#I always get so giddy when someone points out these details I add to my work | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bakugohoex · 4 years ago

Text

“know your place...foolish girl”

pairing: ryomen sukuna x female reader

cw: tattoo artist sukuna, fluff, mentions of death, enemies to lovers, long fic, fluff, angst, language, slut shaming, nsfw (praise, jaw grabbing, nipple sucking, female receiving oral, unprotected sex, breeding, pet names, sir kink, finger sucking)

word count: 14,400+

a/n: please don’t ask how i wrote this, it took like four days and I just had this urge to keep adding the points I wanted to add. posting this on ao3 later on tonight as well, so here’s the link to that.

summary: in which one terrible meeting with sukuna leads you to be pushed into an unusual relationship with one another, with you both starting out hating one another, could you both really be friends?

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Birds circled around the area; the gloomy storms ready to cascade down onto the pavement. The need for a coffee fix was evident as you walked towards your favourite café, shouting through the phone at your friend, Yui who needed you once again. You didn’t care for her next want, instead barging through the doors of the place, a warm breath of air hitting you as you smelt the crushed coffee and appetising deserts lined up in front of you. Waiting in line as you continued to hear her ramble, “I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll take that as a yes, I’ll send you the address.” You rolled your eyes as you hanged up to order your coffee, she was never close to you. But when she needed something she’d always end up calling you. This time for company to get her first tattoo, she was a sweet girl, but could be a pain when in need.

Quickly ordering you waited to get your coffee, scrolling through the text message as she sent the time for later on tonight and the address in the inner parts of the city. It was an area you hadn’t been too, google maps wasn’t helping to get a true sense of the place. You tried zooming in as you shuffled backwards for others to wait for their coffee, instead meeting someone’s back. Apologising you stood still trying to zoom in as you moved away from the guy, he glared at you, watching how you squinted into your phone.

“Watch where you’re going?” He scowls as he barges past you, hitting your elbow as you finally lock eyes with the man.

His blushed pink hair would almost make him seem sweet, but the tattoos that adorned his arms and went right up to his neck gave an intimidating essence. His eyes flashed with a sadistic glee as he raised an eyebrow at you. “Sorry.” You mutter as you grab your coffee, seeing the fury of wind bashing against the trees as it looked like a scene out there.

He didn’t say anymore leaving to go into the weather, you didn’t question the mysterious man as you went back to your own coffee and phone. The outside of the tattoo place looked decent, somewhere where the ditsy girl you called your friend would definitely never go. But what could you do, you texted saying you’d meet her as you went out into the wind, a cold breath almost pushing you back inside as you took steady steps. Walking past the coffee shop, you saw the same guy from prior, tugging at his pink hair as drank his coffee. He looked pissed at whoever he was talking too, you didn’t pay any attention to him as you walked past him.

The wind had other plans, as he felt himself being dragged by the wind pushing right into you, coffee spilling on your clothes as this time you were the one to scowl at him. “What the fuck?”

“You talking to me.” His eyes flicked to your now brown stained shirt as the wind had seemed to calm down at the second you both touched.

You gave a glare as you didn’t know how to react to something like that, “you could apologise.” It was a mutter, but he heard you well enough to give you a look of disgust.

“Know your place.” He moved closer, almost towering on top of you as he came right up into your face in an unamused manner, “foolish girl.”

Your eyes widened as you had been keeping in a harsh breath, he left you standing there in silence, coffee staining into your skin and clothes as you finally let out a deep breath. You watched the pink haired boy leave without an apology as a fear ran down your spine at this man.

Shaking your head as you made the strenuous walk towards your apartment to find clothes that you could quickly wear before you met Yui. The multiple texts you’d gotten as you put your clothes to wash, different tattoo ideas she wanted, you ignored it as you put on semi decent clothes. The flash of the time being shown on your bedside table as you ran out of your apartment right to where you both had decided to meet.

The wind had calmed down a lot more as the brisk hues of yellows and reds began setting downwards, seeing her waiting on the road where the tattoo place was. She gave you a gleam as she grabbed your hand, almost dragging you into the place. Open brick cascaded down the walls as designs scattered against it, every design was intricate, beautiful even. You both began looking at the designs as you saw someone come down from the upstairs area, the stairs open as a man with black hair arrived.

“Hello ladies, how can I help you?” His hair reached to right down his back, partially up as stray strands adorned his face. Tattoos scoured his exposed arms as you saw a significant one run down his neck to meet another one of his tattoos.

He was attractive, a sense of mystery behind those black eyes of his. Yui spoke of her appointment as you continued looking around, scrolling through a collection of tattoos on the desk. You found some designs that you liked; you had never thought of getting a tattoo but seeing all the intricate designs that brought so much passion made your heart almost burst. “Those are Sukuna’s designs.”

A white-haired man came strolling past the desk, crystal blue eyes that brought so much depth as you traced the designs with your fingers. “They’re nice.”

“You getting any?” The man asked as Yui had started filling out some forms by your side.

You shake your head going back to look at the details of each one, “Sukuna should be down any minute.” The black-haired man spoke as both him and the white-haired man left to see some other clients that had come through the doors.

Yui looked more giddy than usual, those wide eyes as she eagerly paced beside you. “Ryo.” She whines as she sees someone she recognised; you didn’t turn to meet the man as you continued staring at Sukuna’s work.

“I told you not to call me that.” The man scowls behind you, the voice felt so familiar as if you had heard it before. You start to turn around to meet the man when you feel him almost shout to you, “this the friend then?”

“Yeah, she loves your work.” You meet the man’s gaze as both of you stare at one another, with wide eyes and unsettling confusion.

You hadn’t realised but the white-haired man had come back and had been witnessing the two of you stare at one another. “Sukuna, that isn’t your ex-fuck is it….awkward.”

“Fuck off Satoru.” His eyes scanned back at you as Yui looked between the two of you in confusion, “what? Come here to make me pay for your washing.”

“What is wrong with you? I didn’t even say anything.” You retort back eyes lazily gazing his own, you could see his tattoos more clearly, the two lines on both his wrists and upper arms, the circles on his shoulders as you could just see the start of it.

“You’re here for some reason, I should be the one making you pay for my spilt coffee.” He grumbles back moving away from your friend and closer to your own body.

You watched him move his fingers to your jaw, hatred boiling up in your skin at his touch, “you’re blaming me for the winds action, what are you 5?”

“God…both of you are giving me a migraine.” A blonde arrived carrying what looked like sliced bread as he looked at Sukuna and you. He had been watching the performance, seeing how both of you had become frustrated in a matter of seconds.

“Whatever, come on, let’s get your tattoo over and done with.” He muttered to Yui who was still confused.

You grabbed her arm making her stop as she stared right back at you, being an airhead really must be tough for her. “Who is that guy?”

“My boyfriend, I told you about him, remember?” You blinked a couple times in confusion as you repeated the word in your head. She had spoken about a boyfriend, but you assumed she meant someone cute like her and not a man covered in tattoos with a sadistic stupid grin.

You nodded letting her go as you leaned against the counter looking at Satoru and the blond, “is he always an ass or is it a special occasion.”

“He’s an ass to us, don't worry about him.” Satoru’s words were reassuring as the blond started wanting to know your relationship with his co-worker.

You nod as you wait in the reception, there had really been no reason for you to even go with your friend. She had left to get her stupid tattoo with her stupid boyfriend and now here you were on your own trying to act like you had stuff going in your life. The two having begun to talk between one another before you saw the black-haired man come back with his client. “Is Sukuna still in there?”

“Yeah knowing him he’s getting something other than money in return.” Satoru scoffed as he went to grab some of the sliced bread that the blond had been holding. The black-haired man stared at you in confusion before asking what occurred as he had heard shouting before. “Sukuna got all bitchy again, they know each other.”

“Oh you two fucked?”

“Not that it’s any of your business but no we didn’t fuck, he spilt coffee on me this morning.” You retorted as you crossed your arms not meeting the gazes of the three men.

Satoru looked at his two friends as he gave a smirk to them both, “I’m surprised he didn’t make you pay for the coffee.”

“Just the coffee, if she wasn’t attractive he’d make her pay for being in the same proximity as her.” The black-haired man spoke as you watched the three men chuckle, disregarding their comment on your attractiveness. You rolled your eyes as you heard him speak again, “I’m Geto, that’s Satoru and Nanami, what’s yours then?”

“Y/n.” You had sat down on one of the couches in the waiting area, after the introductions an influx of customers who came in for their own bookings. Satoru waved goodbye as Nanami and Geto seemed to be pushed with clients into the respective areas.

All three had their own intricate tattoos and designs, Nanami with a whole sleeve across his arm that went write up to his neck. You had seen how the couple open buttons in his shirt allowed wisps of black to be shown. Geto and the scattered tattoos across his arms and Satoru with his own mix and matches tattoos of different colours and shapes. You flicked through the booklet again, eyes scoring against Sukuna’s work. For such an arrogant piece of shit his work really was divine.

You heard Yui come out with Sukuna, dishevelled hair as Sukuna wiped her lipstick from his mouth. He glared at you as you refused to meet his eyes, the urge to punch him in his stupid face being prevalent. “Y/n, look isn’t it so cute.”

She showed you her thigh where the rose was, Sukuna looking at it with a roll of his eyes. It was nothing like the intricate designs you had seen in the booklet. You may not have known the man, but it just didn’t look like something he’d enjoy doing. She pulled her skirt back down; you could almost smell sex on her as she went up to Sukuna. He had told her what to use before she gave him a long kiss. You tried to not watch them kiss but it was a whole show to watch, his hand gripping her ass as he kissed back, saliva dripping from their mouths.

Looking anywhere but at them, you put the booklet back onto the main desk before hearing her say a goodbye to her Ryo. “I told you not to call me that,” there was no teasing manner in his words, he was dead serious, hating how his name sounded on the whores mouth.

“Ryo told me he spilled coffee on you this morning, I’ll make him apologise to you tomorrow.” You gave her a blank look as you both walked through the night sky.

“Tomorrow?” You questioned not knowing what was even occurring the next day.

She raised an eyebrow as she spoke, “Nobara, she invited all of us to her apartment, remember?” The memory of the dyed haired girl came alight, the three of you had been talking in a lecture when she told you both to come to her housewarming. She had been so excited to show you how she decorated the place and to show you everything she bought but you hadn’t been paying attention. Instead nodding at her words instead, “I invited Ryo to come with me.”

“Oh great, an afternoon seeing that dickhead's face.” You scowled, kicking the pebble into the pavement as you tried to not whine but you hated the man and you most certainly knew he hated you.

She brought her hands to her chest trying to gain warmth through the cold weather, “don’t be like that, he means a lot to me.”

“Yeah being told off for saying his name sure shows how much he cares for.” Maybe you were still pissed about what occurred this morning, he hadn’t even apologised for something so small. But your friend was too unaware to realise what you saw, a demon reincarnated.

You both parted ways as you walked the stretch to your apartment, you knew Yui was sweet, but her lack of awareness was sometimes frustrating. You had heard the moans come from the small area, heard how everybody seemed to find it normal and what could you do. Nothing, you stared blankly at the wall in your apartment, the bland cream walls encasing nothing but the sadness of uni life. Nobara was sweet enough to invite you and you knew you’d just have to ignore that bastard instead.

The next day passed without much interruption, sorting out uni work before getting ready for her little get together. You didn’t know who else was going, having spent most of your time with your other friends but the idea of having to see Sukuna made you cringe. Looking at your outfit, a casual look, not expecting anything big to occur. You made the walk towards her apartment bringing some wine with you as a gift as you finally found the tower of apartments.

Walking into the elevator you were about to press the button when you heard a giddy laugh telling you to keep the door open. “Omg Y/n, you look super cute.” The whine of her voice made you stare right back at her, so innocent but the man she had been pulling on making her look nothing more than his toy.

“Thanks.” You mutter refusing to meet Sukuna’s eyes, his arms tattoos on show as he wore a black shirt, most of the buttons undone to show his distinctive marked chest. He rolled his sleeves as you pressed the button to the floor as she rambled on about her day.

You watched her grab his hand, moving closer to his side as he looked lazily down at her. He really was a fucking cunt, with that sadistic smirk and taunting eyes. “…Ryo was telling me Satoru was interested in you.”

“That’s nice.” You muttered not wanting to have a conversation about the men you had met last night.

Sukuna finally looked at you, eyebrows raised as he looked up from the ground. His light brown eyes gazing up and down your body as he stared almost indecisively at you. She stood firm against him whining for him to apologise about yesterday, but he didn’t seem to care as he stared at you with those dull eyes of his.

“I don’t care if he apologises or not.” You finally mutter as you felt suffocated by the sheer pressure of his gaze. It was a longing and you felt uncomfortable under his eyes, she had barely noticed the significant glare he was giving to you as she flaunted herself to him. At least she had something going for her with those looks of her, her unawareness and ditsiness catched men’s eyes but the way Sukuna dismissed her flaunts made you wonder why he even bothered with her.

The door opened as you quickly stepped out, not wanting to be near either of them as you walked towards Nobara’s apartment. Knocking as her bright face emerged engulphing you in a hug, “come in, come in.”

“I got you this.” You pass her the wine as she takes it, seeing Sukuna and Yui come in, her mouth in a gawk as she eyes the pink haired man up and down.

She puts the wine down as she gives a hug to your friend, “and who is this?”

Sukuna looked to the side not wanting to speak as he scoured around the room for someone he would recognise, his eyes meeting your mutual friend Megumi’s. He gave a nod at the black-haired boy who began walking towards the four of you, “this is my boy…”

Before she could finish Megumi interrupted, arm across your shoulder with a grin, “y/n with other friends.” You rolled your eyes as he went over to Sukuna, giving him a pat on the shoulder, “and Sukuna, what you doing here? Work run out of ink, you gonna start sucking our bloods.”

“Real funny.” Sukuna’s voice was unamused as Megumi almost dragged him away from you all.

Nobara had left as you saw Yui look isolated and alone, it was weird, a new emotion you hadn’t seen as you patted her back lightly. “Let’s get a drink.”

She nodded as you took her hand moving her past others that you knew and towards where a pile of beverages were. You had to hand it to Nobara the apartment did look good, it fit her aesthetic perfectly and you could only wish for your apartment to feel homely. Looking back on your own, it wasn’t a home, it was just a convenient place to live for your university studies.

Yui began rambling about something, almost glad she wasn’t paying attention to her boyfriend who had been talking with Megumi on the balcony. You could see eyes fawn over him, not understanding how people could find him attractive. Your skin crawled as you looked at him one last time before listening to her as she spoke for the next half an hour. Sukuna came towards you both after a while and that’s when disaster struck…once again.

“I’m leaving.” He was blunt with his words as you stared at the pair's interaction.

She looked at him with soft eyes, “but you promised you’d stay longer than an hour.” You looked over to Sukuna waiting to hear what he’d say as he needed a good excuse to be a shit date for this gathering.

“Okay, and? I’m a working adult. I have shit going on.” He seemed almost tense, hand gripping his phone as his eyes flashed with a worry before a glare back at you.

She disregarded his words as she continued to whine, “we can sneak off if you want…”

“Fucking hell I don’t want to sleep with you.” He tried to speak calmly but others had heard what was occurring in the kitchen. Jaw clenched as if something really bad was happening and he needed to be there.

You rolled your eyes at the unnecessarily loud comment touching your friends shoulder to reassure her, “come on let’s go back to mine.”

Sukuna glared, not bothering to give her a goodbye as you explained to Nobara the issue before giving her a farewell. You took her back to yours as soon as she hit the couch she was out like a light. You didn’t understand how someone as pretty as her could get with someone as disgusting as Sukuna. Those stupid eyes, so intimidating and closed off to the rest of the world. You shook your head trying to not think of the devilish man as you went into your room, falling into your own slumber.

It had been a few days since the incident occurred, going to a lecture with her as she still spoke highly of Sukuna. Explaining how he had had other plans and how he apologised, it was a lie of course and you knew it. You had caught a glimpse of the multiple read messages that she had sent to him, no reply back as either he was being a cunt or something else had been occurring in his private life that he didn’t want to tell her.

She had been trying to persuade you to come back to the tattoo store, bribing you with Satoru’s number even though you had no need for the white haired man's number. She signed in defeat as you left your separate ways from the lecture.

The week continued on like this, her talking highly of Sukuna but the now unopened messages being a sign that he truly did not care. You tried to not look too long on the messages but the way you’d see her sometimes stare at her phone almost manifesting his response. It went on like this, her ignorance as it seemed she sent more than 10 messages a day in the past week. You didn’t question it, not wanting to be involved in a relationship you didn’t care for.

Having Saturday to yourself, the coffee-stained shirt is still soaking after a week due to not having bothered to actually clean it properly. Stupid Sukuna! You rubbed at your eyes wanting a relaxing evening after the studying you had done in the library most of the day. Finally getting into the blankets you sat cozied up in the covers as you put an anime on to watch.

You had only gained peace for less than 10 minutes before your phone was blaring, startling you in an instant. Your hand reached for your phone as you saw Yui’s name flash up, answering it tiredly, “hey what’s up?”

“Y/n.” Sukuna’s voice soothed out on the line, hearing your name from his mouth sending a shiver, “your stupid friend is drunk and at my place, fucking get her or I’m leaving her outside.”

“Wait? Sukuna yo…you can’t just leave her outside, and I don’t even have a car…”

He quickly interrupts, “I don’t care, we…I don’t need her right now.”

“You’re a real class a cunt.” You shout through the phone, he was cheating clearly, his misspoken words making you realise he was an even bigger jerk than you realised. Seeing the address in the chat as he had hanged up on you after you called him a cunt. It was more than a 20-minute walk and you refused to walk there, getting an uber seemed like your best bet, you didn’t understand why he didn’t let her scream or shout at him. He had been caught out and now she could see the real Sukuna that you saw.

The drive taking less than 5 minutes you told the driver to wait as you went up to his apartment, the area was nice. Almost too nice for a man with an attitude and mouth like his own, finally finding the door, you saw how it was slightly open as you heard shouting coming from within. Opening the door, you were met with Sukuna and Yui but another figure with a glum look and the exact same face as Sukuna.

“Took you long enough.” Sukuna scowled as you saw your friend in tears, instantly rushing inside to comfort her.

You glared at the boy before what seemed to be his twin or younger brother spoke up, “just make them leave Sukuna.” He didn’t seem as fuelled with anger when his brother spoke of it, but a fury flashed through your insides, tissues seemed to scatter his apartment as you finally got a look of it all.

It was a shock, pretty even something that you craved to live in, the aesthetic, the way the whole room was filled with so much comfort and warmth. Too bad a psychotic loser like Sukuna lived there. “Yo…you can’t just call my friends us..and make…make them come and get me. I…I’m not a child.” Tears flooded her face as you looked up at Sukuna ready to give him a piece of your mind.

“You really are an ass, how fucking dare you treat her like that, when all she ever fucking does is talk about how you’re such a sweet guy. I’m fucking glad she’s realised just how much of a twat you are.” His brother almost felt startled at what he was hearing looking at Sukuna for any indication of what you were talking about.

Sukuna instead grabbed your wrist pulling you towards what looked to be his kitchen, a pizza box on the side as the place was moderately tidy. “You don’t fucking get it do you?”

“What are…” He interrupted his finger on your mouth forcing you to shut up and listen to him.

You wafted his finger away waiting to hear his next words, “that guy over there is my twin, our grandfather died last Sunday.” Realisation hit you as you realised that was why he had been so tense, so on edge at Nobara’s get together. You put your hand to his shoulder to comfort him but stopped yourself waiting for him to continue, “your pathetic friend barged in here drunk and started calling us the pathetic ones.”

“I didn’t know, I’m sorry.” You whispered out almost feeling bad for the man.

He continued not meeting your gaze as he leant against the cabinet, eyes down, for a man with limited emotions he found it hard to express his next words without feeling somewhat sad. “I explained what happened to her and she told both of us to grow a pair and told my brother to stop crying like a twat, she can talk all the shit she likes about me. But about the people I fucking care about, I need the bitch gone now.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll take her now.” She wasn’t even that drunk, you could see it in her eyes, the glint of sympathy she wanted as she barged past you and clinged her arms on Sukuna’s neck. He pushed her away as she tried to go back onto him, embarrassment setting in for yourself.

“Come on daddy, let me take your mind off of your stupid gran…” His blood boiled as he pushed her away once more, you took the step between them, gripping her arm as you dragged her out.

You pulled her towards the door, looking at Sukuna’s twin who looked sad, they looked similar, but the distinct lack of piercings made him look even more vulnerable. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” You bowed your head before leaving with your idiotic friend.

“God Y/n, always ruining the fun.” She belted out as you both walked into the elevator.

“How disrespectful can you get; I know he’s an ass but to be so disrespectful to the dead.” You crossed your arms pissed at having been dragged into this fiasco as you looked at her almost gleeful expression.

She looked at herself in the mirror across from you both as you signed, “I don’t care, I was horny, and who cares, you said it yourself my boyfriends a cunt.”

“Ex-boyfriend.” You muttered under your breath.

“He can’t resist getting his dick wet, he’ll come back.” She spoke with a confidence you hadn’t seen before, as if her whole ditsy façade was to just gain popularity and attention. You didn’t look at her as you both walked toward the uber, making her split the cost of it all as you dropped her off, you hated it.

Hated how she sent an air kiss as she left, almost happy at the chaos she created. You knew what you had to do and that was to ignore her in lectures and hopefully never had to meet Sukuna ever again.

It seemed to be working, you’d sit beside Megumi in lectures now, a sadness in her eyes as you’d be the one ignoring her. Maybe it was because her comments didn’t sit right with you or maybe it was a way to leave a friend you didn’t care for. You hadn’t met Sukuna at all the week that followed the occurrence, you were glad to never have to see him again.

Walking into the coffee shop for your latest fix of caffeine, a storm has come across the horizon. An eeriness to the grey skies. You had gotten a bus further into town wanting to go to your fav route coffee store one far away from the likes of Sukuna. Eyes flicking at your drink you sat at a table pulling out your laptop to do some work as the grey skies slowly became a mist of darkness.

Time had caught onto you as you found yourself ushered outside at closing time rain pouring as you realised just how late it was and how the last bus had already left Bringing your phone as you stood under the shelter of the café, you went to get an uber when you felt a gust of wind and as a figure barged into you. “Fucking shitty ass rain.” It was a recognisable voice as you turned and met Sukuna, pink hair draped down across his face, as his coat barely covered him as he draped it across his shoulders. “For fucks sake it had to be you I met.”

“Fuck off, I was here first you came to me.” You scowled watching the rain pour as you went on the app to get you an Uber as quick as you could.

Sukuna’s eyes flashed to your phone, trickles of water on it as he stared at your screen, “I’ll give you a lift home, I don’t like being in debt to people.”

“You’re not though.” You mutter still looking down at your phone as you stared at the prices.

“You got rid of Yui, I owe you.”

You didn’t understand his logic as it made no sense at all, “whatever you don’t owe me, and she isn’t my friend.”

He didn’t question it as he brought his car keys out, gesturing for you to follow as you did. It wasn’t like he was going to kill you and if Megumi was friends with him what was the harm in getting a free lift.. Even with his loud obnoxious almost suffocating presence in the rain it almost felt like the two of you could be civil.

He opened your door as you slipped inside the car, feeling the warm black leather seats as he chucked his coat to the back. The shirt he wore right across his skin as you stared at his tattoos, “it’s rude to stare.”

“Shut up.” You muttered looking out at the weather. It was gruesome and wild, and you could already see the evident traffic up ahead.

One hand stayed lazily on the steering wheel as he tapped on it as the other rested on the gear stick, he cleared his throat before finally speaking, “why did you stop being friends with her then?”

“Realised she was a bitch; I don’t want those types of people around me.” You continued to stare out of the window, looking up at the black sky, stars trickling through the rain.

He didn’t say anymore a tense atmosphere as you finally met his gaze again, his fingers tapping lightly to a song you didn’t know that was playing on the radio. “Why did you date her?” He moved forward as his jaw clenched checking his mirrors to see if he could go through a side street bypassing the traffic.

“I never did.” He muttered, still looking for a way out.

You rolled your eyes as you continued, “I might dislike her, but she spoke about you as if you were the best boyfriend in the world and now here you are acting like you never dated her.”

“God Y/n can you shut the fuck up?” You were startled by his words as he quickly went past the traffic indicator right as he turned into a side street making sure to not get caught in an uncomfortable situation again. “I never asked her out, it was a one-night stand, but she fucking kept coming to the tattoo place, and Nanami and Geto were getting pissed she said she’d leave only if I dated her and fucked her regularly.”

You were almost disgusting by the proposition, his agreement on it to make her go away and her own for making such a revolting idea. “You…you…” Unaware of what to say you trailed off as you refused to look back at him.

“Put your address in here.” He tossed his phone into your lap, easily unfolded as you put your address in without even questioning it. Putting his phone back up on the stand in his car, he continued, “why would a prissy girl like you ever become friends with someone like her?”

“She needed my help studying.” You muttered not knowing how else to respond, it was true that you both had met out of convenience to one another. His finger motion on the wheel matched the rhythm of the song that currently played as you didn’t elaborate.

He turned to see what you were doing, how you stared out into the darkness all alone with nothing but an empty lonely apartment. “God you must be fun at parties.”

“Cut the crap Sukuna, what the fuck are you doing this for?”

“What’s this?” He gestured as he had seen you meet his gaze.

You rolled your eyes hating how he made you elaborate, “asking questions, offering me a lift home. What do you want? Sex? A good little cunt for you to fill, I knew I was right abou…”

“Y/n.” Your name felt piercingly loud against the inside of the car, “why do you always think the worst of me?”

“Because you’ve been an ass since day fucking one, gosh get off your high horse Sukuna nobody gives a fuck about this persona you have if you’re just going to act like a dick half the time.” Your words stung him as his jaw clenched pissed at how freely you spoke about his life.

“You’re giving me advice on persona’s; I knew from the first time you walked into the tattoo place that you hated Yui. Don’t talk to me about personas when you acted like you wanted to choke her to death.”

His words were filled with truth and malice as you looked down, “I…I did hate her…I do hate her.”

He didn’t expect your response, but your next words filled him with another emotion, “I was jealous, okay? She was so pretty to me, she could’ve had anyone, and she picked you, the guy who didn’t give a fuck about her. I hated her for it, hated how she got men left right and centre when all I got were guys interested in sex rather than a relationship.” You took a heavy breath as you couldn’t stop your rambling, couldn’t stop the freshly watered eyes from cascading down your face, “so yes Sukuna I fucking hate her, she is everything I’m not, everything a man wants.”

Sukuna didn’t know what to say as he put his car in park, grabbing your face in his hands as he forced you to look at him. “I know you don’t like me; I hate you as much as you fucking hate me. But you’re more than just a fuck to someone out there. Maybe it’s the guilt and grief I'm going through for not being around for my granddad as much but she is the opposite of you and was a cunt. You’re worth a whole lot more than her.”

You tried to turn away to stop staring into his eyes, his calloused hands gripped onto your face as you could feel just how intricate his fingers were. His grip tight as you felt his heavy breath against your own, “take me home.”

He let go in an instant not meeting your gaze as he drove in silence, it was too quiet for your liking. He stopped tapping the wheel as you just stared outside, watching how the rain pattered away against the roof. The arrival to your apartment complex seemed much faster as you looked at the gloomy elevator that would take you to your gloomy apartment. “What? Not going to invite me inside?”

“What do you think?” You muttered opening the door as you stepped into the rain.

You heard his own side open as he slipped out of the car, “well if you really want me too.” Rolling your eyes and not wanting to be around him you found yourself being followed by the boy, his eyes looking around the place. It was pretty, too pretty for someone like you, he watched you fumble to open your apartment. He expected to see your personality residue onto the walls but instead was met with nothing but a cream-coloured walls and the basic necessities. “What, you still moving in or something?”

You drop your stuff and take your shoes off ignoring his comment as you went straight to the kitchen. He quickly followed eyes widening to be met with another plainness, affectionless room. “Seriously why are you here?” You say getting some leftover food out of the fridge to warm up.

“I owe you.” He scratches the back of his head as he looks at the food.

You point at your food before speaking again, “get two plates.” He nodded eagerly as you pointed to where the plates were as you warmed it up on the stove. “You don’t owe me anything, you have me a lift home remember.”

“I owe you for my comment.” He doesn’t meet your gaze grabbing the two plates and putting them on the counter. “Your place, it's not very you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You question crossing your arms as you stared at the man.

He looked around seeing nothing of any value to you, “it’s not you, it’s just very plain and dull.”

“I’m plain and dull.” You bring the food over portioning it into the plates as you watch Sukuna look for forks to eat it with. If he had walked into this place without knowing it was yours he’d have thought it was a showroom.

You move and take your plate as you both go into the lounge right in front of the TV. “Yeah not with that mouth of yours.”

“Shut up.” You scowled sitting on the side of the couch as he sat on the other, you moved to put something on the TV as he watched you happily put on an anime that he recognised. He was surprised you had even let him step foot in your home but there really wasn’t anything to see of importance that he could mock.

He watched you eat and watch anime, so this is how you spent your days, uni, hanging out with friends, revising, eating and watching anime. “Y/n.”

“Yeah.” You muttered just as you put more food in your mouth.

“Why did you let me inside?”

You finally looked at him, plate empty as he put it on the table, you met his gaze, “we both hate each other, it’s not like i’ll ever have to see you again after this, and you said it yourself you owed me.”

“No, there’s something else, is it about what I said earlier.” He asked as you finally looked at him directly in the eyes.

You didn’t know how to reply as you stared at him softly, “I…I think you should leave.”

“For fucks sake, just tell me, like you said you won’t have to see me ever again after this.” His eyes looked up and down across your body. How you seemed so small when isolated, how that big mouth of yours that he wanted to shut up so badly. Had finally fallen silent.

You tried to think of an answer, but came to nothing, “I thought…that I was doing this to make me feel better, like I was getting back at her but instead I’m just being something I hate. I’m sorry, okay?”

“It’s fine, I’d have done the same, guess we’re both dicks then.” You stifle a laugh as you look at him with wide eyes.

“Maybe you’re not that bad.”

“I’m surprised I did call you a fool.”

“Foolish puppet actually.”

He chuckles as he looks at you his lip turning upwards as he looked at the anime, “you know I thought the beast titan was Erwins dad for a solid three months.”

“What? Erwin and Zeke are like 10 years apart.” You chuckle as you pause the episode on one of the many gory scenes, “let me guess you didn’t know who the female titan was either.”

“Of course I didn’t, do I look like I read manga?” He mused out putting his arm around the couch as he watched you on your knees face him. You seemed joyful talking about anime with him, as for what seemed like hours the two of you spoke about different anime’s and stuff you both enjoyed.

“…you can’t be serious you got an anime tattoo.” You had moved closer to him; his arm touched your side as you begged for him to show you.

He turned around lifting his shirt up as it remained up to his neck. That’s when you saw the cascades of different colours and pictures around his back, the hunter x hunter phantom troupe spider being under his shoulder as you moved your finger to trace it. “Number four really.”

“Don’t lie and say you aren’t another whore for Hisoka.” His skin shivers as you trace each leg, the intricacy of all his tattoos making your mind go wild. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as you had initially thought, maybe there was something more to him.

He put his shirt down as he turned to meet your eyes again you had moved closer and without realising his face was only a mere centimetres away from your own. “Sorry.” You whisper moving backwards a big in a shuffle.

“Don’t worry about it, ever thought about it then?”

“Thought about what?”

He gestured to his arm and chest tattoos as you shrugged, “maybe, but I’m indecisive it’d have to be something I really liked.”

“Well Satoru was telling me you liked my designs.” Your eyes widened at how you have been practically exposed by Satoru.

He chuckles tilting his head back as you could see his neck tattoos more, “I could always give you one.”

“You sure you wouldn’t want to give me a flower one instead.” You teased as he rolled his eyes coming closer to your body.

“I know exactly where I’d put it.” His finger grazed to your exposed arm, skimming up and down before moving up to your shoulder and down to just where your neck was.

Your breath hitched as his finger skimmed past the material nearly divulging into where your two breasts met. He watched how you gave a flushed look before smirking, removing his hand, “it’s late, pass me your phone.”

“W…why?” You spoke already, grabbing it to give to him.

“So you can have my number, we should hang out again.” His fingers typed into the new contact, easily writing his name and number as he passed back the phone.

You nodded as you walked with him towards the door, he grabbed his stuff before you saw him wave goodbye before leaving. You leant against the door as you grabbed your phone seeing his stupid name with the skull emoji, quickly typing about how you enjoyed tonight you threw your phone to the side as you felt a feeling you hated entirely.

It had been a week since both you and Sukuna had met again, but the multiple texts you both sent one another had been divulging into some sort of feeling of friendship. You had invited him to your best friends birthday celebration after feeling that both of you had somewhat become friends. He seemed happy to come along a clear contrast to when he had been made to go to the housewarming a couple weeks back.

He met you outside your apartment, seeing how you came out in a thin red dress, it was short, but you looked amazing. He had worn a similar outfit that he wore weeks prior the difference being the shirt looked a lot tighter and there had been a couple more unbuttons undone. A metal necklace cascaded down his neck brushing back and forth against the air and his skin and rings embodied his veined fingers. He watched you happily skip into the car; he couldn’t help but smile but as soon as you stepped inside the dickhead in him came out. “Sure this is a birthday party and not a strip club.”

“Aww you think I could become a stripper.” You pout as you look at the mirror putting more lipgloss on too sooth your lips. He rolled his eyes reversing out as he looked behind you both, arm on your seat as you couldn’t help but stare at his chest with the black lines and his arms that had their own.

He hadn’t noticed your staring instead moving right out and making you put the destination into his phone, “how long are you staying till?”

“However long you want.” You say typing the destination before going into his camera, “your cameras better.”

You took a couple pictures as you sent them to yourself choosing which one was the best one before putting his phone back on the grip. “She’s your friend.”

“I thought you didn’t like stuff like this.”

“What makes you say that?” His arm was lazily against the wheel as he moved it at every turn.

You shrugged before answering, “it’s a uni party, you don’t seem like the type to go to ones.”

“Just because I didn’t go to shitty uni doesn’t mean I won’t fit in, idiot.”

You rolled your eyes as you looked back on the road, his other hand scratching his jaw. “Megumi should be there if you don’t want to be aroun…”

“I'm going with you, why would I leave you?” He didn’t meet your gaze; he already knew that if did see those wide eyes and that tiny dress one more time he wouldn’t be able to help himself take you in the car.

You nodded not saying anymore as he began rambling about some client that wanted the ugliest tattoo possible, “why did you just tell him to fuck off?”

“What makes you think I didn’t, I don’t do shitty tattoos.” His grip tightened against the wheel as he turned to see what you were doing. Your dress having ridden up as your thighs were on show, he stared at them before meeting the road gaze again.

You nodded as you increased the volume on the song that was playing, “what’s a shitty tattoo to you?”

“Flowers, girly shit.”

“You literally named one thing.” You roll your eyes as he watches you change the song from his phone, your chest on top of his arm on the gear stick as he was able to see how pretty your tits sat in the dress.

He looked down before shaking his head to look outside the windows, “flowers are shitty, any shitty type of animal.”

“What so if I asked for a dolphin you wouldn’t give me one?” He raised an eyebrow as you continued, “oh come on dolphins could be a look.”

“No they wouldn’t, they look shitty and you don’t even like dolphins.”

You shrugged leaning back in your seat, “and how would you know?”

“Because I know you, come on.” He had parked without you realising as you both got out of the car. He saw the tall high rise of buildings; it was similar to your own complex but with a lot more emotion that he’d never seen from yours.

He watched you grab his sleeve to tug him along as he stood behind you, watching how your thighs moved through the thin fabric. It was almost a blessing to have to look down at you as the ability to see how your tits perked up made his head run wild. “So what’s her name again?”

“Maki, and no she already has a boyfriend.” You stepped into the elevator, as he rolled his eyes at your comment.

“I didn’t want to fuck your best friend anyway.” He muttered as he leant against the railing, eyes flashing to how perfect you looked all dolled up in that outfit. He licked his lips as he continued, “not every girl I see I want to fuck.”

“That is true, you haven’t tried to fuck me.” He didn’t know why he almost felt sad by your comment, there of course had been a reason for not having tried to fuck you but it was stupid and pushed aside.

You both walked out as his hand moved to your back guiding you in a direction even he didn’t know about. “I swear it’s on this floor.”

“You got us lost basically,” you signed as you grabbed your phone pushing Maki’s number as you heard her scream through the phone. Sukuna gave a side eye as you elbowed his side to not be a cunt for once.

“Yeah 5th floor, number 511.” Sukuna grabbed your hand as he had seen that door, forcing you to follow as even with his tight grip. You had expected his hands to feel calloused against your own, but a burst of warmth filled you as you followed him. He knocked on the door as Maki instantly opened grabbing you into a hug, “and who is this?”

“This is Sukuna, I invited him.” You say as she lets go of you, her hair up and a giddy smile at the drink she was holding.

You handed her her present before she came up to Sukuna, “I heard you were a dick by Megumi.”

“Maki you can…”

“No it's true, where is the twat anyway?” Sukuna muttered as Maki hadn’t bothered to apologise instead unwrapping her present happily.

“By the balcony, probably.” He nodded but didn’t leave to go find him, instead sticking your side.

You met his gaze as you didn’t understand why he hadn’t left to mingle or find someone to hook up with, “not going to find Megumi.”

“I said I wouldn’t leave your side.” You nod as he continued, “come on let’s get a drink.”

He dragged you to where the drinks were, passing you a cup as he filled it with some alcohol, he saw Megumi come up towards you both, already partially drunk. “Y/n, Sukuna…together in the same room, I must be dying.”

“Real funny, I don’t see you with anybody.” Sukuna mused as he took a large sip of his drink.

Megumi rolled his eyes planting his arm across your shoulder seeing how tense Sukuna became in a matter of seconds, “go on how did you end up here then?”

“We’re friends.”

“You called him a dickhead two weeks ago.”

You chuckled at your past, his eyebrow raised wanting to hear an explanation of the comment, “that’s because he is one.” You moved to his face, your hand out as you squished his cheeks with one hand, “aren’t you?”

“You better answer her.” Megumi spoke, trying to suppress a laugh at how the big old mighty Sukuna was getting his face squished by you.

Sukuna rolled his eyes as you continued squishing his face, your warmth in your fingers making his ears prick a red colour, “yeah…I am.”

“Good boy.” You giggled letting go of him as Megumi began pouring more alcohol in both your drinks. It seemed like the party would have nothing except drinking and couples making out, you didn’t care seeing how much fun Maki was having with her boyfriend.

You and Sukuna had moved to the couch after Megumi had gotten distracted by Maki’s god, he was probably on the ground letting her dog sleep on him. Sukuna’s voice ringed in your ear as the loud music had made it hard for you both to speak normally, “you were right?”

“Is the Sukuna admitting I was right?” You teased taking a large slip as the strap of your dress had fallen off your shoulder due to having been bumped into by a lot of people.

“Oh shut it.” He didn’t continue with his words, instead moving closer to you, maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just how beautiful you looked. His eyes gazed across your body, as he moved his hand to re-adjust your strap. His fingers gazing right where your arm was, “a tattoo right there.”

“I’ll have to get one there then.” You replied instantly back to him hoping he’d get the hint.

He nodded his hand tracing your skin, “I’ll give you a good tattoo, make it ruin you.” He didn’t know what he was saying, feeling you move closer to him as if you were just about to meet his lips.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” It was a shout from the doorway as you saw Yui almost jump right on you with her devilish claws. Both you and Sukuna became startled by the action as you both jumped abruptly away from one another.

Maki had come as she stood between the three of you, confusion setting in as she realised just how bad the situation was. “Yui what the fuck?”

“Why are you shouting at me, she’s the one trying to make out with my boyfriend?” The music seemed to settle into quietness as everybody began staring at the scene, you didn’t know what to say. They weren’t dating you knew that but were you really just about to kiss him, the man you had hated those weeks ago, would you have let him do more to you.

You shook your head as you were about to speak but got interrupted, “we aren’t fucking dating, god there really is nothing up there, we were never dating and you’re just a fucking bitch who sleeps around.”

“So you admit that you just wanted to fuck me.” You and Maki stared at one another as you watched what Sukuna would say next.

“Yeah, worst sex I’ve had in a while though.” Your eyes widened at the comment as you tried to suppress a laugh before she stared at you.

Her eyes flicked with rage at how you laughed at his comment, “you hated him, how could you be such a shit friend?”

“We were never friends, you tried to use me to come with you to errands and help you with shit, that’s not being friends.” You mutter crossing your arms as Maki almost looked like she was ready to fight Yui for her fake comments.

Yui looked between the three of you ready to punch you right in your face, “I fucking hate you, he’s going to realise just how boring and selfish you are, and he’ll drop you just like he did too me. You wanna know why you haven’t had a boyfriend in a whilst…it’s because every single one of them found out how dull and boring you are. He’ll see it, he’ll see how you’re a fucking cunt that just gets used for guy’s dicks.”

She stormed out of the apartment, as you let out a heavy breath. You needed fresh air as you left the silence of the room going past everybody and into Maki’s room. Knowing she had a balcony that attached to her window. Crawling out of it as you leant against the railing you saw the bright lights of the city cascade out into the sky. Cold air hitting your body as you thought about her comments, every insecurity you had had was true, you heard the window open as Sukuna stepped outside.

“You’re going to get cold, dumbass.” You don’t laugh at his comment, instead leaning further into the balcony. “You don’t believe what she said right, she’s a fucking cunt and her words were lies Y/n.”

“You don’t understand.” You continued staring at the colourful patterns of the stars, all so pretty. He moved closer resting his shoulders against your own as he could almost see you shiver.

He met your eyeline, watching how you stared up into the dark sky, he knew you saw more than the dark. He could see it in your eyes the way you stared at the sky with such lust to explore its secrets, “explain to me then.”

“You’re you…and I’m me, I’m used to guys getting their dicks wet to me, and you use others to get your own…”

You trailed off not wanting to hear his next words, “you really are still a cunt, listen to me, Yui lied, you and I both know she’s a fucking cunt so why the fuck do you believe it.”

“Because you fucking slept with her.” You didn’t know why you shouted the comment out, it was unnecessary and made no actual sense at all.

Sukuna stayed silent, pink hair almost dropping down to his face in a type of misery, “so what you want me to fuck tou and then leave you, you want to be another one-night stand, is that all you see me as.”

“No…” you had no other words as you both stared at one another in silence, his eyes flicking across to your lips. As he moved closer, face almost touching one another’s as you heard his heavy breath against your own, mouths almost touching.

He looked down as his hands had gripped your sides ready to bring your mouth to his own, “I don’t want you to be another one-night stand.”

“Why?”

“Because you mean a lo…” He got interrupted by the sound of a loud crash occurring inside, “fuck that’s Megumi.”

“We need to check on him.” Your minty breath hit his face as you spoke worried for your friend, you were the first to apart away; he had wished to feel your tender lips on his own but instead was now left out in the dark.

He watched you leave as you went to go check on Megumi, taking a sharp breath as he followed you. You both ended up finding Megumi with the dog wrapped around him, “he’s cuddling the fucking dog.”

“Sorry I need a picture of this.” You spoke fiddly as you brought your phone out taking different angled photos of Megumi being cuddled by Maki’s dog.

Sukuna rolled his eyes before he nudged Megumi with his food, “we’re gonna have to take him home.”

You nodded as you and Sukuna brought him up, his arms on both your shoulders as he stirred, “you two are such nice people:”

“Yeah yeah.” You muttered as you helped him towards Sukuna’s, both putting him in the back as Megumi looked like he was about to fall asleep again.

“I’ll take him to mine, after I drop you back home.” You nod as you both spent the rest of the car journey in silence, not talking about the earlier occurrence of you both nearly kissing twice.

The ride had been quick as you were met with the dull buildings once more, Sukuna watched how you said a simple goodbye, his hand grabbing your wrist to stop you. “Come round the tattoo shop at 8pm.”

“Why?” you questioned as his touch sent a shiver down your spine.

“Just come shitty woman.” You nodded as he let go of your hand watching you walk into your apartment.

“You really…why did you scream?” Megumi voice startled him as she shouted a fuck at hearing Megumi talk, “anyway, you really like her don’t you.”

“Is it that obvious.”

Megumi nodded leaning back in his seat, “you’re a dick to everybody it’s weird seeing you be nice to someone.”

“I’m not a dick to everybody.” Sukuna spoke as he started driving towards his apartments

Megumi rolled his eyes as he looked out of the window, “don’t hurt her.”

“I wouldn’t.” Sukuna mutters as he looks down knowing tomorrow would be the day he told you the absolute truth.

The next day came quicker than expected as you had a couple lectures occurring and some other crap to get onto. Before you even knew it 8pm had arrived as you found yourself walking the same street you had walked a couple weeks back. The same bricks and neon sign outside the place that made the place give off the vibe of a tattoo shop.

Walking inside as the bell indicated a customer had come, it seemed that they had had their influx in customers as Satoru seemed to be annoying Nanami who had ice on his head and Geto tapped away at the counter. “Y/n.” Satoru shouted as he bolted up and met you, “you never came back.”

“Yeah some stuff happened, you know where Sukuna is?” You question as all three of them became silent, probably not understanding why you would need the man you had been cussing out a few weeks ago.

“Sukuna.” Geto hesitantly shouted out as he looked at you, “you’re not going to kick him are you,”

“What? No!” You mutter as you see the pink haired man come down shirtless, his tattoos all on show as you got a glimpse of every single one perfectly resting across his body. “Y/n, you’re early.”

He checked his watch seeing the time being 7:50, as you gave him a small smile, “so what did you need me for?”

“To give you a tattoo idiot.” He spoke it as of you were the one who had been the dumb one in the situation.

The three men stared at you both as you stepped towards him, bodies too close for what they’d class as enemies. “Is anybody going to explain this?” Satoru muttered.

Sukuna rolled his eyes as he waited for your response, you didn’t think he’d actually be the one to give you your first tattoo, but you nodded never less. “Okay, but if you mess up I will stab you’ll

“If you’re into that, I don’t judge.” He chuckles as you jab your elbow into his chest, “give her the forms.”

Geto nodded as he passed you the forms you needed to fill out all three wanting to hear how the two of you had somehow become close, “don’t you three have plans?”

That’s when they realised why he had booked you in so late, all three had prior engagements and it’d leave you and him alone to your own devices. Satoru signed as he wanted to hear more but ended being dragged out by Nanami before Geto followed just as you handed the forms back to Sukuna

He remained shirtless as he took you to the back, locking the door of the reception to make sure nobody came in. He patted the seat gesturing for you to sit down as you looked hesitantly between the needles and the seat, “what you want to sit on my lap, will that make you feel better?”

“Shut up.” You muttered as you went to the black chair, instead feeling his grip on your wrist.

“What? Scared I’ll bite,” you hated how he teased you and instead of dismissing it and getting flushed you found yourself sitting right on his thigh, you could almost feel like much muscle he had under his joggers as your hand stayed on your own thighs.

He smirked seeing you shift your weight easily, “look at you, finally listening for once.”

“I listen.”

“No you don’t, now what are you thinking?” He passes the book with many designs from his coworkers scattering each page. You instantly went to his page, looking at all the intricate details of different types before you saw the designs of dragons as it breathed out fire. He watched you stare at it, finger gliding across it as he moved your hair to the side, head on your shoulder as he spoke, “you want a dragon.”

You nodded eagerly at the small design, as he put the book down and looked at you with soft eyes, “where do you want it?” You point to the top of your arm, the arm he had touched last night, the arm that still had his finger ingrained into your skin. His eyes flicked to your arm; you wore a long sleeve shirt as he knew you’d have to take it off to get right up to the top of your arm.

“This is a ploy to get me naked isn’t it.” You teased as you lifted your shirt above your head, Sukuna trying to say a word as now the two of you were shirtless in front of one another.

He tried to hide his smirk as he got the stencil ready for your arm, he knew it’d hurt, knew you’d want to grab onto something so why not grab onto him. “If I wanted to see you naked I wouldn’t do it here.”

Your eyes widened feeling the rubbing alcohol on your arm drip down to your wrist, “which one was your first?”

You changed the subject as he rubbed the area before grabbing the stencil that was to the side of you both, “the one on my finger.”

His other hand had moved the stencil up to your arm whilst your fingers grabbed his hand seeing the skull right on the edge of his right hand. “It’s pretty.”

“Yeah my parents hit me so hard after I got it done.” You chuckled lightly feeling his move his hand away from you, sad at his quick movement as you played with your own fingers. You felt the stencil being pulled away from your arm as you could see the small outline of a dragon and its fire across your arm. “Like it?”

You nodded eagerly as you watched him prepare the equipment you didn’t know what he was doing but admired each concentrated move that he had. Eyes widening when he looked up at you with a smirk having noticed your continuous looks at him, “don’t worry, it won’t hurt and if it does, tough.”

“And I thought you were going to be encouraging.” You mumble as you stare at your arm, the blue marks making your insides almost cave in at how scared you actually were.

He chuckled lightly just as he finished ready to start on the outline, he was almost glad it was just an outline with no shading knowing in an instant you’d be in much more pain. “You’ll be fine, I would tell you to hold my shirt but…you could always hold onto my thigh?”

“Just start.” You fidgeted on his thigh, legs swinging as you began hearing a low hum of a needle, feeling some other liquid go across the lines. He looked directly at you nodding to make sure you knew it was about to occur.

Your hands stayed on your lap as you felt the first mark take place, pain instantly rushing to that one spot as you grabbed his thigh, just close to where his crotch was. He dismissed how your hand was so close yet so far away from his cock instead asking if you were okay, after seeing you nod, he continued as the pain began to subdue. You couldn’t lie and say your eyes hadn’t begun watering because they had. You wiped it away with your other hand as you felt Sukuna move onto the fire part. You could never understand how he’d gone through the pain of all of his tattoos, the ones across his arm and chest, his fingers and back and most likely having some on his legs as well.

You watched how he’d occasionally look back at your gaze, see if you were doing fine with pain. Always giving him a reassuring look back to make sure he knew that you could handle it, you felt him finally relax as he the low hum stopped, your hand still on his thigh as he smiled at the design. He grabbed his phone from the side taking a picture of it before passing it for you to see yourself.

The small intricate details had done on the dragon was perfect, the way he had started to put stuff away whilst you still sat on him and the way you could still see your photos from last night in the corner. He hadn’t deleted them , kept them for some unknown reason and you definitely were not going to ask him why he still had the images.

“Let me dress it and bandage it for you.” You nodded but he remained still as you stared at the image, “I need you to get up, dumbass.”

“Sorry.” You mutter standing up and sitting on the actual chair, eyes staring at the details of it all. You had a tattoo and not just that it was a tattoo that Sukuna had designed and placed on you. It was something he was proud of, he watched you stare at his phone, probably unaware that it was on you and not just a picture.

Signing he grabbed the dressing and bandages, standing up to start wrapping it around your arm, you felt startled when his cold fingertips touched your arm. Putting his phone down as you saw the cling film around you, a redness coming from the tattoo, as he began telling you what to do every night and giving you some leaflet on it. “…don’t worry though I’ll text you to make sure you remember.”

“I’ll remember.” You put your shirt back on as you whined the comment out.

“I’ll text you to make sure you remember.” He repeats already knowing that you’d become too lazy to even bother to change the dressing every night.

“So mean.” You pout as he takes you back to the front, leaning against the counter as the dark sky stood out for the both of you to see, “so how much is it?”

You had already gotten your credit card out ready to pay for it, but his hand stopped you, “It’s free.”

“What? No, take the card.” You almost push your money onto him not wanting to take something for free. He takes the card before putting it right back into your arm, almost chucking it at you as he did, “Sukuna please just take it.”

“No.”

“I will never talk to you again if you don’t take it.”

“Okay.” You both glared at one another in silence waiting for one of you to crack, it just had to be you, however.

“I hate you.”

He crossed his arms smirking as he came round to the front leaning against the counter, “no you don’t.”

“Yes I do.” He cocks his head to the side, you watch as each of his muscles tense up as he looks down to you, his face coming closer and closer each time. Hand moving to hold the side of your face, as you looked up at him.

“You can pay me back another way.” He whispers softly as his lips brushed against your own, feeling a hungry need to kiss him, his other hand had moved to your waist ready to bring you closer to him.

You felt his hot breath hit your lips, the way he licked his lips with a hunger, your face moving closer as he moved his hands moved to his shoulders to meet his eyeline. He felt pushed against the counter as he leant against it watching how you moved one of your fingers to his jaw caressing his face as you looked down between his eyes and mouth. Before finally moving your finger, mouth ready to kiss his own before both being startled by the buzz of the door opening.

“Sukuna.” It was a voice you had recognised prior, as you turned to be met with Sukuna’s twin brother.

Sukuna looked between you and his brother, signing at how this had been the third time he had been cockblocked. All he wanted to do was kiss you, was to take you out, call you his but it felt like the universe had had other plans.

“What?”

You stood between the two of them as his twin stared at you, “Mum said to come and drop this off.” He showed a bag with what looked like some old clothes, you didn’t question it instead smiling at the boy. “You’re the girl from a couple weeks back.”

“Hi, yeah I’m Y/n.” You put your hand out as his twin takes it, Sukuna rolling his eyes as he grabbed the old clothes, he looked between the clothes before finding what he was looking for. It was something you recognised, as you let go of the boy's hand.

“Itadori.” You nodded as the boy looked confused as the two of you stared at the old shirt, he eyes you up and down almost admiring how you looked so sweet and sexy at the same time.

“I told you I had it,” Sukuna chuckled as he showed you the old retro Pokémon shirt he owned, it was old, something a 13-year-old wore and not a grown ass man. You had remembered a conversation the two of you had had earlier on last week where he had rambled on about how he loved Pokémon and had the biggest crush on Jessie which you never understood.

“It’s still a lame character to simp over.” He had been pointing to the destroyed Jessie as Itadori felt uncomfortable invading on a private moment between the two of you.

“Anyway, nice to meet you, Sukuna suck a dick, later.” He walked back out of the store as Sukuna gave him the finger before turning back to you, he knew the moment had been ruined but a hungry need had erupted at how he needed to have you. He had seen how Itadori had stared and watched the closeness of you both, had looked you up and down, looked at what was his with a look of hunger.

Sukuna, grabbed his shirt quickly putting it on before grabbing the bag and your hand in his other, “where are we going?”

You questioned as he locked the place up before grabbing your wrist once more and dragging you to his car. “Back to mine.”

“Wh…” He had thrown the bag in the car and pushed your back against the door, hands trapping you as he moved closer and closer to you, making you seem ever so small to him. He smirked as he interrupted, hand grabbing your jaw as he gave you a sadistic grin.

“Nobody looks at what’s mine and sweetheart…you’re now mine.” Your breath hitched as his other hand grabbed your waist arching you into the car as his lips found its way onto your own.

The kiss he had craved for so long occurred in a matter of seconds, your hands moving to his hair as you tugged at the pink locks. Your moans making his head spin as his tongue divulged into your own, gliding back and forth with your own, he brought your body even closer to his own. Mouths craving one another as you had gotten the kiss you had only dreamt about. Saliva dripped down your jaw as he let go off, thumb wiping it away as he looked at you with almost hungry eyes.

“I’m taking you back to mine and making every single fucking person know that you’re mine, okay baby.” He hand moved to your jaw grabbing a hold of it as he was waiting for an answer, waiting to hear the yes he craved.

“Okay Sakun…”

“Try again.” He moved your mouth to skim past his lips again, already seeing how much you craved to feel his lips once more as you tried to reach his own.

You took a sharp breath as you spoke to give him the power he wanted, “yes sir.”

“Good girl, get in the car.” His words were quick as you found yourself quickly entering not knowing what had gotten between the two of you as soon as he stepped inside the car, his hand rested on your thigh as he quickly drove out to get to his apartment.

A quick - most likely over the speed limit - journey later, his hand on your back made your insiders quiver at the sensation of what was to occur. Once you both began walking past the elevator, the tense atmosphere you both had gone through in the elevator having not helped, you found yourself finally getting the confidence to speak.

“Are we…”

He interrupted you as he finally unlocked the door, pushing you through as you felt yourself pressed against the inside of his apartment. His lips moving across your neck as he spoke the words you had needed to hear from the beginning, “you aren’t some fuck, you’re mine.”

“I…I don’t want to disappoint you.” You breathed out after thinking hard, his lips left your neck as he looked into those deep eyes of yours. Pools of lust and love cascading down as he couldn’t help but bring his two hands to cup your face.

“You would never disappoint me baby, after I’m done stuffing you full of me, I’ll prove to you just how much you mean to me.” His voice was a quiet whisper as he kissed you once again, your hands quickly kissing him back as he continued to press you against the door. Hands roaming your body as he brought comfort and love to every part of you.

His lips left your own as he kissed down your neck, hands moving to your thighs to bring you up as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Watching how you arched your neck for him, as he bit and sucked at your neck wary to not harm your arm as he walked towards his room.

Pushing you in as he threw you onto the bed, taking his shirt off as his arms moved to the side of your body. A predator ready to hunt down his prey, his hand went under your chin making you look up at him as he spoke, “I’m going to make you call me yours by the end of the night, sweetheart, make that pretty cunt drip with me in you.”

He smoothed your hair before moving his hands to your side, watching you nod at his actions. His fingers moving your shirt above your head. Even if you had been exposed to him previously, it felt a lot more intimate now, his hungry eyes wanting to encase every essence of you. “So pretty.” He mumbled as he unhooked your bra letting your tits perk up to the exposed air.

He watched how your face became flushed, as his hands roamed across his chest and stomach, leaving soft kisses down your body as your fingers outlined his tattoos. “Sir…I want you,” your whine made Sukuna look up, his mouth had salivated your nipples as a trail of spit led from his bottom lip to your hard nipple.

“Keep begging,” his words were harsh as he went back to sucking on your nipples, a need for his hardened cock to divulge right into your wet slick filled cunt made you frustrated.

“Pleas…sir,” you moaned as he bit at your nipple, watching how you arch your back into his skin, “I need you.”

“Stupid slut, can’t live without my cock, right?” He swirled his tongue against your nipple as his hands had moved your jeans down, eyes fixated on the way your pretty cunt had been covered.

“I can…’t.” Your whines filled his apartment as he moved his mouth across your stomach, feeling how your hands had moved into his hair, tugging at the strands to go lower. His teeth gripped the fabric as he pulled it down instantly seeing the slick having dampened your underwear. He pulled it away, chucking it onto his desk as his mouth instantly met your clit, spreading your legs to beside his body.

Licking and sucking at the folds that divulged into your cunt, your moans filled the room as one of his hands began kneading at your breasts, mouth covered in slick. “Mo…more.”

He listened to your babbling whines, moving his tongue right into your cunt, his other hands moving to your clit as he rubbed circles with his thumb. You arched your back as soon as you felt his tongue glide through your warm cunt, he could taste the coating of slick run down his tongue mixing with his saliva. It wasn’t common for Sukuna to go down on girls, he knew most of his one-night stands had been ones of getting sucked off and then fucking them. He couldn’t tell you the last time he had gone down on a girl, but the way you gripped at his hair, pushed him further. He knew you would be the only girl he’d ever go down on, with your swollen clit and folds that were encased in slick.

How could he not resist?

His tongue continued to lap inside your cunt, your moans for his tongue to go deeper as the bridge of his nose touched his fingers, he moved his slick covered fingers across your nipples before sticking his fingers right into your warm mouth. You easily took the two fingers sucking and wrapping your tongue around them. Sukuna knew why he was eating you out, he wanted you to feel pleasure, he wanted you to know you had his undivided attention, that he was the only man to make you feel good.

You felt a knot in your stomach already feeling cum start to gush down right into his mouth, he could sense it as his tongue movement became faster, rougher even, your moaning making his ever-growing cock become painfully hard. “Cum in my mouth.” He mumbled through his licks, on command white gushed from your cunt as he mouth was coated in a wet white liquid.

He looked up at you as his mouth remained near your cunt, his fingers moved from mouth as he licked his lips wiping the rest of the cum on his arm as he watched your dazed expression. He moved up, kneeling between your spread legs as he moved down to capture your lips, you could taste yourself on his mouth, his mouth sucking at your tongue as he moved his mouth down your neck. Giving a long lick across your jaw and down to your collarbone, “want me to stuff you now baby, make you full.”

“Ye…yes sir.” He couldn’t help but admire your expression, the way your eyes were eager as your hands moved to his joggers, already seeing his hard cunt ready for you. Mouth watering as he pulled his joggers away, his muscled thighs that could crush you in an instant between your dripping cunt as his bulge was more evident.

He couldn’t help but stop and stare as he took his boxers off, seeing how pretty you looked with the dishevelled her and look of admiration. The girl he had spilt coffee on was underneath him, begging to be filled with his cock. He couldn’t help but feel cock as his cock was in his hands, pumping his hand lazily around it before moving it across your clit and slick. “Please…put it in me.”

He smirked at your whines before aligning his cock right into your core, he brought both your legs up between his arms and chest as he stayed between your spread legs. “You want to be my good girl.”

“Ye…yes I’ll be your good girl,” at the sound of this his cock instantly pushed into your cunt, “Agh S…ir.”

Your breathing had become heavy as he groaned at the feeling of your cunt, “so tight, pretty girl.”

His hands had moved onto the bed as he encased your face, each thrust making you moan, your hands on his back, scratching against his many tattoos as he brought his face closer to your own. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

His words hit you as you looked into his eyes, love pooling from them as you kissed him slowly, each thrust becoming softer and slower as he kept a steady rhythm as you finally spoke the words he had needed to hear. “I…like you Sukuna.”

“Ryo, call me Ryo.” He whispered as he kissed your jaw, each thrust making you whine into his ear as something in your heart felt full at his allowance to let you call him a name he had been adamant against, he continued with more comforting words of, “you’re everything to me.”

His words were comforting, he would never understand why he had been such a cunt to you at the beginning. But being deep inside of you, the trust you had for him as both your foreheads touched, his eyes flashing with love against your own. It must have been fate that brought you both together on that windy night, he didn’t know what else it could be.

The full moon shone through the window, each thrust sending you a shock of love and comfort as he could feel how your legs twitched beside his own. He kissed you one last time feeling your second orgasm come through as he sloppily continued to fuck you, he saw how tears welled up in your eyes. He wiped them with his hand kissing your cheek as your hands remained around his body as he rode his own orgasm out. Your cunt stuffed and filled with his cum as he kept his cock inside of you, looking into your eyes, head resting against your chest. As he heard your heavy breathing one of your hands moving to caress his pink hair as you both stayed like this.

He would never know how this moment occurred, but he did know that the prettiest most annoying girl he had ever met was underneath him and he finally understood what paradise really was like.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

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fenriss · 4 years ago

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It's Not Traditional a lil dean/cas proposal ficlet

Dean’s not sure how he always gets saddled with popcorn duty, although he’ll be the first to admit this time he’s not too bothered by it. Sam had picked out Four Weddings and a Funeral for movie night and the aforementioned funeral is about to happen and Dean would rather not weep like a baby in front of Sam, Eileen, and Cas when Matthew recites that Auden poem.

As the popcorn bag spins in the microwave, slowly inflating, Dean considers all that’s changed in the past few months. He wasn’t sure someone could survive changing as much as he has, but then again maybe he hadn’t changed so much as he has just accepted who he is. Someone who loves Cas, first of all. Best of all. Someone who loves men and has loved men for a very long time and that’s okay. Relatedly, someone who can now openly comment on Hugh Grant’s veritable attractiveness in front of his brother, his friend, and his—what? What are they? Boyfriends? They’re not in high school, although the giddiness Dean still feels even months after the fact when Cas presses a hand to his lower back or steals a quick kiss from him at the breakfast table before shuffling off to make coffee, makes it feel a lot like obsessive, all-encompassing high school love. Dean is thrumming with it, a smile always moments away.

[Read on AO3]

Dean has also accepted that he is someone who can sit down with his brother, his friend, and his whatever and watch Four Weddings and a Funeral and only grouse about it being a chick flick for thirty seconds (he hasn’t completely tossed his reputation for hating girly shit in the trash; but he’ll never admit it’s because the girly shit makes him soft and he’s not sure his heart can take that right now) before accepting Sam’s declaration that ”it’s a classic” and absolutely required watching for Cas. Plus Eileen points out it’s one of the only movies with a deaf character whose entire plot isn’t centered around the fact that he’s deaf, even if he is a minor character.

The microwave beeps at him and he empties the contents into a bowl. As he nears the doorway to the movie and gaming den, he’s disappointed to note that Sam apparently paused the movie when Dean left. Great. He could feign a headache, he supposes, but then there is a delightful little thought that maybe Cas will take pity on his sorry, weeping self and let Dean spend the rest of the movie curled against him on the couch in his arms. They try to keep the PDA to a minimum with Sam around, but this is what he gets for bringing Four Weddings and a Funeral into the mix. He’s a sadist and he gets what he deserves.

Dean’s about to round the corner into the room when he hears his name and pauses. He hesitates because he likes to consider himself an adult who understands boundaries, but he’s also Dean Winchester and if Sam wants to talk shit about him behind his back, then Dean deserves to hear about it so he can retaliate accordingly. He’s thinking Miracle needs a bath and maybe Sam’s bedroom is the perfect place to let loose a 60-pound sopping wet dog to dry himself off on his bedsheets.

“I suppose I never considered it,” Cas is saying, his voice low but carrying in the quiet of the room. “There isn’t much that’s traditional about what we are.”

“Sure, yeah, true,” Sam replies. “But it’s not just about tradition, y’know. Anyway, I was just curious. You guys don’t have to do anything, obviously. But I just…” There’s a pause and Dean can almost perfectly conjure the image of Cas’s prying look in his mind, aimed right at Sam. “Dean’s a romantic,” Sam says finally.

Dean frowns at that, a protest rising in his throat before he can remind himself that given the last three months, he has absolutely no leg to stand on. He is a romantic. Gross.

“Well, I’m sure if Dean wanted to get married, he would tell me.”

The bowl of popcorn slips from Dean’s hands and lands with an impossibly loud clang on the floor. Married. The word has Dean completely flustered and he’s still reeling when Miracle comes trotting out of the room to investigate, spots the popcorn, and goes absolutely feral, licking up the popcorn like it’s his last meal on earth.

“Agh! Miracle! Stop it! Fuck,” Dean makes an aborted attempt to stop Miracle, but he looks like he’s discovered the holy grail, his tail wagging a mile a minute as he hoovers up the popcorn.

“Dean?”

Dean glances up from where he’s on his knees, holding an empty bowl as Miracle frantically cleans up the mess he made.

Married.

“Hey,” Dean says and his voice cracks like the fucking traitor it is. He clears his throat. “Sorry. I’ll have to make another bowl.”

“You were eavesdropping.”

It’s not a question. But Cas has this little quirk of a smile on his face that has Dean’s heart pounding in his ears.

Married.

“Uh, yeah, well. Heard my name and had to make sure Sammy wasn’t telling lies about me.”

Cas huffs a laugh and leans against the doorway. Dean’s still on the floor and he thinks about standing but he’s not entirely sure his legs would hold him up because—

MARRIED.

“Well, Dean, you tell me. Was Sam lying?”

“Lying?”

“Would you like to get married?”

Just like that. Dean will never admit to this, but privately he has thought about it. Big romantic gestures involving flowers and music, and quieter proposals whispered in the dark, in their bedroom, against the nape of Cas’s neck. Dean’s always been too scared, too unsure of Cas and his thoughts on the decidedly antiquated ritual of marriage. Cas saying no is basically the worst thing Dean can imagine, and he’s seen some shit in his time. Besides, it’s only been three months.

Cas’s eyebrow has risen in a silent question. Well?

“Jesus, Cas, you can’t just ask me that like…”

“No, of course not,” Cas agrees. “And you’re already on your knees. Ask me.”

“What?”

“Ask me,” he repeats and Dean can see the mirth in his eyes. The little shit loves seeing Dean squirm, but two can play at that game. Dean pulls one leg up so he’s down on one knee, the proper stance if he’s going to do this. Which, holy shit, he thinks he’s going to do this.

“Make an honest man outta me, Cas,” Dean says.

Cas rolls his eyes but he’s smiling. “Sam said you were a romantic.”

“What? That was romantic as hell.”

Cas reaches out a hand and Dean takes it. Cas pulls him to his feet. “You didn’t even tell me you loved me,” Cas points out.

Dean pulls himself into Cas’s space, their hands still clasped between them. “I also don’t have a ring,” Dean says.

“Well,” Cas says and his tongue darts out to wet his lips, Dean following the movement with great interest, “nothing we’ve done so far has been traditional. Perhaps we should keep it that way.”

Dean’s heart sinks. He should’ve figured as much. It’s not like they need something as basic as marriage to solidify what they have. It’s already perfect. Don’t fix what ain’t broke, right?

“But,” Cas continues thoughtfully, “I think I would like this to be our one exception.”

Dean swallows down the anxiety building behind his sternum. “Really?”

Cas smiles widely at that, his nose crinkling in that way that makes Dean understand why people swoon when they’re in love in old movies. Fuck, he really loves this guy.

“Marry me,” Cas says.

“Fuck yeah,” Dean replies and closes the distance between them with a fervent kiss. Cas inhales sharply and returns the kiss enthusiastically, although it’s clear they’re both fighting not to smile.

Someone clears their throat from the doorway.

Dean pulls back. He and Cas stare at one another and Dean sees reflected in Cas’s eyes what he’s feeling: pure, unadulterated, passionate love. And maybe a little lust, but it’s mostly love, Dean swears.

“If you guys are done being gross, we still have the movie to finish,” Sam says.

Dean finally looks over at his brother in the doorway who is trying his best to look peeved, but he can’t help smiling.

“Perhaps we can finish another time,” Cas says, turning to look at Sam. “My fiancé and I have some business to discuss regarding our upcoming nuptials.” He turns back to Dean and adds, “In our bedroom.”

Sam feigns gagging. “Spare me the details. Congrats or whatever. Now fuck off.”

“Gladly,” Dean replies and pulls Cas back down the hallway toward their bedroom. Dean has one thought before he lets his mind become saturated in all the simple, lurid thoughts that come with sex: Dean is going to marry the shit out of Cas.

#deancas #destiel #*#spn #mine #my writing #ficrec

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xxsmokeyy · 4 years ago

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ok so how about a story where (preferably bi) reader and levi both fall for petra and there's this competition between them as to who can win petras heart first but after petras death (or some other issue; your choice) they both mourn and bond with each other and realize that all those times they tried to outshine each other, they fell for each other instead

Levi x Petra x Bi! Reader (F) One Or The Other

genre: mild angst, fluff (healing)

summary: it’s a bit surprising that despite being rivals, both you and Levi have gotten through a lot together. before you know it, you’re already seeking refuge from one another.

tw: mentions of death

wc: 6,575

You know it’s a heck of a risk trying to aim for someone’s hand like Petra’s. She’s the entire definition of a dainty, lovely girl everybody admires, of course including you. Besides, you don’t even know if you stand a chance, not when there’s a tough guy your way.

Namely, Captain Levi.

Well, there’s another one named Oluo, but you don’t even think of him as a competition. Definitely not a threat as well.

“Hey,” you call the girl with strawberry blonde hair. She looks back at you with a smile and stands upright, wiping the sweat trickling down her neck. You watch as she tucks her hair behind both her ears to get rid of the stray fringes. Isn’t she just hot?

“Need help?” you ask, ready to give her a hand upon seeing her singlehandedly clean the stables.

“I don’t think Captain would allow that,” Petra says before petting the said man’s horse. “Am I right, big boy?” she talks to it, combing its black mane with her slender fingers. Adorable.

“One dick of a Captain we have, don’t you think?” you say, rolling your eyes heavenwards as the image of your superior passes by your mind. “Hmm, not really. I believe his austerity is right just the way it is,” she says in full decision. Of course. The one thing you don’t like about her is the way she worships the shitty Captain like some kind of noble man.

You let out a disappointed sigh, crossing your arms. “You have got to stop being a clean freak apologist, Petra. Unless you’re inlove with him or something,” you point out and take a step towards her, taking away the broomstick from her other hand.

She’s visibly spent to the bones, tending to the horses all by herself to meet the Captain’s regulations. He only always assigns one person per duty, saying soldiers should learn how to clean alone just as much as learning how to fight, which is an utterly dumb stance in your opinion.

When she blushes by your words, a small pang hits your heart. It’s just as you guessed.

Not that it’s not so achingly obvious enough these past few years, but it’s only gotten worse ever since the new 104th recruits joined the Scout Regiment. She keeps praising the dickhead in front of them whenever they ask about him, telling them a variety of stories stretching from way back, it’s ridiculous.

“I don’t!” She really doesn’t. She just idolizes him so much that it comes across as romance. People keep rubbing to her face that she’s inlove, though it’s definitely not what she feels.

Her denial nature and easily flustered reactions keep your spirits low, almost surmising with a conclusion that you had no chance at all if not for the fact that she never made romantic advances to him her whole stay in the army.

“You do,” you avert your gaze, not wanting her to notice the brewing jealousy in your eyes, else she might avoid you or act awkward if she finds out.

“I don’t!” she presses, accidentally pulling on the horse’s crest, forcing a neigh out of it. Petra apologizes to it like it can understand her. “If that isn’t definitely guilty, I don’t know what is,” you mumble under your breath, releasing another sigh as you start sweeping the scattered hay.

Once the Captain’s horse calms down, she faces you, hands on her waist, ready to explain her feelings in fine details. “Look—“

“Who said you can slack off?” Speak of the devil. Your conversation is given a good interruption when the dark haired man arrives.

Petra immediately fixes herself, fist slamming to her chest as acknowledgment of the Captain’s presence. “We weren’t, Captain! She just wanted to help me out,” Petra clarifies right away, voice firm and booming.

You feel the infamous pair of fierce eyes dart on you, and you briefly thank anything that first comes in mind for your current position, back facing the Captain so he can’t see your disgusted scowl.

You prep yourself and turn around, giving him a half-assed salute. “I just finished with the laundry. Thought I could give her a hand,” you say, tone almost holding no formality at all, “—sir,” you lazily add.

His brows twitch as he hears you out. Brat.

“I don’t recall telling everyone to work in pairs, neither of you understood that?” he pinpoints, staring you dead in the face. You’re not intimidated, though, not one bit. If you think I’m scared, you can kiss your own ass. “I insisted. In case you didn’t notice, she’s tired,” you inform, steadiness unwavering. What is even wrong with assisting someone? This merciless prick.

“Oh?” He walks toward you in strides, easily coming face-to-face with you in a span of seconds.

“Come to my office, Petra,” he orders without looking at her, and the woman gives you one last glance, then making off after giving him a polite yes. There it is. He’s about to show his true colors, you just know it.

“Cheap way to win her over,” Levi lowly spits at you, and you can feel his hot breath ghosting harshly over your face. “If you’re so kind, do it all over again,” he orders lastly, internally entertained by how your eyes shut close in fury, grip on the broomstick tightening.

As he finally steers to leave, you swear in your life you never wanted to hit someone so damn much it’d knock them out cold.

Levi heads back, footsteps fading into the background, and an exasperated groan leaves your mouth. You frustratedly throw the broom to the floor, startling his horse, which does nothing but make your blood boil stronger in your veins. Fuck him!

—

You lie down on the hard ground, even more deadbeat than the girl you opted to help. For shit’s sake, who knew this is what you get for volunteering to be of use? You can only imagine how the new cadets would have it hard once the Captain notices their mediocre cleaning skills.

It’s probably nearing curfew, you guess from the excessive appearance of stars in the skies, but your muscles are strained stiff you can’t come inside any time now. You were left with no choice but start from scratch. If you act up and not clean up to his standards, you’ll only get it way worse, so you decided not to push him further.

You sense someone approach you, and you strongly wish it isn’t Levi. He’s the last creature you’d like to see today.

Soft and familiar amber eyes greet yours from upside down, a petite body looming over you, and you couldn’t be anymore thankful. Petra gives you a sympathetic look before sitting down beside your laid form, keeping her hands behind her back.

“I told you,” she starts, “it’d be no good if Captain sees, but you insisted and he arrived! Now look at you, you’re absolutely exhausted, aren’t you?” she continues to scold, though it doesn’t strike you as a scolding. More of a concern, yes. A smile creeps up your lips.

“Just give me the bread,” you confidently say, and she sighs in defeat before revealing the pastry she had in hand. Your heart feels giddy as you sit up straight, taking the food she went out of her way to prepare. It’s like the tiredness just disappeared into thin air. What an angel.

Petra scrunches her nose as she watches you eat in speed. You cock a brow as you see her look at you like you’re— “Do I stink?” you frantically question and smell yourself all over. No way, you’ll definitely get points off now!

She giggles bubbly and shakes her head to dismiss your assumptions. “No, but you’re biting like you haven’t eaten in ages. That famished?” she asks once she’s calmed down.

You feel heat rise to your cheeks, unsure of what to think. She’s definitely an angel, especially when she smiles. You sigh for the nth time, “Obviously. Did you see how much of a bastard our Captain is? In all honesty, I’d prefer Hange as our squad leader,” you complain and resume to munching.

“I don’t know about that,” she says, gaze boring into yours. You tear your eyes off of her and stare at the horse stalls. “What did the old geezer make you do?”

“Nothing, just a bunch of paperwork,” she says truthfully. Oh, for all you know, he just wanted her all to himself. What an unfair move, using his authority to have her alone.

You angrily bite down on the bread, later realizing you’ve finished it. As she observes you, her eyes widen, suddenly remembering something. “I forgot your water!” she exclaims and rises to her feet, but you stop her before she can leave, grabbing her soft hand.

Your chest stutters involuntarily from the contact and you compose yourself right away. “It’s alright, I’ll get it myself. Go back to your room before Captain catches you,” you urgently say, not wanting her to get in trouble again. “Just help me up,” you ask to which she generously follows. You briefly wish the moment could last longer.

“You sure?” she quizzes when you finally stand up. Both of you heading inside, you nod and hum in agreement, “Thanks for the food.”

She gives you a smile as you both reach the halls, waving you goodbye before you part ways. Ahh, you feel all energetic now.

You walk to the mess hall, footsteps light and shallow. Judging from the dimly lit corridors, it must be a few minutes away from curfew. You just hope you don’t bump into some higher-ups. Hange’s fine, though.

As you push the door open, you regret it right away. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter unintelligibly. Aside from the raven haired man, the room is dead empty, a lone candle in a chamberstick providing dull light. Technically, he is the last creature you see tonight.

You have lost count of how many sighs you’ve released the whole day, all energy in your body draining once again. Steel eyes lock on you as you enter. There’s no turning back now. Well, at least Petra isn’t the one who found him here.

Levi cocks a brow as he watches you proceed inside, seemingly heading to the water jug. You stay quiet and take a glass, then filling it with water. As much as possible, you don’t want to converse with him.

He seems like he won’t let you succeed with that. “Done with the stables?” he asks, sipping on his tea.

“Yeah,” you curtly answer, not up for some bantering.

“Some goody two shoes you are,” he scoffs, ticking you off, but you refuse to let it show. You face him and lean your back against the counter. “Like you’re any better with your assholish attitude,” you sass him out, drinking on your water all the while remaining eye contact. You’ll show him.

“And you complain like the little brat that you are,” he rebuts.

“You’re just threatened that she might go for me behind your back when I just wanted to help,” you answer with a shrug, taking a few steps closer to the table he’s seated.

“Women like you like to play dirty.”

“You don’t know a thing about women,” you snide with a condescending smile, belittling the man before you. He can’t be one to talk about women when he treats you like shit. If there’s someone Petra might end up with, you sure as heck wouldn’t want it to be this guy.

He throws you a glare, piqued by your words before standing on his feet and and walking his way to you. You stay steady, unfazed by the intimidation he’s giving off.

“After all these years, do you seriously think you stand a chance?” he deadpans, which strikes straight to your feelings. He doesn’t have to emphasize that, you already know it, memorized it even.

“I don’t know, but it’d be just as much as a loss if she chooses you,” you say, slamming the glass you’re holding onto the table. After giving him one last glare, you turn your back on him, having enough of the senseless arguments.

He hates how you only ever treat him as a Captain in the battlefield, but not when you’re at ease. You always looked at him like an arch nemesis of the sort, not afraid to answer back at him like he doesn’t deserve your respect. He stressfully closes his eyes and massages his temples as you leave.

—

You sit on the bench, just in front of the Captain, who is currently beside your beloved Petra. Look at him making his moves. You roll your eyes discreetly, sipping on your fresh tea.

“What are you, on a diet or some crap?” Levi asks, finding Petra’s plate empty, bowl of soup halfway finished.

“No, I gave it to the girl you made run laps,” she informs, “she almost passed out, you know.” Right? you wanted to agree but decide to sit still and listen.

Levi doesn’t answer, and instead puts his own loaf of bread on her vacant dish. “Eat. We have an upcoming expedition,” he only says and sips on the liquid left in his cup. Petra’s cheeks turn into a feminine shade of pink, and you so wanted to pull her away from him. She exclaims a yes and starts munching. Great, I should’ve done that first.

You’re not about to put up without a fight, though.

“Dear Captain has to eat as well, don’t you think?” you sarcastically chime in, transferring your unmoved bread onto his plate. “Can’t have him thinned to bones when the walls get breached again,” you add, innocent smile downright infuriating to Levi’s eyes.

You desperately try to keep in your barging laugh to yourself as you watch him look at his plate disgustedly.

What do you say, Petra? I’m just as kind as he is, right? That show off.

Petra hums in agreement and nudges the Captain to eat, a string of hearty giggles leaving her velvet lips, alluring about a total of three people from the same table. You heart skips a round of beats as you watch her flash her toothy grins. Talk about an appetizing view.

Her giggles boil down as realization hits her. She gives you a mixed look of confusion and thoughtfulness, opening her mouth to speak and stop you on your tracks.

“But—”

You wave her off before she can shove her worries to you and prop yourself up, momentarily stretching your limbs in relaxation to then pick up your dirtied china.

“Don’t worry, Petra, I’m already full,” confidence brimming in your tone, you tell her and take your leave. But not without giving the Captain one last glimpse. It was even more appetizing to see him pissed.

Your other comrades only watch in awe as they see the unnamed rivalry uncover ahead of their eyes, your victorious smile determining the whose triumph it is for today.

How about that?

—

When you finish with dish duty, you head to the dining area once more to check if the sconce candles are extinguished, only to find them still lit and burning, with a side of holy bastard, as you like to call him. Of all people.

“Here again? What is this, your lounge room or something?” you mockingly ask and take a seat in front of him, wiping your wet hands on your pants. He ignores you.

You purse your lips out of observation. He must be a tea addict, having another one after dinner. “Are you always here every night?” you ask again, initiating a genuine conversation.

He finally looks at you and sets his tea on the table, a bit surprised by your question. “I am,” he answers. You nod, about to ask another question but he beats you to it.

“I’m removing you from the flank,” he suddenly blurts, taking you aback. What? Your rested face visibly loses composure as your brows furrow together.

“What do you mean? Is it because I shitted on you earlier? Oh please, do you think I’ll hit on Petra while on a mission?” you continuously spurt in one go, hackles slowly raising.

“It’s not about her. Erwin specifically asked for you to join his group since you apparently answered him right,” he remarks, completely calm. You are smart, that’s already a given that he knows, it’s just that feelings can get over the best of you that he doesn’t find rational.

Your ragged breathing upon taking him the wrong way steadies as you listen. “The Commander?” you confirm and he grunts his response. “Alright then, you better watch over her in my stead.”

Levi takes a glance at you, steel grey eyes holding an unreadable expression, which you find amusing and triggers a laugh out of you. It’s like his answer should have been already staring you in the face. Naturally, he’ll do that without you ordering him.

He can be cute at times, can’t he? In a funny way of course, you inwardly clear out.

Meanwhile, he thinks you’re out of your mind as you humor yourself. He’d honestly like it if you just leave him alone right now, which you eventually did, waving him goodbye.

The night before the expedition, you pay Petra’s room a short visit.

She answers the door within three quiet knocks. “Hey,” you greet with a smile and she offers to let you in forthrightly. “No! It’s fine, I just need a few seconds,” you dismiss.

“What is it?” she curiously asks, now face to face with you as you stand in her doorway.

“I won’t be with you tomorrow, so you better take care. Stick with Gunther, or Oluo. If possible, not with the Captain,” you whisper the last bit jokingly, but she ignores it and only questions why you’re separated. You explain the situation to her, leaving out the confidential details.

Petra nods, stroking her chin. You notice she’s already in her nightwear and is probably prepared to sleep, so you decide to return to your own quarters.

“Take care, alright?” you remind, eyes boring into her borderline gold ones. They were pretty and gentle, a pair you always adored through the years.

Petra wishes you the same and then a good night, strongly wanting to unite with you safely after the mission you could feel it deep inside you.

As you look at her, you‘re certain that you haven’t met a more loving person your whole life. Will there ever come a time that you’d confess to her? Probably not. If you’re being frank, you don’t think what you feel for her is that deep a love that you’d go out of your way to initiate a romantic bond. If nothing else, it might only be admiration, an attachment at most. You like her, that goes without saying, but there isn’t any room for in depth involvement, especially not in this line of work, you think.

The door to her room finally closed, you spin to get your own shuteye, only to see a familiar figure from a little distance.

The candlelights on the halls define the highest points of the man’s face beautifully, and you identify him without a hitch, dull grey orbs meeting yours.

“Let her sleep, and get your rest,” he briefly says before making off. Your eyes slightly largen from the lack of interaction, as opposed to the reprimanding you expected. Was he supposed to say his regards to her as well?

In all fairness, he didn’t go for your neck this time. Well, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Morning comes quickly, along with the falling into formation as sketched, the deployment of operation, and the arrays of discoveries you found in the progress. Everything happened quickly, and before you know it, the expedition is given an official beat to retreat.

You stand on the same branch as the Commander, waiting for his signal to flee after fighting off the wave of titans to defend the target. Three pair of your blades are blunted down to nubs from the excessive charges, and you think for a moment if you should replace them with new ones.

Catching your breath, you wipe dry your dampened skin and clothes. You watch as he idly chat with the Captain, instructing him to refill his gases. For what? I thought it’s over?

Levi listens to what he’s told, perceivably on his guard. Why is he even here? Where are the others? When you’re just about to call Levi’s attention, Erwin catches sight of you and the confusion resounding from your aura. He then permits you to break away from his flank and reunite with your own squad, and you gladly follow.

You first help clean up with the immobilizing equipment used on the spy, telling Hange to prepare for withdrawal. She passes the message onto the other soldiers, commanding them to bestride their horses to then get going.

You still don’t know where to find your teammates, so you stick with the higher-ups a little longer.

Since you’ll travel by horse from here on, you decide not to meddle with your gears anymore. You hop on the saddle and lightly yank the reigns to start moving, and with everyone else, you ride through the woods, thousands of questions ready inside your head.

A few moments later, you hear Erwin converse with Hange regarding the spy, about how they must still be alive and how they must’ve blended in by now. You feel the tension rising as you listen to his assumptions, trying to register everything he’s trying to come across with, and it all makes sense when you hear two consecutive thundering of little intervals.

You quickly turn around and swerve, shifting your weight to guide your horse back to where the booming sound came from. It’s the alleged sound intelligent titans make when they transform, and you know push has come to shove if you hear two of them.

As far as you remember, the key weapon was situated together with your squad, you being the only one left out, so you’ll find them where Eren is. You let your horse gallop in great speed, heart thumping loudly in your chest it’s almost deafening. Please, be safe.

It feels like decades have already gone by when you arrive at the terrorizing scene of carnage.

You put your horse to an abrupt halt and jump off, cold sweat breaking without control as you stumble upon corpses and corpses you achingly recognize, the life in their eyes strenuously extracted. Gunther, Eld, Oluo… Petra.

An immense vertigo hits your head, your field of vision blurring upon seeing them drained of consciousness. You refuse to accept the view, shaking your head like a child in utmost declination. It seems you’ve only followed behind the Captain, finding him looking at the same plight.

“Levi…” you helplessly call as if seeking for refuge and saving. But it horrifies you the most when you meet his dead gaze deprived of rest, almost exactly looking like theirs, striking violently at your heart. No, not you, too…

Streams of tears shed endlessly from the corners of your eyes, and Levi doesn’t know what to do. He’s beyond pained, watching the only comrade he has left on his team slowly break down due to the shambles. He can’t afford to be frozen by the fathomless torment he’s currently trying to overcome, nor does he have the luxury to stay by your side and console you.

He has no choice but to keep moving.

“Call the others for assistance and put their bodies on a carriage,” are the last words he gives you before taking his leave, wires zipping and clutching into the surfaces of the tree barks as he skillfully maneuvers with his gear.

You think for a second, is he that used to losing people? but you completely miss out on how he slashes the giant enemy in great anger, expertly cutting flesh like he’s never done before as if it’s his only chance to momentarily pour out his emotions, all the while trying to stay objective.

Your whole body weakens and you fall to your knees, getting a closer look at the dead woman before your sight. Your hand acts on its own, stretching out to painstakingly tuck Petra’s locks behind her ear like how she always styled it. Your lips tremble as you attempt to fight your threatening sobs back.

She has slipped out from both your reaches.

Since then, you limited your interactions to those that were only really necessary, because for the first time in a while, you feel utterly alone. Years of having the sweet girl by your side all gone into the dust, along with the overwhelming loss of your whole squad, everything is weighing you down.

Flashes of memories come at the most misplaced time every now and then, and you can’t handle it when it triggers in public, causing you to lock yourself up in your room, weeping in secret.

You can’t be any more thankful to your Captain for letting you wallow in your own way of coping. Most importantly, though a small part of you still doesn’t want to admit, you’re more than grateful he stayed alive all throughout the last of the mission, coming back home with you.

You still remember the hurt in his eyes that no matter how hard he attempted to conceal, still peers out. It was visible when you had no choice but to throw the bodies out of the carriages, bringing not a single fallen soldier back. It was visible when Petra’s father asked the Captain for his daughter, even going as far as spilling his plans of arranging a marriage between the two young pair.

It’s haunting you so much, you haven’t had an hour of sleep after arriving back even if there’s an upcoming operation. Despite it being against your will, you frequently wonder how he’s doing.

One night, you find yourself walking through the halls, unable to force your mind to just shut down and rest without stressing out for the uncountable time.

You don’t know why you’re fully decisive of where to go and who to find. You don’t know why you feel calmer every step further. You don’t know why you’re so eager as you push on the wooden doors of the mess hall. You don’t know why you already expected to see him there.

“Oh, look at the old geezer drinking his tea in the dark. Do you know what time it is? It’s past curfew,” you inform sarcastically, voice also forging a front to sound normal. It’s not yet past curfew, you just want to tick him off.

“You’re only four years younger, and it’s not,” Levi answers as he lets his eyes land on yours. It’s obvious you’re only trying to clown around, the exhaustion in your face giving away your crestfallen state.

“What? How do you know that?” you ask, scandalized.

“I recognize the time.”

“I meant my age?”

“Because I am your Captain, woman. Don’t push me,” he hisses and brings his teacup into his mouth, the hot beverage staining on his tongue just the way he likes it. Even more so that it’s the only thing he can rely on at the moment. That’s what he thinks.

You scowl and sigh. Fair enough.

You take a seat in front of him and he gives you an unreadable look, as usual. Does he feel intruded? All of a sudden, you feel shy, hoping you’re not bothering him.

“What? I won’t mess with you, I’m tired,” you argue upon seeing him stare you down like something’s off with you.

Levi studies your expression, finding your face a bit similar to his in a not so positive way. With a shallow sigh, he decides to let you be and do what you want.

You prop your cheek on your elbow and maintain eye contact. “How’s your leg?” you quiz, genuinely curious of his current condition. The bastard brought home an injury as souvenir, rendering him downright useless for the plans the Scouts had right ahead.

“Not good,” he says, earning him a hum in response. The longer he lets his glance stay on yours, the more he notices the little details in the way you presented yourself.

Tonight, you spared no effort in fixing your hair, still a bit messy from the tossing and turning earlier in desperate hopes to fall asleep. Your lips were dry and chapped, he notes to call you out for it later. For all he knows, you might be dehydrated already. Your eyes? Unquestionably racked with pain.

You rest your face on top of your overlapped arms and settle to find a comfortable position.

“Go to your room if you want to sleep,” he orders, which you only ignore. Does he seriously think you’ve been able to sleep these days? Because you’re sure as heck he can’t with those dark under eyes of him. “Your neck will only get stiff in that position,” he adds.

Something about the company he generously, though not obviously, offers makes your eyelids fall shut in ease, his baritone voice helping your nerves compose themselves.

“I said I’m tired, give me a break…” you gradually lose volume as you speak, slowly drifting off without knowing.

Levi clicks his tongue when you finally succumb to drowsiness.

It’s not like he doesn’t have any options left, but he couldn’t do anything as he stays all night to watch over you. Surprisingly enough, the company felt comforting that he can’t bring himself to leave.

Couple hours later, he’s still up and reading a book when he hears a soft whimper escape your lips. Levi takes a glimpse at you and is a bit baffled to catch sight of a lone driblet trickling from your lids.

Sighing, he feels inclined to wipe it away with his thumb in sympathy and does as his subconscious says. The moment his calloused finger touches your skin, he realizes that you were undeniably warm. So much for a brat like you.

When you wake up, you feel a heavy cloth wrapped around your soldiers. You check the surroundings and remember falling asleep in the dining, later seeing that the fabric is a tan jacket, a uniform. The familiar scent enters your nostrils, and you name its owner right away.

An involuntary wave of heat rises to your cheeks and you’re uncertain why. It’s Captain Levi’s.

It makes you contemplate out of nowhere, was it wrong to treat him like a competition?

Thinking about it, you kind of regret not being casual with him. Without question, you’re not really in best terms with him, having an eye for the same person for a long time, that should be understood. He’s an outstanding soldier, that you can admit, but you can’t exactly put up with his strict ways at times, some of it coming off as irrational.

Maybe you should really just accept the fact that he’s a great Captain nevertheless. Because even though you viewed him like that all this time, he’s still being considerate in some ways.

A small smile forms on your lips. You definitely should start warming up to him. He’s the only team you’ve got left.

—

Tray in hand, you enter the Captain’s room, not bothering with a knock. To hell with that, I’ve got a handful, if he complains about his privacy or some crap, I’ll shove this damn food to his face.

Yes, you decided to bring him his lunch after the successful-fail raid in Stohess District. Honestly, you’re damn tired to the bones, but you take it upon yourself to give Levi a short visit.

He gives you an annoyed stare, obviously not expecting your company, and you only roll your eyes. “What’s that?” he asks.

“Food. What, is your old age getting to you? Need some glasses?” you talk back, not up for his dumb question.

Things aren’t going so well for the Survey Corps, political stances going against your brigade, comrades dying one by one you’re not entirely sure if their death was in vain or not. It’s only a miracle the Commander found a way to nullify the consequences about to come your way. That’s why Levi better not raise your hackles bad or your brain will completely explode in front of him.

He ignores your sardonic jest and eyes the tray, primarily looking for the tea, if you brought one. You did. But he keeps his hands to himself for a while.

“It’s too early for dinner, and I could’ve gone to get my own food.” An exasperated sigh escapes your throat, hearing his argument.

“This is your late lunch, sir,” you inform candidly, taking him by surprise. True enough, you didn’t mean to be so observant, but you saw him skip lunch earlier before the raid. Heck, this isn’t even the first time he deliberately missed it. You know he’s still unwell and at a loss just as much as you are—maybe even worse, and that’s preventing him from taking care of himself.

Of course, he’s still your Captain whom you’re willing to serve, wholeheartedly, at that. Hence, you’re going to take care of him if he’s not doing it himself, whether he likes it or not. If even this guy leaves you, then you’ll probably arrive at the end of your wits.

With an exasperated sigh, you set his meal on top of the nightstand right beside his bed. “Are you enjoying being a useless Captain?” you cross your arms and quiz, having enough of his prideful attempts for rejection.

“Tch, you know full well I’m not,” he answers and averts his glance, looking outside the window and the dimming skies.

“Then eat your food and stop complaining,” you lastly command, real bossy and assertive that he’s on the brink of cocking a brow in question.

He falls silent. You were right, he won’t get any better if he continues to mistreat himself. Besides, it’s already you who went out of your way to prepare him food, he shouldn’t just let that go to waste. Finally giving in, Levi first grabs the teacup by its mouth and takes a sip, nose immediately scrunching in repulsion upon tasting the beverage. You might be trying to poison him, after all.

“This tea is shit.”

“I said stop complaining.”

—

A whole different wave of hurdles and complications just got overcome after the wall breach alarm got deemed false, and three new intelligent titans were revealed. Seeming as though those weren’t even enough, humanity’s key weapon got kidnapped as well. Naturally, a rescue operation was deployed to action, losing a ton more soldiers in the process.

Everything is starting to become overwhelming, you’re both physically and mentally exhausted, and emotionally. Everything is beginning to feel like a pain in the neck, as if the Scout Regiment didn’t have that way from the start.

It’s actually just as you guessed. When you went outside without a full functioning team and a Captain to follow orders from, you felt lost and misplaced. The novel experience was depressing, to say the least, moving forward without the ones you’ve fought side by side with through the years.

You can’t help but find yourself looking for a familiarity, a middle ground of the sort. Feeling like a storm is building up inside you for trying to suppress your problems all by yourself.

On the low spirited trip back, you eventually realize you needed someone. And who else is there aside from him?

You ride your horse back to the walls, aching for his presence. Anything that has to do with him, you want to see and feel.

It’s almost like vexing decades have passed when you arrive and return to the headquarters. You hop off your horse, movements slow and back hunched, aura visibly despondent.

Your half lidded eyes desperately scan the fields to search for that one person, comforting satisfaction taking over your entire body as you find him standing a few meters away from your form.

Funnily enough, he was waiting for you just the same.

Levi couldn’t decipher what shitty smile you tried to give him, it was only plain pitiful in his eyes that his guts are telling him to walk over to you and give you a welcome. He didn’t have to do it, though.

Because maybe you did the first step. Maybe you took big strides or maybe you eagerly ran to his figure to feel his warmth against your body. But nothing else matters when you reach out both your trembling arms to him, now wrapped around his sturdy body, locking him in an embrace you never thought you’d feel your whole life.

You slowly descend to a sobbing mess, completely abandoning the idea of you looking like a mere crybaby in his eyes. He’ll surely bring this up some other time, but damn that. All you know is that you needed this, badly.

It’s shameful, being fully aware that you’re slowly eating your words. Whenever you think of how you put the tiny distance between you and him, you just want to slap your palm across your face. In reality, he isn’t so bad.

You want to thank him for letting you free yourself and let it all out, but your awfully shaky sobs are hindering you from doing so.

Levi senses your exhaustion, and a whole other variety of intense emotions. You’ve been keeping some burden to yourself, too. It’s amusing to him in a way that you’re both similar in a lot of things. Especially in the bad habit of bottling oneself up, assuming it’d do any better.

Deep down, he’s glad you let loose and opened your walls to him. He cares for you, after all.

As you weep against his chest, lungs stuttering and eyes turning bloodshot, Levi allows his hand to pat your back, lightly stroking it to make you calm down.

It is, indeed, wordlessly reassuring, telling you that he was there. You never imagined that of all people, he had the ability to offer the exact solace you’re looking for, just with the simple gesture.

For once, he lets it slide that you’re all bloody, sweaty, dirty, filthy—name it—when making contact with him. He just doesn’t know that needed this as well. In fact, the entire time you were away, his foot mindlessly tapped in full expectancy of your arrival, waiting with bated breath. Not like he’ll admit that.

“Don’t you dare speak,” you threaten amidst your shaky hiccups, and he almost finds it amusing how you can still manage to act so tough in front of him when you’re already breaking down against him.

He secretly heaves out a sigh, the expression of relief escaping your ears, “Brat.”

Both of you stand there underneath the twilight to dusk horizon, ignoring how some of your subordinates watch you in shock, or how you’re not halfway the trouble yet, still utterly clueless of what lies ahead. Because right now, you were still together. You had each other, someone to lean on in this wretched mess.

Without the two of you knowing precisely why, both your hearts feel a tad bit alive.

449 notes · View notes

forestofbeginnings · 4 years ago

Note

while I do agree with what you’re saying about character’s sexualities needing to be explored rather than being seen as the easy option, having “just a few” LGBTQ+ characters means every LGBTQ+ player is SEVERELY restricted in terms of who they can choose to be with, ESPECIALLY since those few LGBTQ+ characters run the risk of falling into harmful stereotypes to make it “obvious” that they are those characters. it leaves a LOT of room for separation rather than inclusion, for distance between players and characters bc the player may not think the other characters are worth getting to know when those characters arent the “few” LGBTQ+ ones. as much as it is important to have the detailed representation, as a member of the LGBTQ+ myself, I am equally happy with stories going in depth on character’s sexualities as I am with them just being completely normalised. video games are pleasant, peaceful escapes for people, and as much as it would be “realistic” for them to experience some kind of discrimination or self hatred, I personally prefer the idea that in the world of the game, everyone is just fine with it, as they should be. that leaves room for discussion on why the real world ISNT like that already, how we can HELP it become that way by assisting in the normalisation of it, etc. this is in no way a direct argument against you, it’s solely my standpoint on the whole LGBTQ+ marriage options. I just think it should be a fair game to everyone, and no player should feel their options are limited based on their own sexuality and having just a few characters in the game who match that, instead of it being equal for everyone, if that makes sense

That's a very good point, thank you for sending this to add to the conversation! I'll try my best to respond to all the good points you make.

(my reply is very long and under the cut and includes a lot of my Opinions of queer rep in video games so here we go)

I know you're probably talking about Fire Emblem when you're talking about the severely limited LGBT+ options. And it does suck, I'm pretty lucky that I fell hard for one of the few bisexual offerings in FE3H (looks fondly at Mercedes). But on the other hand...my primary experience with LGBT+ rep are Bioware games, where everyone has their own distinct identity. In Dragon Age Inquisition, out of the romance options there's 1 straight woman, 3 straight males (albeit two are limited to elves/humans), 1 pansexual male, 1 bisexual female, 1 gay male, and 1 lesbian. And most of the writing does not focus on their identities. In a majority of the romances, the most you get is a "sorry, not interested" from a character if you're not what they're into. The only route with clear focus on sexuality is for the gay man, which is fantastically written (and is written by a gay man about his personal experiences so take that as you will). All of the other LGBT+ characters’ stories don’t focus on their sexuality at all and don’t face discrimination for it.

The game isn't perfect (the writing for the lesbian is bad in the base game, just straight up bad), but it's what I think of when I say "everyone has an identity." No matter who you play, not all options are open to you. Doesn't matter if you're straight or LGBT+, your options are limited. And honestly, despite the more limited options...the impact that games like Fire Emblem and Dragon Age gave me are still things I remember fondly as a bi/ace woman. I loved Mercedes' romance in FE3H because she was specifically bisexual like me. I was absolutely giddy when Josephine's romance (the bi option in DAI) did not include a sex scene, which meant she could be asexual like me. And to me, I don't get as much excitement playing SoS or SDV. The girls like me because I'm the player. That's it. It’s not because they’re bisexual with their own identity, it’s because I’m the player. And it just reminds me of that quote from The Incredibles like "if everyone is super, nobody will be." Everyone is ""bisexual"" and...

I think when you talk about people not being interested in learning about other, non-LGBT+ characters, that's more a flaw in farming sims in general? Because you can't really...befriend a romance option. You can't learn their full story unless you're romancing them. Which, again, isn't a thing in Fire Emblem or Dragon Age. You can A support anyone in FE and it only becomes romantic if you choose to S support them. In Dragon Age, you learn a character's full story and learn about them regardless of romance. I don't think people will be less interested in knowing other characters...it's just if you don't want to romance them...you can't really know them? So why befriend a character if you can’t just be friends?

But I do really want to touch on the point you make on how LGBT+ romance doesn't need to be realistic and can be idealized. I 100% agree. Making it not a big deal and not put under a microscope helps it become normal. It's actually the kind of rep I prefer. I don’t like when huge deals are made about LGBT+ characters because it just accentuates that they’re different and ‘the other,’ rather than just another person that happens to not be heterosexual.

But literally the only romance-based video game I've played where a realistic struggle of an LGBT+ person is focused on is Dragon Age Inquisition. With the gay route I mentioned and touched on with a non-romancable trans man. Sexuality is not really spoken about in FE3H. Some characters are just...bisexual. Nothing more to it. Mercedes certainly doesn't say anything about it. She can just be romanced by both men and women. It is barely spoken about in Dragon Age games aside from character preference and Dorian's romance. In Dragon Age 2, one bisexual romance option mentions his first experience with a man. Another option is hesitant to date a female because of cultural reasons. That's it.

I do get your point. We don't need to include the realities of the world in our video games. But also...we're allowed to still acknowledge sexuality in video games. I joke about my bi/ace-ness all the time. Even in a perfect world of a farming sim...I'm pretty sure a character can make wisecracks about liking both men and women...or only men/women. Being bisexual always means some kind of discovery that you like more than one gender. Has this love interest dated someone of the same or opposite gender before? Will they tell me off-hand that I'm the first girl they dated? Will they express interest in a character of the opposite gender but can be romanced by a same-sex player? Representation doesn't need to be a sanitized thing completely removed from reality. Even in a completely perfect world where there is no such thing as discrimination against the LGBT+ community, we’re still allowed to speak about our sexualities. It’s a part of who we are.

When I say I want specific representation, I don't want a realistic depiction of the current-day struggles our community faces. I just want a character to say something that makes me know that they're like me. That they're specifically bisexual or specifically pansexual or so on. That they have their own preferences and are their own character and aren't blindly into me because I'm the player.

I do get why you want representation to be equal across the board. It is the easy option and a simple thing to do. But I want quality over quantity. I don’t want a character to marry me because I’m the player. I want a character to marry me because they’re bisexual or pansexual or a lesbian or asexual with romantic preferences or so on and so forth. And the reason why I’m so passionate about this and want farming sims to go towards this direction is because I’ve seen it done in other genres! It can work!

Inclusion of LGBT+ romance options does not have to be at the sacrifice of the identities of bisexual and pansexual individuals. And now I get off my soap box and drink some water because I just got my 2nd COVID vaccination.

#the curator speaks #warning: this is long but i did want to hit all your points!#and i do see your point and they are valid #but i really enjoyed your ask and even if you still disagree that's fine!

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silyabeeodess · 4 years ago

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Going to take a moment to brag about a Webtoon comic that I’ve been reading lately called “The Remarried Empress.” Honestly, drama isn’t one of my favorite genres, but this story does so many nice things that make it an enjoyable read through-and-through.

First off is the name alone and opening chapter, which gives you the major spoiler that Empress Navier remarries immediately after her husband, Emperor Sovieshu, divorces her for his mistress, Rashta. I feel beginning the story in this way is pivotal to how successful it is, because we’re then brought back in time to the events leading up to said point--which include numerous struggles and emotional hardships for our heroine. When it comes to these types of stories, where the main character is basically unfairly treated like someone’s punching bag, it’s very easily to get frustrated on their behalf. Take, “Rising of the Shield Hero” for instance, where Naofumi is forced to clean up the messes of the other heroes and in return gets blamed for crimes he didn’t commit. Another example is “Tess of the d’Urbervilles,” in which Tess is forced to face society’s harsh judgement and support her awful parents at the cost of her own happiness. While the reader does garner a lot of sympathy for the main character, that sympathy can easily turn into a heated anger for the string of unjustices playing out in the story--with both a hope and uncertainty if there will even be a pay-off for it all. This opening reassures the reader that, yes, everything will turn out alright in the end, instead replacing those feelings for a giddy anticipation of sweet, sweet karma.

Spiraling off that point, this also plays a little into Navier’s character as well. She doesn’t know what we, the audience, does; however, she’s a very strong and witty person who navigates herself through the worst of situations with a poker face that would be the envy of any gambler. Yes, she suffers, but she always does whatever she can to rise out of the problem she’s in in the moment. As much as we sympathize with her, we don’t have to mourn with her, because we know she can pick herself up again just fine. Therefore, it’s very easy to root for her as a kind of champion. It makes following her story very calming and refreshing as opposed to the tale of the typical underdog.

Rashta’s character also has its own flavor to it. A sad thing about a lot of modern day villains is that they often get split into two categories: Those who are rotten to the core and those who are merely misunderstood/need redemption. Neither is necessarily bad: It’s moreso the collective whole of villains we see that make the lot of them stale, tiring, and even unbelievable. Rashta finds a nice balance between the two. Without giving anything away, her backstory is sad. We understand that she’s also suffered and is looking for her own happiness. It’s difficult for her to trust others and she feels very alone, like she could be thrown away at any moment. However, she clearly enjoys stepping on other people--even those who don’t have anything to do with her current situation. She expects that other people sympathize with her even as she antagonizes them, such as Navier--the woman who’s husband she’s sleeping with. The slightest, verbal slap-back can make her burst into tears, and she’ll manipulate others not just for her benefit, but also purely for her entertainment--even when the suffering she causes has grave consequences for those individuals. Yes, she has been a victim in the past, but it’s a role she refuses to let go of even when things are going well for her. Yes, we understand Rashta, but her actions make it impossible to feel sorry for her.

While the main conflict is between Navier and Rashta as of the current update to the comic when writing this, don’t think they left a certain insect out of the mix! I’m glad that this story doesn’t just focus on two women fighting over a truly worthless guy as other stories have. A homewrecker is terrible, but it takes two to tango and Sovieshu plays the role of crappy husband perfectly. While it’s addressed that he clearly still “loves” Navier in later chapters, it’s really just an ideal image of her rather than her herself that he projects onto Rashta--and he constantly gaslights/blames Navier for any fault that occurs on his or Rashta’s behalf. He thinks he’s perfect, and wants both Navier and Rashta to follow his “perfect” vision of a single person without paying attention to his own faults. His “love” has turned to possession, and it will be a beautiful day when he wakes up and realizes he’s well past the point of being able to fix his mistakes.

As for Prince Heinrey, the last of our four main characters, I don’t know how much I can say as of right now since I’m also reading the Webnovel, which is much further ahead in the story than the comic. Therefore, I won’t go into too many details. I’ll just say that I do think he is an ideal guy for Navier to turn to, and while the audience can root for the both of them, there’s something a little uncomfortable about it that can tickle the back of the mind. Don’t get me wrong, Heinrey truly loves Navier and comes across as a real prince charming, but the mystery element of a potential conflict between his kingdom and Sovieshu’s/Navier’s makes me wonder if any feelings she has for him will immediately fade due to the danger he poses to her people--even after the remarriage. It’s easy to feel bad for Heinrey too since Navier is just coming off her bad relationship with Sovieshu while he’s already head over heels for her.

That being said, it adds an extra element of suspense that might’ve otherwise been quashed by the opening’s reveal. As much as I praised it, there would be a concern of just giving away the ending of the story like that--but that’s the gem: It’s not the end, it’s the end of an act/arc. There’s so much more to “The Remarried Empress” that we’re only just being given spoonfuls of at a time, and with the focus being on the build-up to the divorce, I get a feeling it may lead to a blindsiding reveal in the future.

Lastly, while this doesn’t have anything to do with the story itself, I have to say that reading the comments of it on Webtoons or posts about it on sites like this are just as entertaining. Everyone’s so sassy that I think the fanbase just keeps riling itself up behind these characters as much as the plot itself. I think if something big did happen in the story, I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone forgot for just a moment that it was fiction and rallied behind Navier all while screaming, “For our beloved queen, we ride at dawn!” because we’d just all be so swept away in our own energy. XD I don’t condone mob mentality, but this is one thing I could get behind.

#the remarried empress #webtoons #webcomic #review #analysis

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professional-benaddict · 4 years ago

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i'm so excited for drug raid pt 2!

part one here!! eeee took forever before I got around to part two bUt here it is!! I hope y'all like it xx

Cop Tony, paramedic Stephen, 18+ Little Peter, Littles are known verse, police raids, drug dealing, illegal drug use, referenced forced drug use, referenced kidnapping, past abuse, withdrawal, hospitalisation, whump, angst, comfort, 1.5k

The next day, Tony waltzes into the hospital with a latte in his hand. Still riding the high of the raid from the night before, the cop feels at the top of his game. He and the rest of the department have the upper hand. The evidence and statements keep pouring in, and it’s all in their favour, which means not so much in the drug dealers’ favour. It’s their third successful raid in just two months, and yet this feels different. The stakes feel higher, and Tony feels like he should be here taking the Little’s statement. He was the one who found him after all, abused and forcefully drugged at the hands of the drug dealers, and on top of it all he was manhandled by an overly excited SWAT guy. Perhaps the SWAT guy had an aggression problem. He wouldn’t be the first.

Tony’s intentions feel more pure than that of the SWAT guys, at least to him, and he likes to think that that was why Fury let him come take the Little’s statement out of all the other officers. To be honest, he likes the kid. He’s intrigued, and not just professionally. Tony doesn’t exactly know what it is, but he’s giddy while waiting in line at the reception to find where his informant is.

“You can just go wait in the car if you want, honey bear.” Tony teases to Rhodey, who’s with him at the hospital. They are partners after all, and they go everywhere together. Well, maybe not everywhere since Rhodey actually takes him up on the offer, muttering something about his overly sensitive nose and the antiseptic smell of the hospital being a perfect mix for a headache. Tony waves him off and tells him to get out of there before he gets cranky.

The receptionist is not able to tell Tony exactly where Peter is, but directs him to the neurological wing where they can show him where the Little is. So, Tony heads up and tosses his empty latte cup on his way there. After some more waiting and flashing of his badge, Tony is escorted by a nurse to see Peter.

“He’s going through withdrawal, and quite badly too. Don’t stress him out, okay? You can always come back another time.” The nurse informs while they walk through some automatic and lockable doors.

“How long is he gonna be here?”

“Till the withdrawal wears off, but the doctor is planning on having him on psych hold when the withdrawal is over. The Little’s handle it the worst, you know? He’s having awful nightmares and suicidal thoughts already. Poor babe…” The nurse adds sadly.

“Yeah…” Tony agrees quietly and steps a bit to the side to let a transporter pushing an empty bed pass them in the hallway. A bit further down the eggshell coloured hallway, the nurse stops and gestures to a door.

“I’ll just head in first and see how he is.” The nurse smiles and slips through the door, leaving Tony to wait in the hallway alone.

The cop resists the urge to look through the window in the door. Just what kind of shape is Peter in? Last time Tony saw him he was unconscious after a seizure. It’s almost unheard of that Littles take drugs, precisely because they can hardly handle it. Their vulnerable bodies cave in at the smallest doses, while a caregiver like Tony could take triple the dose and still get up the next morning. And that is why Littles are never legally punished for drug possession, and instead they are put into treatment to get rehabbed. Some might say that is the same as prison, if you think about the principals of each setting. Limited freedom. And yet there’s a major difference. Tony isn’t here to arrest Peter, only talk to him.

A few moments later, when Tony is about to give in and peak in through the window, the nurse exists again and invites the cop in. The hospital room is quite sad, actually. There’s signs of attempts to make it Little-friendly, but the poorly drawn and creepy cartoon dinosaur has the opposite effect that what was probably intended. The hospital bed is Little proof though, with side rails going all around the bed to keep the patient safe. And Peter does look safe, but also absolutely terrible.

The big, brown eyes go wide when he lays his eyes on Tony, and the cop stays back a bit. The nurse comes forward then and guides Peter to lay back again when he tries to get up. The boy’s movements are clumsy and shaky. Tony guesses he is experiencing muscle aches and fatigue.

“No, no- I don’t- I didn’t…” Peter stutters and looks pleadingly at the nurse. The cop tries to ignore the feeling of being assigned ‘the bad guy’ role, even though he has not said a word yet. He wouldn’t be surprised if the drug dealers brainwashed the boy to never trust cops, or anyone else outside their gag for that matter. Just another manipulation tactic to keep him in check. As if forcefully drugging him isn’t enough.

“Shhh, honey bee. The police office is just going to speak to you. It’s all right.” The nurse coos.

“I didn’t wan’ to do it. They forced me, please…”

“I know, sweetheart, I know. That’s what the officer is here to talk to you about. Just tell the truth and everything will work out, okay? You can push the button anytime and Amanda or one of the other nurses will come, okay?”

And with that the nurse takes her leave, but not before whispering to Tony to take it easy. The officer nods and thanks her, then turns to the boy on the bed.

He looks absolutely terrible, that much is obvious. It looks like Peter is hollow inside, and that his skin is just a facade made of the thinest paper. It the wind where to blow, it might just take Peter along with it. But, Tony knows he is not all hollow inside. The boy’s eyes are pained, and it looks like he is aching to tell his truth, to get everything that is inside out into the world and to someone who can do something. Something to save him. And Tony wants to do precisely that, and so he sits on the chair next to the bed with a soft smile.

“Hi.”

“Hi…”

“I’m Officer Stark, but you can call me Tony.” The officer starts. “You’re Peter. What’s your full name?”

“Benjamin Parker. Peter Benjamin Parker.”

“Benjamin, huh? That’s cute.”

“Is’ after my uncle.”

“Is he around?”

“Dead.” The Little deadpans, fiddling with the hospital blanket.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Tony says sincerely. “Do you have any other family around? Someone we could call?”

“No- uhm, they all dead. But, Beck took me in.”

“Quentin Beck? Right.” Tony sighs a bit. Quentin Beck, as in the Beck who is now in custody at the station. They are still putting together the bigger picture and hierarchy of the gang at the station, but it seems like Beck is in the middle there somewhere. And it seems like Peter is very much in the middle of it all too. “Tell me what happened, from the beginning.”

Peter talks for over half an hour. The boy is so detailed in his descriptions, like he has a photographic memory, that Tony barely has to ask follow up questions, and instead listens as carefully as he can while noting down some key words in his notepad. Sometimes, the boy has to pause to catch his breath or stop himself from crying, but by the end of it the tears finally spill over when Peter starts describing how Beck and the others would drug him against his will. At one point, the boy’s crying is so pained that Tony reaches out to hold his hand. Peter clutches back, like Tony is his anchor in the storm that is his emotional and psychological turmoil. The Little definitely needs to be on psych hold.

In the middle of Peter’s cry, a nurse knocks on the door and enters with a concerned look. She must have been altered due to Peter’s heart rate picking up due to the crying.

“Is everything all right here?” The nurse asks, giving Tony a look. The officer feels like she is accusing him of going too hard on the Little. Once again the bad guy.

“Is- is okay, Amanda…” Peter hiccups and dries his tears bravely. He forces a smile at the nurse when she comes over to check on him.

“Okay, sweetheart, but I think this is enough for today. You need to rest.” Amanda orders kindly, and once again she gives Tony a look. Getting the implied message, Tony rises from his seat and tucks his notepad, now his very precious notepad, into his jacket.

“I’ll come back another time, then.” The officer says.

And Tony does exactly that.

tag list: @petersmocha @garcia-reid-lovechild @stressedboyinprogess @ikneelbeforemygod @sugar-and-spice-parker @robynofthestars @pastel-parker-bitch @tightaroundthewebshooter @puppypeter @carttorchdeatth @starkerplusstrange @starkermoodboards @smits-stuff @honeybunstarker @xsmallplum @everyonelovespetey @ihonestlydontevenknow @baly0110 @velvetjoker @starkerparkerstark @allaboutthatshowmanlife @itsrachael @holographic-starker @bisexual-spiderling @liesversusjoy @littlespaceofyaoi @spanglesandstars @avengerscollection @bennywantstogotosleep @goldenmogar @justanotherfandomthot

#my prompts #little!peter #daddy!tony #daddy!stephen #starker #starkerstrange #strangespider #ironstrange #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker x stephen strange #tony stark x stephen strange #tony stark #peter parker #stephen strange #ask

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hiddendreamer67 · 5 years ago

Text

A Slippery Slope pt. 1

Summary: Logan, a graduate student studying the local ecosystem, discovers that the mystical creature populations are dwindling. He proposes a new theory, of a creature larger than life hiding out in the forest. Logan searches the forest for the beast, forgetting one important detail- in order to find a dangerous apex predator, the predator has to find you.

(Also quick credit- I’ve been brainstorming this world with the wonderful @delimeful who suggested the initial idea. :D )

Check out more of my work at @hiddendreamerwriting!

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Logan stared at his notes, running a hand through his hair distractedly as he looked over the numbers he had practically memorized. “It doesn’t make sense.” He murmured, blinking suddenly as a thought occurred to him. “Or perhaps… it makes perfect sense.”

“What are you on about, Sanders?” His mentor asked, glancing up from his own research work.

“Sir, I’ve been going over the numbers of harpy populations again.” Logan explained, looking up as he tried to work out the logistics of his new theory. “It doesn’t add up. Based on the observations of subjects in captivity, their lifespan is averaged to be fifty years. With the birth expectancy rate being what it is, and conditions being optimal the past few decades, the population should be twice its actual size, if not more.”

“So I take it the Chimeras have been busy.” His mentor shrugged, both of them sharing a brief grim look. Chimeras were awful beasts that dominated the surrounding forests, giant monsters with a lion’s head, goat’s body, and snake tail. They were known for breathing fire and decimating clearings, feasting on whatever creature was foolish enough to cross its path.

“That’s where the anomaly occurs.” Logan adjusted his glasses, pulling together his papers. “The evidence of Chimeras in the area has… decreased.”

“Migrated elsewhere?”

Logan shook his head at the suggestion. “No, evidence has not appeared in any of the surrounding areas. In fact, based on the reports from various rangers, there’s even evidence of deceased Chimeras, in the form of discarded partial remains.”

His mentor hummed, considering this new information. “So then, what, the Chimeras are growing territorial? Beating each other up?”

“The chances of such behavior being the case are infinitesimal.” Logan negated. “Chimeras are known to welcome pack tactics. Even with the decrease in harpy populations there are plenty of other sources of food in the area so as not to necessitate violence over resources, and certainly no reason to resort to cannibalism.”

“Cannibalism?” The mentor’s eyebrows raised.

“Why else would a whole corpse not be discarded?” Logan supported his statement. “These reports indicate only small portions of the Chimera’s structure being left behind. In several accounts the horns were discovered, as well as the snake tail looking as though it were severed.”

“Hmm.” His mentor slowly turned in his chair, facing Logan head on. “So you have a theory then?”

“I do.” Logan nodded, taking a moment to straighten up. He took a deep breath. “I believe there’s a larger apex predator hunting them.”

Unsurprisingly, his mentor looked at him in disbelief. “What? What do ya mean, you think there’s something bigger than a Chimera? How the hell would we miss something like that?”

“I have no idea.” Logan admitted. “Perhaps it is new to the area, or especially skilled at camouflage. It’s exceptionally possible that there have been previous fatal encounters chalked up to be caused by one of the other several dangers of the forest. But regardless, all the evidence points to-”

“To a disease.” His mentor cut him off. “The Chimera’s likely developed some virus that’s working through their system and driving ‘em all mad. It would explain their behavior and is more plausible than a giant man eating beast nobody’s seen.”

Logan pursed his lips, never a fan of being told he was wrong.

“Look, Logan, you’re a smart kid.” His mentor explained gently, hitting another one of Logan’s buttons by calling him a child. “I think this research of yours is really admirable, it’ll make a fine thesis. You’re really onto something here. But don’t go blowing it by hypothesizing outside the realm of reality.”

Logan did not deign him with a response, appearing a bit huffy as he began to pack up his papers. It almost appeared he was a pouting child, if not for his business attire indicating his seriousness.

“I don’t want to discourage you.” His mentor continued. “This is truly remarkable! If you could discover the disease that’s infecting the Chimera population, your research would be published for certain. I can help you gain the necessary resources, it may be difficult to gain access to live samples but until then I have some friends down in the lab-”

“Thank you.” Logan cut him off with a curt nod. “I… appreciate the assistance. But I want to re-investigate my own claims before I pursue this route.”

His mentor sighed knowingly. “I know, your first discovery is always difficult. Take your time, if you want to look into this ‘apex predator’ thing by all means don’t let me stop you, but remember that your thesis needs to be built on hard evidence- not just theories.”

“Yes, I understand.” Logan gave him a soft smile. He gathered up the last of his belongings, bidding his mentor farewell before heading out the door. As soon as he left the room, Logan’s smile faded. Evidence. How was he supposed to gain evidence of a creature thought to not exist?

Well, there was only one thing to it, Logan supposed- Logan would just have to find the apex predator himself.

Now Logan was no fool, he’d grown up in the town of Sireville and knew the dangers as well as any inhabitant. It was a risky business, traversing into the forest, but Logan also knew that numbers would attract unwanted attention. He knew these woods well enough to recognize signs of danger as well as any anomalies that would prove he was on the right track. Logan was also intelligent enough to wait until the following morning, not venturing out at a time when night could befall him. To be caught in the woods at night never ended well.

It would be perhaps wise to let someone know where he was going, but if something went wrong to the point where Logan couldn’t handle himself the only thing a rescued party would discover would be his remains. Logan shuddered briefly at the thought as he entered his kitchen, giving his mother a wave before gathering the necessary supplies for his trip.

“What’s got you all dressed up?” His mother asked, peering over the counter at his attire. Logan had changed from his usual business casual into something more fitting for the forest, equipping a sturdy set of boots over his hiking pants and throwing on his tactical long sleeved shirt.

“Field study.” Logan explained, purposefully being vague as he finished packing his backpack.

“Alright, be safe.” She frowned lightly at him. “Don’t wander too far, alright? And stay on the paths.”

“I’ll be alright.” Logan reassured her, purposefully avoiding making any promises as he stepped out the door. This certainly wasn’t the first time he went out to gather evidence, having done it on several occasions throughout his studies, but it would certainly be the furthest journey yet if his expedition proved successful. Logan had taken the necessary precautions, packing extra rations should the day grow long. He didn’t pack anything for camping through the night, intending on hiking back before nightfall. At the very least he wouldn’t be foolish enough to fall asleep in the middle of the woods with so many creatures patrolling.

Logan took a deep breath, stepping in amongst the trees that had grown so familiar. He made a quick pace, wanting to get as deep as possible before the light faded. The college student took note of his surroundings, waiting for any sign of the extraordinary that he had not viewed before. The further he traveled the less familiar the trees became, growing further apart- a sure sign that larger beings had pushed them aside and nature adapted to the creature’s whims. It was truly terrifying the things that some beasts could accomplish, the impact they could have on the world around them possibly without even noticing it.

What sort of beast was Logan tracking, anyhow? He began to ponder this, growing tense as the background chattering of birds became accompanied with the low shifting of some great beasts far off. Logan paused, observing his surroundings and trying to pinpoint the noise. Could that be his target? Surely not, it wouldn’t be so easy. And yet Logan hardly recognized this clearing, and the markings upon the trees were different from any left by a harpy taking flight. Instead the limbs seemed… weary, as if something of great weight had been draped across them.

Observing further, Logan grabbed his journal and began to take diligent notes of his surroundings, adding accompanying drawings when necessary for illustration purposes. Now keeping a keen eye out for details, Logan spotted a familiar slithering track upon the forest floor. A lesser field scientist might have dismissed it for that of a Chimera’s tail, but Logan noticed there were no accompanying footprints. Furthermore, the track was far too thick to belong to a Chimera snake.

No, whatever creature laid these tracks was larger than a Chimera. Logan was practically giddy with excitement, scribbling frantically into his notebook. He was right! Some disease, indeed. Curiosity overtaking him, Logan wasn’t thinking clearly as he blindly followed the tracks deeper into the forest. The trees began to twist and curl in unnatural patterns, bent out of shape to make shade or revealing clearings of sunlight in others. Logan leapt over a fallen decaying trunk, pondering what other evidence he might discover. Perhaps some of the Chimera pieces? A discarded scale or feather? Or perhaps…

Logan froze, hearing a soft whistling noise coming from further up the path. It had a familiar pattern to it, slowly Logan recognizing the sound as faint snoring. He crept closer, now incredibly mindful of where his feet were placed. Logan peeked through the underbrush, barely holding in his gasp at the sight that awaited him.

Or perhaps the creature itself.

Logan couldn’t comprehend what was before him. At first, all Logan could process was the gigantic, ever so slightly shifting wall of red scales before him, aligned in the familiar pattern of a reptile. Before he even made an initial hypothesis Logan’s head snapped up at the sound of another snore, a hand going to his mouth at the sight. It seemed that this giant reptilian beast had a homo sapien upper half, not unlike a harpy or the merfolk. A naga.

Logan had only heard tales of them, always assumed to be mere legends or perhaps having gone extinct ages ago. But looking at the sight before him the notion of going extinct seemed ridiculous. What could possibly wipe out such a gargantuan creature, clearly bred to dominate the ecosystem? Certainly nothing less than another meteor shower.

Entranced, Logan was ever cautious as he raised his pencil to his notepad, giving one practice skritch across the paper. He flinched at the noise, but the clearing remained undisturbed. Logan gave the tiniest sigh of relief, knowing that at any moment he could be in very imminent danger.

But what was the harm in staying one moment longer to observe? If the beast were to wake this moment, Logan would certainly be unable to outrun it should the naga pursue. He would be in harm’s way anywhere, so Logan took advantage of this opportunity and began to expertly sketch the creature. He had come this far after all. Best not to waste it.

Logan stuck his tongue out in concentration, not wanting to miss a detail even in his haste to finish and get out before the creature woke. His eyes glanced up every few moments, taking in the monster’s posture. It’s position was languid, relaxed back upon its own tail as if using it as a bean bag chair. It appeared to be quite pleased, likely taking pleasure from soaking in the sun that poured through. One arm lay across its forehead, the other straight back so its fingers just grazed the ground. Logan took careful note of these appendages, aware of the sharp claws on each one and how they twitched every so often in sleep.

His drawing was beginning to take form, having captured most details he could from this angle. Logan was debating the pros and cons of attempting to move to get another angle when the naga let out a large yawn, briefly displaying its fangs. Eagerly Logan flipped to a new page, jotting down a new sketch before the sight disappeared entirely. Why, by his estimations one of those fangs could easily dwarf his entire arm in length.

So enraptured in his work was he that Logan failed to notice the yawn was only the beginning of a chain of events. The creature’s claws left the ground, coming up to stretch above its head with a creaking of bones that got Logan’s attention. He froze, watching the intimidating beast stretch skyward as it lifted its torso and basked in the sun for a moment more.

Slowly it dawned on Logan what a precarious situation he was in; his research would all be for naught if he died before presenting his findings. Logan clutched his journal to his chest, heart pounding as he watched the naga sniff the air. It didn’t take a student fluent in animal behaviors to know exactly what scent the creature had picked up as it frowned, tongue stuck out to sniff the air again.

Under normal circumstances, Logan would hope estimate that, being so small in comparison, a naga would pay a human no mind. There were much larger creatures in the forest that would make more filling prey. However, half-humans always seemed to have a dangerous curiosity about their counterparts, and Logan had trespassed into this being’s territory.

Logan gulped, all color draining from his face as those piercing red eyes bore directly down onto him. Immediately Logan turned to run (a fruitless effort), but before he had even fully turned Logan felt himself yanked backwards and into the air, eliciting a cry from the startled human who frantically tried to keep a grip on both his glasses and his book as he found himself dangling painfully upside-down, only the grip of those claws on his left leg keeping him from falling to a quick demise.

Logan found himself feeling a bit dizzy as he was brought before the naga’s face. Those fangs were perhaps a bit less intriguing as they cruelly smiled at him, the naga’s eyes boring into his soul as he was turned this way and that like a curious bauble.

“Why hello there, my little morsel.” The naga’s statement rumbled with dangerous curiosity, sending a wave of warm breath over Logan that made the human shudder. If he were not so entranced with those perilous teeth (was that a venomous sac below the rearmost fangs?) Logan might have noticed the alarming glint in its eyes. “I don’t think one of you has ever wandered this far, not without my rancid brother getting a hand on them first at least.”

Oh good lord there’s two of them. Logan jolted at this newest realization. Two? No wonder the populations were dwindling so drastically.

“So what makes you so special?” The naga tilted its head, poking Logan with a single claw, eliciting a startled breath in from the human who was very surprised he hadn’t just been torn to shreds. For now the naga seemed amused enough to watch as Logan slowly began to rotate, clearly toying with him in its ‘playful’ demeanor. “Well? Go on then, does the meager human speak?”

“I-I-” Logan cringed, loathing the sound of his own voice as it had raised an octave. It didn’t help that all the blood was rushing to his head. He cleared his throat, holding on to the minuscule hope that such a beast could be reasoned with. “Yes, I can speak.”

With a flick of its wrist Logan once again found himself airborne, letting out a high pitched noise of protest before finding himself one skipped heartbeat later once again within the monster’s clutches, this time right side up.

“‘Squeak’ is more like it.” The naga chuckled, prodding Logan’s side. The human winced away from the touch, though it was difficult with how tightly the claws were curled around him. Logan could feel his journal digging into his side.

Still, Logan couldn’t help but frown, feeling that he was being mocked.

The naga hummed, seeming to debate with itself for a moment. “So what were you doing spying on me anyhow?” It asked, its expression betraying a hint of confusion. “I heard your heart racing a mile a minute in that bush.”

Logan cringed. “You… you did?”

“Why I would have expected to find a hummingbird, I could hardly have missed it!” The naga scoffed. “And yet for all your jitters you didn’t move a muscle. Did fear make you freeze? Are you simply stupid?”

“No.” Logan answered, perhaps a bit too petulantly for dealing with a gigantic predator. He coughed, checking his temper. “I mean, ah, I was perhaps too absorbed in my own jubilation, as I had been looking for you.”

“For me?” The creature seemed to almost purr, its smile returning as Logan felt the grip around him loosen ever so slightly. “Oh, how you flatter me. Then of course you must have appreciated what you found?”

“Well...yes?” Logan turned a bit red, unaccustomed to this line of socialization. T’was a true pity his life was resting on his perilous social skills. “That is to say, you’re certainly extraordinary, surpassing all my initial expectations.”

“Hmm.” Pleased with this response, the naga settled to lay stomach down on its own scales, holding Logan out before it. The claws shifted again, now forming a sort of basin so that Logan could sit freely. “How so?”

By all of Logan’s calculations, this was going well. The creature seemed entertained enough to spare his life, for now. Logan just needed to keep the conversation going until… well, Logan preferred to focus on the present even as those perilous jaws loomed so casually above him.

“I suppose, firstly, your very existence was an unexpected surprise.” Logan adjusted his glasses, the frames having become skewed in all the excitement. “Very rarely are my assumptions incorrect, so I knew there was some manner of apex predator roaming these woods, but as to your exact classification I admit that was a mystery. There is a common understanding that nagas are creatures of legend, or perhaps long extinct. Certainly…” Logan paused, realizing perhaps this wasn’t the most logical point to bring up. “Certainly if others have discovered you, none have returned to tell the tale.”

The naga gave a scoff. “That’d be my brother’s doing, no doubt. Did you know we used to be worshiped apparently? Back in the golden days we were like gods. That was before people like him started experimenting with other uses for humans. Wasteful, if you ask me, disposing of such large numbers so quickly-”

“I wholly agree.” Logan spoke up too soon.

The naga snorted, clearly amused by the human’s timing. “I, on the other hand, prefer to play with my food.”

“...ah.” Well, that was a less than ideal response. Logan cleared his throat, trying to hide his nerves as he curled a bit in on himself, readjusting the grip on his journal. “So, ah, you mentioned a brother twice now, as well as hinting at others. How many of you are there?”

The monster frowned slightly, and Logan immediately regretted his question. “...Well I hardly think it matters, we nagas keep to ourselves well enough. Lucky you for stumbling upon the best naga of them all.” This last statement was accompanied by a very cocky smile.

“Hmm.” Logan wasn’t certain he agreed, but naturally he had no subjects to compare. “I was merely curious as I conduct research on local wildlife and wanted to compare behavioral traits between your kind and the Coachwhip species, of which your scale pattern most resembles.”

The naga blinked, glancing down at its tail as if for the first time. “It does?”

��As far as I can tell, yes.” Logan turned to his journal, flipping back through the pages. He cursed, realizing his reptile notes were in a different book. “Alright, my apologies, I forgot my scale reference sketches back home, but see?” Logan pulled up the sketch of the naga himself instead, pointing at the tail pattern. “The pattern of your scales represents a braided whip-”

“Is that me?” The naga cut him off excitedly, Logan’s stomach lurching as he was raised higher.

Logan blinked, glancing between his drawing and its inspiration. “...yes?”

He watched the naga’s reaction very carefully, hoping the monster was pleased with what it observed. At first Logan worried that the beast would be enraged at the fact Logan had been spying for an extended period, or worse yet perhaps it would feel the need to destroy his notebook to remove any evidence of its existence. To his relief, the creature seemed to be almost pleased as it took in the intricacies of the drawing.

“You made this?” A careful pair of claws pinched at the journal. Logan tightened his grip, before realizing that in a strength contest either the naga would win or his book would be shredded. With this in mind he reluctantly released, watching the massive being lift the journal ever higher to view it above its head as if to shine light through counterfeit currency.

“Yes, I have always been known for my attention to detail, and illustrations have been proven to assist in comprehension of reports-”

“Can you do it again?” The naga cut him off, handing Logan back his notebook.

“I, yes, I suppose.” Logan furrowed his brow, confused. “Right now?”

“Well it hardly appears as if you’re doing much else at the moment.” The naga gave a loud, purposeful yawn, displaying its fangs. “Of course, I’m certain I can find other, tastier ways to spend our time together…”

“Understood.” Logan grimaced, the monster’s subtlety lacking. “Very well then, is there a- particular feature you want me to illustrate?”

“Don’t go cutting any of my gorgeous figure off!” The naga scoffed. “I best be seeing my beauty tip to tail, you hear me?”

“It would be impossible not to.” Logan tried to hide his growing irritation. “But to create such a piece, I’ll need to be placed on the ground so as to have an appropriate vantage point.”

His request was considered. “Very well.” The naga agreed, setting him once again down on the ground.

Logan stumbled, surprised to once again feel solid ground under his feet. It was astounding- just moments ago, Logan would have doubted his ability to experience this ever again.

“Tick tock, come now with your tiny talents.” The naga poked him with an impatient claw. Quickly regaining his composure, Logan pulled out his writing utensil and opened to a clean page.

“Is there a particular angle you’d prefer?” Logan asked.

“I am a priceless gem, I sparkle from all angles.” The creature purred, striking a pose where it was once again draped over its own tail as if lounging on a fainting couch.

Logan huffed, fighting the urge to rant about how light reflection actually works. He glanced around, taking a few steps back and debating only for a moment if he should turn tail and leave.

“I hope you’re not thinking of running off on me.” The naga seemed to read his thoughts, raising a taunting eyebrow.

Logan jumped, focusing back to the task at hand. “I’m not.” He lied, finally putting his pencil to the pad. “Just finding the best setup location.”

The naga hummed, clearly not believing a word, but seemed satisfied to watch Logan work. A bit too satisfied, as it leaned up and attempted to watch over Logan’s shoulder.

“Stop looming, you’ll cast shadows.” Logan huffed. “And if you keep moving about I’ll never finish, sit still.”

“You’ll never finish regardless.” The naga pouted, but flopped back amongst its coils. “You’re taking forever.”

“It has hardly been a minute.” Logan debated in his head how slowly he could draw without generating suspicion. He wanted to drag this event out as long as possible, having full knowledge that if the naga was satisfied with Logan’s work he might deem Logan’s task- and thus his life- as finished. Logan shuddered at the thought.

Clearly bored, the naga’s attention was once again focused solely on Logan, preventing any escape attempts. It was quite distracting, having those piercing eyes staring down at him so intently. It was especially infuriating that Logan couldn’t guess as to what it was thinking.

Why make him draw the creature again? Surely one drawing would be enough? Perhaps it merely wanted an illustration where it could be alert and poised. But what would come next? Would the naga request more illustrations, or would the monster be satisfied? What would occur if Logan’s pencil broke? Or perhaps the creature grew hungry before Logan was even finished? Would it bother to wait around long enough for Logan to complete his depiction, or would Logan be sent down its ravenous throat at the first sign of an appetite?

“What’s your name?”

Logan blinked, stumbling out of his thought process. “...pardon?” The question felt far too mundane considering the circumstances.

“Humans have names, don’t they?” The naga tilted its head. “What’s yours?”

Logan was still perplexed that it had thought to ask. “Logan. Logan Sanders.”

The naga nodded, giving him a smile that might have been intended to be encouraging.

“...and what is your name?” Logan asked finally, realizing that’s what it wanted.

“You may call me Roman.” The naga- er, Roman- introduced himself, accompanying the statement with a little wave of his hand and a half bow.

Under normal circumstances, Logan might be expected to say it was a pleasure to meet Roman. “Stop moving.” Logan reminded him instead.

“Well aren’t you a barrel of fun, Logan.” Roman paused, rolling the name around on his tongue as he tried it out. “Logan. Looooogan. Logan! You know, once you get used to it it’s not all that terrible.”

Logan paused, once again feeling utterly perplexed as he peered up at Roman. “My name differs from yours in only three letters.”

“And what difference those three letters make.” Roman breathed an imaginary sigh of relief. He teasingly grinned at Logan. “Oh come now, I jest, live a little, Lo!”

“My name is Logan, not Lo.” Logan corrected immediately, loathing when individuals shortened his name. Roman snorted. “What’s so amusing?”

“I just realized my choice of phrasing.” Roman’s grin turned sly. “‘Live a little,’ and you are also yourself little- should be quite easy then, eh?”

Logan refused to acknowledge the jab for several moments, eventually caving with the urge to defend himself. “I am above average height for a human being, actually.” Logan felt the need to inform him.

“Well good for you.” Roman teased, and all of a sudden one of his knuckles was ruffling Logan’s hair. It startled the human enough to make him take a step back, pausing his work to readjust his appearance. The naga seemed to be finished toying with him, for now, and allowed Logan to fall back into the quiet lapse of his work. Unfortunately, with the naga’s round of questioning, Logan found his thoughts drifting elsewhere until he felt compelled to ask a few questions of his own.

“Why did you inquire about my name?” Logan asked, knowing he was venturing down a dangerous topic bringing up his own future. “It seems a bit sadistic to ask if you intend to… if you have ill intentions for myself.”

It was a bold risk, but Logan was curious if perhaps this was similar to the phenomenon of humans becoming attached to animals after naming them. If Logan could market himself in just the right way, perhaps the naga would be more taken with the novelty of his artistic talents and find he was a valuable enough individual to not end his days within Roman’s stomach.

“Hmm, I like to know.” The naga’s noncommittal shrug squashed the hopes right out of Logan. “Speaking of, are you done yet?”

Logan’s blood ran cold. “Ah, no, not quite yet.”

“Hurry up, I’m growing famished.” Roman groaned, not encouraging Logan to hurry up in the slightest. “You take much longer and I’ll just have to settle for you.”

“Settle?” Logan refused to let himself perk up too much at the peculiar word choice. “So you’re...not going to….?”

Roman laughed as if Logan was a fool. “Oh please, you’d hardly be filling. I feast on Chimeras, you’re nothing.”

Logan had never felt more elated to be told he was nothing.

“A snack, perhaps.” Roman gave him a pointed look. “A tasty one at that, if you don’t get a move on. So chip-chop, Mini Muse.”

“A muse is a source of inspiration, not the craftsman.” Logan corrected, hurrying up all the same. His heart had begun to pound with a mixture of excitement and nerves. “There, it’s finished.”

“Oh do let me see.” With a great amount of slithering the massive tail began to unravel, curling around Logan as it stretched out. Before Logan could be constricted amongst the coils Roman reached down and once again scooped up the human. Logan lost his balance briefly, settling into a safe sitting position before presenting the journal to be viewed. “Why, it’s gorgeous!”

“I’m certainly grateful it’s to your liking.” Logan conceded. He never looked at his drawings with an artistic eye, focused solely on being anatomically correct for his diagrams.

“Oh indeed, it’s amazing you can make out all my tiny features.” Roman squinted down at the paper. “A shame your works are so small, I wish to appreciate them more. You’re so fortunate to be graced with the real thing.”

“Indeed.” Logan deadpanned. He glanced at the sky, noticing the sun beginning to sink lower in the horizon. “It appears to be getting late, and I’ve likely wasted enough of your precious time. I’m certain you have several tasks which you must complete, so if you’ll just set me down-”

“Set you down?” Roman raised an eyebrow. “Why Logan, I think you and I have different ideas of how this evening will go.”

This was all the warning Logan got before Roman lunged, and a sharp pain shooting up Logan’s side. Logan hissed, completely in shock as his tense form attempted to process what just happened. His mouth gaped open, stuttering as he tried to react to the situation even as his mind clogged up.

“Shh.” Roman’s rumbling voice was right in his ear, the sound all encompassing as Logan’s vision blurred. The last thing he was aware of was Roman murmuring for him to “-just give in.”

#g/t #sanders sides #roman #logan #human!logan #naga!roman #naga #giant naga #giant/tiny #me? writing fanfic again?#...maybe

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marvels-agents100 · 5 years ago

Text

the thing about love

volume I

sure, it could hurt you, baby, but give a little try

pairing: aaron hotchner x gender neutral ! reader

warnings: gore, death, blood, aaron is sad and traumatized, reader is shot, the usual,,, reader attempts to seduce a man at one point

word count: 14,685 (grab a snack, babes)

author’s note: welcome to s l o w b u r n central, also, this is currently my pride and joy, my lil babey, please love her

You knew he wasn’t yours to have. His heart had left him long ago, locked in a box in the back corner of his closet, leaving behind a dark void between the cobwebbed bars of his ribs, his burdened breaths a soft echo inside his chest. The only love, the only care he felt he was really capable of was the love he held for Jack. And yet, he laid in bed every night and wished the silk of his sheets would cover him completely, swallowing him into wherever he went when he fell asleep, locking the door behind him and losing the key. The guilt alone was eating him alive- how dare he feel exhausted for loving his son?- and it never left his mind, no matter how focused he was on a case. The lack of compartmentalization was something that would take time to get used to.

You saw it on his face, every time the glass door to the BAU swung open with the push of a heavy arm, every time the lines under his eyes became darker and deeper, every time he sighed like the sorrow and darkness that plagued his mind had leaned upon his shoulders once more. It killed you to see the weight he carried every day; you couldn’t begin to imagine how he felt. What completely broke the beat within your chest was how much you wished you could help, yet you knew he would never let you.

That was, until he did.

You had joined the BAU after Elle left, also specializing in sex crimes. The team is your family, your life, and everything in between. You watched them rise and fall, love and lose, laugh and cry. And every time one of you needed help, the others were there to support each other. It was a beautiful, wonderful thing, the BAU. And that beautiful, wonderful thing also included a certain Aaron Hotchner. Most of the team were too intimidated to ever really try prying into Hotch’s psyche, especially since Hailey died. However, one particular day, you couldn’t stop yourself.

Your knuckles tapped gently on the door to his office, your ear close to the wood, listening for a response. The blinds had been drawn the entire day, and hours had passed since the rest of the team had departed. If you didn’t know better, you would worry if Aaron was even alive in his office.

“Come in,” his voice rumbled, the words slipping past his lips with a small sigh.

You opened the door cautiously, first looking inside, then fully stepping in. It shut behind you with a soft click, Aaron’s eyes never looking up from the file before him. His left hand lazily dragged out a signature along the bottom of the page. Your arms tightened around the small stack of files you held in your arms- a compilation of yours, Spencer’s, and Emily’s.

You cleared your throat softly, “Hotch,” you greeted, a polite smile on your lips as his gaze finally flickered up to you, “this is all the work from Spence, Emily, and I on the Atlanta case.”

“You can leave it on the table there,” he gestured towards a small end table with his pen, before returning to his writing, “thank you.”

You nodded, setting the stack of papers down softly, stealing a glance at him before turning and making your way back to the door. Your hand hesitated as it reached for the knob, your heart begging you to turn around and talk to him, comfort him, absolutely anything to just help him.

He noticed your hesitation, your frozen stance by the door catching his attention. He sat up fully, his pen dropping on the desk as his brows knitted together.

“Is there something else, (Y/L/N)?”

Your outstretched and hovering hand slowly closed to a fist, your eyes shutting as you realized there was no way to play this off without him being suspicious. You turned to him, meeting his gaze and trying to keep from caving under his intense stare.

“Actually,” your hands ran down your pant legs, and you found yourself finding a seat across from him, “there… there is.”

He leaned forward on the desk, his expression still studying you, but his voice softening as he recognized how nervous you were, “What’s going on?”

“Sir,” you began, having trouble meeting his eyes, “I don’t want to overstep, and I know you’re a private person, but you’ve been in this office all day with the blinds shut and the door closed and- well, I’m sure I speak for the whole team right now- but we’re worried that you’re not okay, and if you wanted to talk- not that you’d need to, I’m sure you can work through a lot on your own, being knowledgeable in psychology and all-“

“(Y/N).” He cut off your rambling, your eyes finally snapping to his when he said your name. He paused for a beat before continuing, “I’m sorry if I worried you.”

You sighed, trying to not be discouraged by his complete avoidance of your question.

“What’s going on, Hotch?” You asked softly. He looked down at his hands, sighing deeply.

“It’s nothing you have to worry about,” he shook his head slightly as he spoke.

“But I do. And I will. I worry, you know that.” You gave him a small smile when his gaze lifted back to you. He returned it for only a moment before it dropped away from his lips.

“It’s just…” he took another breath, “it would’ve… it would’ve been her birthday today.”

As his voice croaked out those words, you felt the beating of your heart stop. The physical ache made you drop your head for a moment, just to catch your breath.

“I’m so sorry, I-“

“It’s okay.” He interrupted you again, “I know it’s been a while now, and I’ve been able to make peace, for the most part. But, every time today comes around, or Christmas, Thanksgiving- hell, whenever any holiday comes around- he always… Jack always-“

He couldn’t finish his sentence, his hand coming to rest against the bridge of his nose, catching the tears that threatened to spill over. Your head tilted as you watched him, tears of your own beginning to gloss your eyes.

“He asks about her, doesn’t he?” Your voice was barely a whisper.

Aaron sniffled, letting a deep breath straighten his back again as he tried to compose himself.

He nodded, “Yeah, he does,” he scoffed and shook his head, “I never know what to say.” The chuckle that fell from his lips was humorless, just a sad acknowledgment of how pathetic he felt.

“God, Aaron, who would?” Your once hesitant hand reached forward and rested upon his, “You are living in a situation with Jack that no one could have prepared you for, one that no one will ever have the answers for.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” He joked, a single laugh escaping as he used his free hand to wipe away a tear. You let out a watery chuckle, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Yes, because despite the fact that there isn’t a single parenting manual on raising a kid like Jack, everything that you have figured out on your own has made him into the wonderful little boy he is.” You smiled at him, “You are an amazing father. The world deserves more dads that are like you.”

He gave your hand a squeeze, a real, genuine smile gracing his lips. A moment passed before he spoke again.

“Thank you, (Y/N), I appreciate you checking in on me.”

“We were all worried, sir.” You replied, “And we all know you don’t really talk about the dark, stormy thoughts that bounce around that head of yours,” he chuckled at that, “but, I felt like you needed to know: we’re always here. I’m always here. If you want to talk, if you want me to talk and distract your thoughts, if you just need the presence of someone in the room- no matter what it is- I’m here.”

He nodded once, eyes never leaving yours, “Thank you.” His voice was much quieter now.

You gave his hand a pat and stood, smoothing down your pants with your palms.

“Anytime.”

He stood as well, circling his desk to open the door to the office. You were close behind, stopping short when the door didn’t open. Aaron’s hand was stagnant on the knob, his eyes locked on yours.

“What is it?” You asked, a confused look on your face.

“I-“ he paused, then shook his head and opened the door, “have a good night, (Y/N).”

You nodded politely, choosing to ignore his behavior, knowing he had already made himself vulnerable enough for the night.

“You too, sir.”

***

“(Y/N), Spence, we have a case.” JJ breezed by the two of you, heading for the conference room. You were hovering over Spencer’s shoulder, his hand scribbling on the beaten pages of a legal pad. It was his idea, attempting to solve the Zodiac’s cypher. He could pick out patterns with a single glance, and you were able to add the small, less logical and structured details that his analytical mind always seemed to miss.

Needless to say, neither of you had figured anything out. It was simply a way to pass down time.

Upon entering the conference room, Spencer close behind, you found your seat between Emily and Derek. Penelope began pulling images onto the screen, her brightly colored fingernails tapping softly on her tablet. You leaned back in your chair, toes rocking it ever so lightly back and forth, back and forth. Hotch was the last to arrive only seconds later, his presence alone notifying you of his arrival. He had a way of making himself known before speaking a single word.

“Garcia,” he urged, signaling for her to begin.

“Alright,” she began, the unmistakable sunshine leaking through her words, “giddy up, cow boys and girls, you’re headed to Houston!”

You had to hold back your giggle- it sounded like she was pitching a dream vacation.

“Unfortunately, it’s not to attend the rodeo, but to find who killed these three men in the past month.” Three pictures flashed onto the screen, the bodies of three victims displaying before the BAU. “The bodies of Tyee, Kele, and Dakota were found three weeks, two weeks, and almost one week ago.”

“Why are we just now being called in?” You asked.

Garcia sighed, almost sadly, “Police claim to have not seen a connection, but others living on the reservation say that police didn’t try to.”

A pause fell over the room, the only movement being Derek’s head shaking slightly in disappointment.

“Cause of death?” Hotch asked, breaking the small silence.

"They were all shot once in the chest, then- and this is an image that will never leave my mind- were scalped. If that wasn’t enough gross and icky for you, they were all missing their left thumb.”

“Tyee Begaye, Kele Etcitty, Dakota Nez. All mid 30’s, all Native American, all living in the Alabama-Coushatta reservation. The similarity between them all makes me think they could be surrogates,” Morgan stated, his fingers carding through the file before him.

“What are they wearing?” Emily asked, referring to the burlap and tan clothing that, frankly, looked like a cheap and offensive Halloween costume.

“That, my lovely Emily, would be an attempt at traditional Native clothing.” Garcia replied, “Strong emphasis on attempt.”

“The scalping indicates that the Unsub is probably white, since the textbooks teach that it was purely a Native ritual. In reality, it was a white governor who offered rewards for ‘Indian scalps’.” Your fingers made air quotes around your words, “Maybe we have a white supremacist who is trying to seek some twisted form of revenge.”

“The missing thumb interests me,” Rossi thinks out loud, “is there a ritual or tradition that involves the thumb?”

“Not necessarily,” Spencer spoke, “however, the now disbanded Atakapa tribe lived along the Gulf of Mexico, until an epidemic nearly killed the entirety of the tribe in the late 18th century. They believed in life after death, and anyone who died by a snakebite, or whose corpse was eaten by another human, would be denied that afterlife.”

“Why would our Unsub be displaying rituals from a tribe that doesn’t exist?” JJ questioned.

“That’s a question we can answer on the plane,” Hotch stood from his chair, “if our Unsub sticks to his timeline, we have two days to find him before he kills again. Wheels up in 30.”

***

Discussion on the plane wasn’t leading very far, mostly because of the lack of information the team had on the murders. It was abundantly clear that local authorities, or at least the particular officers that had investigated the murders, didn’t take much interest in actually finding who had commit them. It was incredibly frustrating, knowing that you and your team could be miles closer to finding a serial killer if prejudice didn’t stand in the way of justice.

You pushed those thoughts away, knowing that thinking too hard about it would just infuriate you. There wasn’t time to be angry, you had to focus.

“Why the outfits?” Rossi asked, “These men are clearly Native American, why feel the need to dress them in stereotypical clothing?”

“It has to be a part of the fantasy,” JJ answers, “they look like they’re characters from a western.”

“What time period was traditional clothing like this worn?” Emily inquired, her eyes never leaving the file in front of her.

“When forced assimilation of the 19th and 20th centuries began, traditional clothing stopped being made in the name of appeasing the powers that be,” Spencer began, fingers wiggling with his words, “Most traditional, Native American fashion designers began making clothing only for certain celebrations and rituals, exclusively for personal use. It wasn’t until 1934 that the passage of the Indian Reorganization Act began to encourage the production of traditional clothing once more. The patterns and weaving we see in modern fashion today all began in 1942, when Native American fashion was featured in a high profile fashion show, and instead of being discouraged, was appreciated. Most designers use their Native roots to assimilate traditional textile with modern trends in order to reach a larger audience.”

“So clothing like this isn’t mass produced?” Morgan asked.

“Unless it’s close to October 31st, no,” Spencer answered.

“It’s August, there’s no way he purchased these almost a year ago, he wouldn’t have been able to control his urges for that long.” Emily shook her head, completely baffled.

“Maybe he’s making them?” You offered, doubt in your voice, “I mean, they don’t exactly look well made.”

“He could be ordering them online,” Hotch countered.

“Alright, alright,” JJ interrupted, “I think the significance lies in what the costumes are supposed to mean. He’s calling back to before the 19th century. What fantasy is exclusive to that time frame and involves Native Americans?”

“If we had more information on the killing itself, I feel like a lot of these questions would be answered,” Dave’s voice was laced with frustration.

“I agree,” Hotch began, “Prentiss, Morgan, I want you to talk to the ME, try to find absolutely anything that wasn’t reported. David, (Y/L/N), go to the newest scene and see if you can add to the reports as well. Reid, JJ, and I will go set up at the station, start interviewing families and the officers that were on the original scenes. We need to get all the information they neglected to share,” Hotch directed, approving nods coming from the rest of the team.

“And if they try to stop us?” Morgan asked, Hotch giving him a confused look.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“Look, when I was with the Chicago PD, I saw this kind of prejudice within my own precinct. Bad cops won’t stop being bad cops just because we’re in their jurisdiction.”

Hotch paused a moment before speaking.

“Our job is to build a profile and catch whoever is doing this,” he began, “and we are going to do that, even if a bad cop- or anyone, for that matter- tries to get in our way. We’ve dealt with worse than this; I have faith that this team can still perform successfully.”

Morgan nodded in agreement, but you knew he still had his doubts, “Yes, sir.”

You all had dispersed through the jet, Emily and Spencer fiddling with a chess board between them, Morgan and Rossi both listening to music and staring dramatically through the window, and JJ flipping through her file in her own space, reading and rereading every word until her eyes ached. It was a habit, she knew, trying to memorize every detail of the case in order to justify her decision to present it to the team. Although choosing cases was no longer her responsibility, she still found herself with the guilt of not being able to help every person whose name was written in manila files on her desk.

You sat across from Hotch, him close to the window, your feet propped up on his unused armrest. You hummed lowly to yourself while glancing over the file, fingers tapping against the manila to the beat of your voice.

“You know,” Hotch spoke up, “if you ruin this seat with your shoes, it’s coming out of your paycheck.”

Your humming stopped and your eyes snapped up to him, catching the small smirk on the corner of his mouth, the smirk that he tried in vain to play off as he kept his gaze trained on the open file in his hand. A smirk of your own tugged at your lips, the papers in your grip falling lazily into your lap.

“You mess with my check, Hotchner, and I will consider you an enemy,” You threatened, your finger pointing at him to emphasize your words.

He shrugged casually, eyes lifting to meet yours, “I’ll add you to the list.”

Your angry resolve broke, a chuckle leaving your lips. Although his joking caught you off guard slightly, it all was oddly comfortable. His shoulders weren’t tight like they usually were, his eyebrows weren’t tensed, and his frown had disappeared. Usually, his rare humor would throw the whole team for a loop, but when it was just you and Hotch, there was just something so natural about it.

“Yeah, put my name right between ‘going to bed at a decent hour’ and ‘smiling’.” You retorted, narrowing your eyes and giving him nothing less than a shit-eating grin.

His face dropped from the sly smirk to stone-cold in a split second, causing your smile to grow even wider.

“How did you know that?” He asked quietly. You laughed then, a full, joyful laughter. You didn’t see how his smile had returned, and his softened gaze stayed trained on you.

“I guess you could say I’m good at my job,” You replied, wiping under your eye as you caught your breath.

“Now that,” he pointed at you, “is something I can’t deny.”

You smiled again, but genuinely. It almost made you blush, him inadvertently saying that you were good at your job. He didn’t compliment people too often, but when he did, it was always completely genuine and special.

“But I will still make you pay for this seat.”

“Yeah, okay,” you giggled, waving your hand dismissively at him.

***

The crackle of dirt and gravel under your soles mixed with the bustling of law enforcement around you. Rossi walked close by, both of you stopping as you reached the true crime scene. He sighed deeply as his eyes scanned over the red stain in the terra-cotta colored dirt, trying to not think about how little the uniforms around him cared about the life that stain had once provided.

“It’s pretty desolate out here,” you stated, purposely keeping your eyes up as you scanned the mountains around you, “the Unsub definitely knows this place, he’s familiar with it.”

“That means he’s probably local,” David agreed, eyes never leaving the dried blood on the ground, “(Y/N), look at this and tell me what you see.”

Your eyes finally flickered down to the blood, your hands finding home in your pockets in an attempt to hide your clenching fists.

“It’s…” your voice trailed off, your head tilting slightly as you realized what David was hinting at, “It’s… small. Dakota was shot, this all just looks like blood lost from the scalping and the removal of the thumb.”

“Which means,” Rossi added, “this is just a dumpsite. He’s taking them to a secondary location.”

“How long between the missing person’s reports and the discovery of their bodies?”

“Hours, no more than a day.”

You sighed, stepping closer and lowering yourself towards the ground, elbows resting on your knees. “So, he’s not holding them, but he’s shooting them in a secondary location before bringing them to these mountains, and dumping them.” You stood again, turning to David, “Why?”

His head shook slightly, “Possibly a forensic countermeasure. If he were to shoot them here, he could leave behind casings, splatter patterns… more evidence than what we have now, at least.”

You glanced one last time at the ground before beginning to walk towards the SUV. “I think we should get back and tell them what we’ve found.”

Rossi got into the driver’s side while you settled in next to him, a matching frown on both of your faces. You looked out the window, allowing your mind to drift away from the case. Usually, you stopped straying thoughts before they could begin, but you decided to set them free for the duration of the car ride back to the station. Upon arrival, your mind was to be strictly business.

You first thought of Hotch. You thought of the exchange you had a few weeks prior, where he opened himself up to you, even if it was just a fraction of the feelings he kept bottled up inside. Things had shifted, at least in your perspective, since then. He was more… himself. When there wasn’t a case- those few and far between days of strictly paperwork- you would find him smiling a little more, always directed at you. It was always just a tilt of his lips, just a twitch at best, but you always noticed it. He would find you in the break room, he would make light conversation. It was always professional, always appropriate in his position of Unit Chief, but you knew it was more personal.

Maybe it was your wishful thinking, maybe it was all made up by your own habit of overanalyzing. But, the physical reaction you had whenever those small moments of warm sunshine burst through the dark curtain of SSA Aaron Hotchner, the way your stomach turned and your cheeks ignited, now that… that was not constructed by your mind. That was a real, true reaction to a man you (apparently) liked a little more than you originally thought.

“Penny for your thoughts?” David cut your wondering short, and you were almost thankful for it.

“Hm?” You acknowledged, snapping out of your daze.

“Call me a profiler,” he chuckled, “but I know when you’re thinking too hard. Is something bothering you?”

“No, no,” you denied, a small laugh leaving your lips, “just, trying to stay focused on this case.”

“Hm.” He hummed, obviously not believing you. “Is it about the 16th?”

Your eyes snapped to him, his gaze holding steady on the road in front of him. A breath of pause added to the sudden tension in the air.

“How do you know about that?”

“Anytime Aaron Hotchner cries, you can be sure that I will know about it.”

You sunk back into your chair as another beat of silence filled the SUV. Honestly, you had no clue how to talk about the situation between you and Hotch. And frankly, you didn’t know if there even was a situation, it could all be made up in your head. Telling Rossi that you have the hots for your boss wouldn’t fix any problems you currently faced, it would only create new ones.

“I just want to see him happy,” you whispered, keeping your eyes forward.

“He is happy-“

“I mean, truly happy, Dave,” your head rolled towards him, his shoulders dropping slightly as he understood what you meant. He sighed heavily, readjusting his grip on the wheel.

“I think he lost that when he lost her, (Y/N), I don’t think he will ever go back to who he was before,” he sounded so sad, admitting that the man he considered family would never see a light he once knew.

“Maybe,” you agreed, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t try like hell to help him find it again.”

Dave glanced at you, a small smile tilting his lips up, “I think you’re the perfect person for the job.”

***

You had arrived just as Emily and Derek did, Hotch and the Captain of the station coming to meet you at the door.

“Captain McGuire, this is SSA Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), and David Rossi.” Aaron introduced. The captain politely shook all of your hands.

“Thank you all for coming,” his words were borderline disingenuous, but you smiled politely and let it go.

“We’ve got some news to share,” Dave said, turning towards Hotch. He responded with a nod before turning and leading the four of you to the Houston PD conference room, where Spencer and JJ were already waiting. Everyone stood around the table, unable to sit down with how uneasy the case felt.

“Everything here is just as you would imagine,” JJ began, clearly irritated, “these officers didn’t care enough to properly investigate these murders.”

“All of the families said that our victims were well respected, got along with other people, nothing too out of the ordinary,” Hotch added, his arms crossing over his chest as he looked at the evidence board.

“Dave and I think they’re being held in a secondary location,” you stated, everyone’s eyes turning to you. Your gaze met Aaron’s as you continued, “There wasn’t nearly enough blood at the scene for a man to have been shot there.”

“Forensic countermeasure?” Hotch inquired.

“That’s our guess.”

“Well,” Emily sighed, “I guess that makes more sense. The ME said the scalping and thumb removal was antemortem. The last step of his fantasy was shooting his victims. This guy would need somewhere to torture his victims without anyone hearing it.”

“I had Garcia do a search for any trespassing or squatting complaints around the mountains where the bodies were found, just to see if any witnesses saw the Unsub while he was disposing of his victims. There wasn’t anything significant,” Spencer chimed in.

“I’m starting to think this guy has more experience than we might think,” Morgan said, “he’s able to abduct, control, and torture grown men, then dispose of their bodies quietly.”

“What does that mean?” JJ asked.

“It means there’s probably more victims,” Hotch was storming out of the room as he spoke. You were close behind him.

“Spence, call Penelope, have her start digging!” you quickly spoke, hurrying to keep up with Hotch. You weren’t sure why, but you knew he was furious. He must have put something together before you.

“Hotch, Hotch!” You hissed, jogging lightly to catch up to him. “Aaron!” You finally stood in front of him, his angry steps halting before he could run you over, but his glare still trained on the door to Captain McGuire’s office.

Your hands hovered in front of you, level with his chest. You scanned his face, seeing nothing but anger in the way he glared over your shoulder.

“What is going on?” You asked quietly, teeth clenched together. It was then that his eyes flickered to you for a fraction of a second, a deep breath leaving his lungs. His shoulders lost some tension and his eyes closed, his attempt at calming himself clearly visible.

“We know this station is riddled with cops who don’t care about justice for anyone of Native descent,” he began, his voice low and dangerous, “how many people have died without justice? How many were at the hands of the same Unsub we’re trying to catch?”

“Hotch,” you tread carefully, “believe me when I say I am equally as furious as you. However, you, of all people, know that storming into that office right now will only cause more problems. We are surrounded by people who don’t care if we leave here successful or not, and the Captain may be a part of that group. We need to be smart about this.”

He huffed, but he knew you were right. It was a bit out of character, him getting so upset without being able to control it. He noticed that since Hailey had died, his emotions were a little stronger and a little harder to control, especially when it came to his job. His need for justice made him do things he would have never done when she was alive.

Was it a fault or strength?

“How do you propose we do that?” He asked, his voice more gentle than before.

“Let me go in there, break the news,” you offered, “if that man is anything like who I think he is, I could bat my eyes and get anything I want from him.”

Aaron’s gaze shifted from you, to the office, then to you again. “Okay,” he finally agreed, “in and out. Be careful.”

“Yes, sir,” you grinned, turning and walking towards the Captain’s office. You glanced back over your shoulder, seeing Hotch in the same exact spot you left him. Sending him a small wink, you reached the door and let yourself inside.

Hotch took another deep breath as you disappeared into the office, once again trying to calm himself. He had faith in you, he knew you could handle yourself, but the thought of that man- any other man, in fact- looking at you in the way he knew that Captain was going to look at you… well, that made him furious all over again. It was completely inappropriate, he knew, but he knew it wasn’t something that was within his control. He had just been feeling a greater sense- a greater need- to protect you, to make sure you were okay. He, himself, had a lot of questions about it. Why was he feeling this way? When did it start? Am I even able to feel this way again? Of course, he didn’t have any answers to his own questions. It always seemed to be that way. So many questions, all unanswered.

Despite his better judgment, he turned towards the conference room, fighting the bubbling anger in his chest.

***

The door clicked closed behind you, Captain McGuire’s eyes shifting from his paperwork to your face, then dragging down your body. You cleared your throat, your heartbeat already picking up slightly. You weren’t nervous, you knew you could take him down in a second if need be, but the way he looked at you like you were an object almost made you see red.

“Agent (Y/L/N), please, have a seat,” he gestured to the chair across from his desk.

“Thank you,” you spoke quietly, sitting down and crossing your legs, “I just came to discuss something quickly.”

“Of course, what is it?” He leaned forward on his elbows, a sign that he did, in fact, like you. You already knew that, of course, but the confirmation did make you a bit more confident.

“You see, we seem to think that this particular Unsub didn’t start killing three weeks ago. We think there’s previous cases,” you kept your voice soft, playing up an innocence you found that all men had some form of attraction to.

“With all due respect, I think I would remember a case like this.” He held his hand up as he talked in a way of dismissing you. You knew you could either snap at him and get kicked out, or play along and possibly get what you want. You had to feed into his ego.

“Oh, absolutely,” you agreed, uncrossing your legs and leaning forward, elbows resting on your knees. It gave him a full view, so to speak, and his eyes shifted exactly here you wanted them to. So predictable. “I would never insult your intelligence like that, sir,” he seemed to perk up at that nickname, “we’re just asking that you do a review with your officers, maybe someone will remember something they didn’t before?”

His eyes met yours again, and he had to clear his throat before he talked.

“Anything you need,” he was trying to flirt back now.

“Thank you, sir,” with a smirk, you stood and walked out, feeling the eyes of Captain McGuire follow you the entire way. As soon as the door was completely shut, you felt a chill run down your spine and you let yourself shiver.

You really hoped your flirting would get you something.

***

“Garcia, I need you to look for any cases within the Houston area that might be linked to these,” Spencer spoke into the phone.

“I already have, my little Einstein,” Garcia’s voice crackled through the speaker, “there’s nothing that looks like these.”

“They’re gonna be hidden, babygirl,” Morgan pressed, “details might have been left out in the case files. Send us anything that has even the smallest connection.”

“I’m going to need more time for that, love,” she sighed, nothing but disappointed in Houston authorities.

“Work fast for me, baby.”

“Oh, my beautiful, brown Hercules, do I work at any other speed?” She spoke seductively, earning a few smiles from the intensely frustrated team surrounding the phone.

“You never disappoint,” Morgan cooed, taking the phone and hanging up the call.

Hotch reached the room shortly after the call, everyone’s eyes snapping towards him as he entered. He looked over his team, eyebrows pulled downward, expression stone-cold.

“Are you okay, sir?” JJ asked bravely, her voice soft and understanding.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, “anything from Garcia?”

And just like that, Derek began to update Hotch on what Penelope was searching for, and all was forgotten. Hotch was good at that- making everyone forget about what he was feeling. The question he dreaded most was also the question he heard the most- are you okay? He would hear those three words and immediately have to find an escape, and excuse, as to why he couldn’t quite answer them. His feelings were ones that were felt only by him, shared only to the family picture he kept on his nightstand. It was comfortable, easy, and it kept him away from vulnerability.

He made sure he was facing towards the door of Captain McGuire while he worked, his gaze constantly flickering upwards and out the window of the conference room, hoping to find you there every time. When you finally emerged, he could tell how uncomfortable you were. You let yourself shiver, taking a moment to breathe before moving towards the conference room. Hotch made sure to meet you at the door.

“Anything?” He asked as soon as the door shut behind you. You sighed heavily before answering.

“He said he will reopen some cases and do some debriefing, but I honestly don’t think we will be getting much out of it.”

His eyes closed and he shook his head in disappointment. “Okay,” he finally spoke, “we’re on our own here.”

“Hotch, come look at this,” Derek called, pulling Aaron’s attention away from you. He hurried to Morgan, looking at the photograph held between them.

You moved towards the table and began working, praying to any God, any higher being, that something- anything- would catch a lead in the case.

***

“If I read one more file before I get a cup of coffee, I just might rip it to shreds,” you muttered, shoving your eyes into the heels of your hands. Your elbows rested heavily on the conference table you sat at, the many, many reviewed files scattered between you and the rest of the team. Analyzing them for any connections had been nothing short of tedious and time consuming.

It had been hours now, and nothing new had come to light. The sun had fallen asleep long ago, dipping behind the mountains, leaving a path of stars in its wake. The moon shone fully, the soft white blanketing Houston in a gentle embrace. You wished you could be sitting on the balcony of your apartment, staring at the twinkling of the stars and bathing in the cool air, your only warmth coming from a cup of hot tea gently resting in your hands. Instead, you were staring at pictures of dead men, trying to get ahead of a killer that was many, many steps ahead of you.

“Spence, have you found anything?” JJ asked, her voice sounding just as exhausted as you felt.

“I’ve read every file at least twice now,” he sighed, “I’m sorry, I can’t find any connections.”

“Don’t apologize, you’re doing everything you can,” you scolded softly, pointing a lazy finger towards him.

“Thank you,” he spoke gently, a thankful smile on his lips.

Your eyes returned to the papers before you, scanning over a single sentence before you gave up, “Why are we still looking, anyways? What do you think we’re going to find when- and if- we find any more victims?” Your hands accented your words, your frustration abundantly clear.

“MO,” Morgan answered shortly, “we need to know how this Unsub started- when he was still learning how to kill, when he was discovering what he liked most. That’s when he first made his mistakes.”

“Okay,” Rossi chimed in, “but how do we know that those cases were fully investigated? What if they’re just as neglected as the three we already have?”

Morgan sighed and ran a hand down his face, looking utterly defeated, “I don’t know.”

The ringing of Morgan’s cell phone caught everyone’s attention. He answered quickly, putting it on speaker.

“What’d you find, baby? You’re on speaker,” He asked.

“I’m sorry to report that I haven’t found much of anything,” Garcia said, “I mean, there are lots and lots of middle-aged, Native American men dying- which breaks my heart into very little, tiny pieces- but nothing that fits into our timeline or modus operandi.”

“Try expanding to neighboring states,” Emily recommended.

“I already did, sweet Emily,” Garcia sighed, “nothing.”

“Alright,” Morgan sighed, eyes closing as he exhaled, “keep searching, babygirl. Let us know if anything pops up.”

“Of course,” she sounded just as disappointed, “heads up, loves, we will find something.” Morgan hung up, setting his phone down before dragging a hand down his face.

Hotch’s file flipped shut in his hands, the fluttering catching the team’s attention, “We need to take a step back. Looking over the same words won’t get us any further.”

“What do you suggest we do?” Dave asked.

“Take an hour. Get coffee, food, whatever you need,” Hotch stood from his chair, straightening his suit jacket, “I wish we could stop for the day and return tomorrow, but we don’t have that kind of time.”

You stood, stretching your arms above your head, “Well,” your arms dropped to your sides, “I’ll take an hour. Hell, I would take 15 minutes. Any time for a mental break would be beneficial, at this point.”

“There’s a 24 hour pizza shop one block east,” JJ pointed out, “want to grab a bite there?”

“I’m in,” Derek stood.

“Me too,” Spencer agreed, rising as well.

“Pizza sounds so good right now,” Emily whined.

“Only if it is authentic,” Dave wagered, “(Y/N)? Hotch?”

“If I get full right now, I will definitely pass out,” you chuckled, “you guys go ahead.”

“Hotch?” Dave repeated.

“I’m okay, thank you,” his lips twitched into a polite smile for only a moment, then it was gone once again.

“Suit yourselves,” Derek teased, sending the two of you a dazzling smile as the rest of the team left the conference room.

You dared to peek over at Hotch, watching as his eyes looked back down at the numerous open files in his workstation. He even picked one up from the table to get a closer look.

“This break includes you, you know,” you said, smirking when his eyes jumped from the page to you. He set down the file again, a sigh falling from his lips.

“I don’t think I could take a break from this one, even if I wanted to,” he shook his head slightly as he spoke, arms crossing over his chest. A small silence filled the room.

“Okay,” you sighed, “I’m going to get us some coffee- good coffee, from the store across the street- and maybe some food, then we can sit and look over some of these together. Maybe we can find things together that we can’t find alone.”

He nodded, pulling out his chair and settling into it, “I would appreciate that, thank you.”

You smiled, nodding once in his direction. His eyes were already back on the files before you had even turned to leave. Something about this case bothered him, deeply, and you were almost certain you knew what it was.

Ever since Foyet came and destroyed nearly everything Aaron loved, particular cases weighed on his mind a bit heavier. It all came down to justice. Hotch couldn’t stand to see anyone or anything come in the way of true justice. You weren’t completely sure as to how Hailey’s death or George Foyet could have sparked this, you only knew of how angry Aaron would get now if anyone stood in his way.

You entered the corner store, heading straight to the hot coffee by the drink station. The fluorescent lighting only irritated the headache you had been fighting for the past hour, but you just ignored the pain as you came to a stop in front of the industrial sized coffee maker. You pulled two large, styrofoam cups from the dispenser, filling one to the very top with rich, black coffee, for Hotch. The steam billowing from the cup made your lips twitch up into a smile, the thought of caffeine beginning to change your mood for the better. Quickly making your own cup of self motivation, you moved towards the check out counter, the employee behind it looking just as tired as you felt.

“Just those?” She asked, finger already tapping away on the screen before her. You pulled a PayDay (Aaron’s favorite candy bar), from the small display on the counter and placed it next to the coffees.

“And that,” you answered politely, “thank you.” Your eyes wandered over the small keychains and magnets displayed on the counter. Most read ‘HOUSTON’ in large, colorful lettering, while others were decorated with horses and huge, green fields. Your head tilted as you looked, and a particular keychain caught your eye.

It was silver, sparkling subtly in the harsh lighting. You reached out and pulled it from behind the ‘HOUSTON’ keychains, the small cowboy hat resting on the ends of your fingers. Your eyebrows furrowed as you thought, becoming completely entranced by the small trinket.

“That one’s real popular,” the employee drawled, her southern accent pulling at her words, “everyone wants to be a cowboy, these days.”

“I see,” you replied quietly, still staring at the keychain.

“It’ll be $2.38 for those coffees and candy, ma’am.”

You shook your head, snapping out of your trance, “Yes, of course, sorry.” A nervous laugh left your lips as you reached for your wallet, the silver hat falling away from your hand. Quickly handing her a five dollar bill, you grabbed the coffee cups and candy bar before she even managed to open the register. “Keep the change, thank you!”

You almost ran out the door, needing to get to Hotch immediately.

***

“Hotch!” You all but burst into the conference room, kicking the door shut behind you, “I think I might have something!”

He looked up at you, slightly startled by your sudden entrance (but he would never admit it), “What is it?”

You almost laughed at how calm he sounded in comparison to how loudly your heart was pounding in your ears. Promptly setting his coffee and PayDay in front of him, you yanked a chair over until the armrest clinked against Hotch’s chair, then sat and set your own coffee down.

“Remember what JJ said about the costumes, on the plane?” You asked excitedly.

“Something about looking like an old Western-“

“Exactly!” You interrupted, “I might be jumping to conclusions, but the gun, the scalping, the race of our targets,” you counted your list on your fingers as you spoke, “I think our Unsub’s fantasy includes him being a cowboy. Like, a heroic, wild west cowboy.”

He nodded, eyebrows dipping as he thought it over, “That would explain the extreme sadism,” he added, “the narrative of most of those shows are cowboys versus Indians.”

“So,” you took a quick sip of your coffee, “maybe we should be looking for other murders that included any type of rope, gun- hell, even something like a horse.”

“That will help narrow it down,” he agreed.

“And! I almost forgot!” You couldn’t contain yourself, “Ranches, farms- they’re huge pieces of land that would be a very smart location to torture someone quietly.”

“We need to call Garcia,” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket quickly, “and (Y/N)?”

“Hm?”

“Good work, really,” his hand rested on your shoulder, “but I’ve never expected any less.”

Before you even had a chance to respond, his phone was to his ear, and he was asking Garcia to narrow her search to the new parameters you had discovered. He rose and walked toward the board, looking over the crime scene photos, hand resting on his hip, as he talked. You just sat still, shoulder burning where his hand had laid, heart pounding in your ears. The warmth of his compliment surrounded you, making your cheeks hot and your mind fuzzy. A smile slowly edged it’s way onto your face, your shoulders rising as you held your coffee a bit closer, trying desperately to keep that warm feeling inside. You knew how ridiculous it was, to be sent into a full blush over a small compliment- and quite frankly, it was a compliment you heard a lot- but the mere fact that it came from SSA Aaron Hotchner, the man you found yourself think about way too often, made it all that more special.

“Thank you, Garcia,” he hung up the phone, turning to you again, “you should take a break. I can handle this by myself for a while.”

You relaxed back into your chair, taking a slow sip of your coffee, “You first, Hotch.” A smirk found its way to your lips.

“I’m fine.”

“No one ever says that when they’re actually fine.”

He just stared at you for a long moment, gaze narrowing slightly.

“You’re not going to budge on this, are you?” He asked.

“Not an inch,” the smirk never left your face. A smile of his own played on his lips.

“Fine,” he conceded, “but, as soon as Garcia calls back, it’s back to work.”

“Deal,” you nodded, “now, come sit and enjoy your coffee and candy I got you.”

He followed your orders, settling into the chair beside you (which was very close to you), and finally taking a drink of his coffee. A content sigh made his shoulders relax, eyes closing as he set down his cup.

“I never knew coffee from a gas station could taste so good,” he sighed, eyes meeting yours as a content smile settled on his lips.

“You’re welcome,” you teased, nudging his arm with your elbow.

“And this,” he held up the PayDay, “is my favorite. How did you figure that out?”

“Every old man likes PayDays,” you said cheekily, biting down on your lower lip to keep yourself from giggling. His eyes narrowed at you, but his smile only grew.

“I could put in an insubordination complaint right now,” he threatened.

You relaxed in your chair, letting out a noncommittal sigh, “Just show me where to sign, Hotchner.”

He laughed, putting the candy back on the table and shaking his head, “You’re lucky I understand your humor.”

“And it’s one of the reasons why we get along so well, Hotch,” your nudged his shoulder.

He chuckled a bit, his smile settling on his lips. He looked deep in thought, a certain tenseness tightening his shoulders and making a muscle leap in his jaw. You looked over at his hand, noticing how it fiddled with the corner of the candy’s packaging.

“What’s bothering you?” You asked, not really expecting much of an answer. He had opened up to you before, but it had been extremely late at the time, and he was, in that moment, probably more sleep deprived than rational.

He locked eyes with you, staring for a moment before speaking, “I’m sorry you had to talk to Captain McGuire,” he looked away, “and that nothing really came of it.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured, slightly confused as to why he looked so guilty about it, “I did it because he potentially had information that would be useful to us. I’d flirt with every dirtbag in this station if I thought it could help us.”

“I know, and that is what makes you so valuable to this team,” he avoided your eyes, reaching for his cup again, “you’re able to control your own emotions in order to do your job.” He took a sip.

Oh. You thought, that’s it.

“Hotch, you had every right to be angry.”

His eyes snapped to you, unmistakably surprised that you saw through him. Well, maybe he was aware that it wouldn’t be too hard to see what was bothering him, but he wasn’t used to someone just… calling him out completely.

“I was irrational,” he spoke, “unprofessional.”

“If I was in your shoes, I would have acted the same way.” Your hand hesitantly found his arm, palm resting on his bicep and fingers landing on his shoulder. His gaze flickered down to your hand, then met your eyes once again.

“You’re allowed to be human,” you said, softly, “and sometimes, humans have emotions. That’s kind of the whole reason why we have a job.” You giggled a bit as you spoke, trying to show him how ridiculous it was to feel guilty for a perfectly natural and normal reaction.

“Did he bother you too much?” He asked, nodding towards the office of Captain McGuire. You chose to ignore how he had changed to subject.

“No, not really,” your hand fell away from his arm, feeling noticeably colder when contact was lost, “I’ve heard worse from the men I meet at bars.” You chuckled a bit, shaking your head, “You know, you should hear some of the things I say to drunk men that bother me. I think you would find it amusing.”

Of course he would, he would love to hear you put a man in his place. The feisty attitude you saved for those who bothered you was one of his favorite things about you. It never failed to make him smile, wether it was directed at someone else or- on occasion- him. Your demeanor was nothing short of soft and caring, but once someone crossed you, well… hell hath no fury quite like yours.

“I would have to agree with you on that,” he chuckled, finally beginning to loosen up, “but, please, if any of these officers seriously bother you, tell me.”

“Alright,” you held your hands up in mock defense, “but I can’t guarantee that I will hold off on putting my two cents in.”

“I wouldn’t dream of getting in the way of that.”

“Good.” You smiled brightly. He returned it, having to look away before his face began to flush red. He wanted to just reach out and touch you- hold your hand, hug you, anything- but the thought of trying made his hands start to shake. You made him nervous, a feeling that he didn’t feel often, that he didn’t enjoy at all. But, he knew what it meant. He knew that he was far past the point of no return; the future would consist of his complete and utter falling for you. It terrified him, honestly, but it also thrilled him. He knew what love was, he knew how it felt. The ‘great love’ every one always fantasizes over, was a love he had already experienced. And God, was he determined to feel that again. Not always- he wasn’t always in the pursuit of love- but ever since he met you, that perspective changed.

But it still was frightening, the thought of loving you. He had experienced love, but he also had experienced loss. He knew that letting you take full control of his heart would be putting himself at risk of extreme, unimaginable pain. Pain that he never wished to feel again. Pain that he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. It was a dangerous, terrible gamble, the game of love. On one hand, he would be sacrificing himself in the constant war he fought with vulnerability, but on the other hand, he could mend the still broken pieces of his heart and be whole again.

The shrill ringing of your phone pulled him away from his internal battles, his brown eyes finding your (Y/E/C) ones.

“Garcia,” you breathed out, promptly answering and putting the phone on speaker. “You’re with me and Hotch, Pen, what’d you find?”

“Hello my lovely lady and sir, I have two potential victims for you,” she answered, the indistinct clicking of a keyboard in the background. “I narrowed the search with everything you gave me, then again to any murders that took place Thursday through Saturday.”

“The same time frame he’s using now,” Hotch added.

“Exactly. That search left me with two names,” she paused a moment, probably pulling up the case files on her screens, “Kenneth Thompson, 35, died six weeks ago by a single gunshot wound to the chest, and his body was found in his apartment, with his limbs hogtied, like a cow… or a little piggy.”

“His race?” You asked.

“White, which doesn’t match our latest victims, but I have more,” the clicking was heard again,

“Carlos Dominguez, a 32 year old hispanic man, found four weeks ago, dead, by a single gunshot would. But, there are also reports of deep lacerations to his hairline area.”

“So, he tried to carry out his fantasy, but it quickly died when he couldn’t ignore that Carlos was hispanic.” You suggested.

“He always favored the shooting,” Hotch said, “but didn’t develop the hatred towards the Native Americans until his third victim.”

“Or rather, he just realized that he couldn’t use surrogates for them. He needs the real thing.”

“That explains the development of the thumb removal- if he kills Natives with the belief of an afterlife, then he can’t let them go to their version of heaven. It wasn’t necessary for the first two victims.”

“He makes them suffer, even in death,” you shook your head, completely disgusted, “thank you, Garcia.” You hung up the phone, placing it back on the table and leaning back into your chair. Your eyes eventually found Hotch, whose elbow sat on the tabletop, his jaw cupped in his hand.

“I think we need to call the team back in here,” you said quietly. He checked the watch on his wrist briefly, then returned his hand to his chin.

“They have fifteen minutes, let them have it.” He muttered.

***

Briefing the team when they returned was anything but nice. They stood around the conference table once more, as Hotch told them about the new victims and the Unsub’s MO. Revealing and analyzing the true sadism of this Unsub was something that even Emily struggled with. The more the team learned, the more motivated they were to stop him.You could see them all getting visibly more distraught the more you told them.

“So, this guy is just playing cowboy?” Derek asked, anger evident in his voice.

“‘Playing cowboy’ is a very tame way to put it,” Emily scoffed.

“How do we even go about trying to find this guy?” JJ asked, arms crossed over her chest.

“We can start with farmland,” Dave suggested, “single out any that are secluded, or on very large pieces of land.”

“Let’s call Garcia,” you said, taking your phone out of your pocket.

“How big would a farm have to be in order to be secluded enough for this Unsub to operate?” Emily wondered.

“If we take into the fact that the Unsub is probably firing a gun on his property,” Spencer began, fingers intertwining together as he thought, “and, a football field- without the end zones- are roughly 1.38 acres, or 60,112.8 square feet, I would say you would need at least four or five acres to conceal that type of noise.”

“What can I do for you, Holmes?” Garcia chirped through the phone.

“We need you to pull land deeds- look for any farms with at least four acres of land, within the comfort zone,” you said, holding the phone near your voice.

“Got it,” she began typing away, “oh, my- well, you have 143 matches, my dear.”

“You said he hogtied his first victim,” Dave pointed towards you, “Garcia, narrow it down to farms that have cow and/or pigs on them. He had to learn how to tie a knot like that somewhere.”

“You have a brilliant mind, my Italian Stallion,” Garcia praised, “we’re down to 87.”

“How many of those also have horses?” Emily asked, “Can’t be a cowboy without a horse.”

“22.”

“That’s still too many,” you sighed. Hotch laid his palms flat on the conference table, head bowing in defeat.

“We’re missing something,” Spencer mumbled, walking towards the evidence board with narrowed eyes. His head tilted as he stared at it, mouthing words to himself silently.

“What do you see, kid?” Derek asked, taking a step towards Spencer.

“The gun,” he responded, finally.

“The gun?” Morgan questioned. Before getting an answer, Reid had whipped around towards the phone.

“Garcia, the first two victims, what did they conclude about the gun used?” He spoke quickly.

“Um,” she typed just as fast, “it was registered, but reported stolen two weeks prior by 62 year old Harvey Pooler… oh no, Pooler died four days before Kenneth was killed. Heart attack.”

“Did Pooler own a farm?” Spencer asked.

“Let me… see,” a small gasp came through the phone, “He did.”

“Take a 50 mile radius from the Pooler farm and cross that with our 22 potentials.”

There was a couple seconds of typing before she spoke again, “We have a hit. Five acres owned by a Timothy Locke.”

“What do you have on him?” Emily pressed.

“He lived there his whole life,” Garcia spoke quickly, “mother died when he was young, father was… well, not the best father. Multiple trips to the ER when Timothy was still little Timmy.”

“Where’s the father now?” Hotch asked.

“Dead,” she answered shortly, “Month and a half ago, natural causes.”

“That’s right when the killings began,” Rossi observed.

“There’s our stressor,” JJ added.

“What about hobbies? Places he frequented? Anything to tie him to the cowboy fantasy,” You asked.

“Besides his ownership of horses,” Garcia clicked away on her keypad, “he was a frequent flyer of the local rodeo, even participated in it… oh no.”

“What is it, babygirl?” Morgan asked worriedly.

“This particular rodeo, well, it was more of a reenactment type of show,” she explained, “most of their ‘historical retellings’ were that of the wild, wild west. The racist, kill the Natives, wild, wild, west.”

“Garcia-“ Hotch began.

“Oh, honey, I know. Addresses are sent… now.”

“Let’s go,” Hotch said, everyone starting to hurry out of the room.

“Be safe, my loves!” Garcia called.

“Love you, Penny, great work,” you told her, before hanging up and following your team towards the SUVs.

***

The kevlar vest reading ‘FBI’ hung on your shoulders, the slight weight grounding you completely in the events that were about to occur. You glanced over to Hotch- who was staring straight at the dirt road with both hands on the wheel- then looked over your shoulder at Reid and Emily in the backseat, nodding at them slightly before facing forward once again. Your heart was already racing with adrenaline, the rhythmic beat loud in your ears.

Emily glanced out the window, eyes scanning over the seemingly endless fields surrounding the many farms in the area. It all looked so peaceful, the way the green blades stretched towards a crystal blue sky, it was almost heartbreaking that such awful, heinous deaths had occurred on the very same land.

Spencer was leaned over slightly to see out of the front windshield, eyebrows pulled downwards and lips set in a serious frown. He was scanning for a farmhouse, a shed, anywhere that someone could keep another person hostage. The three of you were already driving on the property, just looking for the specific spot where the Unsub operated.

“Over there,” Spencer pointed to the right, a small, white, wooden house coming into view. Hotch turned sharply down a dirt road that shot off the main one, hoping it would lead up to the farmhouse Spencer had spotted.

It wasn’t long before the vehicle stopped, the four of you swiftly jumping from your seats, meeting Dave, JJ, and Morgan as they also left their SUV. You looked up at the farmhouse, eyes squinting slightly from the now rising sun. It was large enough to be comfortable for two, maybe three, people, with a front porch that lead to the entrance. It was two stories, a small, round window sitting on the front and center of the house. The white of the painted wood seemed to illuminate in the orange of an awakening sun, and you could’ve called it beautiful, if you weren’t aware of the horrors that took place inside.

“What’s our plan?” Emily asked, facing Hotch.

“We’re going to do a soft entry,” he began, “Morgan, Reid, and JJ will lead in the front, Dave and I will go around the back. Prentiss, (Y/L/N), there’s a cellar to the right, take some SWAT officers with you, but I want you to clear below.”

“You got it, boss,” you nodded, turning and calling over two SWAT members.

“Alright,” Hotch drew his gun, “Let’s go.”

You and Emily moved alongside Derek, Spencer, and JJ, breaking off as they closed in on the front door. You reached the doors of the cellar, looking over at Emily. She looked back at you, smiling slightly and offering a reassuring nod before grabbing ahold of the handle on the left door. You took a deep breath and grabbed the other one, looking back to Emily once more.

“One,” she counted softly, “two… three.”

You both simultaneously lifted the doors, the two-man SWAT team moving forward, descending the stairs before you and Emily. You were close behind, guns raised. Your flashlight moved around the room, finding it to be mostly empty, save for a few cardboard boxes in the corner. You turned to your right, finding a door tucked away by the staircase.

“Emily,” you alerted, “we have a door.”

She moved over to stand beside you, “Boys, over here,” she beckoned the SWAT officers, nodding toward the door with her head.

They approached slowly and quietly, taking position on each side of the doorframe. One reached out and placed a soft hand on the doorknob, waiting three seconds before turning it and pushing it open, immediately drawing their weapons in from of them as they cleared the small room. You and Emily followed them in once again, your eyes going straight to the unconscious man in the very middle of the floor. His head hung, arms bound behind him and legs bound to the chair he was sat in. His shoulders slumped, his hair stringy, and a small trail of blood trickled down his forehead.

You rushed towards him, the light flickering on as you knelt down beside him. Emily’s hand left the light switch and moved to the restraints on the man’s hands, working quickly at the knots. With gentle pressure, you pushed your fingers on his neck, breathing out a sigh of relief when you felt a pulse beneath them.

“We need a medic in the cellar,” you spoke into your radio, keeping your fingertips against the man’s pulse and taking a silent count of how many beats passed every minute.

“Sir?” Emily asked, finally untying his hands, “Sir? Can you hear me?” She had to hold onto his shoulders to keep him from slumping completely forward.

“We found the hostage, Hotch,” you said into your comm device, “currently unresponsive, we have medics en route.”

There was no answer.

“Hotch?”

Silence. You looked up at Emily, whose worried expression matched yours.

“Hotch,” she tried, “can you hear me?”

Nothing.

“Hotch, Reid, Morgan,” you spoke quickly, “JJ, Rossi, do you copy?”

Radio silence.

“Stay with him,” you said, quickly rising to your feet.

“(Y/N), what are you-“

“You,” you pointed at one of the SWAT members, “come with me.”

“You can’t just go up there- (Y/N)!”

You ignored Emily’s protests, jogging up the stairs of the cellar, the SWAT officer right behind you. Holding your gun in front of you, you turned left, heading towards the back of the house. Reaching the back door, you slowly crept up the stairs, clearing right as the SWAT member cleared left. The first room was the kitchen, small and vintage, then you passed into a living room, with purple couches sitting in front of an ancient TV. Cowboy themed decor hung on every square inch of the walls, ranging from horseshoes to framed photographs of Western icons, such as John Wayne. You moved through the room, turning left through a doorway, which led to the entrance of the house. Pink and yellow sunlight leaked through the glass detailing at the top of the door, illuminating the staircase that sat almost directly in front of it. The SWAT officer appeared on the other side of the entryway, nodding towards you in a silent was of saying ‘all clear’. You nodded back, allowing him to ascend the stairs before you, his boots creaking slightly against the steps.

As you neared the top of the stairs, you could hear the low voice that plagued your every thought, the voice that talked to you in your best dreams and worst nightmares, always speaking of comfort and serenity.

“Timothy, we just want to talk-“

A sickening, teasing laugh cut Aaron off, the unmistakable sound of heeled boots tapping against the floor echoing through the house.

“We both know that’s not why you’re here, officer,” a southern accent laced through his words, his voice dark and deep.

You crept towards the voices, which were carrying down the hall. One door was open, down near the end and to the right. With quiet steps, you made your way towards it. You held your hand out toward the SWAT member, having him stop a few feet behind you. Placing yourself at the edge of the doorframe, back passed firmly against the wall, you dared to peek your head into the room.

That’s when the smell started to hit you. It was rotten, pungent, and… familiar. Your nose crinkled, eyebrows furrowing as you tried to understand why you recognized something so awful. Then, you realized.

The smell of death.

Your eyes scanned over the walls, stopping at a far corner. Hanging from the ceiling were the three scalps that were taken from your victims, a silver bullet casing tied up with each one of them. You took in a shaky breath, trying to stop yourself from hearing their screams, or picturing the way they looked as they were tortured.

Shaking your head to clear those thoughts, you turned your attention back to your team.

The Unsub’s back was to you, JJ held firmly in a chokehold with his left arm, his right hand holding a revolver with the barrel pressed to her temple. Hotch, Morgan, and Reid stood in a semi-circle in front of him, guns all drawn and aimed.

“You don’t have to do this, man,” Morgan bargained.

“Of course I do,” Timothy Locke, the Unsub, laughed again, “if I have her,” he shook JJ slightly, “then I have a chance of leaving here alive.”

You moved your head out a little more, catching Hotch’s eye. Looking between you and Timothy, he nodded, ever so slightly. You knew what he meant, you didn’t need his words to know what you had to do.

Quickly, you switched to the left side of the doorframe, positioning yourself to enter the room without Locke seeing you.

“Putting the gun down and surrendering will get you out of here alive,” Spencer urged, clearly distraught that the Unsub was holding a gun to his best friend’s head.

“And you would love it if I did just that, wouldn’t ya?” Locke sneered, readjusting his grip on his gun slightly.

You slipped into the room silently, gun raised and steps slow. Hotch’s eyes flicked to you every few seconds, his expression- hardened and serious, but what else is new- unchanging.

“We know what your dad used to do to you,” Hotch said lowly, catching the attention of Timothy.

“You don’t know shit.”

“We know of the hospital visits, the broken bones. We know that you were left alone with him after your mother died,” Aaron’s voice was unfaltering, purposely trying to irritate Locke.

It was working.

“I said,” he hissed, “you don’t know shit.”

“Then enlighten me.”

Timothy took a deep breath in before speaking, “Do you know what happened in this house? Between these walls? How every time I wasn’t good enough or smart en-“ his hands swung out to the side as he talked, his anger getting the best of him. In one swift movement, his right arm had extended away from JJ, and you were holstering your own gun and lunging for Locke’s weapon.

You pushed his arm backwards, his hand tightening from the surprise. A single gunshot rang out, and a searing pain ripped through your left arm, causing you to cry out. JJ moved out of his grasp, which had loosened significantly, turning towards him and kicking his left knee inward, making him sink to the floor. You pressed your right hand to the hole in your arm in an attempt to stop the bleeding, using the last bit of adrenaline in your body to swing your leg up and connect your foot to the face of Timothy Locke, making contact with a sickening crack, rendering him unconscious. He was down before Derek, Spencer, and Aaron had even moved forward- it had to be less than ten seconds.

Spencer reached you first, pressing his palm over your hand, applying more pressure as your grip started to loosen and your fingers slipped from beneath his.

“Look at me, (Y/N), look at me,” he ordered. You tried to, but your head was dizzying and you were having a hard time keeping your eyes open.

“You’re going to go into shock,” he spoke quickly, “just keep your eyes open, okay?”

After cuffing Locke and checking in with JJ, Hotch rushed towards you, reaching you just as your knees buckled and gave out from below you. His arms held you steady, his knees bending as he slowly sank down to the floor with you.

“I- I don’t think the artery was hit, but there’s a lot of bleeding, so I’m not su-“

“Reid.” Hotch interrupted. Spencer’s eyes shifted from you to Hotch, eyebrows turned upwards, nothing but worry in his features.

“Call for medics again,” he instructed Spencer, whose hand was still on your arm, “don’t stop calling until they get here.”

Hotch’s hand replaced Reid’s, his free arm holding you against his chest. Your eyelids still drooped up and down, your battle with sleep being anything but victorious. It was almost like a dream, blurry and vague, with a feeling of unfamiliarity. You weren’t completely aware of what was happening. Hell, you still were not feeling the pain of a bullet passing through your arm. That’s how you knew something was very, very wrong.

“Keep your eyes open,” Hotch spoke, his soft words landing delicately on your ears, “keep looking at me, (Y/N).”

The corner of your mouth tilted slightly, “I got,” you let out a small giggle, high on adrenaline, “I got shot, Hotchie.”

“Yes, I know, honey,” his voice was still soft but by God, was he using all his strength to keep it that way. He fought against the way his heart threatened to leap from his chest, the way his mind became frantic at the sight of your blood painting his fingers crimson, the way he could feel his breaths losing rhythm.

It was through and through, he thought, it will be okay, they will be okay.

And yet, despite his logical thoughts, he felt like he could cry as he held you close.

“Did you get him?” You asked, your words weary and strained.

“We did,” Aaron could only whisper to keep his voice from breaking, “you saved them, (Y/N). Now, just do me one favor and keep your eyes open.”

Your hand shakily covered his, your fingertips delicate they brushed lazily over his knuckles. The small touch brought a small, content smile to your face- and that mad tears reach Aaron’s eyes.

He looked up as the EMTs burst through the door, kits jostling in their hands. Seeing them felt like taking a breath out of water, like he could finally get oxygen in his lungs again. He looked back to your drooping eyes as they pulled you out of his arms, working quickly to stop your bleeding.

He stood and backed away, stumbling over his own feet slightly, his gaze never leaving you. You were moved to a plastic cot, straps securing your head, chest, and legs, as you were lifted from the ground and ushered through the door. Hotch stayed where he was, focus trained on the pool of blood that began to seep into the wooden floor, turning it a dark burgundy. His mind attempted to understand that the stain was, in fact, from your blood. Suddenly, the weight of what he saw everyday piled on his shoulders, from the gruesome photos to the actual victims. He was always aware of their humanity, of their worth, but his jaded mind could look past that and move along. Now, it seemed he couldn’t hide behind compartmentalization and insensitivity.

Sirens chirped outside, the sound floating in through the window, and his head snapped up at the sound.

Flashes began to obscure his vision. He saw the home he shared with Hailey, he saw the smiling and devilish face of George Foyet, he saw the lifeless eyes of the mother of his child, the blood that stained the carpet, the way his fist smashed in Foyet’s cheek, the way Hailey looked when she was gone, the way Jack looked when he asked where she was.

Then he saw you. He saw your smile, the light step of your walk, how delicate your hands looked as you wrote, how you bit your lip if you focused enough, the way your hair caught the light. He saw the sunshine that brought light into his dark, dark life.

The siren chirping once more brought him back to reality.

With his trance broken, he rushed out of the room, steps pounding against the creaky floor and echoing throughout the house. He ran down the stairs, the echos creating a drum roll in his wake as he finally stepped onto the front porch. The ambulance door clicked shut, the EMTs finding their seats before the ambulance sped away, sirens blaring.

He watched you leave until the sun engulfed the ambulance in orange light. His chest was heaving, in and out, mouth hanging open slightly. Suddenly, the kevlar around his torso felt much too tight, his hands finding the velcro and tearing at it. His breathing quickened, the kevlar falling to the ground, but the pressure in his chest still present. Frantically, his finger fumbled with the top button of his shirt, nearly ripping it off in his urgency.

“Aaron?” Dave asked, ascending the porch stairs towards his friend, “Aaron, are you okay?”

“I can’t,” Aaron wheezed, hands pulling down on the collar of his now exposed undershirt, “I can’t breathe-“

“Sit down, sit down,” Dave ushered him to the floor, Aaron practically crumpling into himself, “now, exhale completely.”

Hotch did as he said, shoulders hunching as he let out his breath.

“Now 4 seconds, in through the nose,” Dave followed Aaron’s movements, his hand accentuating his breathing, “hold for 7 seconds,” there was a pause as the two men held their breath, “and now, out for eight.”

Aaron closed his eyes as he exhaled, the tightness of his chest beginning to loosen.

“Keep doing that until you’re ready to talk,” Dave said gently, settling into the floor of the porch while he waited. Hotch completed three more cycles before he opened his eyes. He looked at Dave, eyebrows flicked upward in worry.

“Now,” treading lightly, Dave asked, “what was that about?”

“I don’t know,” Hotch answered quickly, avoiding Dave’s gaze.

“Aaron, the rest of the team may be fooled, but I am not,” Dave began, pointing over his shoulder at the team, “I’ve seen the way you look at them, and the way they look at you.”

That made Hotch’s heart flutter, the thought of you looking at him the same way he looked at you.

“I’m not pushing you to do anything you don’t want to,” Dave defended, “but you already have so many things you keep to yourself, you might have to let this one out.”

Aaron sighed, jaw clenching slightly, “I know.”

“Good,” Dave smiled, patting Hotch on the shoulder before getting up and walking away, preparing to fend off the rest of the team and their questions. Hotch was on his feet just as quickly, rebuttoning his shirt and retrieving his kevlar. His face had returned to the stoic expression everyone was used to, but his pulse was still racing.

***

“The doctor says they will be okay,” Derek told the team, taking a seat beside Spencer, “they’ve been moved to recovery; we can visit once they’re awake.”

Everyone nodded, a gloom hanging densely in the air. The team knew you would be okay, in all reality. Spencer had been sure to spout off a multitude of statistics to prove that a shot in the arm, avoiding the brachial artery, was survivable. But, despite the logical comfort, Hotch could only remember the way you looked, bleeding and incoherent in his arms. The bright, lively red of your blood on his hands was an image that would stain his mind as permanently as the very same blood stained the wooden floor of that house. He figured he could add it to his endless collection of gruesome images that lived in his brain, but he also knew he was a fool if he thought he could compartmentalize that away.

His elbows leaned against his knees, hands coming to a steeple upon his lips. The lines beneath his eyes grew deeper with every passing hour, but he remained in the same position, just as quiet. When it came to his thoughts- in particular, the dark, intrusive thoughts that came to him when the sun went down- he was fairly good at navigating through them, keeping them from degrading his worth as a human and protector. However, as he sat in the uncomfortable, plastic chair of the hospital you were a patient of, he could only think of how many people had been hurt (or worse), because of him. He could only see the way Reid cried as Tobias Hankel tortured him, the way JJ broke when he told her he couldn’t protect her job, the betrayal in Morgan’s eyes when he realized he had buried an empty casket, the beaten and bruised face of Emily after Benjamin Cyrus found out she was FBI.

But then, he saw Hailey. He saw her lying, dead, on the ground of the bedroom they had once shared, the room in which they had decided what to name their child, the room they laughed and cried in, the room they had loved in. She gave him everything he had to live for- his son.

Then he saw you. Dipping in and out of consciousness, calling him nicknames and smiling as you bled onto the floor. The way you giggled and called him ‘Hotchie’ was a happy image spliced into a bigger picture that made bile raise into his throat.

Lastly, he saw George Foyet. At least, what had been left of him. He remembered how he didn’t even feel his knuckles split open as they collided with Foyet’s face. It scared him, truly, how he didn’t stop, even after George was gone. It scared him how he would’ve stayed there, killing a man that was already dead, if Derek hadn’t pulled him away. The broken, mangled face of The Reaper haunted him the most.

A hand on his shoulder pulled him away from his thoughts, his eyes reaching upwards to see who it belonged to.

“You in there, boss?” Emily chuckled, a dazzling smile on her face.

“Uh, yes,” he nodded once, clearing his throat as he stood. He smoothed down his shirt, suit jacket having been abandoned long ago. In vain, he tried to look like he hadn’t been caught off guard.

“They’re not awake yet, but the nurse said we can go see them, if you’d like.”

He nodded, blinking twice as her words processed in his overworked mind, “Lead the way.”

His strong facade was held together by bubblegum and paperclips when he entered your hospital room. The way you looked so serene- with your eyelashes resting upon your cheeks and your shoulders completely relaxed- it was almost overwhelming. It was only hours earlier that he watched that same face contract in pain, those same eyelashes flutter in an attempt to stay awake.

He stayed by the door as the team found their place around your bed, his hands finding themselves in his pockets and his eyebrows pulling downwards, like they always do. His heart physically ached beneath his chest, its beat no longer the allegro of anxiety, but the slow waltz of failure. He had failed you- failed to protect you, failed to keep you safe. Imagining where that bullet could have landed made it all the worse.

It was bittersweet, really, the way you made him feel. There was a sunshine, a happiness that you infected those around you with. Your warmth was a gift you gave to everyone you met, regardless of who the were or what they’ve done. You would pull the hurt and forgotten from the earth without questioning their origin, your delicate hands caressing them gently with the comfort they’ve never known. You spoke words that covered the listener like summer rain, moved in a way that mimicked the lithe movement of dandelions in the breath of spring. He would surrender himself to you in the way the tides surrender to the moon, and a small part of him knew he already had.

He would give what little of himself remained, if you’d asked. The thunderstorms and lightening he had journeyed through had washed away pieces of him, leaving an otherness that felt all too unfamiliar, that stared right back at him whenever he looked in a mirror. But, regardless of how much he lost of himself, no matter how withered he became, all of it would be yours, if you’d asked. Because, despite the darkness that engulfed his waking moments and controlled the rest, you were always beside him, with a candle to light the way. And for that, he would promise to love you with everything inside him, despite the raindrops that dance on his feet.

If you’d asked.

But, you wouldn’t, he knew, so he wouldn’t fall in love with you. He couldn’t. His heart was tired, weary, and weak. The thought of loving you- in the jumping-from-a-cliff-but-laughing-as-you-fall kind of way, because allowing himself to love you would open a floodgate- and potentially losing you; that was a trauma he couldn’t see himself recovering from. He didn’t have the strength to. So, he would reside in the outskirts of your life, keeping himself close enough to feel the warmth you radiated, but far enough to feel a chill trace his spine.

And that’s exactly what he did. He stayed near the doors of your hospital room, looking silently as the team conversed lightly with your sleeping ears, hoping you would hear their words despite your lack of consciousness. He could hear their gentle whispers, the way they teased each other, the gentle laughs they exchanged. He stood in a room of people that loved and were loved, each of their hearts clean of the bruises that riddled his.

He doesn’t remember when he left, or how he ended up in the George Bush Intercontinental Airport, but he was seated in an airplane seat, staring out to the wisps of clouds and star-spotted sky, mind empty and full all at once.

***

Your eyes slowly pried themselves open, the bright, white light overwhelming your senses momentarily. A groan left your mouth, eyelids dropping once again, your head tilting towards your pillow.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” the voice of Derek Morgan teased, a small smile coming to your lips.

“Am I in heaven?” You croaked out, “I think I hear the voice of an angel.”

“You’re too good to me, (Y/N),” he laughed, his hands gently patting yours. You opened your eyes again with a sigh, looking around the room at your team.

“You had us worried there, kiddo,” JJ chuckled.

“Sorry,” you grimaced, “I didn’t mean to get shot, I swear.”

“Well,” Spencer spoke up from his chair beside the hospital bed, “don’t ever do it again.”

“Pinky promise.”

“Yeah, leave the dying to me,” Emily joked, earning a weak laugh from you.

You looked around at your family, the people you loved most in the life you had, and you hid the disappointment you felt because one was missing.

***

Aaron entered his apartment, shoulders heavy as he set his briefcase by the door. He turned to find Jessica asleep on the couch, hands tucked beside her head. He walked towards her, pulling a blanket from the back of the cushions and draping it over her. She stirred slightly, but settled quickly.

He moved numbly, putting his gun away securely and removing the belt around his waist. Walking towards the bedroom down the hall, his shoes were kicked off and his dress shirt was discarded, leaving him in slacks, socks, and his white undershirt.

With a low creak, his eyes peeked through Jack’s barely open door to find him sleeping soundly in his bed, the dark blue comforter pulled up to his chin. Aaron stepped into the room fully, closing the door softly behind him. Carefully, he climbed into the bed beside his son, settling into the pillows. Jack reacted immediately, curling under his dad’s arm. With a small kiss to the little boy’s forehead, Aaron allowed himself to fall asleep, willing away the darkness of the day. Pushing the twisted thoughts away, his mind concentrated on the boy in his arms, and the incredible love he held for him.

#aaron hotchner imagines #hotch x reader #hotch #criminal minds #angst #this is so long im so sorry #I hope y'all are ready to READ

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