a soft laugh. “I do not know. I think you deserve someone better than me. There are a lot of things you don’t know.”

“That goes both ways though.” Gregor pointed out. “Besides, you’re not a criminal right? That’s what the whole Vegas thing was about. So, there’s nothing to bad.” 

Ares laughed, this one louder than before. “A good point. I suppose the best thing to do is just let whatever this is happen.” He waved between them. 

“Sounds like a good plan.” Gregor grinned, and Ares found himself grinning back. 

[saveyourblood]

Stolen Dance | Part 8

Summary: “Maybe this was a pipe dream, a delusion you’d soon awake from or a phase you’d outgrow. You didn’t really care. For a brief moment in time, you were in love. That’s what you chose to care about. That what you made matter.”

The one where you’re a paramedic, he’s an FBI agent, and the time you spend together is borrowed.

Word Count: 4.8k

Song: Moving On - Kodaline

Warnings: a few parts of this chapter (mostly, a single scene) are pretty disturbing. It's nothing worse than what is mentioned in Criminal Minds, but it's graphic. If it gets to be too much for you, skip to this: *** (the scene will also start with this symbol if you want to skip it altogether). Take care of yourself <3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

_____________________

Syria, 2014

“Are all girls from Colorado this rough, or is it just you?”

“Shut up, Austin.”

Austin laughed.

It was weird — soldiers buzzed around you like bees in a hive, but whenever you and Austin got the chance to talk, it was like you and him were the only people in the room. You just wished you could talk to him under better circumstances.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Austin continued. “The last guy you treated walked out of here looking like Frankenstein.”

“Without me, he would’ve been rolled out,” you retorted. You pulled at the sutures tightly, causing him to wince.

“Alright, alright,” he ceded with a chuckle, “I get it. But if you mess up my face, my mama will come after you.”

“I would never mess up a handsome face like yours,” you said sweetly as you worked at the cut on his cheekbone. “Why would I ruin a man’s only asset?”

“You wound me, Y/N,” Austin said, setting a hand over his heart. “You wound me to my core.” 

You snorted, laying a bandage over the sutures. You patted his shoulder. “You’re good to go, soldier.” 

Austin stood up from the gurney, grabbing his button-down digital camo shirt. He draped it over his arm, which you swore was the width of your head. As if that wasn’t enough, he towered over you: he was at least 6’4, and built like a tank. You once said he was the Army’s wet dream. You got a good laugh out of that remark.

Austin bowed slightly and tipped an imaginary hat. “Thank you, m’lady,” he said, accentuating his preexisting southern drawl. 

You shoved his shoulder with a smile. “Get out of here, Crow.”

He smiled, his white teeth contrasting his dark hair. “See you around, Y/L/N.”

“Hopefully not too soon,” you replied. 

“What, you don’t want to look at this pretty face?” He asked, fluttering his eyelashes.

“Not really, no,” you laughed. You cleared your throat. “Seriously, Austin: Don’t be a hero.” 

He nodded, respecting your change of tone. “Yes ma’am,” he agreed, before walking out of the triage tent and right back into danger.

You sighed, picking up and putting away your equipment.

Some days, you wished more than anything else that the two of you met under different circumstances. You wished he moved to Colorado with his family when he was a teenager, or that the two of you met in a small cafe in a big city. Hell, you’d even be okay if you met during Basic Training, the two of you fell in love, and he worked on a local reserve while you persued a different career. Really, you just wished you hadn’t met while serving in Syria, because no matter how you spinned it, it just wasn’t appropriate. 

Austin was a Staff Sergeant, which technically meant he ranked higher than you. However, the two of you worked in different areas; Austin was a combat soldier, while you were a medic. He fought on the frontline, you mostly worked triage. You took care of men like him. So, even though the Army may not forbid an affair between the two of you, that didn’t mean you thought it was okay. It felt like… corruption, like you were breaking the trust between you and your brothers. You didn’t want anyone for a single second to feel like they were less important to you.

So, you pushed your feelings aside. You savored the moments you spent with Austin, but you didn’t push it. You didn’t seek him out, you didn’t play favorites. You enjoyed the time you spent with him, but said time was brief, as it should be. 

You sighed again. He was a charming Texas boy with a heart of gold. How could a person not fall in love with him? 

“The longer this goes on, the worse it gets.”

You and Austin watched a new batch of soldiers go through training. They were already deemed fit for combat, so the next few weeks would be spent teaching them the ins-and-outs of living and serving in an active warzone. Today’s lesson? IEDs. 

“I know,” you agreed, voices low as to not distract. “It started as peaceful protests against a President, and now more than half a million people are dead.”

“70 airstrikes later,” Austin said with a sigh. “Sometimes… nevermind.”

“What?” you asked. When he didn’t respond, you nudged his shoulder. “Sing your annoying song, Crow.”

He smirked, but didn’t quite laugh; the sound he made was that of a scoff. “Sometimes I wonder what the hell I’m even doing here.” 

“Me too,” you said softly. 

_____________________

The two of you found some downtime; Austin wouldn’t be heading out with his team until later in the afternoon, and after a busy morning, your tent was hitting a lull. The two of you decided to eat lunch together in an empty triage tent lined with gurneys. 

You sat on the ground beside each other, boots sunken into the mix of dirt and sand that made up the ground. Austin sat cross legged, and his knee brushed against your calf as you bounced your foot up and down.

“You gonna use that cheese?” He asked, referring to a silver packet you set on the ground.

“No,” you said, dumping your chicken fajita mix into your cooked rice packet. “Shit’s disgusting.”

Austin picked up the packet and tore it open with his teeth. He spread the fake, overly yellow ‘cheese’ spread onto a weird, fake pork sandwich he was making. The bread looked more like play-doh than bread, and the barbecue sauce he used was almost black. MREs: the epitome of luxury dining.

“That is nasty,” you remarked.

“Sometimes, you gotta take what you can get,” Austin said. He picked up a packet of clam chowder that had been heating up in its bag for awhile. He opened it and stirred it around before taking a spoonful and plopping it right on over the cheese spread. He finally closed the sandwich and took a massive bite.

“I’m gonna gag,” you stated bluntly. 

He frowned. “Why?” he asked through a mouthful of food.

“That is vile, Austin,” you said. “You just put clam chowder on a sandwich! With barbecue sauce and cheese! That’s so gross!”

He offered you the sandwich. “Wanna bite?” 

You tucked your chin against your chest and leaned back, shaking your head. “Get that away from me.” 

_____________________

To say the night was busy would be more than an understatement; 4 men from the same troop were rushed to triage, all with similar injuries caused by IEDs. One of the men ultimately ended up a double amputee, one leg blown off above the kneecap and the other being so damaged that most of the calf had to be removed. Somehow, a man from the same troop ended up with only minor lacerations. War was strange that way; you step on an IED the ‘right’ way, and it’s something you can walk away from. If you don’t, you could die.

“Alright everyone, we have 6 more soldiers coming in!” Your Lieutenant Colonel shouted. “All non-emergent patients should be transferred. Let’s hope for the best, prepare for the worst.”

You helped ‘reset’ a few stations, making sure they were clean and ready. When the men still hadn’t arrived, you approached Colonel Todd.

“Colonel,” you asked, catching her attention. “What else do you know?”

“Best guess? Task Force 221,” she replied, signing a few papers when someone handed her a clipboard. “Crow and his boys were out patrolling, Folks don’t take too kindly to soldiers around here.”

Your heart sank.

The men from Task Force 221 came in at the same time, and they were loaded out of the truck and onto gurneys one by one. You got assigned to the first person, which happened to be Austin himself.

“Go, help them,” Austin protested, already trying to get off the gurney. “I’m okay, just help my boys!”

You pushed him down by his chest as you and two other people rolled him inside. 

“Can I get a dose of Lidocaine, please?” you instructed, cutting away Austin’s already torn pants. So far, you saw two GSWs: one to the left lower leg, and one to the right calf. You adjusted the light above you to get a better look. “Make it two doses.” 

“I’m fine,” Austin pushed, once again trying to stand up.

“Austin Crow, I swear to god, I will tie you down if I have to,” you threatened. “You’re not fine — you’ve been shot. Sometimes, to take care of your team, you have to take care of yourself first.”

He laid back with a sigh.

Three hours passed before you could properly speak to Austin. After pulling the bullets from both his legs, you ran around trying to help people wherever and however you could. Eventually, you found the sweet spot where no one was critical but everyone was still busy. You managed to slip away and pull the curtains around Austin’s bed.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” you hissed under your breath.

“...What?”

“I heard what you did,” you said. “Your lieutenants were more than happy to tell me exactly how you got shot.” 

“By doing my job?” Austin asked. 

“You put yourself in the line of fire!” you argued. “You ran right into danger!”

“To help someone,” he explained calmly. “No man gets left behind, Y/N. You know that.” 

“You could have died!” you said between clenched teeth. You were trying to keep your voice down, but his apathy was driving you crazy. “God, what is it with you? The same day I take out your stitches, you come in with two gunshot wounds. What’s next, Austin? You want me to plan your funeral? Write to your parents, tell them how you died a hero?” 

“Why are you so pissed at me?” Austin asked. He seemed more confused than angry.

The words fell out before you could stop them. “Because I love you!” 

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you. You laughed bitterly. 

“There,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Cat’s out of the bag.” You sighed, setting your hand down and looking him in the eye. “I think… I’m in  love with you, and I don’t want to see you dead.”

Silence fell. Austin looked away, looked back to you, looked away again, and clenched his jaw. You crossed your arms in self-defense, heart pounding as you waited for him to say something, anything.

Austin scooted over, then patted the space beside him. “Come here.”

You approached the bed, slowly and carefully sliding next to him. It was almost too small for Austin by himself, let alone with another person, so your weight ended up mostly on him. He didn’t seem to mind, though.

Austin’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer to his body. He buried his face in your hair, taking a long breath. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ll do better. I promise.” 

_____________________

This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

You were only covering for someone, a temporary replacement until a new combat medic was hired. Austin was hesitant; he wasn’t sure if you were cut out for the job. You assured him you’d be fine, that you went through the same training everyone else did, and that it wasn’t permanent.

You were an amazing combat medic. You tied every tourniquet tight, you took care of men until they could be shipped off the triage. The Colonel in charge of Task Force 221 commended you, said you could be a real fit for the field. 

Austin didn’t agree. The two of you had been secretly dating for about a month, and it was the first real fight the you got into. You said you were seriously considering accepting a job as a combat medic, and Austin disagreed. You could tell this fight wouldn’t be like the last one — you weren’t about to kiss him and tell him everything would be alright.

“What, only you get to do the dirty work?” you asked. “Only you get make some real change?”

“This isn’t about glory, Y/N,” Austin sighed, running a hand through his cropped hair. “It’s about keeping you alive.”

“Now you know how I feel!” you argued, laughing at the irony. “It’s scary, isn’t it, Austin?! You want more than anything to pull me off of the battlefield, put me somewhere in this godforsaken country were I can be at least somewhat safe?!”

He clenched his jaw and looked away.

“I’m gonna take that job,” you stated, “and I’m only quitting when you do.” 

Now, you were here, in a place you didn’t know, but you knew you didn’t like.

“Y/N?” you heard someone call weakly.

“Austin?!” you said, trying your hardest not to burst into tears. You couldn’t see anything, so hearing his voice was a massive relief. 

Your memory came back in pieces: you saw Austin walk ahead to secure the area, but he ended up stepping on and IED. Without even thinking, you ran ahead, despite the yells and other protests of the men beside you. 

“Hey, baby,” you said gently, looking him up and down.  It took everything in you not to gag or faint.

He stepped right on the edge of the IED, meaning his left leg was blown off to right below the kneecap.  The exposed muscle was shredded, and his bone stuck out like a morbid fence post.

“You’re gonna be fine,” you promised, taking out your tourniquet. Just like you had been instructed what felt like decades ago, you pulled it as tight as you physically could to stop any more blood loss. 

Austin moaned in pain and mumbled a few words you couldn’t understand. When you looked up to call for help, the butt of a gun connected with the back of your head, effectively knocking you out. 

You woke up here.

“It was a trap,” Austin said, voice rough and quiet. 

“We’re gonna get out of here, okay?” you promised. “Half of the fucking Army is probably looking for us right now.”

After what felt like hours, someone came in to remove your blindfold. You could finally get a good look at Austin, and it made your heart pound in your ears. He didn’t look good. Things would get ugly if he didn’t get proper medical attention soon. 

“Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you,” you said immediately. “Just let me help him.”

A man dressed in all black began to yell at you in Arabic. You could only make out a few words — work, plan, and money. He paused, most likely to give you time to answer. When you didn’t, he punched you across the face.

“No,” Austin said weakly. “Stop it.”

You spat some blood onto the floor, your entire head throbbing. “Don’t worry,” you said, then looked to your attack. “I can take it.” 

_____________________

Present Day

“They didn’t get anything out of me by punching,” you said, staring at the light above your bed. You sounded detached, like you were talking about a movie you watched rather than recalling the worst day of your life. You supposed that’s how you coped with it — you pretended it wasn’t real, that it never really happened. “Even when they brought in someone who spoke English, I didn’t talk.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. You adjusted the bed to a sitting position awhile ago, but you still felt vulnerable.

“You can stop,” Spencer offered, gently taking your hand. It was taped up and gloved, as it was the hand they put an IV in, so his touch was more delicate than usual. 

You shook your head. “I want to tell you everything,” you promised. “It’s just hard to think about. It’s hard to remember.” You took in a breath. “When the punching didn’t work, they moved on to whipping. And when that didn’t work…”

_____________________

***

Syria, 2014

Your back stung and your head throbbed. You hoped that eventually, you’d pass out, but unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Either your pain tolerance was too high, or the breaks they took between the methods of torturing were enough to keep you conscious.

“Get her on the ground,” one man growled. 

You groggily put together that there were three men in the room, all of them equally pissed. They probably thought you’d be easy to crack. 

The fresh wounds on your back hurt even more when they connected with the dirt; you could practically feel the infection in your skin forming. You gritted your teeth, barely able to refrain from making noise. You didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. 

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, someone began to pull down your pants. In that very moment, you prayed for a heart attack, for your body to give out completely. This, on top of everything else? You wouldn’t be able to take it.

“That’s enough!” Austin shouted, so loud that it practically shook the walls. “I’ll tell you what you want to know. Just get the hell away from her.” 

Austin gave up the location of the base, as well as other details they wanted, like what patrols and other missions had been scheduled. Apparently, all they wanted was to get the upper hand, strike before Austin or anyone else’s task force could. It made you wonder what they did when information was time-sensitive.

They slammed the heavy door behind them, and immediately, you burst into tears. You rolled onto your side and curled into a ball, shirt in shreds from the whipping. You stayed in that position for so long that your arm and legs fell asleep, but you didn’t really care. You wanted to feel nothing right about now.

“Y/N,” Austin called, for what was probably the millionth time. You tuned out everything around you, only the sound of static filling your ears.

You sat up lifelessly, a blank stare on your face.

“Come here,” he said.

You crawled over to Austin, your concern for him trumping both the physical and mental pain you were in. It had only been a few hours at most, but he already looked worse. His face was pale, lips dry, and despite the tourniquet, he seemed to have lost quite a bit of blood. 

“What do you need?” you asked. 

“Can you take off my shirt?” He asked.

It was a weird request, but you obliged. You lifted up the hem of his shirt, and carefully, you pulled it above his head. You managed to get it off without having to lift his arms too high.

“Put it on,” Austin instructed.

You smiled through a few new tears. 

It was damp with sweat, meaning it was entirely sanitary, but more than anything, you appreciated the sentiment. You slid it over your head, slipping your arms through each hole. Unsurprisingly, it was massive on you — the sleeves were technically short, but they almost hit your elbow. 

“Sit by me,” he said, tilting his head to the empty space beside him. 

You did as you were told, careful not to lean back and inflict more pain.

“Closer.”

You laughed, wiping your nose as tears streamed down your face. You scooted closer to him, lifting one of his arms and slinging it around your shoulders. You curled into his chest, and despite the sweltering heat, you found comfort in his warmth. 

“Hey, Y/N?” Austin asked, voice raspy.

You looked up. “Yeah?”

“I’m in love with you too.”

It didn’t occur to you, but ‘love’ hadn’t come out of either of your mouths since the night you first admitted it. You spent countless hours in each other’s presence, but it hadn’t come up. You didn’t Austin to say a word in order to prove how much he cared about you — he showed it. It was implied.

And now, it was over.

_____________________

***

Present Day

“It took them 18 hours to find us,” you said. A few tears made their way down your cheek. You wiped them and continued on. “I think Austin died halfway through it.” 

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop; you thought Spencer was afraid to even breathe. 

“I stayed by his body until someone found us,” you said. “I managed to fall asleep a few times, and every time I woke up, mice were eating his skin. As if his leg being blown off wasn’t bad enough.” you paused. “I think his blood started to spoil. Is that possible? I don’t know. I think the heat was cooking him, though. It didn’t take long for his skin to start rotting.”

Your face contorted, and you stifled a sob. “I wanted to save him, Spencer,” you cried, clutching his hand. “I really did. They just wouldn’t let me.” 

Almost immediately, Spencer joined you on the bed. He pulled you against him, arms tight around you like a barricade. You gripped his shoulders as you cried into his chest.

“None of this is your fault, you hear me?” Spencer said. “None of it is your fault.” 

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed like that. Eventually, you stopped sobbing, but the occasional tear still rolled down your cheek. Spencer held you throughout it all.

Eventually, you felt Spencer lift his head from the pillow. You looked up to see the team standing at the nurses’ station. Any other day, you would have pushed him aside and invited them in. Today, though, you just sniffed and moved closer to him. 

Spencer kissed your hair and continued to hold you close. They’d get the memo.

_____________________

The hospital kept you overnight for observation, but by daylight, you were discharged with a clean bill of health. Sometime during the night, Emily and JJ swung by to drop you off a change of clothes, which you were eternally grateful for. 

Spencer didn’t leave your side the entire night. He waited outside the bathroom when you changed, he held your hand as you took the elevator ride down to the lobby, and he sat in the middle of the backseat on the cab ride home. You stared out the window the entire time, but you kept a hand on his knee. 

As you stared at the multi-colored, almost bare trees, you realized something: life goes on. People were waking up and heading to their 9-5, and their biggest concern was what to make for dinner later that day. Some of them had a violent or traumatic past, just like you did, but that wasn’t how they lived their life. You and everyone else alive did the same thing: you woke up, and you tried your best. Sometimes, that’s all anyone can do. And that’s enough. 

“The rest of the team is going over to Rossi’s tonight; he’s making spaghetti,” Spencer said as the two of you entered the apartment. “We can go, if you want. Or we can stay here all day. We shouldn’t have a case until tomorrow. Even so, I’m sure Hotch would understand if you took some time off.”

“Spencer?” you asked.

“Yeah?”

“I’m okay,” you promised. “Everything I told you is something I’ve been reliving for the past 2 years. Talking about it didn’t dredge anything up. Actually, if anything, it helped. It’s like… I don’t know, a weight was lifted off of me. I feel like I can start to move on, finally.” 

He smiled faintly. “Good,” he nodded, “I’m glad.” 

You set your arms on his shoulders. “I’d love to go to Rossi’s for dinner,” you said. “But first, I need your help with something.” 

“Anything.” 

You played with your hands. “Ever since I got back, I’ve been thinking of visiting Austin’s family. It took me 6 months to go back to work after what happened — I can’t imagine what it was like for them to lose a child. I thought they needed some time before I brought everything back up. I think I’m ready now. At least, I’m ready if they are.”

“And that’s what you need my help with,” Spencer concluded.

You nodded. “I don’t know how to get in contact with them. Honestly, I was just gonna start by googling them.” 

“Over 45 million members of Generation X use Facebook,” Spencer said. “I think we should start there.” 

_____________________

“I swear, I am never letting you go,” Garcia said as she hugged you. For someone who was normally so soft, in that moment, she could crush all of your bones. 

“Come on, baby girl,” Derek chuckled, “we all get a turn. And Y/N needs to breathe.”

With a pout, Garcia let go of you. JJ, who was standing next to her, extended her arms. You pulled her into a short but sweet hug. Spencer wasn’t joking: this team was a family. 

“We didn’t get to see you in the hospital!” Emily exclaimed as she wrapped her arms around you. 

“I wasn’t there for long,” you said, pulling away. “Besides, I wasn’t really in the mood for visitors. No offense.” 

“None taken.” 

Derek hugged you next. His massive arms wrapped around you, and as you briefly relaxed into his chest, his chin rested on top of your head. A small, warm smile crossed your face. He was like the older brother you never had. 

“Hey, can I talk to you?” He asked as the two of you parted. 

Though surprised, you nodded. “Yeah, of course. You wanna step outside for a sec?” 

Derek nodded. 

“Don’t be too long!” Rossi called from the kitchen. “The show’s about to begin!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” you promised. 

As you followed Derek onto the porch, you noticed Spencer talking to Hotch. You gave him a small wave, which he returned with a look of confusion. You raised your index finger, a silent way of telling him you’d be just a second.

“What’s up, Derek?” you asked, closing the door behind you.

“Are you okay?” He asked. “And I mean really okay, not the ‘okay’ that gets you out of a conversation.” 

You took a few steps, resting your arms on the porch railing. “I think I am,” you said, looking over your shoulder. “Why do you ask?”

Derek moved to stand beside you. He pressed his palms to the smooth wood. “Maybe you didn’t see us at the hospital, but we saw you,” he said. “I’ve never seen someone who was so sad to be alive.” 

“It wasn’t that,” you promised. “I mean, it was for awhile, but not anymore.”

“What’s going on?” Derek pressed, bumping you shoulder with his. “Something’s eating at you. I can tell.” 

“I lost a friend,” you said simply, “when I was in Syria. I watched him die.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, setting a hand over yours. “That’s awful.”

“It was,” you agreed, “and ever since I got back, I’ve been trying to figure out why I’m alive and he isn’t. He had a set of happily married parents and two beautiful sisters to come home to. I’m an only child, and my father was six feet under. He had so many people that cared about him — the only person who would have really missed me was my mom. It didn’t seem fair, ya know?”

He nodded. “I know. Believe me, I know.” 

Derek shifted his footing. You nudged his shoulder.

“Something’s eating at you: I can tell,” you joked.

He chuckled softly. “Fair enough.” He paused. “I watched my dad die. One day, he picked me up early from school. I asked him if we could go to the convenience store. When we got inside, there was a woman being robbed.  My dad was a cop, so he stepped in,  hoping he could diffuse the situation. The robber shot him.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “How old were you?”

“10,” Derek answered. “It took me a long time to move on; I was lost without my father. I thought if  I had toughed it out until the bell rang, maybe my dad would still be alive. The older I got, though, the more I realized that it didn’t matter. What matters is what I do about it. So, I shaped up. I started solving problems instead of creating them. Maybe I’m biased, but I like to think I did an okay job.”

“You did an amazing job,” you said with a smile. “You’re a good man, Derek Morgan. Your father would be proud of you.”

“So would yours,” Derek returned. He slung an arm over your shoulders, pulling you close to kiss the top of your head. 

_____________________

Tags: @blueskies-whitehighs​​ @geeksareunique​​​ @jodibullock1​

Want to be tagged in future parts? Shoot me an ask!

Like what you read? Let me know! Feedback seriously keeps me inspired to write <3

[oggyfromthebog]

HOLD! WHO GOES THERE? WHY, IS THAT [OGGY BOGWNWAYNE] THE

 [CRIMINAL SCUM] OF [FAHALUNE]? THEY DO LOOK [RAGGED] FOR A [MAN] OF [648] YEARS. DON’T THEY CALL [HIM] THE [JAUNTY AND  WELL-CONNECTED SCREW UP]? I’VE HEARD THEY’RE ALSO [BOORISH AND THICK-HEADED] THOUGH. DON’T TAKE MY WORD FOR IT BUT THEY DO LOOK AN AWFUL LOT LIKE [JOE GILGUN].

Additional Info

Criminal Ties: While not a criminal mastermind Oggy has connections. Is your character involved in smuggling, laundering, selling drugs, unfortunately for your character Oggy is your regular plug. Or your one option to turn to in anycase. He’s also available for thievery, intimidations, inflicting wanton violence, and general mischief.

Best friends, just about, maybe: Oggy just adores your character, looks up to them or is incredibly attracted to them and as such tries very hard to impress them and convince them how similar you both are. He may not have success with that and ends up more as a toady then a ride or die best friend.

Every Cousin’s got a cousin: Oggy is mostly elf, a little human on his mother’s side, and somehow tangentially related to the great house of Fahalune, and a few of its crime families though most would rather ignore this distant cousin he could pop up and remind your character that blood is thicker than water and couldn’t your character set him up with a new job, some cash or a place to stay. Yeah you’re related, he swears, probably.

Drinking/Fighting Buddy: Oggy has a tendency to over indulge, it gets him in trouble sometimes it gets other people in trouble. Your character could be involved. 

We all owe somebody: Oggy also indulges in the vice of gambling, he always manages to have money but rarely keeps it. Your character may be looking to collect a debt, or if he was lucky once he’d be looking to collect from your character.

Optional Info

He has multiple scars and multiple tattoos. Most notable are the scars on his face bisecting his right eyebrow, one clipping his nostril, and one trailing from the corner of his mouth to his chin that sometimes makes him dribble when he drinks.

He has a right eye he describes as ‘wonky’ from getting it cut then healed wrong. The magic “didn’t take right” and like a bad knee that swells and hurts when the weather is bad his eye gets cloudy when it’s bad out.

While technically part of a lesser house he’s never been noble in anysenes. Growing up with organized crime rampant in his port city he took more to the streets. His lesser house never had much in the way of reputation and funds anyway, connections were nice but he still had to fend for himself.

He’s got animal-bonding to some extent, and before teachers gave up on him they thought he could have been a dragon-rider, or at least a gryphon-rider. After problems attending regularly and fighting during magic classes--plus subsequent injuries--that avenue is closed to him.

After failing at dragon riding he’s wondering if someone could teach him how to channel animal-bonding into berserking magic.

Physical Description

HEIGHT: 6’4”

HAIR COLOR: Messy Brown

EYE COLOR: Golden Hazel, Except when the right is Milky White

GENDER: Male

BUILD: Wiry and Tall

DISTINGUISHING FEATURES?: Pointed Elf Ears notched in places, Multiple tattoos, Multiple scars. One notable scar bisecting his eyebrow and running partly down his face.

ANY HEALTH RELATED ISSUES?: Partial blindness in his one eye. 

Personality

Oggy doesn't have a steady job, he picks up the odd one when he can. People who want things done know how to contact him. He's survived this long making a less than legal living, and intends to do so for as long as he is able.

Oggy’s look is distinct, with a notched pointed ear, multiple scars and tattoos, and an eye that works only half the time so much so that Oggy leans into his intimidating features. In his typical line of business it is more lucrative to be scary than goofy as he’d otherwise look.

Oggy is not big on ideals or responsibilities. He’s not a cruel person by any means but he does look out for himself and his own comfort above all else. Not mean, just self centered and lacking a strong moral code.

Oggy is an animal appreciator but also a pragmatist when it comes to meals. 

History

Oggy was born a moderately privileged elf who squandered away opportunities to succeed on the straight and narrow path. Not much happened in his early life that he would consider important. He struggled with motivation for schooling, found an easier path with friends of the family in the organized crime side of the port city he grew up in. Failed out, grew up, disappointed his parents, but still swings by for family dinners and to cause problems on purpose. 

There was always a question in his youth if his biological father was the father he knew since birth, the one his mother married. Neither Bogwnwayne parent seemed to care about monogamy, neither was very good about family conversations, but his mom was the more open one by far. Because of this he’s wary of certain philandering council members, and how related he really is to a portion of the Vae population.

Being gifted in the animal-bonding magic and a city boy in his bones, the majority of the animals he’s been exposed to appart from the meal have been rats. Predominantly rats, but also street dogs, and street cats. May have affected his outlook a bit. 

[glowrioustrash]

Breaking The Law

Summary: Parole Office Kat Williams had seen Dean Ambrose’s mugshot from his file. She was expecting the scrappy, shaggy kid in the photo, not the man who walked into her office.

Pairing: Dean Ambrose x OC

Word Count: 3000+

Warnings: RATED M FOR AVERT YOUR EYES CHILDREN THIS AIN’T NOTHIN BUT SMUT

Author’s Note: This is a piece of what was originally a bigger fic - a very dark fic tbh - but I’ve been struggling with it since Dean’s return. I decided I could cut this out, post it as a PWP for everyone’s enjoyment, and if I ever get around to writing more, just posting it as a second part. (Tag list is back down to like no one, because once again I wasted so much fucking time between posting shit that most of y’all were either lost in the purge or changed your names. Sorry.)

Tagging: @softarthurmorgan / @kakakatey / @thirstiswet / @calwitch / @dirrrtydeeds

Kat grabbed the file for her next appointment, a new parolee she was being assigned. The folder was fairly thin, which typically meant an easy job… or a first time offender at the beginning of a long path through the system. She read the name on the tab, “Ambrose, Dean,” and opened the folder.

The man’s mugshot was paperclipped to the first page, his piercing blue eyes striking her immediately, even in the washed out, overexposed photo. The glare on his features was not uncommon in the many mugshots she’d seen, but he made it look more like a brood. It made her think of classic movie stars when they’d hit that pout that made the women swoon. His shaggy hair, she couldn’t tell if it was brown or blonde from the photo alone, was matted to his forehead. He looked mostly clean shaven, although with the poor quality of the photo she couldn’t tell if he had a bit of stubble or if it was just an odd shadow or printing mistake.

She moved the photo out of the way, quickly reading through his file. Ambrose was 32 years old, only a few years older than herself. He was charged with stealing a firearm and had pled guilty, earning a 5 year sentence but was being released early. Reading through the file, Ambrose had kept to himself in prison and stayed out of trouble. There were only a handful of reported incidents from his time in jail, all of which had guards vouching that he acted defensively.

It seemed promising, really.

Dean had served his time in Ohio but had applied to serve parole in Iowa. The paperwork showed he had someone to live with and a job lined up. The planning, paired with his good behaviour, led to an easy approval. This also meant that she hadn’t met him prior to his release as she had most of her parolees.

He had been pleasant enough on the phone when he made his appointment, his voice gruff and his answers monosyllabic when possible. He called within the 24 hours necessary of arriving, ready with his file number. Overall, her impression so far was that he was a nice man who got caught up in something bad.

Her phone chirped at her from the corner of her desk, the familiar tone signalling an interoffice paging.

“Williams.” She answered.

“Your 2:30 is here. Mr. Ambrose.” Nicole, the receptionist, responded.

“Great, send him in.” Kat told her. She heard the click on the other end and hung up her phone. Seconds later, a steady, strong knock sounded from her door.

“Come in.” She called, standing in anticipation of meeting her new parolee. She straightened her blouse as the door opened.

The man who entered was nearly unrecognizable from the mugshot if not for those amazing blue eyes. If the young man in the mugshot could be compared to a scruffy but lovable mutt, the man currently standing in her office was a prize pitbull. He’d clearly spent his free time while locked up in the gym. His neck alone had nearly doubled in size and the crisp t-shirt he was wearing looked ready to pull apart at the seams. She found herself wondering what the rest of him looked like before he went in, only having the lone mugshot showing him from the shoulders up. His hair was shorn and his beard was grown in, but groomed.

“Officer Williams?” He asked, standing in the doorway.

“Yes. Come in, Mr. Ambrose.” She instructed. Dean crossed the small office quickly, only taking a few steps with his long legs. His file had listed him as 6’4, but his mass made it seem much more intimidating.

She gulped subtly as she offered her hand to shake. Dean adjusted the papers he was holding into his opposite arm before taking her hand in his own. His hand was warm and his grip was firm.

“Please, call me Dean.” He told her as he released her hand.

“Alright Dean.” She nodded, sitting down. “Why don’t you have a seat and we can get started.”

Dean sat, setting the papers on her desk. “So, your file was transferred to me from Ohio where you served your time, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He confirmed.

“And what brought you to Iowa?” She asked, watching him closely for any signs he might be lying.

“Good friend of mine offered me a place to live and helped me set up a job.” He explained, turning to the papers he’d brought in, leafing through. “He filled out the required paperwork here.”

Kat took the papers he offered, looking through them. The forms were typical, that Mr. Rollins understood that he was living with a Parolee, that he understood the rules that were expected of the parolee’s living situation, and that even if Mr. Rollins brought the prohibited items into the home, Dean would suffer the consequences.

“Great, these all look in order.” Kat nodded. “You say he set you up with your job as well?”

“Yes. He owns a gym and he’s hired me as a trainer.” He explained, handing over the proof of employment.

“You’re very prepared, Dean. I appreciate that.” Kat muttered as she scanned the documents.

“I’m just lookin’ for this to be as smooth as possible.” He told her.

She stapled the papers together, tucking them into Dean’s file.

“Now it says here your prior officer in Ohio, uh…” She paused as she looked for the officer’s name.

“Officer Regal.” He supplied.

“Ah yes, here we are. Officer Regal. It says he went through the expectations, but just to make sure nothing slipped through the cracks, I’m going to go over it again. Eases my mind.” She explained with a smile.

“Of course.” He nodded.

Kat went over the conditions of Dean’s parole, which were fairly typical. Curfew, travel restrictions, things Dean was prohibited to do or own. She went over how to report change in address or job. It was the same spiel she’d given her whole career, with only a few variations from crime to crime.

“Any questions?” She concluded.

“No, ma’am.” He shook his head.

She slid a copy of her business card across her desk towards him. “There’s how to get a hold of me if you need anything or have a question. If you get into any legal trouble I will find out, but both of our lives will be easier if you call me first.”

“Understood, but that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Well, I hope not. Even still, I tell that to everyone.” She told him with a polite smile.

Kat woke up with a soft groan at being pulled out of a peaceful slumber. The two arms wrapped around her, one below and one over her waist, both tightened, pulling her backwards into the strong chest. She smiled at the motion but didn’t open her eyes yet. She loved waking up in his arms. She never felt more safe than when she was wrapped up in Dean.

“G’mornin’.” He grumbled into her ear, nuzzling her neck. Her smile widened as she squirmed against him, his beard tickling her.

“Morning.” She mumbled back. “I was dreaming ‘bout you.”

“Mmm,” Dean hummed, the sound vibrating through his chest. “What about?” He asked suggestively as he ran his hand down her torso until he reached the sliver of skin between her sleep shirt and panties, stroking the bare skin.

“Day we met.” She answered, ignoring his implication.

“Real version or,” Dean pressed his hips against her, fingers dancing along the waistband of the panties she wore. “Our version?”

She scoffed and batted at his hand. “Real version.” Even though she was playing hard to get - as if he didn’t already have her - she couldn’t deny the heat that grew in her belly at Dean’s question. The two had role-played their own version of that first meeting many times, sometimes with Kat as the hard ass, domineering parole officer who threatened to write him up unless he did exactly as she said and sometimes with Dean as the asshole, “won’t take no for an answer” criminal, but all with the same satisfying outcome for both.

“Bummer.” Dean hummed against her skin, making her giggle. “I like ours better.”

“What time is it?” She asked, still not wanting to open her eyes.

“Who cares?” Dean whispered, his breath tickling her ear as he pushed his luck a bit more, slipping his fingers into her waistband.

“Dean,” she whined, wiggling in a lame attempt to escape him. The low growl from Dean let her know the wiggle did nothing but spur him on. “I’ve got appointments this morning.”

“Fuck ‘em.” He hissed, fingers slipping lower. “We got ‘til the alarm.”

“Dean.” She whined again, this time a begging, keening whine as she rolled her hips back into his growing erection. She knew he was right, they had time.

“That’s more like it, doll.” She could hear the smug grin in his voice, let alone feel it against her skin. He kissed her neck and shoulder as he slipped his fingers between her lips, easily finding her clit.

She gasped, gripping his forearm as he rubbed lazy circles on her bundle of nerves. “You’re such a stereotype.” She scolded him, her voice no longer rough with sleep but breathy with arousal.

“Hmm? What stereotype is that?” He hummed, keeping his leisurely pace as she rolled her hips against his hand. Their closeness meant that she was also grinding against his cock as she searched for more pressure.

“Horny convict.” She muttered with a grin.

“I could stop.” He sang, his tone warning.

“Don’t stop.” She urged, gripping his arm tighter.

Dean laughed, satisfied that he already had her so desperate. “Such a spoiled princess. Eyes aren’t even open yet and you’re making demands.”

Kat looked over her shoulder, turning her head towards him and slowly opened her eyes, blinking against the early morning light spilling through the curtains. Dean looked down at her, her eyelids heavy with sleep, pupils blown with desire, lips parted as she panted for breath. He could hardly believe how lucky he was to wake up next to a masterpiece like her.

“There she is.” He praised, leaning down to kiss her. The kiss was as lazy as his fingers, tongue probing into her mouth slowly. She curled her tongue against his, whimpering into his mouth.

Dean’s fingers roamed lower prompting Kat to lift her leg, bending it at the knee to give him better access. Dean moaned appreciatively, unsurprised to find she was already wet and ready for him to easily slip his middle finger nice and deep into her.

She whined at the intrusion, her hips stilling as she squeezed his arm. She kissed him with more urgency as he moved his finger in and out, feeling her walls flutter around him. A few pumps and he added a second finger.

“God, Dean.” She whimpered, pulling away from his lips to catch her breath.

“One of us is here, I don’t know about the other guy.” He teased as he curled his fingers inside her, searching for the spot that would drive her crazy. He knew he’d found it as her breath hitched, hips bucking.

“That’s it, kitten.” He purred, unable to resist the urge to grind against her. “You like that?”

“Uh-huh.” She breathed shakily, nodding. She released his arm, moving to grip his hip instead. He could feel her nails digging into his skin even through his boxers, making him growl.

His thumb found her clit again, rubbing back and forth over the nub until she was reduced to a shaking mess of whimpers and stuttered breaths in his arms.

Her shaking hand reached between them, gripping his hard cock. She tried to stroke him, the angle working against her as she tried to twist her arm to the right angle to touch him.

“Is that what you want?” He asked, nipping her ear. “You want me to bury my hard cock deep inside you?”

“Yessss-” She hissed, nodding emphatically. She gave up trying to stroke him, clawing instead at his boxers. She managed to barely slide them down his hips even as he lifted himself off the bed. She huffed in frustration as they caught on his erection.

“My fingers aren’t enough? Need my thick cock instead?” He continued teasing.

“Pl-ease.” She moaned, breath hitching.

Dean chuckled, reluctantly pulling his hand away from her heat to help pull his boxers down to his thighs. Kat whined at the loss but took the opportunity to shimmy her panties off. She started to turn towards him but Dean stilled her with a strong hand on her hip.

“No, just like this.” He murmured, pressing up against her back again. The arm below her held her tight to his chest as he lifted her leg over his hip, stroking at her inner thigh once it was in position.

“Dean, please.” She begged, pushing her ass against him.

“Shhh, ‘m right here.” He pacified as he lined himself up. Their matching moans echoed through the room as he entered her slick heat. He moved his hand to her hip, holding her steady as he began to thrust, a slow, steady rhythm that matched the pace of the morning.

Kat gripped at his hand, rolling her body in time with the movement of his hips. Dean buried his face into her neck, inhaling deeply and letting the scent of her sweat-slicked skin surround him.

“Don��t stop.” She begged, moving his hand up to her chest, under her shirt. He took the note, groping at her breast.

“Never.” He panted, sealing his promise with a bite to her collar bone. Kat cried out, toes curling as she felt that coil in her stomach begin tightening. Her hand left his to bury itself between her legs, rubbing at her clit in tandem with his thrusts.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy.” He growled, looking down her body and seeing her pleasuring herself. The sight made his stomach flip. He deftly rolled her nipples between his fingers, pinching it the way he knew would drive her crazy. He knew, with all the different stimulations, that she wouldn't last much longer.

“Shit…” She whimpered under her breath, the first sign to Dean that she was creeping up on her orgasm. She began a mantra of whispered curses with his name mixed in as she sped towards that knife’s edge.

“That’s it kitten.” He encouraged, leaning down to kiss and lick at her neck. He nibbled softly at her skin, tasting the salt of her sweat.

“H-harder.” She begged and stuttered, body shaking under him. She sped up her own motions, rubbing her clit faster as she felt herself about come undone. She moaned loudly as Dean’s hips started snapping forward more forcefully, the lazy pace being abandoned as they chased their pleasure. The sound of their bodies slapping together echoed through the bedroom.

“So tight.” He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he willed himself to hold out until she came. If he could just hold out a bit longer- he could already feel her pulsing around him.

“I… I’m…” She tried to warn, her breath catching each time he thrust deep and hard into her. She couldn’t manage the words, her body starting to seize up.

“Let it go.” He growled through gritted teeth, thrusting erratically. “‘M right there.”

Kat threw her head back, squeezing her eyes shut tightly as her orgasm wracked through her whole body down to her toes. She screamed Dean’s name, shuddering in his arms as her walls convulsed around him. Dean groaned loudly in her ear as the pulsing tipped him over the edge, spilling deep inside of her.

Too soon, the intense pleasure made way to the ecstatic post-haze, both of them panting to catch their breath from their exertion.

“I love you.” He breathed, pressing a kiss to the bite mark that had formed on her collar.

“Love you, too.” She replied, tapping him on the hip with a shaky hand. He pulled out of her, both of them groaning softly - Dean at the loss of her warmth, Kat as he moved against her over sensitive nerves. Her toes curled as she felt his seed spilling out of her, dripping down her thigh.

She rolled over, burying her head against his broad, defined chest. Dean hugged her tightly, knowing she liked to be held close after sex, no matter how or where it happened. Hard, fast, rough and punishing or slow, lazy lovemaking. Bed, shower, counter, the car. She liked to be squeezed to him. She clung to him as she came down from her high, breathing in his musk.

They laid like that as the sun rose higher in the sky, more and more light sneaking into the room through the curtains. Kat was nearly asleep when the alarm on her phone chimed.

“Them’s the breaks, Kat.” Dean told her, patting her twice on the ass before reaching for her phone to silence the alarm.

She groaned and reluctantly pulled away from him, rolling away to collect herself for a few deep breaths. Dean watched her, taking in her chest heaving with each breath. He let his eyes trail down her profile. Her tummy sneaking out under her shirt they’d never gotten around to taking off, her bare hip, her long legs.

“Get up, kitten. You need to shower before work.” He told her. As much as he’d like to know she was still covered in his cum as she dealt with all her parolees, almost like staking his claim, he couldn’t imagine it would be very comfortable for her.

She groaned as she sat up, stretching. “And what about you?” She asked, looking at him over her shoulder.

“Mrs. Souriol is on vacation this week.” He reminded her, sitting up in bed. “No one to train until 10:30.”

“Lucky asshole.” She grumbled, forcing herself to stand. She inhaled sharply at the persistent ache in her core, a satisfied grin painted her face as she dragged her feet towards her ensuite.

Dean watched her go with his own smug smile. He recognized that look and was proud to have brought it out of her. Once he heard the shower start, he slipped his boxers back on to start on breakfast for both of them.

[dontdoitluke]

We Could Be Heroes (Superhero!5sos AU)

Sky High AU, but instead, it’s a superhero University.

Featuring Jenna, Skyler, Emma, and Val, more to come!

Summary: After graduating from the Superhero high school Sky High, students can choose to enroll in the University for Supernatural Abilities and the Valiantly Educated (S.A.V.E.U) to further expand their powers.

Chapter 1/?

CHAPTER INDEX

Word count: 2,607 

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“It is a great pleasure to inform you that you have been selected for admission to the University for Supernatural Abilities and the Valiantly Educated for the fall semester.

You were chosen from the largest and most competitive applicant pool in the institution’s history for this opportunity based on your perseverance, potential for improvement, and your exceedingly high scores on your H.E.R.O. exams during your time at Sky High. On behalf of our Headmaster, the faculty, and students - congratulations and welcome to the S.A.V.E.U. community!

As a S.A.V.E.U. student, you are joining the very best, along with a student body from around the globe, all here to educate themselves on how to further improve their supernatural abilities, just like you.

This is a once in a lifetime opportunity that we hope you take advantage of. Please do not hesitate to contact the Office of Admissions if you have any questions or concerns. I look forward to greeting you in the fall.

Sincerely,

Malinda Breton

Director of Undergraduate Admissions”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ally threw her last suitcase into her dorm room and closed the door, immediately turning to throw herself on to her bed. She had begun to question her decision to pick a room on the top floor sometime during the second trip upstairs. This school has so much money and they can’t install a damn elevator?

She sighed deeply and closed her eyes, smiling to herself. “I did it, mom. I made it into the best Superhero University in the world.” Then she erupted into a fit of giggles. “And you said I couldn’t do it! Haha! Suck on that!”  

She was floating and jittery with happiness and was about to start unpacking but was interrupted by a knock at her door. Without even waiting for Ally to answer, the door opened and a girl with straight blonde hair poked her head inside.  

“Hey, have you seen a 6’4 Australian dork pass by here? Probably sopping wet, looks like a douche nozzle, and sounds like a dog whistle?”

“Um...no, no I haven’t.”

“If you see him can you tell him Jenna is looking for him?”

“Yeah, uh, okay.”

The door closed and the girl was gone.  

This year is going to be very interesting indeed.

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Ally’s first class of the semester was Supers History. The class itself was surprisingly small for such a large university, maybe only 15 students, maximum. While waiting for the professor, most of them were occupying themselves. The girl that poked her head into Ally’s room earlier was there also, twirling her fingers and making a cyclone out of the water in her water bottle, and there was boy at the front who was using what looked like telekinesis to draw crude pictures on the whiteboard.

“Good morning, class.”

Everyone jumped. No one saw the professor come in, but there he was, erasing the drawings on the board. “You’re not in grade school anymore, son, try to act like an adult and keep the phallic artwork to yourself, okay?”

“Welcome to Supers History. In this class you’ll learn about Heroes past and some present. You’ll learn about mistakes they made so that we don’t make the same ones. You’ll learn which Heroes turned to the dark side and which Villains came to the light. I’m not here to waste your time, so I hope you’re not here to waste mine.”

No one said anything, so the professor continued.

“We will get to the syllabus in a moment but we have to do ice breakers first. I know what you’re thinking and I agree. They’re a waste of time. But they’re required for some reason so let’s just get them over with as fast as possible. I’ll start. My name is Professor Reinchecht. I’ve been a professor at S.A.V.E.U. for 27 years now, my power is teleportation."  

If you had blinked the very second he teleported, you would have missed it entirely. There was no noise, no cartoonish whoosh sound, and no movement except for the fact that he was standing behind his desk one moment and in front of it the next.  

Again, no one said anything at first. Most of the students were taken aback by how deadpan and to-the-point Professor Reinchecht was, as S.A.V.E.U. had a reputation for having fun and comical professors. One of the girls in the back stood up shakily however, and wrung her hands together nervously.  

“Hello everyone, uh, my name is Emma, I’m majoring in animal sciences and biology, and I’m a shapeshifter.”

“Are you comfortable with giving us a demonstration of your power, Emma?”

She nodded and walked toward the front of the class before turning to face the students. She bent down on her hands and knees to shift; her skin seemed to vibrate and pulse, then a sickening crack was heard as her bones began to grow and change shape. She began to grow fur and her face stretched into a long snout, and her hands turned into huge paws with long claws. The entire class was buzzing and murmuring with excitement. Shifting was a pretty common power but it’s not every day you get to see one of your classmates shift into a giant tundra wolf up close and personal. Even Professor Reinchecht seemed impressed. Wolf-Emma bowed her head and shook her entire body, and in a split second, she was back standing in her human form.

The professor spoke up with a slight smile. “Fascinating. Tell me, can you shift into anything or just a tundra wolf?”

“I can shift into anything I’ve seen in person, or have a clear image of. But I haven’t been able to stably shift into other people yet.”

“Wonderful. Well, that’s why you’re here at the University, to learn how to expand your power. Thank you for your demonstration.”  

Emma smiled brightly and walked back to her desk with a spring in her step. At this point the entire class was excited to see each other's powers and to show off their own.  

Without being asked, a tall, leather clad guy sitting next to Emma stood up, smirking cockily. “Hey, my name’s Luke, some of you know me, the rest of you can’t wait to know me. I haven’t picked a major yet, and my power is my voice.”

Even the crickets were silent.  

Reinchecht blinked twice and looked at Luke with a bored expression, having seen arrogant students like this every year. “You’re gonna show us what that means, aren’t you?”

Luke nodded and smiled widely. “You guys might want to cover your ears.”

No one moved to cover their ears. However, Luke looked around the room before setting his sights on Reinchecht’s desk. Taking a deep breath, he let out a very quick but very loud yelp, similar to the sound of an airhorn, albeit higher pitched, causing one of the pencils in a cup on Reinchecht’s desk to shatter into dust. The students let out groans of protest and rubbed their ears, and the professor just sighed and took his glasses off to clean the pencil dust off of them.  

“That was my favorite pencil, but go off I guess, as the kids say these days. Have a seat, Luke. Who’s next?”

Ally thought to herself that this guy must have been the one Jenna was looking for. She was excited to see the rest of the student's powers.  

The girl who visited her dorm earlier that week stood up quickly. “Hello, I’m Jenna, I’m majoring in criminal law, and I can do this.” Jenna opened her water bottle and poured some into her right hand, but instead of the water pouring over and onto the floor, it formed a grapefruit-sized orb in her palm. She turned toward the back of the classroom and threw the water orb directly at Luke’s face, soaking him and all of his belongings as the class roared with laughter. Luke sputtered and tried to shake the water out of his eyes, but it seemed as if Jenna was also using her powers to force the water to stay on his skin.  

“Fuck, I knew I recognized you! I ought to burst your eardrums.”

The professor finally spoke up. “Alright, alright, that’s enough. Jenna, can you dry him off?”

“I can. But I don’t know if I should.”

“Jenna.”

“Okay, fine.”

With a wave of her hand, every drop of water on Luke and his things reformed into the orb that flew toward the front of the classroom and dropped itself gently into a potted plant. The class was still laughing softly and Luke was red-faced with embarrassment. Ally, however, was getting more and more anxious with each power she witnessed. She felt as if her power paled in comparison to her classmates powers.  

Another guy sitting toward the front of the room stood. He was wearing a pair of noise cancelling headphones, and looked like he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks.

“My name is Michael, I’m also studying criminal law, and I have supersonic hearing. I don’t really know how to demonstrate it well enough to prove it. I can’t turn off my power, so I just use these all the time to dull down the noise so that things aren’t so loud,” he said quietly, tapping his headphones and shuffling his feet.  

Reinchecht replied softly,“That’s alright, Michael, you don’t have to demonstrate your gift to us. Thank you for sharing.”

Poor guy, Ally thought. Is it a gift or a curse? He must never get a break.

Another girl stood and waved. “Hi, I’m Valeria, I’m here to study human biology, and I can shrink myself down to the size of a pin head.” She’d begun shrinking before she’d finished speaking, but her dress didn’t shrink with her so she was struggling to hold it up and keep herself covered. Luke and a couple of other students catcalled and whistled, much to Michael's dismay. He pressed the cups of his headphones harder onto his ears and grimaced. Valeria shrunk herself down to about a foot tall before holding her dress up became cumbersome and grew herself back to her normal height. She swayed in place for a second and fell back in her seat dizzily.

“Very useful, I imagine. I should have you come shrink down for me if I ever accidentally lock my keys in my car.” Reinchecht chuckled and took a seat on top of his desk. “Anyone else?”

A boy with tan skin and bleached hair stood. “My name is Calum. I’m majoring in powers theory, and I have indestructable digestion. And a spare stomach pouch. I can swallow and store or digest pretty much anything I can fit into my mouth. I...guess I can show you”

Valeria made a pained noise in the back of her throat that sounded like a cross between a groan and a squeak at that.

Calum moved on, pulling a small leather bag out of his pocket and taking out a small handful of large glass marbles. He popped them into his mouth as if they were a handful of peanuts and swallowed them whole.

A red haired guy scoffed and shook his head. “You’ve been trying to prove that since we were kids, Cal. I’m still not convinced that’s a real power. Anyone can swallow some marbles with enough practice.”

Calum furrowed his brows and frowned. “Yeah, but can they digest them? Not everyone can digest glass marbles, Ash.”

Ash shrugged and slouched in his seat. “Still not convinced it’s real.”

“Real enough for me,” Valeria sighed, smiling at Calum, who was beginning to look very uncomfortable.

“Alright, we have to finish up soon, let’s move on,” Reinchecht interrupted. “Anyone else want to volunteer?”

“I will,” a girl with long black hair bounced up excitedly. “I’m Skyler, I’m studying physics, and I have invisibility and forcefields. Jenna, can you shoot some water at Luke again?”

“What!?”

“With pleasure,” Jenna grinned evilly. She pulled another orb of water from her bottle and sent it flying toward Luke. Skyler raised her hand and summoned a shield of light in front of the blonde Aussie, preventing him from getting soaked again.  

“You have GOT to stop doing that. You’re like a nerf gun gone wrong.”

“Hey, Sky asked me to, yell at her,” she raised her hands in defense and pointed toward Skyler, but she was invisible all except for her clothes. It was kind of eerie to see clothes sitting in a desk without a body.

“It takes me a little bit to come back...sorry guys, I’ll be visible in a few seconds.”

The red-haired guy from earlier stood. “I guess I should go. Hi, I’m Ashton, I’m majoring in geology and earth science. And, surprise surprise, I’m an earth elemental. Cal Pal here used to call me Captain Earthquake when we were kids because of it.”

“I called you Captain Earthquake because your farts shook the whole room.”

“Gee, thanks Cal. Love you, man.”

“Of course, you’re my best bud.”

Luke opened his mouth to say something but Jenna flicked two fingers and shot a water stream directly into his mouth, making him gag.  

“Moving on, now. Jenna, please stop trying to kill Luke, you can do that in the arena on rally days. Skyler, that’s a pretty incredible power. I can’t wait to see how you end up progressing. Alright, who hasn’t gone yet?”

Ally looked around the room to see if anyone else would volunteer before her, and when no one did she stood up shakily. Public speaking always made her nervous.

“Hello, I’m Ally. I’m, uh, here to study environmental science, and I can...multiply things.”

Emma looked at Ally with confusion. “Like...mega math powers?”

“No, um...like this.” She grabbed the pen off of her desk and rubbed it between her hands. It was one of those things where if you weren’t paying attention, you’d miss it. One pen turned to two, two turned to four, and four turned to eight, until she had a handful of blue ballpoint pens in her hand. Some of her classmates clapped in approval, and that calmed her a little. She felt subpar to her classmates, so even the slightest bit of approval made her feel much better.  

“Thank you, Ally. That’s a very useful power. I imagine you’ll be able to improve far beyond your expectation.”

Reinchecht cleared his throat and glanced at his watch. “However, we are out of time. We’ll have to get to the rest of you tomorrow. Please, take a syllabus on your way out today. Read over it and make sure you get the required textbooks. You’re dismissed.”

All the students stood up and started gathering their things, chit chatting with each other about their powers. A now-visible Skyler and Jenna were bombarding Emma with questions about her power, Luke and Ashton followed Michael out of the classroom, and Valeria busied herself with trading phone numbers with Calum, pouting when he exclaimed “I have not and will never attempt to swallow a human, no matter how small they are.”

“But you CAN do it, though.”

“Bye, Val.”

“Wait, I have more questions!”

Ally stuffed all the new pens in her bag and headed for the door, but she was stopped by Jenna.

“Hey, what are you doing for lunch?”

“Uh, I was just gonna grab a sandwich or something from the commons, why?”

“Why don’t you join us? We’re gonna meet the boys at Pablo’s and have lunch there. They’ve got the best fish tacos. Please?”

Ally smiled to herself. This was already much better than high school and regardless of what her mother assumed, she loves it here.  

“Sure. I’ll meet you there.”

[with-a-gilded-quill]

The Fae in the Forest: Chapter One

It was a day like any other. Autumn had come to the central midwest, in the little town of Spring Green, Illinois. It was hardly large enough to place itself on a map, with a population of 500 people, and nothing to see except a library, a park, a gas station, and an abandoned house that even some of the adults were sure was haunted. The town, like most Illinoian towns, was surrounded by dense fields of corn and lush green forests. It was only able to be accessed from a fifteen minute drive down country roads.

The town was rather ordinary. Those who lived their all their life and never left didn’t believe it was different than any other town. Those who visited felt strange there, as if it had birthed a culture known only to those who had lived there forever. The visitors, generally speaking, were right. Most of the townsfolk never even knew what was so odd about their town. Most of the people who left never came back. 

                                                              ***

The world was spinning, spinning, a dizzying swirl of bright fall leaves in front of her eyes, burgundy and violent crimson and goldenrod and burnt orange all at once. More of them fell from the trees with every gust of wind as she lay beneath them, drifting downward to rest beside their other fallen brethren. The sounds - the rustling of dead leaves, the melody the wind played as it wove between limbs - were comforting. Autumn had always been a time of magic. Anything in the world could happen, and that was why she was here.

She did not want to return to the house she’d stormed out of seven years ago. There was a reason she had left there in the first place. But here she was, being called back from the comfort of her new home, in a new town, with her new life states away, to crash in an old friend’s basement.

A lonely reddened maple leaf fell on her face rather unexpectedly as it descended toward the rest of its family. She sat up, taking the leaf gingerly between her fingers, and sighed. She thought of her childhood, of building leaf piles and jumping into them, as if that had ever been any fun at all, and everyone didn’t just end up stabbed by twigs or with bugs in their hair. But kids never cared about any of that, and maybe that was the fun in it all.

She  was lost in her own thoughts by the time she heard the voice calling her. It had begun, quite ruthlessly, to rain, and the deep, billowy sound was whipped this way and that in the furious blustering wind. Despite it not being too far away, it was still almost lost to the storm. It was calling her inside. Reluctant, but willing, she conceded and headed toward the house, slipping in through the back door, pulling her worn green flannel tight around her It was meant to provide warmth and comfort, but seeing as it was entirely soaked in rain - as was the rest of her - it did no good for anyone, except for making her feel more cold.

The voice matched the man it came from. He was tall, a towering 6’4, a giant compared to her, who was not taller than a measly 5’3 (and by most accounts, was a perfectly even 5’2). He had an abundance of muscles from his work in a lumber yard. It seemed he had the lumberjack look down to a T, and it suited him well, with his black beard, long curly hair, and his assortment of solid colored gingham button-ups, soft with the same flannel material currently wrapped around her torso, only almost always far less wet. But looks, of course, were often deceiving, and anyone that knew anything about Cedric Perez would know that he was perhaps the kindest, most caring, most sensitive person they had ever had the pleasure of knowing.

“Hazel, you’ll catch your death in that rain out there, y’know. C’mon, we’ve got coffee for ya, kid.” Cedric said, beaming, as she slipped between him and the door, knocking into his arm on purpose. Hazel glowered at the towering man in the way only a best friend could, more annoyed than angry. Cedric Murphy was exactly one year younger than Hazel to the day, even though he looked like he was old enough to be her dad. Often, Cedric did indeed act like he was. Most people would say he was too nice and too caring for his own good. This did nothing to stop Cedric from being either of those things.

“Thanks, mom.”  Hazel said, wrapping her arms around herself before she finally thought better of it and stripped of her flannel, leaving her in only an equally soaked black tank top. Hazel shuddered from a sudden rush of chill, before a fuzzy green pullover sailed its way right into her face. It was Cedric’s, of course, judging by the size of it, and Hazel gratefully slipped it on over her head, relishing in the warmth of the soft fleece. There in the kitchen, Hazel leaned back against the counter and slid slowly - and even a bit dramatically - to the linoleum floor, sitting with a thump. Cedric joined her there, slightly more gracefully, and handed her a blue mug decorated with small white stars, and steaming with a hot, caramel colored liquid, not unlike the warm shade of his own hand.

“Just the way you like it.” Cedric said, grinning. “Creamer. No sugar. Now drink up. You’re freezing.” Hazel was. This was not difficult to discern, as the shivers that took over her body were dramatic and obvious. “What were you doing out there, anyway?” Cedric continued, doing his best to sound very stern and accusatory. Hazel sighed, loudly.

“I was just thinking.” Hazel muttered over her mug. As much as Cedric liked to make fun of her for lying in the rain, he understood the simple need to be alone. Sometimes, thought Hazel, the cold and the rain understood her better than any person ever could. Cedric understood that, too, at least enough to give her many free rain-laying passes. There was a long moment where Hazel wouldn’t meet his eyes. She must have looked particularly tired or cold to Cedric, because he had left to get a blanket and returned with it, throwing it over her rather unceremoniously. Ordinarily, this gesture would have been seen as sweet or romantic, but this time it ended up just funny, as the blanket, much like the fleece, hit Hazel in the face and shrouded her. For a few minutes, she refused to move it. It was a wonder she didn’t spill a drop of coffee.

“Emily and Percy are downstairs,” Cedric said, taking a seat again in front of Hazel, and nudging her with his foot. She grimaced in a way that accurately described how she felt, although it didn’t seem to get the message across, as Cedric just kept on talking. “You know. Doin’ the do. Cuddlin’ naked. The body dance.” Hazel removed the shroud of blanket from her face for the express purpose of glaring daggers into him, before simply tearing her gaze away and shrugging.

“No one calls it ‘the body dance’, you egg.” Hazel scoffed. The situation was complicated. Emily met Percy during their junior year of high school gym class. They began dating a week after, and were essentially inseparable from that moment on, until just after high school, when they broke up for three months so Percy could go to Math Camp. When he returned in the fall, Percy and Emily fell into each other’s arms like long lost lovers once again.

“You wanna tell me again what the big deal is with the two of them?” Cedric asked, his tone taking on something far more serious than he had sounded even with his condemnation of the rain. Hazel shrugged.

“I just don’t know him. That’s all,” Hazel said. “I wasn’t really friends with Emily in high school, you know that. We might have spoken sometimes, but that was it. She was friendly to me. Guess time weathered away the deep loathing she had for me.” A silent pause, then, and a perfect moment for Hazel to sip her coffee. It was still hot enough to scald her tongue, and she savored the warm feeling of it as it entered her belly. Cedric remained silent, as if asking for more details. Hazel closed her eyes, feeling for the words, before she said, “We were inseparable in middle school. Together all the time, no matter what, basically twins; that sort of thing. In English class, we refused to be separated and talked our teacher into letting us sit next to each other every semester. Luckily, we were good students, and smart, and given the privilege of mostly doing whatever we wanted. When we were assigned to read books, we would make sure we read the book ahead of time, getting us out of class assignments as long as we passed the quiz we were given. We loved all the same weird things, too, you know? Weird clothes, anime, J-pop, books, alternative music: all the things that made you an outcast in middle school. But Emily was always more popular than me, if you could even call what she was “popular”. For all her strangeness, she was beautiful: tall, long blonde hair, pale skin, freckles, and the brightest green eyes I’d ever seen, as bright as emeralds.”  Hazel paused here to steal a glance at Cedric, who was watching with a little knowing grin. Hazel pressed her lips together, and then let her face go slack. “I… might have loved her a little bit. We were like magnets.”

Cedric listened. He was good at that, listening. He always had been. It was part of what made him such a wonderful friend. His ability to empathize and understand and learn from others was unmatched. It came, he often said, from being almost always misunderstood, and treated like some kind of criminal delinquent. When Hazel seemed done speaking, Cedric nudged her again. “And?” He prompted, leaning forward. “So what? What happened between you two?”

“And then everything fell apart.” Hazel said, grasping her mug in her hands as tightly as she could, feeling the warmth of the drink within it seeping into her palms, warming her up. “There was one summer day in the woods… I thought it was going to be like every other day, but it wasn’t. I can still see it if I close my eyes, if I think about it. The smell of hot, rotting flesh, the blood… all the blood. And that was it for us. There was no going back.” Hazel closed her eyes, as if remembering. “I miss her sometimes, of course. Sure, once in a while we would talk, but that hardly felt like enough.” Hazel was glad for Cedric. Without him, she didn’t think she would have ever made another friend. She never felt lonely around him. He made the dark days brighter. He could make her laugh, and he always knew when all she needed was a good cry. Besides, the two were now the most inseparable of friends: approaching 22, one would think their interests would differ greatly from when the were younger. They’d be right, but not in the ways most would expect. Instead of j-pop, anime, and scene kid clothes, Hazel and Cedric’s interests lined up on an entirely new scale: both enjoyed punk clothing, rock music, comic books, Disney movies, and, perhaps most relatable, girls. They could talk about girls for hours.

“Then it was high school.” Hazel said, and looked up at her still-silent friend, who was staring with big, round eyes. “I was very gay, and you were there, big and burly by nature, and the new guy.” Cedric smiled. He remembered. He was protective by nature, too, and went out of his way to intimidate anyone who had anything to say about Hazel and her romantic interests. “And then there was Emily, smiling at me occasionally, letting me know that it was okay. That she was glad she knew me.” Hazel released a slow, long sigh, and grimaced. “And then there was Percy.”

Cedric opened his mouth, ready to offer encouragement to continue her little story. But he did not get so far. Just then, the basement door opened.

[reedusdixonfictionaddiction]

The Summer in Georgia

Chapter 12, The Station

Daryl pulled into the Sheriff’s station and parked next to Rick’s Bronco. They got out of his truck and headed inside. Isabella was incredibly nervous. She reached out and held onto Daryl’s arm, standing off to the side of him. Rick was in his office with another deputy, he saw them come in and waved for them to come back. Isabella was still holding onto Daryl’s arm when they got to Rick’s office. Daryl looked down at her and nodded, as if to say that it was ‘alright.’ She smiled at him hesitantly and let go.

“Hey, there she is. Miss America.” Rick exclaimed. “I was hoping Daryl would bring you down here.” He looked over at the deputy in his office and said, “Chris, this is Isabella the young lady I was telling you about.” He turned back to Isabella and said, “Isabella this is my right-hand man, Chris Jackson. He’s in charge when I’m not around. I couldn’t do my job without him.”

Chris laughed and held out his hand to greet Isabella. “It’s great to meet you. I hear you’re a college grad this year. Behavioral Science? Pretty impressive.”

“Thank you.” She answered, shaking his hand. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

Chris was the undersheriff. He was a 6’4” black man with a gorgeous smile. He was Rick’s age and he had a degree in Criminal Justice from Georgia State University, where he played linebacker for their football team. He was married to a nurse named Yvette and they had one child, a 5-year-old son named Ricky. Named after Rick.

Isabella stared at him a minute, wondering why he seemed so familiar. Then she realized. He looked just like the movie actor, Morris Chestnut.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like…” She started when Chris cut in.

“… Morris Chestnut?” Chris said nodding his head, smiling.

“Yes!” she laughed.

“Who’s Morris Chestnut?” Daryl asked.

“He’s the guy that played Ricky in that movie, ‘The Boyz in the Hood’. Rick said. “and yes, he does. Ironically, that’s what his boy’s name is.” He continued.

“Oh yeah, he does.” Daryl said, nodding his head.

“My wife says, that’s the only reason she went out with me when we first met. Hey, he’s a good-looking guy, I consider that a compliment.” Chris winked. “But my boy’s named after Rick, here. Not the guy in the movie.” Rick puffed out his chest and smiled proudly.

“Come on Isabella, let me introduce you to everyone else that’s here right now.” Rick said, motioning her to follow him into the main area of the station. She smiled at Chris and then followed Rick and Daryl into the other room. He led her over to two other deputies who were busy talking by the coffee machine.

“Hey guys!” Rick said to the men. They turned and smiled. “This here’s Isabella, she’s staying with me this summer and she’s going to be working down here a few days a week. Say ‘hi’.”

One of them, a tall, blonde around 40ish held up his hand and waved ‘hi’.

“Hello, Isabella. I’m Edwin, but all my friends call me Jenner. So, I guess that’s what you’ll be calling me too.” He smiled.

The other man was Asian and in his early 20’s. He had a black eye, which told Isabella that he was the deputy that was assaulted the night before. He looked her up and down very obviously with a big smile.

“I’m Glenn Rhee and you can call me Glenn.” He said waving.

“Nice to meet you both.” Isabella responded.

Glenn looked at Daryl and raised his eyebrows and mouthed ‘WOW!’ Daryl just rolled his eyes. Rick took Isabella around and introduced her to everyone else, the receptionist, the dispatcher and the one jail guard that was on duty. Daryl stayed and continued talking to Jenner and Glenn.

“Looks like ya’ became someone’s bitch last night.” Daryl said lightly slapping Glenn on the face. Glenn slapped his hand away and scoffed.

“Damn Daryl! She is fine! Please tell me you noticed that ass. Cuz, damn! I sure did!” Glenn laughed, punching Daryl’s arm.

“Man, shut the fuck up.” Daryl said, rubbing his arm. “Why ya’ lookin’ asshole? Whattsa’ matter, Maggie not givin’ you no love? She finally come to her senses?” He laughed.

“Hell no! She loves me, man. How could she not?” Glenn said, flexing his muscle.

Daryl laughed and shook his head. “Phuh!” he said under his breath. “Just remember that, Short Round. That means keep your eyes off Isabella’s ass.” Daryl continued.

“Hey, I’m not married yet and I’m not dead, so I can look. What do they say? I can look at the menu, as long as I eat at home.” Glenn laughed. “Besides, what do you care?”

“I don’t, she’s just not like that. Ok?” Daryl said defensively.

“Not like what? I wasn’t saying anything bad about her, I was just pointing out the fact that she’s got a nice ass. Ohhhh! Wait a minute, wait a minute. You like her. Don’t you? Holy shit, Daryl likes a girl.” Glenn teased.

“Shut the fuck up.” Daryl growled.

Just then Charlie walked into the station.

“Hey Charlie.” Everyone said.

Rick and Isabella rejoined Daryl, as Charlie approached them.

Charlie had a big smile on his face when he saw Isabella. Daryl noticed the way he was looking at her and tried to step between them, but wasn’t fast enough.

Isabella smiled back. “Hi Charlie.” She said.

“Wow, Isabella. You look even more beautiful today than you did yesterday.” Charlie flirted.

Daryl’s face got hot and he glared. “No, she don’t. She looks the same.” Daryl said abruptly. Everyone went quiet and looked at Daryl, but no one said what they were all thinking. ‘WTF?’

“Uh, thank you Charlie.” Isabella said looking at Daryl.

At the same time, Glenn patted Daryl on the chest and whispered, “Smooth, dude. Real smooth.” He laughed and walked away.

Rick told Charlie he needed to talk to him. Charlie headed for Rick’s office and Rick followed, but not before looking at Daryl and shaking his head. Daryl felt like an idiot, once again. He hadn’t meant that she didn’t look more beautiful, he was just trying to shut down Charlie’s flirting. He kept putting his foot in his mouth, the harder he tried to play it cool, the more idiotic he came off. He smiled unsurely at her and tried to come up with yet, another apology.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Daryl said. “It’s just that… Well, you should… Charlie can be… Just watch out for him.” He finished quietly.

Isabella nodded her head, she was pretty sure she knew what Daryl meant. She was also hoping that maybe he was just a little bit jealous. Which he was. Daryl told her they should go, so she said ‘goodbye and nice meeting you’ to everyone, and they headed to Rick’s office to say ‘goodbye’ to him and Charlie. Daryl stood in the doorway between he and Isabella. Isabella took ahold of Daryl’s right arm again and stood beside him. Daryl smirked to himself, hoping Charlie was seeing how she was touching him. He did. Rick motioned to her come over to him and gave her a hug around the shoulders and she and Daryl were out the door, back in the truck and headed toward Daryl’s house.

As you drove down the hill that Rick’s house was on, you came to a fork in the road. Off to the right was the station and the main road into town. To the left was Pine Green Road. This was the road Daryl lived on. As they drove towards his house Isabella commented on how nice everyone was. She asked Daryl if he knew what kind of work she would be doing there. He told her he didn’t, but stated that he was sure she could handle it.

“Glenn looks so young.” Isabella commented. “Is he married?”

“Nah, but he’s got a girlfriend. Maggie. Rick’ll probably introduce ya’ to her. She’s nice, she just got outta’ college last year. You’d probably have some stuff in common, ya’ both bein’ smart and all.” Daryl answered. Isabella nodded her head. “Her dad’s a doctor at the hospital here. His name’s Hershel, Hershel Greene. They gotta’ farm out on Route 3. He’s a nice guy, you’d like him. Chris’s wife works with him. She’s a nurse.”

“Does Maggie have any brothers or sisters?” She asked.

“Yeah! She’s gotta’ little sister, Beth. He said annoyed. Maggie’s mom died a few years ago, so it’s just them three, plus Otis and his wife, Patricia. They work the farm for Hershel.” Daryl explained.

“Why did you say Beth that way.?” Isabella asked.

“She just... she’s always followin’ me around and shit. She’s a dumb kid.” Daryl answered.

“Sounds like she has a crush on you. How old is she? Is she pretty?” She asked.

“She ain’t beautiful, she’s alright, she’s kinda’ plain. She’s a 17 year old girl, but she looks like she’s 14.” He laughed.

Isabella was relieved. She didn’t want any competition coming between her and Daryl.

“So, she likes you?” She asked carefully.

“I don’t know. I guess. I don’t wanna’ talk about her. Maggie’s cool though. I think she’s 22. And Hershel? Well, he’s just good people. You’ll meet em’.”

“I look forward to it.” Isabella said enthusiastically. “Have you known Glenn long?”

“Nah, just a few years. He moved here from Michigan about 3 years ago. He was sposed ta’ go ta’ school, but he lost his financial aid. He was deliverin’ pizzas tryin’ to save up money ta’ go home and he met Maggie. So, insteada goin’ home, he stayed and joined the department. He’s a good guy, he’d give ya’ the shirt of his back if ya’ needed it. Maggie and him are sposed to get married next spring.”

“It sounds like he came for school, but stayed for love. That’s romantic.” Isabella said.

“I guess.” Daryl said flatly. “Don’t know much about romance and shit, but they’re good together.”

“I can’t wait to meet Maggie. What does she do?” Isabella asked.

“She helps work the farm, I think she wants ta’ be a vet or somethin’ with animals. I can’t remember. They got horses and cows and shit, so she helps take care of them and Hershel has a clinic he runs, when he’s not at the hospital and she works there with him too. She does a lot of different shit.” Daryl answered.

They’d been driving for about 20 minutes, so Isabella asked how far he lived from the station.

“About 13 miles. It takes a while cuz a this curvy road. We’re almost there. Why ya’ gotta’ pee or somethin’?” He laughed.

“No.” Isabella laughed. “I was just wondering. There’s so many trees out here. It’s beautiful.”

“Yep. We’re here, this is me on the right.” Daryl said, pulling into a dirt, circle drive.”

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