#I should’ve gotten out of the car and cursed him to all circles of hell

[ladygata]

Miserable old boomer man who blocked my way in a tiny parking lot and refused to move because he wanted to exit this way even though he could’ve gone around the other way so I had to turn around I am killing you a hundred different ways in my head. Sweet dreams.

[ahkaahshi]

of picnics and persuasion [miya atsumu x reader]

pairing: miya atsumu x fem reader

genre: smut (18+)

warning(s): explicit sexual content, exhibitionism, size kink, public sex, penetrative sex, dirty talk, swearing, you kinda squirt but it’s nothin too crazy lol

word count: 2.5k

overview: hindsight’s 20/20, but you should’ve known atsumu wanted you to wear a sundress to your picnic for a reason other than “’cause it looks good on ya.”

In the secluded area of the park where you’ve created a small silver of paradise under a cluster of trees, you watch the shards of vibrant sunlight shift between the leaves casting a kaleidoscope of shadows over your body. The sounds of the late afternoon breeze whistling past, distant conversations, and the scurrying of nearby animals mingle with the soft music playing from your boyfriend’s phone where it lies on the blanket, amongst an array of quickly diminishing food. Absentmindedly, your fingers card through Atsumu’s golden strands of hair, making him tighten the grip he has around your waist and nuzzle his face against your stomach.

“That tickles!” you giggle, giving his head as gentle a push as you can muster when he refuses to budge. He lets out a small sigh of contentment and gives one of your thighs a squeeze before retreating from his position and sitting up so he can help himself to another handful of gummy bears located in a nearby bag.

His arms soon extend out towards you as he beckons, “C’mere, babe.” Placing your hands in his, you allow him to guide you closer to him so you can settle yourself in his lap. A small smile appears across his lips as his amber colored eyes take in every part of you—from the stray strands of (h/c) hair that have fallen in front of your ears to the supple skin on your thighs peering out from beneath the soft fabric of your sundress. “Did I already tell ya how fuckin’ gorgeous you are, (f/n)?”

Heat rushes to your face, then floods your stomach when he leans down to press a tender kiss against your lips followed by another on your neck. “’Tsumu…” you hum nearly inaudibly, “what’s gotten into you, hmm? It’s not every day that you give me compliments without tacking some smart comment onto them.”

“Oh, be quiet,” he complains, grabbing another gummy bear and tapping it against your lip. Obediently, you open your mouth so he can drop it onto your tongue. “Can’t a man just be all in love with his girlfriend without gettin’ dragged?” A small snicker escapes your mouth as you chew the sweet treat and observe the way his hand moves over to yours so he can place your palms together.

He marvels at how his fingers extend beyond yours, and how small they feel laced between his when he slides them together and rests them atop his leg. His other hand takes to traveling the path from your knee to your waist a few times, as if the action soothes him. The intimate nature of his touches in combination with the sensation of his slightly calloused palm against your skin and the pecks he’s littering across your collarbones make your heart flutter in your chest.

When you feel his teeth nibble at your neck, you breathe, “Baby, stop. You’re gonna get me all worked up,” and shift uncomfortably in his lap.

His grip tightens ever so slightly to hold you in place. “Is that so?” he questions coyly, pulling away from your neck so he can shoot you that signature smirk of his. “What if I told ya that’s what I wanted, huh?” Suddenly, you’re acutely aware of his fingertips fiddling with the hem of your dress.

Though your resolve is slowly crumbling at his touch—as it had an annoying habit of doing—you argue, “Can’t you at least wait ‘til we get home?”

“Who says we hafta wait?”

“Oh, I don’t know, the law?”

He scoffs at your retort and comments, “C’mon, honey, we both know that if I don’t fuck ya right here, yer just gonna end up riding me in the front seat of the car. Waitin’ ‘til we get home ain’t even an option at this point.” You quickly avert your gaze in a futile attempt to hide the effects of the heat rising to your face as well as the pout that forms on your lips at being so irritatingly transparent. A small breath of satisfaction at knowing he’s seen through you once again rushes out of his nose as he trails his fingers along the inside of your thigh. “I don’t think anyone’s gonna even notice my hand takin’ a little detour, do you?”

His words light a fire in your stomach that burns hotter underneath the pads of his fingertips as they move beneath the skirt of your dress to inch closer to your painfully throbbing core. You curse the shuddering breath that escapes your lips when his nail grazes the small bow adorning the top of your underwear. “Atsumu,” you sigh.

“Yer wearin’ those lacy panties I bought for ya, ain’tcha?” he muses, admiring the small crinkle of your eyebrows he knows from experience appears moments before you quietly plead for more. He brings his face closer to your ear, feeling his growing erection strain against his pants at your unsteady breathing, and whispers, “I wish I could see how pretty they look all soaked ‘cause of me.” A soft whimper echoes from your throat when he slides his fingers across the wet material between your legs.

“What if someone sees?” you whine, tightening your grip on his shoulders, causing the material of his t-shirt to bunch up beneath your fingertips.

In response, he presses a reassuring kiss against your lips and murmurs, “Sees what?” His feigned cluelessness would be infuriating to you if his digits weren’t slowly pushing your underwear aside so they could venture along your exposed slit. “We’re just two lovers in the park havin’ an intimate conversation, is all.”

The devious grin on his face widens when a teasing touch against your clit changes your tune. “Please,” you utter, any filter or reservations you had before going straight to hell. Now that he’s spreading that fire between your legs with his well-placed pokes and prods, there’s no way you’re going to tell him to stop.

“There she is,” he purrs, his lips finding your neck once more to shower it with tender kisses before pulling away once more so he can watch you. As his fingers move from your clit to your entrance, he finds that you’re too tight to take in more than one of them. “It’s okay, baby girl. Let me into that cute, little pussy of yours ‘nd I’ll make ya feel so good. I promise.” His words have you clenching even harder against his finger, nearly pushing it out of you entirely, but the feeling of his thumb circling your bundle of nerves as his other hand massages your hipbone helps alleviate the issue.

Soon, he’s able to slide two fingers in with relative ease and use them to knead the spongy area deep inside of you. “Fuck…” you hiss under your breath and squeeze your eyes shut. His skilled digits are soon pumping in and out of you slowly, and his thumb dragging across your pearl with each thrust is edging you closer to your orgasm in no time. “More… please! I want more.”

The desperation in your tone makes his dick throb painfully, which he voices with a low groan into your neck. “Think ya can take me, sweetheart?” he asks, though he already knows what your answer will be.

“Mm!” you confirm enthusiastically with a nod, opening your eyes to meet his curious gaze, “I wanna feel you inside me, ‘Tsumu.”

“In a public place where anyone could see us? Damn, yer horny as hell, ain’tcha?”

You furrow your eyebrows with indignation and grumble, “You started it.”

“I did,” he admits, bringing his face closer to your ear so he can nip at the shell of it, “And I intend ta finish it. Same goes for you as well.” After planting an affectionate kiss against your lips before you can even respond, his free hand’s darting beneath the cover your dress’s skirt provides to unbutton his pants and unzip his fly. “So good to me, baby,” he whispers as he drags his fingers coated in your essence along your slit once more, sending a small jolt of pleasure through your body and causing your hips to buck against him impatiently.

A glance downwards reveals a distinct lump beneath the flowing cotton material that makes you swallow thickly. Though your pussy is practically dripping with anticipation, you know his size is going to stretch your walls painfully. Quietly, you request, “Please be gentle.”

“’Course,” is his reassuring response as he uses his grip on your hips to align your entrance with his cock. Once you’re shifted into the appropriate position, he uses light pressure to bring you down onto him at a slow pace.

However, the sounds of nearby voices startle you, and you pause, refusing to budge. Both yours and Atsumu’s gazes dart about your surroundings until you both spot another couple wandering along the path nearby. Though there’s ample foliage shrouding you from their view, you still feel nervous at the thought of being caught; but you must admit the adrenaline rush also goes straight to your core. Unbothered by the possibility of being spotted—and probably turned on by it, instead--Atsumu pulls you down onto him enough to push the pulsing head of his cock into your pussy.

You’re almost entirely sure the couple can hear the squeal you release, but they don’t stop walking or glance in your direction at all. When you shoot your boyfriend a less than pleased look, his only defense is, “Don’t worry, baby; I’ll make sure nobody sees us,” but he adds, “Though there are people out there who enjoy watchin’, ya know. Can’t do anythin’ about them.”

You respond with a light smack against his arm, but he soon ends your conversation by inching himself deeper inside of you. The way you clench around him at the slightly painful sensation reminds him of just how small your sweet, little core is compared to his large dick, and he loves it. Since your face is contorted in discomfort, he tilts his chin up to capture your lips with his.

“Jus’ relax, sweetheart,” he soothes between kisses as he takes to running one of his hands up and down your back. His words and tender touches eventually melt your pain away, and you allow him to slowly plunge into your warm depths until his tip bumps your cervix. “Fuck, (f/n); your pussy feels so goddamn good.” Heat pools in your abdomen at his praise, and another low hum rumbles in his throat when your walls flutter affectionately around him.

Gently, you move your hips against his at a pace that feels most comfortable for you, and that he matches his long but deep strokes. His arms encircle you, bringing your chest closer to his face so he can tease your nipples, which he can see poking against the thin fabric of your dress since you’re not wearing a bra. It’s a good choice, he thinks, since he can use his teeth to stimulate them without having to expose you. It’s almost as if you came on this picnic date prepared to fuck him in the park—although, you wearing the loose sundress was his idea. He had to pride himself for that, since he was now reaping the rewards of his suggestion.

As much as you want to speed up and let him pound into you mercilessly, you’re both able to show a bit of restraint given the nature of the situation. But that certainly doesn’t mean the experience is any less enjoyable by a long shot. He adds more pleasure to every meeting of your hips by including his fingers in the mix for you to grind against. Given how unsettled you’d felt at the idea initially, you’re surprised how quickly you find yourself getting lost in the moment and approaching your orgasm. Each precisely placed thrust sends shockwaves of ecstasy through your body that force you to stifle your moans with your hand, and Atsumu’s eagerness to indulge your needy pussy encourages him to bounce you up and down on his lap with a bit more speed and force.

“Just like that, baby,” you tell him breathlessly, leaning into the hand he has resting against your stomach so he can feel his dick prodding it from inside you with every snap of his hips. “So good…”

His gaze travels from your breasts back up to your face so he can admire your expressions as you get closer to coming undone. “I know yer close. Cum all over my cock for me, princess.” The way his fingers stimulate your sensitive spot has you orgasming only a few seconds after he’s uttered his gentle command. With a mewl muffled by your hand, you feel ecstasy overtake your entire body as you gush all over him and squeeze him tightly enough to make him press his face into your chest once more to stifle a loud groan.

“That’s it,” he praises shakily, tightening his grip on your hips and holding you down so he can feel the effects of your climax on every inch of his dick. “So fucking good, baby.” With a final, particularly forceful thrust, he releases inside of you and rides out his own high as you drape your arms around his shoulders and pull him closer to you.

When you’re both finished, you take a moment to regain your breath and your composure before daring to open your eyes and see if you’d raised any suspicions. Thankfully, you don’t find anyone watching you with horror—or rapt attention, much to your relief, since either would be mortifying. Atsumu’s lips peppering your chest with gentle kisses draws your gaze to him as he lifts his head to regard you with somewhat hazy eyes. You chuckle at his slightly dazed expression, though you’re sure you look more than fucked out as well.

“That was so hot,” he comments with a sigh of contentment before pressing a loving kiss against your lips, “Who woulda guessed that you ‘nd I would end up fuckin’ during a picnic of all things today?”

You reply, “Not me, that’s for sure.” After allowing your lips a few more moments to catch up on all the kisses you’d been avoiding for the purpose of being as discreet as possible, Atsumu lifts you off of him so he can make himself decent before pushing your skirt away. “Let’s go, ‘Tsumu. The last thing we need is to get busted for having sex in public.”

“We’re gonna be fine!” he grumbles and dismisses your worries with a wave of the hand, “Could ya hand me one of the bags of food, though?” You raise an eyebrow at him, since you’re hardly in the mood to stick around after what you’ve just done. With a roll of the eyes, he leans in closer to you and informs you, “There’s a wet spot on my pants that needs covering up, thanks ta you, so, hand it over ‘nd we can get outta here.”

“Are you complaining?”

“’Course not! In fact, I can’t wait ‘til we get home so you can do it all over again.”

treat me to a coffee! ⭐︎ kinktober masterlist

taglists (see pinned post on my blog for form)

general: @dinablossom, @newfriendjen​, @devlovesramen, @ohbyunhunn, @aftcrlust, @mister-future, @kyleclxin​

atsumu: @pretty-setters​, @misora-msby​, @why-aminot-dead​, @lotsoffandomrecs​, @atsunakaashi​, @heyhinata​, @why-aminot-dead​

[fanficsfromyesteryear]

SICK & TIRED

A STRANGER THINGS ONE SHOT

— PAIRING: Billy Hargrove x Reader — WORD COUNT: 2,077 — WARNINGS: Cursing, Billy being...himself — REQUESTED BY: @udontneedtokno 

Um hi, can I request a billy x fem reader where she Is feeling a bit sick and crappy and he takes care of her? Also could you make it so they aren’t dating yet so he’s still a bit of a meanie and flirts pretty hard with her while he’s taking care of her? I love ur billy x readers sm🥺💖

— A/N: First of all, thank you so much?? Honestly, he’s my favorite character to write for. He’s so unapologetically rude and flirtatious, and I think it’s hilarious. Secondly, I’m sooooo sorry about how long this took!! Life got really busy for a while, so I didn’t have much time to sit down and write, but it’s slowed down again for the time being. Anyway, I can’t even tell you how excited I was when I saw your request! I’m such a sucker for sick reader/character storylines, probably because I relate to them so much. Any time my stomach hurts even slightly, you would think I’m dying with how much I milk it. I had lots of fun writing this, and I hope it was worth waiting for!!

Despite your best efforts to convince your mom to let you skip school, she wasn’t having it. For one, she thought you were just being overdramatic—so what if your nose was a little runny? She handed you a pack of Kleenex, forced cough syrup down your throat, and shoved you out the front door with a promise that you would be fine. You weren’t so sure, and your suspicions were only confirmed when you ran out of tissues by the end of first period, and instead of clearing your head, the medicine had only succeeded in making you drowsy. More than once, you felt yourself slipping away from reality—you weren’t quite falling asleep, but you could tell that you weren’t wholly present either. You wanted nothing more than to go home and take a nap, but your mom was at work, and you didn’t trust yourself to walk all that way on your own.

“Wow, Y/N, you look like shit.”

You were standing in the hallway, unsure of how you had come to be there—you must’ve zoned out again. With a blank stare, you turned to look at Billy Hargrove, who was leaning with his back to the locker beside yours. “Thank you,” you said, sniffing. You couldn’t breathe—it felt like you had a thick wad of cotton shoved inside each nostril. “I feel like shit, too.” As if on cue, you let out a sneeze.

Billy backed away, warily studying you. You had dark circles beneath your puffy eyes, and your nose was red and raw from being smothered with one too many tissues. You looked absolutely miserable, and even though a part of him wanted to stay as far away from you as possible—just in case whatever you had was contagious—he felt bad for you more than anything. He reached up to brush aside a stray piece of your hair. “Hey—” Billy was about to say more but stopped himself mid-sentence, his hand lingering on the side of your face as his eyebrows scrunched together. “You’re kinda hot,” he informed you.

Letting out a groan, you rolled your eyes and swatted his hand away. “Billy, I’m not in the mood for any of your—”

“No, seriously. I think you have a fever or something.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” you said simply. Turning, you started off down the hallway toward your next class. You’d gotten this far—you might as well stick it out until the end of the day. As much as you didn’t want to be there, you didn’t have much of a choice. You figured you might as well try to carry on like normal.

Billy thought otherwise. You hadn’t gotten far when you felt his hand wrap around your elbow. He pulled you backwards, and in your weakened state, you were in no shape to fight against him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Billy demanded.

“To class,” you said, your voice muffled by your hand as you wiped your nose on the sleeve of your sweater.

Billy scoffed. “No, you’re not,” he said. “You’re sick.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” you whined. “My mom’s at work, and—”

“I’ll take you home,” Billy offered. “I need an excuse to get out of here anyway.” Before you could argue any further, Billy slung his arm around your shoulders and led the way outside.

As the two of you trekked across the parking lot to where his Camaro was parked on top of the hill, you were grateful for how close Billy was—you could lean on him for support whenever the need arose, which proved to be quite often.

Billy made sure to help you into the passenger seat—“Watch where you put your hands, Hargrove”—but as he was climbing into the car himself, he looked to you with an air of seriousness. “You better not puke in here,” he warned. “If you do, you’re cleaning it up.”

“I’m not gonna puke.” You hoped that was true because you knew Billy well enough by now to know that he wasn’t kidding, and you didn’t feel like scrubbing your own throw up out of his car’s upholstery.

As the Camaro pulled out onto the main road, you could feel your eyelids growing heavy. At some point, you must’ve drifted off because by the time Billy’s car came to a stop in front of your house, he glanced over to find you fast asleep. Billy yanked his keys out of the ignition and got out with a heavy sigh. As he bent down to scoop you up, he grumbled about how you were going to give him whatever the hell was plaguing you. He concluded with, “Be glad you’re cute,” before kicking the car door shut and walking up the driveway.

Once inside, Billy dumped you onto the couch in the living room. He stepped back and stared at you for a moment with crossed arms as he tried to assess the situation. What had he gotten himself into? He didn’t know the first thing about taking care of sick people—he avoided sick people, mainly because he couldn’t be bothered with them, not to mention how gross they were. You were different, though, and Billy mentally kicked himself for feeling that way. All this trouble just to get you to like him? It was a new low.

When you awoke, you were surprised to find yourself inside your house with a blanket thrown across you, alongside Billy, who was sitting on the other end of the couch with your feet in his lap. You couldn’t remember having walked in—maybe that cough medicine was still messing with your head—and you hadn’t expected Billy to stick around. You had assumed he’d drop you off and then be on his merry way. As far as you could tell, he wasn’t exactly a nurturer. At the very least, you doubted this was how he wanted to be spending his time away from school.

As soon as Billy felt you stirring, he glanced over tentatively and caught sight of you staring at him. He raised his eyebrows in question. “What?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I didn’t expect you to still be here,” you answered.

Billy looked almost offended at this. “And leave my favorite girl to die alone? I would never.”

A small laugh escaped your chapped lips. “I’m not dying,” you said, poking Billy’s knee with the toe of your sneaker. “At least, I won’t be once I take the right medicine.” You must’ve slept off the effects of the cough syrup your mom had given you—you were no longer insufferably tired, which was a plus, but the congestion in your head had culminated into a headache, and it had brought a side of chills with it. You swung your legs over the side of the couch and were about to get up when Billy stopped you.

“No,” Billy said, pushing you back down. “I’ll get it.”

You told Billy where the bathroom was and what to grab—“Aspirin’s fine”—then he disappeared down the hallway branching off of your living room. You were no expert on what the average time should’ve been for completing such a task, but after several minutes had passed and Billy still hadn’t returned, you started to wonder what was taking so long.

The answer to your silent question came in the form of Billy irritably yelling, “Y/N, why do you have so much shit in here?”

Grumbling, you rose from your spot on the couch and shuffled into the bathroom. “What do you mean?” you asked.

Billy turned to find you standing at his elbow, wrapped up in a blanket somewhat reminiscent of the way E.T. had been in the flying bike scene. Only your pouting face protruded from the folds of fabric. The blond couldn’t help cracking a smile at your appearance—comical, yet undeniably cute—and just like that, he had forgotten what it was that had caused your sudden presence.

You took no time jogging Billy’s memory. “It’s right there,” you said, your eyes resting on a bottle sitting on the bottom shelf of your medicine cabinet. A moment later, your hand poked through the blanket and seized the small container. You bumped Billy out of the way as you popped a pill into your mouth and stepped in front of the sink to pour yourself a glass of water. By the time you’d swallowed, he was gone.

“Billy?” you called, stepping out of the bathroom.

Billy’s voice came from somewhere down the hall, saying, “Holy shit, Y/N, is this your room?”

You appeared behind Billy in an instant, latching onto his arm and giving it a tug. “Oh, my God,” you said, your face burning. “Don’t go in there. It’s a mess!”

Being the sort of person that likes to do the exact opposite of what he’s told, Billy easily pulled free from your grasp and wandered inside. He was like a kid in a candy shop as he admired the things lining your shelves—trinkets, books, records, and the like—with wide eyes. Bedrooms tell a lot about the person to whom they belong, and boy, was Billy learning about you.

“And, who is this?” Billy asked with a devious smile as he picked up the faded brown teddy bear that had been lodged between the pillows on your bed.

Groaning, you buried your face in your hands, the soft fabric of the blanket covering your eyes. You wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole. If you had known that Billy Hargrove, of all people, was going to be in your room later, you would’ve made an effort that morning to clean up a bit—at the very least, you would’ve hidden anything embarrassing.

You risked a peek up at Billy, but he wasn’t where you’d last seen him. Instead, he’d moved over to your dresser and was rummaging through its drawers. How typical, you thought with a roll of your eyes. I look away for one second, and already, he’s trying to find my underwear.

Billy achieved his goal, too—you could tell by the cheeky grin on his face. His gaze cut over to you, then back down to the contents of the drawer in front of him, nodding thoughtfully all the while. He was about to pull something out, but you intervened—extending an arm, you slammed the wooden compartment shut, and if Billy hadn’t been so quick to pull his hands out of the way, he would’ve gotten his fingers smashed.

“That’s enough of that,” you said, grabbing Billy’s hand and dragging him back into the living room.

“You’re no fun,” Billy complained.

Both of you returned to your spots on the couch in moody silence. You tried to cross your arms, but you stopped abruptly when you realized that your fingers were still entwined with Billy’s. Blushing, you glanced down at your hands, then up at him, however, he didn’t seem to be paying you any mind. He was facing the wall directly opposite the couch with his eyes closed.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

Billy raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment. “Trying to picture you in that underwear,” he stated simply, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.

You snatched your hand away to shove him with it. “You’re the worst, Billy Hargrove,” you said, but you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped your mouth afterward.

“Damn it, Y/N,” Billy said. “I can’t concentrate with you giggling like that.”

“Good!” you remarked, nose held in the air as you squinted tauntingly at Billy.

Despite the two of you constantly teasing each other, you actually felt substantially better by the time Billy left your house that afternoon to pick Max up from school. He may not have been a doctor in the making, but where he lacked in nurturing qualities, he made up for with playful flirting and good company, and as they say, laughter’s the best medicine. You thought your troubles were over until you woke up the next morning to the sound of your phone ringing.

“Hello?”

You were answered with a sneeze from the other end of the line, followed by a hoarse voice saying, “This is your fault.”

“Aw, Billy, are you sick?” you asked, feigning surprise as you bit back a chuckle.

“Yeah, I’m sick,” Billy whined. “Get over here and fix it.”

“What’s the magic word?”

Another sneeze, then, “Now.”

And your mom thought you were dramatic when you were sick. As if.

[clockworkgraystairs]

Domestic prompts "Person A is working late. They come home to person B sleeping on the couch with 3 empty cups of coffee close to them. Person B was waiting for person A to come home." So happy for your 1k my love 😘

HELLO MY LOVE, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS PROMPT I REALLY LOVED IT!!! 🥺❣️

@awkward-avocado-s Hi hun!! I’m tagging you here since I received the same prompt from you, thank youuuuuuu! 😊

Also, I’m a bit delayed jdjksd I’m sorry, I hope you like it!! 

A massive thank you @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 for helping me with my monstrous sleepy mistakes and for all the hype, love ya so much! 

"Person A is working late. They come home to person B sleeping on the couch with 3 empty cups of coffee close to them. Person B was waiting for person A to come home." Human AU

By the time Jude finally parked the car outside the apartment it was past midnight. Again. 

She cursed under her breath. 

For what felt the thousandth time in the month, her boss had commanded the entire team to stay overtime. He was determined to make their life a living hell. Madoc was lucky Jude respected him like a father, otherwise she wouldn’t pull up with all the extra time crap.

The stairs felt as if they were infinite. Or maybe her feet were getting heavier. Maybe both.

Upon reaching the door she took a second to rest her head against it, the wood cold on her forehead. She’d promised she would return earlier. 

Not that Cardan got mad because of it, he was always supportive with her and her job. Sometimes even more than she deserved. He’d respected her space from the very first moment and never complained for all the late hours. His only comment about it was that we worried about her driving alone at night, nothing more. 

Cardan could read her like the palm of his hand. He noticed when she’d had a rough day and needed space, or when anxiety creeped up and a couple of hugs and encouraging words would make it better. By looking at her eyes he could know if words were unnecessary at all. He would pull her close and kiss her worries away. 

He did so much. And yet she couldn’t make it home early. 

Turning the knob as soft as she could Jude slid inside, her mind running as it tried to find a way to compensate her husband. She should wake up before him the next morning and make him breakfast. Or allow him to read her a chapter of his favorite book. A massage could also- Her mental chatter disappeared abruptly as she lifted her gaze and spotted a figure laying on the couch. 

At first sight it looked like a pile of blankets. Only as she approached she could distinguish Cardan’s sharp features underneath and resting on his chest their 3 year old, who through her half opened lips snored softly as she always did. Cardan claimed she’d inherited that from Jude, that liar.

They were partially illuminated by the tv, where Beauty and the Beast was paused. Jude pressed her hand to her mouth to bite back a laugh, Hallie loved that movie so much and apparently her husband wasn’t able to resist her puppy eyes. 

Under the dim light she was perfectly capable of seeing their ruffled hair. That, she’d inherited from him. Black, unyielding locks sprawled everywhere. 

A new wave of tenderness ran up her chest at the view. This was what made everything worth it. The late hours at work, the stressful days… it was all for them. Her family was the most precious thing ever, and she’d make sure their peace would never be disrupted. 

Jude left her shoes next to her purse and coat to make the least amount of noise possible and walked closer. With careful movements she took little Hallie in her arms. She stirred a bit but with soothing whispers was back asleep in a couple of seconds. Cardan shifted but didn’t wake up. A small stain on his shirt marked the place where Hal had been drooling all over him.  

While walking to the nursery Jude held her baby close. She never got tired of realizing how beautiful she was, and her smell was one of the most relaxing things she could think about. Hallie smelled like home. 

Once Hal was in her crib tucked between her blankets and stuffed animals, Jude kissed her forehead and murmured “Good night my love”, before exiting the room.

The moment she returned to the living room, she had already gotten out from her office clothing and wore an old shirt she’d stolen from Cardan some years ago. 

On top of the small table rested an empty feeding bottle and three cups with remains of what smelled like coffee. Jude sighed. He’d tried to wait for her again. 

After turning off the tv, she slid under the blanket and curled next to him, moaning internally at the warmness. Cardan stirred and half-opened his eyes, mumbling something Jude couldn’t understand. 

“Shh,” she soothed, cupping his cheek. “It’s me.”

Immediately his hand curled around her waist, pulling her closer. He smiled at her with a drowsy adorable expression before frowning in confusion. “Hallie…”

“In her crib, don’t worry.” 

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I tried to stay up-”

“Hey, don’t.” Jude interrupted him as a pang of guilt pierced her chest. “There is nothing you need to apologize about. I should’ve been here earlier…” 

Cardan shook his head and buried it in Jude’s neck, muffling his words. “Then you’re not allowed to do it either. You’re out there catching criminals, that shit’s important.”

“Nothing is more important than you.” She whispered, delivering soft kisses along his face, on his cheeks, his lips, on the small circles under his eyes. 

He chuckled and froze a moment before pulling back to stare at the stain on his shirt. “You usually drool all over your important things?” 

Jude let out an offended scoff and pinched his arm, pulling a dramatic gasp out of him. 

“Shut up… don’t blame me for your daughter’s vandalism.” She mocked. 

“She’s an angel.”

“She learned all her devilry from you, don’t think I haven’t noticed she uses that same pout you put every time you want something.” Gods in heaven knew she couldn’t resist that face. The first time she saw Hallie with it while trying to spend more time playing, Jude knew she was royally fucked.

Cardan hummed. “Can’t recall. Sorry.”

Rolling her eyes, Jude’s hands found the hem of his shirt and started to tug it. “You know, it’s bad for your health to sleep with damp clothes.”

“Oh really?” He teased.

“Mhm” Jude smiled. “Take it off.” 

Soon the offending piece of clothing hit the floor, allowing her to press her hands against his chest, feeling his heartbeat. She leaned to drop a kiss there too, making him hold her tighter. 

“Do you want to go back to bed?” He asked. 

Jude groaned softly. “No… let’s stay here. It’s like a cocoon, a warm and comfy cocoon. I had no idea the couch was this comfortable.”

“Well of course it is.” He said, nibbling at her ear. “I bought it especially to be able to sleep here when your snoring fills the room.”

“I don’t- !” Jude started to argue back when his lips crashed against hers. 

She melted into the kiss. Cardan rolled over so he was on top of her, hands roaming down her sides and legs making her moan. That encouraged him to kiss her deeper. The length of his body was hard against her, making her head spin.

“You’re insufferable.” She gasped between kisses. 

“That’s why you love me, sweet Jude.” He answered. He trailed a finger down her back, sending shivers through her body. “Though I must say… I find it quite offensive you’re still able to wear that shirt when mine’s already gone.” 

Biting her lip, Jude considered him for a moment. “We need to be really quiet.”

The way he smiled at her, had her stomach swirling in anticipation. Slowly, he peeled his shirt from her.

“Then you’ll have to try hard, my love.”

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

AO3  🌻  Masterlist

Tags: @sweetlyvillainous @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @aesthetics-11 @thesirenwashere @jurdanhell @demydreamer-otaku-and-book-lover @nightbringer @b00kworm @mysweetvillain @thefolkofthefic @yafandomsdotnet @vanessa172003 @booksandothersecrets @ireallyshouldsleeprn @fuzzypinneaples @acourtofbookworms @theoceanfaewriter @starborn-faerie-queen @alittledribbledrabble @nahthanks

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[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Twenty-Eight)

Written By: @desperately-bisexual​

Request: None.

Warnings: SMUT!! Cursing. Unprotected sex. Wrap it before you tap it, ladies, gentlemen, and nonbinary sibs. Dom/sub relationship. Sir kink. Impregnation kink. Fingering. Oral (fem receiving). Over stimulation. Soft sex. Emotional sex. The reader does go by they/them pronouns, however, Hotch refers to them as female when saying “good girl”.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 5005

Timeline: Right after part twenty-seven.

An uninterrupted, speed limit obeying road trip from Cincinnati to Quantico would have taken me and Hotch about eight hours to complete. The team probably figured that was our plan, but we actually took up Rossi’s advice to take back roads, and to take our time. We chose the long route, which went South, through West Virginia, which added another hour to the “scheduled” trip time. But what should have been only a few hours’ drive quickly turned into a three day adventure. We split up the drive into three days of two to three hours of driving, then stopping in a city to take some time to ourselves. Hell, we even did a little site seeing, even though that wasn’t really our thing. It was just nice to slow down for a bit. With everything that had been going on recently, I liked spending hours stuck inside a car with him, holding his hand, kissing his knuckles, singing along to music that he didn’t know. I enjoyed being in his company because there was a good hour or so in New York where I thought that I would never get moments like these. Every second with him mattered more now. Every fleeting moment was appreciated tenfold. I would never forget that.

On the first day, Hotch and I made a stop in Huntington, West Virginia. We found a hotel to hole up in, and we spent the day just relaxing, sleeping, and eating. We discovered a cute diner around the corner from the place we were staying at, and we learned for ourselves that they had the best milkshakes we ever had. It was there that we called Haley and Jack to let them know that “a case was running a bit longer than anticipated”, and we wouldn’t be home as soon as we thought. Haley was understanding, and just asked that we would call whenever we were about to fly home. She still didn’t know that Hotch wasn’t in good shape, and that was probably for the best. We didn’t want to worry her and Jack. I was already worried to death about him, they didn’t need that pressure, too.

On the second day, we drove from Huntington to Roanoke, Virginia. We knew that the way we planned the trip, it was only going to last three days and two nights, but that was better than nothing. Granted, it was already more than we should’ve taken off, anyhow. We would have to get back to work and Jack sooner than later. Anything more than three days would’ve sent the whole team into disarray. If Rossi were having trouble keeping them from sending out a search party for us already, I couldn’t imagine what would happen after seventy-two hours of not hearing from us. Rossi wouldn’t be able to hold them back very long, and that was alright.

I didn’t let Hotch drive at all. He kept insisting that he wanted to switch off, to give me a break, but I still refused. His hearing wasn’t necessarily getting better, but it wasn’t getting worse anymore, either. If the music were too quiet, he couldn’t hear it. If I mumbled something under my breath, he couldn’t hear it. If his phone started ringing, he couldn’t hear it. He was trying. I could tell that he was spending all of his energy on getting better for me and on acting like everything was normal, but I knew him. I knew when something was wrong, and I knew when he was lying to me. That was why I couldn’t let him drive. It wasn’t safe. Besides, I needed him to just take a break. After the bombing and his surgery, his body was still trying to heal. If he were behind the wheel and needed to make a sudden, calculated move in the case of emergency, I couldn’t trust that he’d actually be able to do it. Therefore, he was forced to sit in the passenger’s seat at all times.

Driving wasn’t the only thing I babied him over. Since telling me the truth about his ears and what the doctors told him, he had shown me the medicine that he was meant to be taking. There were a couple of different pills from his surgery, one to help with his headaches, and there was a bonding agent ear drop bottle— which happened to actually be the most important thing. At first, he insisted that he could do it himself, but when I caught him struggling to get the drops in his ear before we went to bed in Huntington, I made the executive decision that I’d be keeping track of his medication and that he was actually taking it. Hotch was surprisingly squirmy when it came to the drops. When I tried to help him for the first time that night, he fought against me until I sat on his lap and told him to just hold my hips. It managed to calm him down long enough for me to squeeze the drops in and move onto sorting out his pills. He was a little stubborn— actually, very fucking stubborn about me babying him. But I had to keep telling him that this was what happens when he would refuse to take care of himself. He proved that he wasn’t willing to do it, so I was having to do it for him. I didn’t think he appreciated the fact that I was bossing him around when he was used to that being his job in our relationship. I kind of liked it, though.

When we stopped in Roanoke for the second night of our trip, we stopped to grab lunch at a pizza place just a few blocks away from our hotel. After getting our food, I got Hotch’s pills out and started sorting the ones he needed to take in the afternoon, especially the ones he needed to take with food. He reluctantly took them, popping them in his mouth and drowning them down his throat with a swig of iced tea. He wanted a soda, but I glared at him and told him, “Over my dead body”, and I ordered a tea for him instead. Like I said, babying. But it was also like I said, he did this to himself. If he just would’ve obeyed the doctor’s original orders, then I would have never known that something was wrong, and I therefore wouldn’t’ve gotten involved. But now I was worried twice as much as before, and now I was spending all of my time making sure that he was only going to get better, and that he wasn’t going to do anything dumb to put his health in jeopardy again. Drinking a soda wasn’t the end of the world, I knew that. But if he wanted one so damn much, he shouldn’t have lied to me. It was as simple as that.

At the hotel, Hotch and I showered to get rid of the disgusting feel that came with sitting in a car all day. Hotch was taller than me, I’d be the first one to admit that, but that didn’t stop me from trying to wash the back of his hair when he seemed to struggle with that simple task. It was hard to miss how he cringed every time he rose his arms above his head, and how he still had to limp because his right leg wasn’t healed. His arms, chest, and left leg were all working overtime to try to keep up with me and prove that nothing was wrong. Every time he tried to wash his own hair, he’d bring his soapy hands to the front, and he could manage to lather it on slightly before giving up and deciding to let the water just rinse it through the rest of his hair. It wasn’t exactly the most effective way to do it. When I noticed his trick, though, that was when I jumped onto my tip-toes and tried doing it for him. He held my waist in his wet hands to keep me steady while I stretched to run my soapy fingers through his hair. That was much better than whatever the hell it was he was trying to do. It also didn’t hurt that it seemed to relax him.

I kissed him under the water as we spun around to face me so that he could wash the soap out of his hair. “I love you,” I mumbled against his lips. He kissed me harder, ignoring how the soap was dripping down his face. He squinted to make sure it wouldn’t sting his eyes. I smiled and wiped his face with my hands, using the water to help me wash it all away. “There. That’s better.”

He opened his eyes before kissing my cheek. “I love you.”

I reached around him to turn off the water. “Better?” I asked.

Hotch nodded and opened the shower curtain to grab us a towel each. He stepped out first. After he had his towel wrapped around his waist, he held his hand out for me to help me out. When we were both out of the shower, towels tight around our bodies, we headed to the bedroom to get changed into comfortable clothes. Then, when we were done, we crawled onto the bed to lay down for a couple of hours.

Hotch was laying on his back to my right while reading a book that he had picked up at a store a couple of small towns back. I was right beside him, my head tucked under his left arm, my torso pressed against his side as I hugged him close. One of his hands was holding his book open, the other one was on the outside of my left thigh, slowly and lightly rubbing circles over the bare skin. It was meant to be an innocent and comforting touch— and originally it was— but the longer he did it, and the wider the circle got, the more I took notice of how it was anything but innocent. Maybe in his mind he figured it was nothing, but his hands were clearly wandering, and I wasn’t naive.

At first, I tried to just ignore it and stay still in order to not give him the satisfaction of earning a response from me, but when his fingers slid their way up to my hip bone, it sent a chill down my spine that made me shiver and whine quietly. His fingers slid back down to my thigh and continued to circle slowly. Every second that passed, I could feel my stomach twisting into knots and my clit was throbbing with need. I let out a quiet sigh into his side, trying my best to hide it from him. He halted his movements and asked me if something was wrong, but I shook my head insistently, so he continued.

My hand that was flung over his chest and resting on his other side started inching back onto his body. I slid it up to the collar of his shirt and fisted the fabric in my grip as he slid back up to my hip bone again. I whimpered again, but he didn’t stop. He spent a few more agonizingly long seconds on teasing my hip with his fingertips before he laid his entire palm against my thigh, squeezed gently, and pulled my left leg over his. My shorts rode up higher on my thighs and he held me in place like that for a minute.

“Your fingers are cold,” I croaked.

“Maybe you should warm them up for me,” he responded, though he was still focused on his book.

Hotch’s left hand released my thigh and slowly slid down between my legs. I hissed at the feeling of his freezing cold fingers making space for themselves between my warm, shaking thighs. He was so close to where I needed him most. I wondered if he knew that. I wondered to myself if he knew that I was already soaking my panties and I was on the verge of begging for him. Maybe he did, because he began kneading the inside of my right thigh carefully and I finally let out a quiet moan.

“Sir…” I gasped, hiding my face in his side again.

“Shh...” he cooed, “I’m trying to read.”

I whimpered again and tried to pull my left leg off of him, but he trapped my ankle between his calves so that I couldn’t escape. I sighed, knowing that this wasn’t going to be good for me in the long run. Hotch had me stuck in a position that wasn’t realistic for letting me move or giving him access to where I needed him most. He wanted me exactly like that because there were so many ways he could play with me that didn’t include touching me where it would feel the best. He had proven to himself and me that just touching my skin slowly and lightly was enough to set me on fire, and he wasn’t about to give that game up yet.

The hand I had fisted around the collar of his shirt carefully let go. As his hand continued to grope the inside of my right thigh, I moved my hand down his chest, feeling how he tensed at my touch, and I rested it just below his belly button. He stayed tense, but he still didn’t look away from his book. In fact, he used his thumb to flip to the next page rather than tear his hand away from between my thighs to do so. I thought of a thousand different curse words that I wanted to throw at him, but I kept it all to myself as I dared to use my hand to wander down his body further.

“I’m trying to focus,” he said to me. His breath hitched and his hand grabbed my thigh roughly as I ventured under the waistband of his pajamas and felt how hard he was. “Baby…” he mumbled, biting back a moan.

I tried to pull my leg away again, thinking that he had let his guard down enough to allow me to do so, but when I made my attempt, his calves only captured my ankle again and with more force. The moan he had been holding back left his throat as I took his length in my hand and slowly pumped twice. Without warning, he threw his book to the side carelessly and pulled his hand out from between my thighs and used it to pull my own hand off of his length. Holding my wrist, his legs let go of my ankle, and he pushed me onto my back as he shifted on top of me.

He held my wrist against the mattress, but he stared at me with passion rather than uncontrollable lust, unlike what I was so used to. His eyes looked between my eyes and my lips before he finally said what was on his mind, “Can we just…” He swallowed hard. “Can we go back to basics for a second?”

I searched his eyes for a moment to make sure that he was okay. I didn’t want to pressure him into anything, and I certainly didn’t want to push him when he was still physically and emotionally recovering from New York. If he wasn’t ready, then he wasn’t ready. I wasn’t about to make him do anything he didn’t want to. I wanted whatever he wanted. If that meant just going back to cuddling, I was fine with that. If he wanted to fuck me into the mattress until I couldn’t walk, I was fine with that, too. Whatever he wanted. Whatever he needed. I figured that I’d let him take the lead, so I nodded.

Hotch leaned down and kissed me gently, his hand releasing my wrist. Both of his hands were planted on either side of my shoulders now, his knees were resting between mine, and his lips were gently pressed against mine, no tongue yet. My hands went up to his face and I cupped his cheeks earnestly. His hips dipped down and he grinded desperately against me through both of our pants. I moaned into his mouth, finally giving him access to dominate the kiss with his tongue.

He was so hard, and I was so wet. I just needed him inside me… I bucked my hips up against his, a plea for more, and he listened. He balanced his weight on his knees and one hand as he brought the other between us and snaked his fingers to my shorts and panties. He pulled them down with one effortless tug. He smirked as he threw them to the floor. I bit my lip while looking up at him, my eyes following his as he leaned over me again.

“Aaron,” I moaned when his fingers found my clit.

“Manners still,” he begged while grinding his hips down.

“Yes, Sir,” I nodded, holding his face in my hands.

“I love you.”

I swallowed his words as he slid two fingers into me, and I moaned a string of curse words before he kissed me deeply. Every inch of me was on fire— more than before. Hotch hovered over me with his mouth on mine to silence my words, his fingers working in and out of me at an intricately slow pace. They curled as they pumped inside of me slowly again, and as a result, my back arched off the bed, my head falling against my pillow, my eyes screwed shut. I was so used to Hotch either going so painfully slow in order to tease me for hours on end or so fast that as he was racing to catch my orgasms one after the other, I could see stars. There usually wasn’t any in between, and that was fine because it was fun to see where my games with him would land me on the spectrum of punishments to rewards. But this…

My hips bucked again as his thumb pushed against my clit and started rubbing figure eights.

This was absolute bliss and euphoria. He wasn’t trying to tease and edge me or force multiple orgasms out of me. His pace, mixed with the way he would spread and curl his fingers while buried deep inside of me were all for the sake of telling me: “I love you more than the moon loves the stars you see behind your eyelids right now.” And I had never felt more breathless in my life as my orgasm began to approach.

Hotch’s fingers curled right into my g-spot, and once he found it, he didn’t stop going for it. My mouth was agape as the back of my head buried itself further into the pillow underneath, and I cursed and cursed like it was the only thing I knew how to do besides moaning. When his thumb changed page and direction on my clit, that was when I was a goner. Hotch sat all the way back on his heels so that he could use his other hand to hold my hips still as I cried out his name, clenched my walls around his fingers, and came as hard as ever.

He smirked to himself and his little victory as I continued to buck around wildly, despite his attempt to pin me. Next thing I knew, after I had the strength to tell him to wipe that grin off his face, Hotch shrugged and leaned down to replace his thumb on my clit with his tongue. I yelped, thrashing around in response to the sensitivity of my throbbing clit and his unrelenting fingers inside of me.

“I know you can handle it, baby girl,” he whispered before licking a long, slow stripe up from his fingers in my core to my aching clit.

I nodded eagerly. “Yes— Yes, Sir—” Another moan broke away from me just when he added another finger and he spread me open ever so slightly. It certainly didn’t feel like being as full as when his cock was inside of me— nowhere near that length and girth— but when he spread them apart in order to stretch me… Fuck… “Please, Sir.”

“Please what?”

“Please make me cum again for you, Sir.”

“Good girl,” he complimented.

In an instant, his lips wrapped around my clit, and he used a mixture of licking and gentle sucking to set me on fire again. God, I loved learning the U.S. State Capitals. By Denver, my fingers were tangled in Hotch’s hair in order to keep him where he was, a silent plea to make him keep going. And he didn’t stop. Tallahassee sent me over the edge for the second time that night, but he didn’t relent. The three fingers inside of me ignored how hard I was squeezing around them in order to keep rubbing against my g-spot. My orgasm had barely just ended, and I felt the desperate need to cum again; but I just wanted him. I wanted every inch of his cock inside of me. Nothing else. I could keep learning the State Capitals all day, but we had only just reached the end of Atlanta and I never needed him more.

“Sir,” I moaned, tugging on his hair lightly to gain his attention. “Fuck me. Please.”

Hotch looked up at me through his lashes, still halfway through Honolulu, and I felt a third orgasm approaching, the knot in my stomach tightening, and my thighs tried pressing together around his head. The ‘B’ in Boise was what did it for me.

“Hotch, please!” I cried out. “Please, baby… Just fuck me. Please.”

Hotch’s fingers stilled inside of me once he was sure that I had come down from my high, then they carefully slid out. I gasped at feeling so empty suddenly but caught my breath when he brought them to my open mouth. I sucked on all three of them, focusing on the task he had given me rather than the fact that he was trying to clean up the mess he made with his tongue, which would surely make me cum again if he just added a little more speed and pressure— which he wouldn’t… but he could… if he wanted to.

He pulled his fingers from my mouth after he finally sat up again. “Baby girl,” he cooed.

“I know. I’m sorry.” I softened my eyes. I knew that I wasn’t supposed to say his name, but it had slipped from me while I was nothing but puddy in his hands and unable to think about literally anything. If I could have, I wouldn’t have said anything to him at all, but my desperation for him had been so strong that I knew that saying his name was a sure way to catch his attention. “It won’t happen again.”

Hotch smiled and tucked some of my hair behind my ear with his dry hand. “You did so well, baby girl,” he complimented. “I’m not mad.” That was a relief. I watched him, my hips still grinding against the mattress with anticipation, while Hotch struggled to get out of his pants. Once they were around his ankles, though, he gave up, figuring that it was good enough since he was just desperate to be inside of me. “I love you,” he whispered while hovering over me.

After I leaned up slightly and grabbed his face in my hands, I whispered, “I love you, too.” And in an instant, I felt his tip circle my clit then slide down to my entrance. “I love you, I love you, I love you…” I kept going as he entered me with everything he had to offer.

He groaned roughly as he bottomed out inside of me. “Fuck, baby girl. How are you still so fucking tight?” He pulled his hips back, nearly pulling out of me entirely, then he slid back in. “God…” he buried his face in the crook of my neck.

There was a point in New York, when Morgan and I were still in the car after getting the call about the bombing and we weren’t sure if Hotch and Kate were involved yet, that I asked myself if I would ever know this feeling again. I was so terrified that I had lost him, and I wondered if I would ever feel the warmth and kindness of his kiss, or if I would ever get to feel at home in his arms, or if I would ever get to feel on cloud 9 with him buried to the hilt inside of me ever again. He was the only person I had ever met who mattered enough to me like that. And the fear of nearly losing him still hadn’t left me yet, but getting the chance to be trapped in his arms as he hugged me close while his hips did all the work and he kissed me as passionately as he could… that was all I could ask for. That was only the tip of the iceberg of what I was scared of losing when I thought I had lost him forever, but I had him, and I wasn’t about to let him go ever again.

Crying during sex was less than ideal normally, but there was something about that evening. Between us, we usually spent our time in the bedroom fucking each other until our games could come to an end and we were entirely worn out. But that evening, there was a silent, mutual understanding that we weren’t there to play or just fuck. This was the truest, strongest way of telling one another: “I love you. I can’t lose you. Ever.” And I felt that with how fried and strained our emotions had been since New York, we were both just… broken, tired, and so grateful to be with one another. So as he lifted his head from my neck and I saw how soft and red his eyes were, so similar to mine, I kissed him before it could get out of hand.

Hotch’s right arm pulled out from underneath my back and he brought his hand to my face. After wiping away a tear from my cheek, and I returned the favor, he drove into me again with a little more force. “I love you so much,” he gasped against my jawline before nibbling down slightly. His cock hit just the right spot after stretching me further than his fingers ever could.

“Shit—” I moaned. “Please… Oh, fuck…”

He was going fast and hard now. Not like usual, but certainly a noticeable improvement from his slow hip thrusts only seconds ago. He was chasing his orgasm now, wanting to cum deep inside of me, and I wanted nothing less than that. He had given so much to me between the gingerly placed touches, the orgasms that just didn’t seem to stop, and showering me in so much love that could last a thousand lifetimes. I wanted all of him. Everything. I didn’t want the kisses to ever stop, I never wanted to leave his arms, and I wanted to feel the fullness he gave me every time.

He huffed as his muscles flexed while holding me. “I’m gonna…” I wiped my hand over his forehead as it wrinkled with concentration. He was so close; I could feel him tensing while his thrusts got increasingly sloppy. “Y/N,” he moaned my name into my mouth, and I begged him to do it again. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N…”

“Aaron—” I whined, almost as a warning. Once again, I was so close to the edge, too.

He let out an animalistic groan as his hold on my check tightened slightly and he came inside of me. I writhed around, holding him tighter, my hands moving to his back and clawing stripes into his skin as I came, too. He held me through our orgasms, moaning with every twitch his cock gave. When he stopped moving, he collapsed slightly, still careful not to crush me. I ran my fingers through his hair, feeling both the sexual and sensual relief waving over me.

He was there. He was with me. He was in me. He loved me. I loved him. We were going to be okay. I wasn’t going to lose him. I wasn’t going to let him go.

“I love you,” I whispered into his ear, feeling his arms snake around me so that he could hug me. “I’m here.”

After taking another moment to just hold me close, Hotch rolled off me, pulling out slowly, then falling onto the bed. His arms continued to stay wrapped around me, keeping me close to his chest as he laid down. He adjusted his head on the pillows, trying to get comfortable. I put my head on his chest, returning to the original cuddle position we had started out in the first place.

“Basics...” I patted his shoulder. “Basics is good.”

He let out a slight chuckle, “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” I sighed, relaxing in his arms once more. I looked up at him slightly. “I love you, Aaron. I feel like I don’t say it enough.”

He pouted his eyes and wiped a tear from my cheek. “Every time you look at me, I know you’re thinking it. When you’re not saying it, I know it. That’s all I can ask for.”

“I love you.” I leaned up and kissed him. “I love you.” I hugged his shoulders. “I love you.” I wrapped my legs around his hips. “I love you.”

He held me close. “I love you.” He kissed me passionately. “I love you.” He grabbed my hips. “I love you.” He flipped us over again. “I love you.” He kissed my lips again. “I love you, Y/N. More than anything.”

We both leaned in for a passionate kiss.

“I love you,” we both said.

[binniedeactivated]

saint. || soobin (2.8)🌪

🖤┊𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔱 . ೄྀ࿐ 𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: 𝖘𝖔𝖔𝖇𝖎𝖓 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: 𝖘𝖒𝖚𝖙/𝖆𝖚 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙; 2781

you watched in total fear, soobin being escorted out to the cop car outside the window beside you. he gave you money to eat while you studied but how could you even eat after what just happened? as soon as the police car sped off you collected your things along with soobin’s and rushed to his car. you thanked god for the rolled down windows and push to start button. 

you stretched your arm over the driver’s door and unlock it the way. you swing the door open and sit yourself in the driver’s seat while stuffing you and soobin’s things in the passengers’. you knew how to drive of course, but there weren’t many times you found yourself behind a wheel. you were too busy in panic mode to care anyways. you remembered how easily soobin called people through the touchpad in between the seats. you quickly acted, scrolling through his contacts and aha,

found yeonjun.

his phone rang several times before he answered. you thanked god for the second time, because there was no way you could tell his parents where he was right now. 

“hello?”. yeonjun answers. 

“hello? yeonjun?”. 

“soobin? your voice is high as hell right now you alright?”.

“this isn’t soobin”. 

“ah, girlfriend?”. 

“yes-whatever yeonjun I need your help. soobin just got arrested”. 

yeonjun felt himself drown with worry. he’d just talked to him about being prepared for anything but he didn’t think it would all take place so fast. 

“arrested? where? where are you? how did you get his phone?”. yeonjun asks in a panic while shoving his arms into his jacket. 

“I’m at the coffee shop in the middle of town. the cops just came in and asked for his name, and they cuffed him. I’m in his car right now”. 

“coffee shop in the middle of town? i live down the street. I’m on my way right now”. yeonjun assures before he hangs up. you take this time to lay your head on the driver’s wheel. you weren’t even the one who had gotten arrested yet you were scared out of your mind. you hoped nothing happened to him. all you had was prayers. and even though you haven’t been the best saint lately, you hoped god heard you loud and clear. 

“so? why did you do it soobin?”. one of the law enforcement officers had asked. soobin wriggled his wrists in the tight cold metal cuffs. he was sitting in a wooden chair at a table in the middle of a cold room. there was one light in the middle that shone a bright circle on the table alone. the law enforcement officer was on the other side of the table, there were two of them actually. they were way too big for soobin’s liking. 

“what? do what?”. 

“don’t play stupid with me”. one said aggressively. 

“why did you break into her home?”. the other said just as aggressive, bringing himself further into soobin’s peripheral. 

‘be prepared for anything’, he remembered yeonjun’s words clearly. he remained calm. 

“I didn’t break into anyone’s home”. soobin comfortably says. 

“you had to have something to do with it. these guys wouldn’t say your name if you didn’t”. 

“who said my name?”.

one of the officers began to spread out mugshots of kevin, michael, and seongjun. soobin curses in his head. he should’ve listened to you. they were never his real friends. 

“so? what the hell made you want to orchestrate home invasion and rape, soobin?”.

soobin thinks for a moment, trying to think logically rather than out of fear. if he thought out of fear he’d be a dead man. his heart was rising with each question but he wasn’t going to show it. 

“orchestrate?”. soobin tilts his head to the side, “I thought you said I was one of the ones who broke into her home? Now i’m the one orchestrating it?”.

the other officer slams his hands down on the table harshly. 

“the night of the incident, where were you?”. 

“my girlfriend’s house”. soobin says so nonchalantly that it pissed the officers off. 

“doing what?”. the other officer interrogated, trying to catch him in some sort of lie. soobin smirked to himself, revealing the dimple that always drove you crazy. he sits up in his seat, furthering his face to the shared light in the center of the room. 

“do you really want to know?”,

---

yeonjun knocks on the window with his knuckle startling you. you lift your head and the both of you switch places. you were now in the passenger’s seat and yeonjun was behind the wheel. he looked just as stressed as you were and you were thankful that. at least he had one other person that cared about him just as much as you did. he stretches the seatbelt over himself, 

“so what happened? they just came in and cuffed him?”.

“yes we were about to study and they just came in and asked if he was choi soobin and left with him cuffed”. you confirmed with your anxiety through the roof. yeonjun combs his hair over with his hand while driving off. there were only a couple of police stations in town so he knew where to go. 

“did he look scared at all? nervous maybe?”.

“he looked kind of calm but you could tell he was scared on the inside”. 

yeonjun shakes his head a bit, “that’s not good. he needs to be in a calm state no matter what is going on”. 

“and how do you propose he do that? he just got arrested out of nowhere”. 

“if soobin acts out of fear he’s going to be behind bars within the next 24 hours. even if he looks scared or looks nervous he can’t show it. this will make him look guilty”.

“he didn’t do it! don’t they have evidence that he wasn’t there?”.

“the boys told the police several things. so i don’t know what’s going on right now. i just hope he’s keeping his head”. 

“yeah if he even had one in the first place--god i told soobin to stop associating with them. he’d never be in this”. 

“you shouldn’t worry, he should be fine for the most part”.

“how are you so sure?”. you question. 

yeonjun grins, “I have faith in my boy”.

------

“what’s that? what the fuck are you grinning for?”. the officer expresses growing angry. soobin shrugs and sits back in his chair. 

“i can tell you a story of all the things I did at my girlfriend’s house. i’m telling you, I wasn’t there that night”.

“don’t get smart with us soobin we asked you one question. by avoiding it we’re going to assume that you know more information than you want to share”.  one retorted disgustingly.

“what were you doing on the night of the invasion at mia howard’s home?”.

soobin licks his lips. “eating pussy”. he said nonchalantly once again.

“don’t fucking play with us soobin”.

“you’re a rich boy aren’t you? can get any girl he wants and maybe mia howard rejected you. you texted your buddies and asked them to carry out that plan for you”.

“is this what happened?”. 

soobin shook his head. “they’re lying. mia howard has definitely sucked my dick before”.

“Look! we’re not here to troll you on your sexual experiences. we want to fucking know what you had to do with the mia howard case and why these perpetrators are saying that you carried out this plan”.

“they said you were the one that called all the shots in the group is this correct?”.

soobin nods, “to some degree”. 

“what do you mean to some degree?”.

“they listen to me but I never gave any orders. i’m only seen as the one who calls the ‘shots’ because financially and physically, i have most of the power. that’s out of my control though”.

“they said that just weeks before the incident you spit on her and kicked her out of your house. is this true?”.

shit, soobin thought.

-------

arriving at the police station was you and yeonjun. the both of you gave soobin’s name to the administrator who ushered you to the waiting area beside the interrogation room. a bland white wall arrayed with chairs, it looked like a jail cell within itself. 

“he’s being interrogated?”. you ask anxiously. yeonjun stares blankly at the sign on the door that read, “interrogation rm” before looking back at you. 

“no, he’s at the grocery store buying us a bag of chips”.

you scoff and roll your eyes. 

“is this really a time to be joking around?”. 

“no, but this also isn’t a time to be raising our anxiety levels and asking dumb ass questions with obvious answers”. 

you gave yeonjun a cold look to which he looked back at you and smirked like the asshole he was. 

---------

“and why would you do something like that?”.  

“me and mia weren’t the best people to each other around that time. after I met my girlfriend I didn’t associate with her again”. 

“tell us more about you and mia’s relationship”.

soobin sighs. 

“she wanted clout, i got oral in exchange. theres no relationship”.

“what did she do to make you angry enough to spit on her?”.

soobin swallowed. “she was attention seeking and was just using me. I let my anger get the best of me that day”. 

“and this wouldn’t be the first time your anger has got the best of you would it?”. 

“i don’t usually get angry like that”. 

“so this particular anger was just for mia?”.

“not just for her, I exploded on my parents a couple of times. you don’t see me carrying out a scheme for them though”.

“you just said you don’t get angry like that”. 

“i don’t”.

“so you don’t call exploding on your parents anger and spitting on others anger?”.

“both of those incidents happened only one or twice”.

he wasn’t a repeated offender, so the officers decided to push that off of the agenda. they then decided it was best to lie, they needed more evidence.

“theres evidence that shows this isn’t your first time carrying on another plan of rape. would you like to tell us about it?”.

“you thought we didn’t know, didn’t you?”. the other officer plays along as if soobin’s heart wasn’t bouncing in his chest. he quickly played it off. 

“another? I didn’t even commit this one, so how would there be another?”.

“that isn’t what your buddies said”. 

“they’re lying”. 

“are they? are they all just lying on your pure soul?”. 

“yes. I’m rich and popular aren’t I? they’re jealous”. 

“we’ll find out just how jealous they are”.the officers threatened before strolling out of the room. soobin gulped finally breathing comfortably. he toyed with his hands in his cuffs before a police officer strolls in shortly after. “come with me”. he beckoned. scared out his mind soobin approaches him and he grips soobin’s wrists while escorting him out of the room. words couldn’t explain the joy he felt when he spotted you and yeonjun in the hallway waiting patiently.

“soobin!”. you gasped while he was walking passed you, the police officer was aggressive with him and told him to keep walking. you and yeonjun followed the both of them of course. but you wish you hadn’t, your heart shattered when soobin was pushed behind those cold bars. he looked so helpless. “we’re keeping you in a holding cell overnight until your case is cleared. if they find no charges against you you’re free to go”. the police officer assured, locking it swiftly. 

“you two, 10 minutes only. if you go over you will be escorted by security”.

you and yeonjun nod gratefully while he walks away. you clutched the bars with a sorrowful look on your face, soobin’s heart broke. “I’m going to be okay mama, alright? it’s okay princess”. soobin uses the opening at the top of the bars to plant a kiss on your lips. 

“alright, bonnie and clyde”. yeonjun rolls his eyes and soobin pulls away.  “wait in the car alright? I have to talk to yeonjun”. you nodded. “take care of yourself soobin”. you assured before making your way there, trying to hold back tears. yeonjun waited until you were fully out of the door. 

“so? how was it?”. 

“it was fine at first until they started asking questions about how this is my second time planning a rape scheme”. 

yeonjun’s eyes widened. 

“they know about that?”.

“I’m guessing the boys told him”.

“whatever you do soobin do not panic alright? the boys still have evidence against you for anything yet. you don’t have to admit to anything”.

“how do I know they have no evidence against me? what if the cops have all the evidence in the world but just want to see what I’m going to lie about?”. 

“that also means how do you know the cops aren’t lying themselves? lying to the potential suspect is a interrogation tactic you know”.

“i don’t know yeonjun. that shit hit too close to home”. 

“remain calm. you’re going to get out this shit. the boys have absolutely nothing against you. unless those officers pull out some type of evidence the boys showed them, you’re okay”. 

soobin thinks for a moment and nods. yeonjun takes this time to knock the bars of the cell. 

“they really got you in this shit huh? you can now say you were an inmate at some point in your life”.

“now why the hell would I want to say that?”. yeonjun shrugs, 

“i don’t know, to sound bad ass”.

“yeonjun can you cover for me tonight? tell my parents i went on an overnight trip with the school sports team--anything just dont tell them I’m here”. 

yeonjun nods, “i got you”.

soobin chews on the inside of his cheek before requesting something else. 

“can you also do me another favor? I’ll pay you”. 

yeonjun already had money, but he figured a little extra change couldn’t hurt anyone. 

“what is it?”. 

“can you take care of someone for me?”. 

yeonjun rolls his eyes and immediately scoffs, knowing what soobin was getting at. 

“I’m serious jun”. 

“I know, that’s what getting me. what do I have to do?”.

“I pick her up for school every morning. she wakes up at 5:45am but she doesn’t like to tell me that because she hates when I pick her up. It takes her only 15 minutes to get dressed so be out there by 6:00. since the school doors doesn’t open until 7am I take her to get breakfast. she won’t admit to me that breakfast helps her throughout her school day because she doesn’t like when I spend money on her but do it anyway. I don’t care what she says, just do it. I wait outside her classroom door for her for most of her classes but since i know you aren’t as invested you don’t have to. just check on her in the morning and in the afternoon to make sure she’s having a good day. she has history in the morning and math in the afternoon. both of those classes stress her out a lot so if you see her stressed, take her out for ice cream after school. she will deny the fact that she’s stressed but don’t listen to her. just buy her ice cream anyways. she won’t tell you a specific flavor she wants so just buy her something with chocolate. make sure she gets home safely afterwards. do not pull off until she’s all the way in the house. I’m not saying you guys have to talk to each other but if you do just be gentle with her. she can be a bit feisty sometimes but that’s just how she--”. 

“you’re acting like you’re going to prison for the rest of your life”. yeonjun interrupts. 

“did you get everything?”. 

“yes. sounds like a lot of work. how much are we talking?”. 

“500?”. 

“mmcht. 500 is pocket change but i’ll take it since you’re a menace to society right now”. yeonjun jokes. 

“2 minutes!”. the officer warned. 

“if she looks stressed right now or if she’s crying take her to get some food alright? and don’t fucking flirt with her yeonjun i’ll kill you i swear to god”.

“you don’t have to worry about that she’s annoying just like you”. yeonjun assures on his way to leave. 

“take her shopping if she’s really depressed!”. soobin screamed after him. 

“damn! what else soobin would you like me to wipe her ass too?”. 

soobin laughed a little, 

“if she needs it!”. he replies. 

“for fucks sake soobin!”.

[turningtummyrubs]

Could you write one Ryek and Ark maybe on a mission together? They are arguing a lot and annoyed with each other until Ryek starts feeling sick with a stomach ache. Then Ark has to take care of him with tummy rubs and cuddles. This would make me so happy! Love these two. 😊

Love this prompt!

———

“What are you doing?”

“Figuring out where the hell our target went off to after you let him get away,” Ryek says. Growls, really. His face is illuminated only by the blue light of his phone screen. Ark looks like a mere smudge in the shadows of the storage closet they’ve been forced to duck into.

The two of them have been trailing Leonard Corhz for nearly 24 hours now. They’d started early in the morning and now it’s so dark the air feels heavy with it.

Ryek had started off calm and professional as always, but as time wore on and Ark began to grow grumpier, so did he. They’ve been bickering meaninglessly for the past hour.

The building they’re in, a higher-end office, is supposed to have been locked up for the night. Instead, there are still three people inside. Arkane, Ryek, and target 89, Leonard Corhz.

“There!” Ryek suddenly exclaims, shooting down the hall silently and quickly as a bullet. Ark follows close on his heels, grumbling to himself.

There’s a flash of silver, Corhz’s jacket, and then Ryek’s somehow, impossibly, sprinting faster. Ark doesn’t bother trying to catch up. While he may best Ryek in hand-to-hand combat, Ryek is undeniably the quickest and quietest.

There’s a faint, almost imperceptible, tumbling sound and a muffled scream and just as Ark thinks they’ve finally caught him, he hears a soft curse. And that voice isn’t Corhz’s. It’s Ryek’s.

He speeds up into a full-on sprint and rounds the corner to see Ryek, jaw clenched tight and leaning heavily against the wall. When Ryek spots him, his eyes go narrow and dark and he makes a face like he’ll kill Ark if he says anything.

Ark is quite used to that face though, so he says, “What the hell happened? He was right there! You could’ve caught him! This could’ve been over by now!”

And Ryek blinks once, expression slipping into something bland and woozy, and murmurs, “Sorry,” which is... wrong. Very wrong.

“What the hell?” Ark steps closer, frowning. “Why’re you... what’s going on?”

Ryek blinks again then shakes his head, expression clearing. “Nothing. Corhz managed to slip away. He can’t have gotten far. I’ll take this hallway, you take that one. Don’t make a sound until he’s pinned beneath you. Understood?”

“We’re a team, you know,” Ark says. “It’s not up to you alone to give off all the orders.”

Ryek raises a single dark eyebrow, expression unimpressed, and monotonously repeats, “Understood?”

Ark’s scowl twists his whole face but he nods once and takes off down the hall.

Ryek watches his receding back and takes a deep breath, hand hovering anxiously over his stomach. It’s been mildly upset for the past hour or so, but sprinting through the halls and tackling Corhz has pushed his stomach ache past the point of vague discomfort. God, he just wants to get this over with quickly.

He rubs a hand lightly over his middle once in an attempt to settle it, but when it proves futile, he takes another heavy inhale and sets off in the other direction.

It’s a relief to see that Ark has Corhz cornered when he arrives, but all that ease dissipates, replaced by a lurching horror, as he sees that it might be the other way around. Corhz has a gun pressed to Ark’s stomach. Ark doesn’t look too frightened. He actually doesn’t look frightened at all, with a leering smile and easy set to his shoulders, but Ryek knows. Ryek always knows.

Ryek reaches into his jacket, searching for his own gun, when he realizes with a sinking feeling that the gun Corhz is holding must be his. Lost in the tussle. Ryek’s stomach stirs a bit, sending a heavy thrum of nausea curdling through his unsettled insides, and he swallows hard before rushing forward and tackling Corhz to the ground. The gun slides out of his grasp, knocking against Ark’s shoe. And that shoe is the last thing he sees before colorful spots of light assault his vision and he’s lost to a sea of dark.

He wakes up ten minutes later to someone gently shaking his shoulder. He springs up, scrambling back until he hits the wall behind him. Ryek’s breaths shake as his head thuds back and he scans the hall wildly.

“It’s me!” Ark exclaims, hands up. “It’s me.”

Ryek inhales sharply, head lowering as his fingers flex into fists. How embarrassing to have reacted that way. Of course it was only Ark. Of course, all that embarrassment vanishes rather quickly as the ache in his stomach makes itself known once more. A low, twisting cramp groans through his guts and he crouches down on the ground, almost hyperventilating.

“Ryek?” Ark says, moving beside him. His voice is pitched high, like he’s worried. It’s disconcerting.

Ryek waves a dismissive hand, murmuring, “I’m fine.” It’s not very convincing.

His entire body feels sluggish and warm in a strange way, like it’s shutting down. As his insides churn and swirl, his head begins to spin with static. He can’t think past the buzzing. Nothing feels solid or real except the painful tensing of his abdominal muscles as they seize with cramps.

What might be a moment or an eon later, he feels himself being lifted into the air, which is weird because the only other people here are Ark and Corhz. And Corhz is gagged with his hands tied in the corner... Which means, this must be Ark. But Ark can’t carry him. Can he? Ryek tries to open his eyes, but he can’t. Or maybe they’re already open and he just can’t see. He lifts a hand instead and tangles it in the shirt of whoever’s carrying him. Then he turns his face and inhales deeply, confirming it’s Ark when he smells that heady scent of apple cobbler and sweat.

“What are you doing?” Ark asks, and there’s a hint of laughter in his voice. Almost hysterical.

“Wha... Corhz,” Ryek slurs, trying to think clearly. “Where is he?”

“Some other agents picked him up. You’ve been knocked out for a bit. I’m taking you home.” And suddenly Ryek can see again as Ark leans down and peers closer at his face. “Are you sick?”

Ryek shakes his head, at first just instinctively but then confirming it to be true. “No, my stomach just hurts.” Annnndddd he hadn’t meant to say that part. Great job, Ryek, admitting weakness to your greatest rival. Your greatest rival who is currently carrying you in his arms like you’re a helpless baby. Because you are currently a helpless baby.

“How long has it been hurting?” Ark asks, brow pinched.

Ryek shrugs and allows his eyes to flutter shut as he shifts to a more comfortable position in Ark’s steady arms. His stomach gurgles unhappily and he suppresses a small whimpering noise. What has gotten into him? “A while...”

Ark’s arms tighten a bit around him. “You should’ve said something.”

Ryek just shakes his head.

There’s no more talk until they reach the car. It’s a company mandated car, but Ark doesn’t think they’ll mind too much if he drives it to Ryek’s and returns it in the morning. He sets Ryek down in the passenger’s seat and feels his face heat as Ryek clings to his sweater a bit before letting go.

Worry gnaws at Ark’s chest as he drives. Ryek, whom many would consider the most formidable person on planet Earth, looks devastatingly small. He’s curled up a bit, cheek pressed against the cold glass of the window and eyes closed. An arm is wrapped firmly around his stomach.

When Ark pulls into Ryek’s massive driveway, he ever so gently shakes Ryek’s shoulder.

“Hey,” he says in a soft voice he hasn’t used in ages. “Time to wake up.”

Ryek’s eyes open blearily and he rubs at them with his fingers curled into a fist like a little kid. Ark swallows, something protective tightening dangerously in his chest.

“Do you need me to carry you again?” Ark asks. Ryek’s expression seems to clear at that and he firmly shakes his head. He somehow manages to make it into his house, but once inside, he nearly collapses onto the couch.

Ark, feeling like somewhat of a mother hen, moves quickly to his side. Instinctively, he smooths a dark curl behind Ryek’s ear, the pad of his thumb grazing his cheekbone. Ryek makes a soft sort of mewling noise and leans into the gentle touch. Ark wonders how often people touch him like this. He suspects probably never.

“Do you want me to make you some tea?” Ark asks, voice a low murmur. “Or anything at all?”

Ryek shakes his head once, fingers closing around Ark’s wrist as his face suddenly goes intensely grave. “Don’t. Don’t leave.”

Ark’s face flushes with heat. This isn’t like them. Not at all. “I won’t.”

Ryek’s stomach makes a low grumbling noise and he moans softly and shifts onto his back, palm splayed over his abdomen. Little gurgles and squelches sound from low in his tummy, and Ark watches as his brow creases further and further with pain.

Almost without thinking, Ark slips his hand beneath Ryek’s on his stomach and rubs a gentle circle. Ryek inhales sharply, muscles rippling beneath Ark’s hand, before his entire body relaxes.

“Is this... okay?” Ark asks quietly, and it feels like maybe he’s talking about the whole situation.

“Yeah,” Ryek murmurs. “More than okay.”

Ryek leans his head back against the armrest of the couch as Ark’s hand rubs slow circles into his stomach—gentle at first, and then with a bit more pressure as his abdominal muscles clench and spasm with unrelenting force. A low rumbling has begun to gurgle through his lower stomach, and Ryek exhales slowly as Ark smooths the heel of his palm back and forth over the aching area. Ark’s warm, callused fingers chase away every grumble and twinge plaguing Ryek’s middle.

As the pain dwindles down to a low feeling of discomfort, Ryek tugs on Ark’s wrist and pats the small area beside him. He doesn’t even think about it before doing it.

Ark also doesn’t think as he wordlessly climbs onto the couch next to Ryek and fits his arm around him. Doesn’t think as their bare ankles slide against each other. Doesn’t think as Ryek buries his face in the crook of his neck.

With thinking comes regrets, and whether they’ll admit it or not, they both want this too badly for that.

———

AHHH OKAY I’M SORRY BUT THIS IS SOME OF THE WORST WRITING I’VE HAD IN A WHILE and I don’t know why lol

I just cannot get in the groove :/

BUT I hope you still enjoyed it and hopefully this is temporary :)

[the-rad-pineapple]

hurt

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Supernatural oneshot: Castiel gets into some trouble, and Dean's not sure he can save him in time.

Words: 1716

ao3

fanfiction

wattpad

Another old story that was in the drafts that I decided to edit today. Let me know what you guys think. Thanks for reading!

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Castiel didn’t know what he had been thinking.

A few days ago he had been contacted by some angels. They said they needed his help. Castiel had been hesitant, but he answered them anyway. They had been vague on why they needed his help, but Castiel had still shown up.

It was a trap. And an obvious one.

Six of them circled him. When he had asked why they called him here, they answered him by saying he had to be punished for what he had done to Heaven.

And now Castiel lay on the wet, cold concrete next to a liquor store. Its red neon glow illuminated the dark empty parking lot, reflecting off the puddles of rainwater. Castiel clutched his side as the remaining three angels slowly approached him. He glanced down. He was injured badly, his grace flowing from his wounds. “You don’t have to do this,” Castiel tried as his brothers and sister drew nearer. “Yes, we do,” one of them replied. “You’ve gotten off too easy until now. Who would have thought it would be this easy to kill you all along?” So this was it. This was how Castiel was going to die. In some parking lot next to a liquor store all alone.

----

Cas had been acting strange the past week. Dean knew Cas was keeping something from him. But Dean also didn’t want to pressure him. Cas would tell him when he was ready. Or so Dean thought.

Cas had been acting super distant and distracted today. He hardly contributed to any of their conversations, and Dean had to keep grabbing his attention from whatever he kept thinking about. Now it was almost 2am, and Dean hadn’t heard anything from the angel. Something had felt off, so Dean called. Then prayed. Then called. Then prayed again before he started pacing his room anxiously. He stopped. He could track Cas through his phone. Sam had shown him how a couple weeks ago. Dean grabbed his laptop and hopped on his bed. He found Cas in no time. He was in the middle of nowhere. That wasn’t a good sign. Dean grabbed his keys and raced out of the bunker. Somehow, Dean wasn’t pulled over as he sped across town to find Cas. He drove through an old back road that didn’t have five feet of asphalt without a crack in it. This was shady, and a sinking feeling tugged at Dean’s gut. Dean hadn’t seen anything for miles and was beginning to lose hope when he saw a light; it was a red neon sign that read: “LIQUOR”.

And then he saw Cas. He was laying on the ground attempting to sit up as three people approached him. They were all holding angel blades.

Angels. Of course.

Three more angels lay scattered across the empty parking lot. Dean pressed down on the gas and drove full force into the angels walking towards Cas. They went flying. They wouldn’t be gone long, though. Dean raced out of the Impala to Cas. “Dean?” Cas grimaced as he managed to sit up. He was holding his side. It must’ve been bad. “Yeah, it’s me.” Dean helped Cas up and dragged him to the car. Dean opened the door, and Cas practically fell into the passenger seat.

Dean glanced back to see the angels coming back. He took a knife from his jacket and rolled up his sleeve. He cut deep into his arm. He’d have to work fast. He raced a few feet forward and began painting the angel-banishing sigil on a dry patch of ground. He hoped Cas wasn’t too close. The angels were nearing. Dean hastily finished the sigil, hoping his sloppy work was good enough. The leading angel suddenly stopped when he saw what Dean had drawn. “Don’t mess with my friend,” Dean said before slamming his hand in the center of the symbol, sending the angels away.

Dean stood up and raced back to the Impala. He sighed in relief as he saw Cas still sitting in the passenger seat. The angel’s head rested against the seat, and he was staring distantly through the windshield. Dean rushed to the driver’s side, slid into his seat, and jammed the keys into the Impala. He slammed his foot on the gas pedal while glancing at Cas as he backed out of the parking lot. Cas was fighting to stay awake.

“Shit,” Dean muttered. “How bad is it?” Cas pulled his hand away just enough for Dean to see grace spilling out of...somewhere. Dean couldn’t make out exactly where. But it was pouring out fast. Cas wasn’t going to make it back. Dean pulled over. He had to do something—anything—to get Cas patched up enough to get back to the bunker. Dean ran to the trunk and pulled out the first aid kit. Maybe he could get Cas to stop bleeding, or leaking, or whatever, so his grace would stop leaving his body. Dean opened the passenger door. Cas’ eyes snapped open, and he flinched. He was ten shades paler and drenched in sweat. “It’s just me,” Dean said. “Let me see.” Cas carefully unbuttoned his shirt and winced as he pulled the cloth off his bloody skin. It wasn’t just one deep cut like Dean had thought. Cas’ abdomen was littered with cuts ranging from wounds that barely cut his skin to some that were deep enough to touch bone. Dean knew torture when he saw it. Those other angels weren’t there to merely kill Cas. They wanted him to feel pain. “Those sons of bitches! I should’ve killed them!” Dean exclaimed. “They were just doing what they thought was right,” Cas spoke softly. It sounded like he could barely get the words out.

“Don’t defend them,” Dean spat and grabbed some gauze. “I’m just going to try and stop all this bleeding, and then we’ll fix you back at the bunker, okay?” “Okay,” his voice even softer this time.

Dean cupped Cas’ face, and Cas’ eyes fluttered open. “Stay with me, Cas,” Dean said. His heart was hammering loudly in his chest. He’d lost Cas too many times. He won’t lose him now. He can’t lose him now.

Swallowing down his panic, Dean picked the nastiest looking cut and gently dabbed it. Cas made a small noise and balled his hands up into fists. Dean had to keep Cas awake and preferably not thinking about the pain. Dean had to get him talking.

“This was intentional, wasn’t it?” Dean asked. “Yes, Dean. They attacked me,” Cas bit back. He peeked down at what Dean was doing for a second before looking away. “No, I mean all of this. They could’ve killed you fast. But they didn’t. They were making you suffer.” Dean finished cleaning up that cut and went to the next one. He looked up at Cas. “Cas?” “I suppose.” “Did you know they were going to do this before you met them?” “Of course not! Why would I come if I thought they were going to harm me?” “I don’t know, Cas. Seems to me like you weren’t putting up much of a fight. I’ve seen you take on worse and come out with less.” “You’re being too rough.” Cas looked down disdainfully as Dean finished cleaning one of his wounds. “Stop avoiding the conversation.” Dean pressed the medical tape on extra firm before moving onto the next cut. He pulled back Cas’ shirt to see an even deeper cut. “Dammit, Cas! You could’ve died if I wasn’t there!” Dean glared up at the angel and cursed the involuntary tears stinging his eyes. Cas wouldn’t look at him. “Hey.” Dean wouldn’t let him run from this. Cas finally met his gaze. At least he didn’t look as pale as before. There was still pain in his eyes, but it wasn’t from the injuries. It was something Dean recognized in himself. Guilt. “You think you deserve this.” Cas looked away again. “Let’s just go.” “You don’t deserve this! What the hell were you thinking?!��� “I do deserve this, Dean!” Cas turned to him fiercely. “Do you know what I’ve done to Heaven? What I’ve done to my own brothers and sisters? I can’t—“ His voice cracked, and he looked down. “I can’t live like this.” “You don’t have to be alone, Cas! I’m right here!” Dean put a hand in Case shoulder. “Just please, please stop doing shit like this.” “Why does it matter to you? You don’t know what I’m feeling!” Cas returned Dean’s gaze. “No, I don’t, but I can’t lose you, okay? I need you! If I had lost you tonight...”Dean had to stop himself from going there. He couldn’t even imagine what he’d be doing tomorrow if he realized Cas had died. He never wanted to go down that road. Cas was the one he could count on not to die. “Dean, I’m sorry. I just... You and Sam don’t need me. You can do it without me. You two were hunting long before you met me.” “And? That doesn’t change a damn thing. You’re my best friend. I was worse off back then without you.”

They locked eyes. Dean was hoping if Cas saw how upset he really was over this, he’d stop believing this lie. Dean truly meant it when he said he needed Cas. The pain Dean saw in his friend’s eyes only reflected his own. Cas finally nodded and looked down. “I understand.” “Do you?” “Yes, Dean. I... I can’t leave you. I don’t want to leave you.” Dean studied him once more. He seemed to be physically much better. Dean just hoped he really meant what he said. “Ok.”

Dean grabbed the first-aid kit and returned it to the trunk. He opened his door and sat down. He started the engine and looked at Cas. He was surprised to see Cas looking at him, too. “Dean...” His voice was quiet. “Thank you.” “Yeah, any time,” Dean replied awkwardly.

There were too many feelings now. Dean just wanted to go home. He put the car in drive. The journey back to the bunker was silent, but Dean didn’t mind. It was peaceful, and he didn’t feel like there was anything wrong in between them. If anything, they were closer.

[marvelsswansong]

a/n: repost since tags weren’t working, I LOVED WRITING THIS THOUGH. This was for my Friday Sleepover :) (now over, I’ll do it again next week)! 

** TW for domestic violence.

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

“There’s a patient in the west wing asking to see you.”

Steve frowned at Bucky’s comment, checking the time on his wristwatch. It was three am on a Wednesday, who the hell would want to see him while he was working a night shift at the ER?

“Who is it?” Steve pressed, rolling up his sleeves and setting down the form that he was filling out. His best friend shrugged, moving out of the way of a nearby nurse rolling a cart down the hallway and ushering him off of his seat.

“Not sure. Says you guys went to high school together.”

That piqued his interest and Steve thanked Bucky before disappearing down the hallway, quickly making a left turn and bursting through the emergency doors. Three beds down from the one closest to the entrance, he saw the figure of a woman lying down on a bed, concealed by the pull away curtains.

“You asked to see me, miss?” he muttered, pulling the curtains back. His breath caught in his throat when you turned around and smiled at him, a small smile reminiscent of the one you gave him on the last day he’d seen you face to face- high school graduation.

“(Y-Y/n)?”

Your smile dropped and you looked at the ground, slightly embarrassed.

“Been a while, right? Like 6 years.”

The six years had been kind to you, Steve thought, the pale hospital lighting and dull grey robes still not being able to dull your evanescent beauty. You looked just like he remembered, soft eyes, glowing hair, plump lips, your hands sitting pretty crossed against your lap as the fabric of your clothes wrapped around your thighs. The only differences were the split gash on your lip and the large bruises coloring your left cheek and your arms an ugly mix of purple and green. Upon feeling his eyes on your injuries you shifted uncomfortably, covering your bruises with the plastic blanket on the side of your hospital bed and smiling weakly at Steve.

“What... what happened?” he had to force his question out, his brain at a lost for words for seeing your beautiful body battered and bruised by someone else. His mind immediately went to one person, but he didn’t want to assume.

“I was moving some boxes and I dropped some on me, you know how clumsy I am.” you forced out a giggle, hoping he would buy it. Steve’s lips pressed into a thin line but he didn’t push it further, sitting down on a chair across from you and holding out his hand. He examined your injuries and started to clean the open wound on your lips, the sting of the alcohol causing you to hiss.

“How fresh are these bruises, doll? Any of them feeling like they’re flaring up or swelling?”

He smelled just like how you remembered- home. Freshly pressed laundry, clean cut cologne, a pot of coffee boiling in the kettle. His touch was soft and his fingers were dancing across your skin, not wanting to press any of your injuries. You’d almost forgotten just how blue his eyes were as well, and how they looked at you like you were the most important thing in the world.

“Only the one on my arm is swelling.”

He was quiet as he carefully placed an ice pack onto your skin and asked you to hold it, your eyes shamelessly admiring the way his muscles flexed under the tight white shirt and the doctor’s coat as he turned out to retrieve some elastic bandages. You cursed yourself internally and looked down. You should not be thinking about Steve this way.

You’d been broken up for 6 years. You were a married woman.

“So... are you seeing anyone?” you asked carefully, thanking him quietly when he started to wrap the bandage around your arm. He laughed and shook his head sideways, shrugging off your question.

“Nah. My schedule doesn’t allow for much free time... I was with Peggy Carter, remember her?”

You shove him lightly, teasing him.

“Of course I remember her, Steve. She was our class president.”

“Right. Well we dated a bit when we both ended up going to the same university but... it didn’t work out. She just-”

‘She just wasn’t you’ is what he wanted to say but he bit his tongue, the glare of the wedding ring on your left hand bringing him back to reality.

“She just wanted different things from me.” he finished, taping the bandage nicely. “There.”

You examined his handiwork in the light and smiled.

“Thanks, doc. You know, I always knew you’d be an amazing doctor.”

He smiled back.

“Why’s that?”

You looked at him as if he was crazy.

“Are you kidding? You’re the kindest, most caring, most selfless person I know. I’ve yet to meet anyone who risked their life by getting out of their car to save a puppy while it was crossing the freeway in the middle of rush hour.”

The memory caused Steve to blush- he remembered that day vividly. The two of you were on your way back from your two year anniversary dinner in San Francisco. He’d pulled over on the side and risked getting run over by a rush of cars to rescue one tiny golden retriever crossing the highway, leaving you by the steering wheel all by yourself. You wanted to scold him for holding up the entire highway but you couldn’t find it in your heart to do so when he’d came back and gave you the biggest grin ever, the soft ball of fur happily yapping in the backseat.  

“Even more kind and caring than Brock?”

He regretted the question the moment it escaped his lips, but he couldn’t help himself, it was too tempting. Everyone in your high school knew that you married Brock Rumlow, the son of New York city’s mayor, after just one year of dating at university, and it was the talk of the town when Steve first came back to Brooklyn after his freshman year at university.

His question felt like freezing water hitting your skin and you took in a sharp breath, not sure if you should tell him. Brock had already been calling you all night since you’d ran away from home, your phone constantly going off with excessive messages and never ending voicemails. But you missed Steve.

You missed not being afraid.

“Yeah.” you whispered quietly. “You’re a lot, a whole lot more, kind and caring than Brock.”

Steve slowly moved in, his hand rubbing circles into yours as he looked into your eyes.

“You can tell me anything. Seriously, I promise, you’re safe here. Did... did Brock do this to you?”

You’d spent the last five years of your marriage lying. It was necessary, considering Brock was following in his father’s footsteps of being an influential politician, and something you’d gotten used to doing. Breathe, smile, laugh and sing his praises. Talk about how Brock was an amazing husband who put your needs first and cared about the community. It couldn’t have all been further from the truth. He was abusive, temperamental and a serial cheater. He was an alcoholic and mean.

You should’ve lied.

But when he looked at you, all those feelings came rushing back and the words were tumbling out of your mouth faster than the tears spilling from your eyes.

“He did. H-he’s awful, Steve. He’s been yelling and throwing and hurting me f-for years but I never said anything because he’s my husband and he’s a politician and I didn’t want to ruin his career a-”

The rest of your sentence dissolved into sobs as he quickly embraced you, his thick arms wrapping around your waist as you leaned against his chest. All Steve could see was red, he knew from the start that Brock would never be good enough for you, but he had let it go because he thought you had moved on. Seeing you now, however, six years later, broken and a shell of the woman you were, it made him sad and angry and his fingers itch to punch that bastard’s face in.

“It’s okay, doll. You’re safe now. You don’t ever have to go back.”

“M-my life is over if I leave him, Steve. What about all my stuff? Where am I going to live? W-what are people going to think?”

His grip tightened on you and he shakily kissed the crown of your head, soothing your cries.

“You can move in with me, doll. And fuck what others think. You deserve so much better than that shit head. I always knew he’d never be good enough for you.”

There was a few moments of silence before you spoke the sentence he’d been thinking the whole time.

“We should’ve never broken up. I missed you.”

He moved onto stroking your hair, not caring that Bucky just entered the room and he quietly ushered his friend out with his spare hand. He kissed you multiple times all over your face, his fingers brushing away your tears and he hugged you gently.

“I missed you too. But you won’t have to, anymore.”

His kiss on your lips was gentle. And it was weird, because you hadn’t felt anything gentle in five years.

“Because I’m not letting you go this time.”

[itoshit]

At the end I didn't write the dc stuff, will be for future posts, and I was eating that's why I took my time to come back!<3

I was tired, exhausted even.

The last three months have been hectic. We just recently discovered we had a mole in Bonten and that made me mad.

Fucking mad. Who the hell dared betray us?

After long sleepless nights searching and digging through all the possible files, cameras, and meetings to try to find who it was, I came to a conclusion.

My executives wouldn't work for someone else. But they had side chicks. A lot of them. And what was my surprise when I discovered the blonde girl from three months prior.

Her friend. What was the name of the girl I've fucked that night again?

Vee, yeah right.

Among the hundred footages I've spotted her with Sanzu in a bar, one where he used to go to get his dick wet.

Wasn't she with Koko?? But guess that bitches like her had their legs open wide for everyone and anyone.

'Koko, you know that girl right?'

Now all sat around thr huge wooden table, the Haitani brothers, Akashi, Hitto, Mochizuki, Sanzu and Koko and myself were discussing in emergency. Some of our personal data leaked and the fucker was still free in Japan.

'Yeah I do. Her name was Jackie if I remember correctly?'

Turning to Sanzu I showed him the same image.

'Jackie huh? She told me her name was Grace'

Manspreading I crossed my fingers on the table.

'Well visibly she lied to at least one of you. On these photos taken by our detectives it seemed like she was talking with one of the Yamaguchi-gumi's members. We all know who they are, I don't need to explain further. So the question is. Why the hell is she in contact with the strongest Yakuza family in Japan hm?? The one with which our relations aren't really good at that. Akashi, any idea?'

Silence settling between my men and I, I had my chin on my fingers.

'The most logical explanation would be that she took opportunity of both of our weaknesses. Koko, have you ever talked to her about Bonten?'

'Who do you think I am Akashi? I'm not dumb. She tried several times to get into my pants but I always pushed her away. I'm not a huge fan of escorts'

'That theory is at least confirmed right?'

'Yeah Ran. She has been spotted with political figures too. This bitch knows how to dive into business'

'Sanzu, did you have anything going on with her?'

Looking at my second in command I was waiting for his answer. This fucking mess was starting to get seriously on my nerves.

'Yeah we fucked multipe times'

'How could you explain yourself? You had sex with someone who fucked enemies and politicians??'

'Look Akashi, I didn't say anything to her. I just made her scream my name, I don't have anything to do with that shit'

Throwing a photo at him my patience was thinning.

'Seems like she gave you some drug though. Am I right?'

And that's when a look of realisation came upon his face. Gulping, Sanzu bit his lip. I knew what that I meant.

Guilt.

'Yeah-maybe. Yes she did. But it was nothing more that molly!'

'And how do you know that?? What d'you remember of that night??'

'... nothing'

I fucking tried to stay calm. I did my best really, but this bloody junkie was fucking with me.

'That night seemed to be your last with her, and she saw the Yakuzas not long after. You know what does that mean right? She drugged you and probably asked you questions about our fucking gang. But too high to realise it you gave in. That's your fault. You're the one responsible.'

'Sano, without disrespecting you, the girl you fucked three months ago. Wasn't she an acquaintance of her?'

At Rindou's question my legs stopped boucing and my breath stopped.

Could it be...?

'They were together in this... Fuck! I should have seen that coming'

Slamming my fist against the table I gritted my teeth together.

'Find these bitches and bring them back to me. I don't fucking care how you find them. You could tear their legs off their bodies for all I care but I want them alive. Understood??'

Sanzu sighted while the other nodded and stood up.

'Oh and also Sanzu. Take care of that Yakuzas shit. I don't want them to come at us.'

Leaving me all alone in the room, I slouched on the chair.

Eyes closed while remembering the night spent with her, I cursed at the feeling of my cock twitching in my pants.

'Are you fucking with me now...'

Standing up and leaning on the huge window, head resting on my arm I smirked.

'Guess I'll see you again pretty soon Vee'

-Mikey

MIKEY WAIT YOU GOT IT ALL WRONG IDK WHAT THESE BITCHES GOT GOIN ON—see how i always get dragged in stuff

We hadn’t seen Natalie in weeks. Every time we called her phone or invited her out via text, she always responded that She was tired. Busy. Not really feeling the club scene.

I knew they were all lies. Natalie was the partier of our group, the one who always knew the names of the latest clubs, which ones had the cheapest drinks. Or the strongest. Her strange absence took a toll on our group almost instantly.

Angel went hysterical. She was always closest to Nat, and Tati the one closest to the outside of the circle they navigated in as I was. So we both took it upon ourselves to go with Angel to Natalie’s house, confront her head on. We all met up their by our cars, pulling up to the condominium straight-faced, our worry masked deep within us. Tati and I, at least. The memo hadn’t reached Ang, who sobbed openly as she rapped on the door, screaming out for Nat so loud I wince. We all exhale when the door opens, but that relief quickly washes away at the sight of the small, wrinkled face woman before us— Aya, Bay’s housekeeper.

I’m sorry, Aya says when Angel nearly tackles her with questions about Nat’s whereabouts. She’s not home at the moment.

So she has been home then, I retort, watching Aya’s face drop. Like she wasn’t supposed to say that much.

I will tell her you stopped by, she answers, not really responding to what I’m asking. My eyebrows pitch up.

Ang tries to intercept her, barge straight into the house, but Aya is either deceptively strong or Angel’s awfully weak. Nat’s housekeeper wins the joust for the door easily, all professionalism gone from her face as she threatens to call the police if we don’t leave the property soon.

Tati hastily takes Angel to her car and I head to mine for the same reason: we don’t fuck with police. But that doesn’t mean I’ve given up, either. I send a call to Natalie’s phone, heel tapping as it rings once, twice, thrice and then… voicemail.

I’d usually hang up by then, but the sheer worry I feel for Natalie startles me into staying on the line. I guess we care about each other after all.

Natalie, I breathe after her automated message stops rambling about bullshit I could care less about. Where the fuck are you? Aya all but judo-flipped Angel for trying to come inside your place and look for you. Whatever’s going on, you can talk to us about it, but don’t shut us out. Especially Angel. You know she doesn’t deserve it.

I sigh when the beep comes in and hang up. The shrill ring of my cellphone echoes loudly. I scramble to lift it up to my eyes, heart dropping at the contact name.

Nat, thank God. Where are you?

I’m so sorry, Nat says into the phone shakily and just like that, worry worms its way through my gut again.

Huh? Natalie, what’s going on?

I should’ve never taken you guys to that club. I did everything to keep you three out of it, I promise. It’s just that he saw you, Vee and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I always wanted to keep you guys safe, you have to believe me, she sobs. The sound startles me. I hadn’t seen or heard Nat cry since she skimmed her knee in kindergarten.

What are you talking about? Listen, we were just outside your house. Aya’s taken over, isn’t letting anyone in.

You’re where? Her voice, wet with tears, booms with alarm. Venus, where are you?

I’m at your car outside your house. Nat, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.

Venus, get out of there. Get out of there now. Natalie sounds like she’s pulling her hair out on the other end. Goosebumps raise on my skin.

Natalie, what the fuck is going on?

They’ve been watching my house for weeks! Nobody was supposed to show up there! I told Aya to tell you guys that I went on a trip! Fuck, Vee, you need to get out of there!

Watching her house? I look around with the phone to my ear, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. Everything looks like it always looks. I’m confused and afraid. What shit had Natalie gotten herself into?

I fiddle with my keys, not wanting to take the chance of waiting around and finding out. I can hear her frantic screams, they just make me panic more. I drop my keys, cursing as I bend to pick them up. When I raise them, a jeep slows a few yards away from my car. It’s big, black and the windows are tinted all the way through. Then the doors open, and three men all hop out, adorned in black and demeanors screaming menace.

I stay frozen in place. They’re staring at me.

They’re walking… toward me.

[fnaficsfordays]

Time stands in two places.

Yes I know this place has been dead for the past few months. I swear I’ll be able to revive it now that A Change of Heart is done.

The poem that this fic is based on can be found in my AO3 too.

AO3 Link

Word Count: 2401

----------

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“I don’t.”

“Fair.”

Time stands in two places, but never still

Vincent muttered the last word under his breath, wincing as he wiped the corner of his mouth on his sleeve. The eyes of the person sitting before him darted down to the smear of scarlet it left behind, half-hearted glare not softening. Part of Vincent was tempted to give a sardonic smile in return, but the thought was rapidly dismissed. Fire wasn’t always meant to be fought with fire.

Still, you’ll see me wanting to sit at ease

The not-so-stranger’s fingers flicked a clean napkin over, tan skin callused yet still smooth in the saturated lighting. With a small huff of breath, they sat back, watching with the same expression as he picked it up.

“I can’t say I’m too surprised, though.”

“Hey.” He frowned, wiping at his face. “I didn’t initiate it. They were the ones getting hammered as fuck. I didn’t do shit.”

Even as they walk away

“Didn’t say that you had to start it.” They retorted. A glass rose to their lips, a long gulp before continuing. “I don’t know why out of all the places to get a drink, you’d choose here.”

From each other,

“Could say the same to you.”

From me,

A look. “I’m not the one still whispered about through the whole town. It’s a small place, you know.”

Standing alone despite my desire

“Believe me, I know.” Vincent sighed, rubbing his sore jaw. “The manager’s nice enough, though.”

“Really?”

“What, surprised at finding a decent human being around here?”

A brief moment of silence. “No,” Michael conceded, “Just that you’d recognize it.”

Bitter.

To make it anything but.

He sighed, downing the remains of his own glass. There was no point in responding, and the ache from that brief scuffle in the bar would only get worse. Vincent was arguably lucky enough to not have gotten kicked out himself before he realized that Michael was here. The decision to lay low on the drinks tonight paid off well enough.

Or, well, maybe it didn’t.

Because, well, Michael.

Don’t you wish for the same,

“Why did you come back?” He asked. “And don’t just turn it around on me. I never left.”

“Never left the town? Or never left our-”

“Just answer the question.”

Michael’s lips thinned. “You don’t want to know that.”

Same as it had never been yet

“Except I do. I clearly do.” Vincent’s voice climbed slightly in frustration. “You know I don’t have any of your stuff anymore.”

“I know. I just…” Michael trailed off, gaze darkening as he set down his glass. “I didn’t expect you to still be here.”

We spin around, thinking it had?

“So what?” His voice wasn’t as harsh as he’d expected, but there was no point in trying if the energy wasn’t there. “You’re not the only one.”

Michael turned sharply, scowl returning to his face. “You’re really making this harder for both of us, you know that, right?”

Ah, the days when Vincent found it endearing.

Except he still did.

“When have I not made things more difficult.” He scoffed. “Did you come back for nostalgia’s sake? To see the broken down pizzeria?”

Had we so little that we treated it like so much

“Sure, let’s go with that.” Michael muttered. “Among other things…”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He slid forward his empty glass, expression having died down to something more guarded. He kept his gaze firmly away from Vincent, pulling out his wallet. “I’ve had enough inside here. I’ll be outside.”

“Noted.”

Much more than we had before and now

The moment he was gone, Vincent shoved his face into his hands, a muffled groan slipping out from between his fingers. So this was what life had decided to make him trip over today, huh? A delightful reunion with his-

Former coworker? Friend? Ex?

…

All one and the same, when you were at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria. Good riddance.

And Michael had witnessed him getting into a one-sided bar fight- even when it wasn’t even a common occurence anymore. The fact that it was all the other party’s doing didn’t help either. Luck really decided that he could just shove it- shove it all the way to a terrible past Vincent had tried to leave behind.

Well. Then again, he hadn’t really tried. Not when that hell of a business had already shut down years ago. Vincent might as well just be dead, dead to everything else going on.

But Michael definitely hadn’t taken the same route.

We never turn around at the same time

After a long while, Vincent got up from his seat, leaving a few dollar bills behind. The buzz of noise behind him faded out as he approached the door, stepping out onto the concrete sidewalk of the parking lot.

The air was cool, the first hints of autumn crisp carried on the breeze. His violet ponytail fluttered in its wake, releasing a breath as his eyes traveled down the mostly empty area. His own car sat near the corner, like it had been for the past hour or so. The dark sky and curve of the half moon above made the time clear, cursing underneath his breath as he walked towards the ride.

Another car sat next to it that Vincent hadn’t seen when first arriving.

Sneaking glances and pauses of clarity

“So you’re still here.” He sighed, Michael’s gaze snapping up from where he was leaning against his own car. It was definitely in a better shape than his own, that was for sure.

“Pretty much.” He hummed, straightening up. Away from the intrusive lights of the bar, Vincent could see clearer how much he’d changed in all those years. Brown tousles of hair still framed his calm expression, cut short yet choppy. Dark green eyes stared impassively, jaw set behind tannish skin. Winking in the dim light was a small, silver and blue stud on his right ear.

Subtract everything but the piercing, and nothing changed.

But never could we backtrack,

“You’re staring.” Michael noted. Though nothing changed in his tone.

“Are you surprised?”

“Are you?”

...No. Vincent could never be. “You got a piercing,” is what he opted to say instead.

“Yeah.” His expression softened as he reached back to touch it, fingers curling around the gem. “I was planning on getting one in the other ear too, but I decided to go with just one right now and see how it does.”

And any loop only turns into a circle,

“Michael…” He narrowed his eyes. “Why did you actually come back? There’s no way it’s just the pizzeria.”

“If I knew you were still around?” A light shrug and wince. “...I probably wouldn’t have.”

“Then say I’m not. Say I’m fucking dead, put a bullet through my own head and I’m rotting in my apartment.” Vincent snorted. It wouldn’t be too far from the truth of his inner thoughts. “What’s next?”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Then I’d be the only guy to stumble across your corpse.”

Wait, what?

“What?”

He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t lie when I said it was going to be a nostalgia trip. But the pizzeria… wasn’t going to be the first stop. After the bar, I was… going to head over to our old apartment.”

Spinning to no end and avail.

“...You weren’t.”

“Oh, yeah, I was.”

“I- But you- Why?!”

“I have the damn key right here!” He slipped out a small piece of metal from his pocket, the grooves in the brass held right between them. ”Stop fucking acting like I’m not standing right in front of you. Like I fucking forgot everything and like I was supposed to just move on and forget this place. Because, as much as I wanted to, it never happened. Everything happened.”

“Oh, yeah, and I had a cakewalk.” Vincent laughed sourly. “Don’t try to- do not do this to me. Don’t- if you go back to our- that apartment, I’m not coming with. I’m not doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Fucking around like this! God, I just- Fuck. I should’ve stayed in that bar and got another glass.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I’m a piece of shit that can’t move on to save my life- can’t do anything to save my life- but I’m not doing this. Not with you. You are not about to damn make me remember all of that- everything we-”

“Are you sure you didn’t already get wasted? Are you even- what are you on about?” Michael stared at him. “There was literally nothing we did that was-”

Time stands in two places,

“There is everything we did, Michael! You said it yourself. Everything happened. And living there- living there without you, without any other options once the pizzeria crashed through and you left- I couldn’t forget any of it. We lived together. We lived together!” Vincent’s voice trembled with the hysteria starting to creep in. “We met while having the shittiest job ever, pooled that god-awful paycheck to make living situations easier- and then that wasn’t enough. And then we got so goddamn attached. Everything surrounding that apartment- the one place we could just live without checking every single door, not worrying about the power suddenly going out- became about us.”

Digited minute and hour

“I goddamn loved you, Michael. There is literally nothing else to it. I loved that little life we found together in that place- and when it started carrying over to the night shift because of you. Because it wasn’t being alone. Because there was a ‘we’, an ‘us’, something else.” He chuckled bitterly. “And the only lie I’ve told is the fact that it’s past tense. Nothing changed when you left, left for a goddamn life you did deserve except that then there was nothing new. All these old memories that I couldn’t let go of because it was us. I was so goddamn selfish that I missed having that god-awful job, just to have it with you again. Even when that faded away, I wasn’t here to leave. I wasn’t here to do anything. I was already dead, fucking dead as soon as you left and there was nothing else worth remembering.”

The body and the heart

Hefty silence settled between them, Vincent swallowing. With the rush of emotions gone and his vision clear once more, the parking lot felt so large, so choking in the midnight quiet. Turning around, he fished his car keys out, trying to calm his labored breathing. “Just- it doesn’t matter anymore, I’m just going-”

“You don’t get to spill all your feelings without letting me do the same.”

He froze at the cold steel in Michael’s voice.

“It was us, wasn’t it? We held that apartment together. We took the night shift. We fell in love.” The sigh echoed in the air. Then his voice hardened again. “But you don’t get to say that you’re the only one that felt dead.

“I tried to get somewhere better. It didn’t work out. I thought about reaching out, trying to connect with someone else. It didn’t happen. Now I’m here again. And I was going to head to our apartment. What does that say about me, huh?” A small thud of his hands against his jacket. “That I’ve moved on? That I’m living my best life? You think I left behind any of those memories when I set foot outside the apartment? That I don’t want them too?”

You and me

“You’re not… suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.” Vincent slowly turned around to face him. “Please don’t be.”

“And what if I am?” He stepped closer, voice no longer demanding. It simply hung in the air, expression calm and painfully softer. “Do we just run away? Stop thinking about each other? Act like this can’t be resolved? Like we can change any more than we’ve already tried?”

“It has been four years.” Oh, how his heart constricted at the proximity of their faces. “It has been everything.”

“There’s nothing saying it can’t be everything again.” Michael retorted, placing a hand on his chest, gently resting against his shirt. “There’s not a single thing, Vince.”

And the mind, an unsuccessful mediator

Their lips connected, and suddenly Vincent’s hands were grasping at the thin fabric of his shirt, fingers resting in the small of his back. He was dimly aware that he was pushing Michael back against the car door, only getting closer to the heat from his body. The rush it sent flooding through his veins was unparalleled, flooding his mind of every memory they used to have.

Running around in that pizzeria right before midnight hit, fiery taunts and yells echoing in the halls. Waving the housing contract in the air the moment the landlord was gone, right out of Michael’s reach. Getting pinned against the wall of the office during another scuffle, insults and laughter dying down at the growing flush in their cheeks. Stumbling back into the apartment after one particularly stressful payday, waving a sloshing bottle in the air that spilled more than just wine. Kissing Michael for the first time a few days later, now sober but in a haze no less powerful. Straddling him against the mattress regardless of their alcohol intake, hands trailing underneath shirts and teeth leaving marks on his pale neck and shoulders-

Fuck, Vincent missed this.

Who failed to halt the change.

Michael broke away with a gasp of air, and fuck if he didn’t miss that too. Vincent traced a hand around his cheekbone, breaths equally as shallow.

“Fuck.” He whispered, not letting go. “Holy fuck.”

Despite himself, Michael gave a breathy laugh. “This doesn’t happen often when you go here, does it?”

“I haven’t let myself dream of something like this for a while.” He shook his head slowly. “You really are the death of me.”

“Hey.” The sparkle in his eyes reignited the flame from before, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he wanted to hear his lover’s words, Vincent would have kissed him again right then and there. “Sure seems like I can be the life of you too.”

Alright, that was it. Leaning forward, he slammed their lips back together again. Michael wanted feelings? Oh, he’d get them all tonight.

Repeat such forever more, and know it’ll always be the same.

[comfortsickboys]

Carsick on Road Trip (Ezra)

warning: graphic descriptions of vomiting, carsickness, and some descriptions of a panic attack

The drive to the lake house always seemed a little too long for Ezra, but he usually managed to keep himself occupied enough. Some trips it was with music, others flew by with layered conversations, but this time, his body was bent on dragging out the minutes with pure torture.

He’d spent the first twenty minutes or so listening to Seven and Rose argue about who would be picking the music, and as usual as their bickering was, it made his head begin to pound. He found himself staring intently out the window afterwards, feeling generally uneasy. Unfortunately, that was a usual occurrence anytime he rode in a car for more than fifteen straight minutes. He hated how weak carsickness had always made him feel, but he’d thankfully gotten it more under control as he grew older.

All of that progress melted away once they reached the forty minute mark, and he found himself feeling just like he did as five year old, trembling with discomfort and paling by the second. The slow stirring in his belly had quickly turned into tidal waves, rolling over and over relentlessly. Whoever said having something in your stomach helps with carsickness was dead wrong, and no one could convince Ezra otherwise.

He didn’t dare take his eyes off of the horizon, fearing that one wrong move would send his breakfast hurtling to his feet. He cringed at the mental picture and pinched at the skin on his thigh, finding that as his only functioning distraction. He’d come to the conclusion several minutes ago that he should’ve already told someone, because at that point, it had become hard to imagine speaking. Looking away from the window long enough to hold a conversation would certainly be the end of him.

They’d somehow settled on playing Rose’s music, so Seven had been sulking a bit, looking out his own window in the times Ezra was able to take his gaze from the tree line. For some reason, the music only seemed to intensify the relative silence underneath, and Ezra’s unease grew. He just wanted to be out of the damn car, but there was still at least an hour and a half left to go. Dread seeped down to join the congealed mess in his stomach, bringing him just that much closer to giving in.

His belly curled queasily under his sweaty palm, gurgling in that certain way which he knew was always bad news. Swallowing down the sticky feeling in his throat, he decided to wait until the song went off to request that they pull over. That way, he wouldn’t have to yell and risk pushing up the burbling contents of his stomach.

It’s just his luck that Rose was in the middle of playing the longest fucking song he’d ever heard. His heart felt like it was straining in his chest, making him break out in a nervous sweat. His throat constricted, and he felt a sudden loss of control, signaling that it was no longer a question of whether or not he was going to vomit, but when and where.

Fuck it, he thought, as the song once again crescendoed in time with the rising of his nausea. He was not going to be able to wait—no way.

He let out a short hum to test his voice, finding it thankfully less wobbly than he’d expected. He took a deep breath, praying that when he spoke, he wouldn’t give in to the strong urge to heave that sat unmoving in the back of his throat. “Grey,” he managed, voice sounding a little too pinched. The song roared on, and Grey didn’t respond. He was about to try again when a cool hand landed on his thigh.

“What’d you say?” Came Seven’s voice, just a bit gritty from disuse.

“Need Grey...to pull over.” He would’ve elaborated, but Seven knew him well enough, and he also couldn’t seem to reign in the newest wave of nausea.

“Oh. Is it bad today?”

Ezra couldn’t do anything but nod carefully, feeling every last bit of color leave his face. His stomach squeezed inside of him, and he brought a hand to his mouth. He rolled forward, his cheeks suddenly puffing out with thankfully nothing but a short burst of air.

“Shit. Grey! Gonna need you to pull over right now.”

“Huh?”

Ezra’s panic grew. His stomach pulsed threateningly.

“I said pull over! Z’s going to throw up,” he repeated desperately, and Ezra could hear his shuffling movements as he probably searched for some sort of bag. If he wasn’t filled to the brim with nausea, Ezra would feel guilty for not preparing. It had just been so long since he’d actually lost the battle, so the thought simply hadn’t crossed his mind.

“What? Fuck, I—we’re in the carpool lane, I-I can’t cross yet, there’s-“

“Forget about the lines, Grey, just go!” Rose cut in, and Seven layered over her voice with a similar message.

“There’s literally a—“

“Go!”

“Fine!” Grey finally caved, and Ezra felt the car slightly jerk to change lanes. The combination of the arguing and the car’s movements made him feel exponentially worse, and he began silently begging to just disappear. He swallowed again, feeling the swirling heat start to climb in his throat. It splashed against the back of his throat despite his efforts, and he coughed at the acidic burn that followed.

Rose cursed when she heard him hacking and urged Grey to hurry up. However, not even a second later, the sound of a siren wailing briefly sliced through the air. Bright blue lights caught in their mirrors, and a stifling blanket of dread fell upon everyone in the car.

“Fucking fires of hell,” Rose bit, and Grey could only let out a small noise of distress. Seven stayed silent next to him.

Ezra’s guilt compounded, and that’s when his stomach decided that it had been through enough. A heave thundered up his throat, and on the first try, he brought up the foul remains of his sickly-sweet breakfast. The vomit coated his hands and splattered against the floorboard, earning a miserable, shaking moan from Grey.

Seven’s hand began to glide across his back, but nothing could quell the horrible, sticky churning of his insides. Another rush of completely unrecognizable orange juice and waffles burst from his mouth forcefully, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He could hear Rose comforting Grey, which made him feel like shit, because this was the last thing Grey deserved. Ezra groaned as they finally came to a stop, just before he had to pitch forward to vomit again. His stomach turned as if to say this isn’t over and he hiccuped against the terrible feeling, willing himself not to get upset—which was a tall order, given the fact that this was entirely his fault.

He was drawn from his thoughts when Seven leaned in. “It’s okay, Ez, just take it easy. We know you can’t help it,” he reassured softly, just as the cop approached the window.

Grey rolled it down, and when Ezra spared a glance at him, he saw the trembling of his hand as it came to rest back in his lap. The guilt washed over him again in the form of a fresh bout of sickness.

“License and registration,” the officer said, voice faltering just a bit, and Ezra knew he must have made the car smell revolting. He tried to hold it in out of sheer embarrassment, but he just really had to throw up again, and the action of holding it back only made him retch more violently. His breakfast was coming out thin and brown now, making sickening sounds as it landed on the already soaked fabric below him.

He felt dizzy with exertion, so he closed his eyes and let Seven’s cold skin brushing circles at the base of his neck keep his mind occupied. He heard some shuffling of papers from up front, and then Grey’s wavering voice.

“Here, sir,” he managed to say, but Ezra knew he didn’t sound like himself. His brain started on a cycle of Poor Grey, and the relief in his stomach didn’t feel much like relief when he felt like such a colossal burden.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?” came the officers voice after a few beats.

“Yes, um, yes sir. I know I wasn’t supposed to cross until the HOV lines were dotted, but um, my—my friend back there was getting really carsick, so, I...I didn’t know what to do, sir. I apologize.” The more he talked, the more it sounded like he was going to cry, and that brought Ezra’s nausea back with a crushing weight. It pushed against his chest and he found himself folding over even further somehow, retching from deep in his stomach.

“Jeez, kid. You alright back there?” The officer gritted out, and Ezra hated how much he was affecting everyone around him. Still, he managed to nod perceptibly, keeping his eyes shut so he wouldn’t have to face all of reality just yet. “Alright, well. I’m going to go back and quickly process your info, but I’ll let you all off with a warning today, okay?”

“Oh, God...thank you, sir,” came Grey’s voice immediately, breaking several times in the process.

As soon as he walked away, Rose was back to putting his pieces together again, but they all knew it wouldn’t be easy. Grey’s anxiety centered around both getting in trouble and vomiting, so Ezra had successfully fostered what was sure to be the beginnings of a panic attack. Ezra was so grateful for Seven in that moment, because if he would’ve had to deal with shouldering that weight on his own, he would be scarred. He still might be.

“Sev,” he breathed out, just shy of a whimper.

“I know, Ez. It’s gonna be alright, I promise. How are you feeling?”

“Disgusting. And like a total dick,” he rasped truthfully.

“He’ll be okay. No one’s mad at you, babe.” He felt Seven scoot closer, and a steadying arm came to wrap around his shoulders. He welcomed the feeling, trying to drown out the hitched breaths coming from the front seat.

After the cop returned his license and registration, he told them they were free to go, and Grey spilled his gratitude once more with tremors in his words. When the ordeal was finally over, Ezra looked up to see Grey’s face crumple. His chest hitched with held-back sobs, and Rose leaned over the console to wipe away every tear that fell.

“I tr—I tried to tell you guys there was a—was a cop next to us,” he hiccuped, his breathing choppy and labored.

“You did, baby, I’m sorry. But, hey, that wasn’t so bad, yeah? No ticket, and Ezra’s all finished, aren’t you, Ez? You feel better?” Rose prompts, and Ezra knows better than to say actually my stomach sort of hurts, and I can’t promise that I won’t puke again soon, so he just opts for a half-truth.

“I do feel better right now, Grey. I’m really fucking sorry I didn’t warn you in time, I swear I would’ve asked earlier if I remembered what that feeling meant before it was too late. And I’m sorry about your car, too, I promise I’ll clean it. I just messed up, Rey, I can’t apologize enough.” No matter what he said, he couldn’t seem to make any of it better.

“It’s—it’s okay,” is all Grey could seem to get out after a long moment, but Ezra understood the difficulty of talking mid-panic attack.

The car was quiet then, buzzing only with muted, soothing words from Seven and Rose. Eventually, Rose took Grey’s spot, because he still wasn’t feeling quite up to driving, and they thankfully headed towards the nearest gas station to clean up.

Only an hour and a half more to go.

[disruptedvice]

Hey Stranger

Starmora AU - Prompt: "Hello stranger, you don't seem very good at hotwiring a car. It's the blue wire you should use. Or would you like the keys instead?"

Gamora cursed internally, cracking the door open a bit, unable to take the heat of the car any longer. She had wanted to keep the door closed- less suspicious that way, but she was already sweating like crazy and felt like she was dying. She didn't want to wait for the symptoms of heat exhaustion to set in. And if she could just get these damn wires right, she'd be able to turn on the AC and get out of here.

"You don't seem to be very good at hot wiring a car," a voice said from behind her, and Gamora's head slammed into the underside of the dashboard, cursing as she was caught literally red handed- there were so many colored wires, she'd pretty much been trying to find the right combination by process of elimination. With absolutely zero success.

"It's the blue wire you should use," he continued. "Or would you like the keys instead?"

Double shit. The car owner. No chance of convincing a gullible person she had lost her keys and had no way of contacting someone. Though a good samaritan probably would've called the cops when they saw what she was doing, not approach her and start talking to her.

She slowly brought her head out from under his dash to glare at him, kicking the car door open a little wider so she could bolt if necessary.

The man looked totally at ease, coffee in one hand, and far too amused by the situation. He should have been angry, confused, or scared. Maybe a mix of all three.

Not smiling like this was some friendly conversation.

She still had sweat dripping down her face, but she didn't say a word. She was still analyzing the situation, weighing all her options.

He tilted his head to the side, a thoughtful hum that might have sounded concerned. "You've been working at this for a while, haven't you?"

He had parked a block away from the shop, one of the side streets that didn't get much traffic, and was much easier to find a place and pull out of than the busy main street. Besides, walking to his car was gonna be his exercise for the week.

He had been amused and maybe a little thrilled to see his car door propped open, someone's foot still on the ground and digging around inside. Cause seriously, of all people, him? His car?

Once he got closer, he could see it was a woman, who very clearly had no idea what she was doing. She kept pulling and trying to connect different exposed wires at random, and after two minutes of standing by his bumper and watching more or less over her shoulder, he decided to interrupt. She was clearly working on movie knowledge; not an experienced car thief in the slightest.

But now that she was looking at him, he wondered how long she had been working in his car with all the doors closed. She was wearing all black too, and Peter had gotten an iced coffee today for a reason- it was hot as hell.

"Yours was the only one unlocked on this block. First one I found, anyway," she explained with a tense shrug.

Which yeah, makes sense. Peter didn't really lock his car much. Didn't have anything to steal in it anyway. 

"Got somewhere you need to be?" He asked casually.

"Anywhere but here," Gamora said with a bitter laugh. Of course when she finally had an opportunity to escape, the one illegal skill Thanos hadn't taught her was the one she needed. Their rides were always provided for them when they were sent to do his dirty work. She had never needed to steal a car before.

And now she was in this city with no contacts, no safe houses to lie low in, and her best bet was getting as far away from here as possible. 

The man starts reaching for his pocket, and before Gamora can react to him possibly reaching for a weapon, he pulls something out and tosses it to her.

She catches the keys in her hands. Gamora blinks down at them, absolutely dumbfounded.

"Are you serious?"

He shrugged. "You aren't exactly a criminal mastermind," and oh, how wrong he was there. Not for this type of crime. "I mean, you really suck at stealing cars. If you're desperate enough to try and hotwire a car for the first time for god knows how long in the middle of summer, figure it's probably for a very good reason. Besides, it's not mine anyway."

Gamora hissed. "It's stolen?!"

"Eh," he waved his hand in a so-so gesture. "No one's looking for it, if that's what you're asking. The vin number doesn't match though, but state's only do their own registries for that stuff, so as long as you don't get pulled over in Nevada, you'll be fine."

She looked doubtful, her jaw clenched, obviously conflicted as she cast her eyes between him and the keys, and back to him. Definitely didn't have many people to trust.

"Really," Peter promised, his voice soft but sincere. "I know what it's like to steal a car because you're desperate. Trust me, you're it," he said, a wry smile at his lips that seemed more self deprecating than anything. "Whatever you're running from- you can have the car and go as far as you need to go. You probably picked the best car to steal, honestly. It won't get traced back to you, and won't even get traced back to me. The papers in the glove box check out, you won't run into any problems. Except if you get your oil changed in Nevada. Literally any other state runs the vin number and you're good. Anywhere else, you're golden."

Gamora closed her hand around the keys. "Thank you," she said quietly.

The man nodded and stepped back as she turned them in the ignition. If she was alone, she might have cried in utter relief at the sound of the engine starting. 

She quickly closed the door and pulled out of park. She adjusted the rear view mirror, seeing the guy who just gave her the keys to his car wave goodbye.

She held up her hand in a weak thanks, and drove away.

She didn’t even know his name. ____

Gamora made it two blocks. Before circling back around to find him again.

He hadn't made it very far, just walking on the sidewalk with his iced coffee like that was his plan all along, like he didn’t just help someone steal his admittedly shady car.

Maybe if he had been a normal person, she would’ve left. Just taken the car and never looked back, rather than risk someone who was just trying to help her getting caught up in all of this.

But he obviously had criminal ties of his own (as did she). And Gamora was so tired of running.

She didn’t have anyone to trust in this city, but whoever he was- he had less than legal connections, and that was safer than trying to outrun a shadow.

Peter was surprised when he looked up and realized he recognized the car that had slowed down next to him, and recognized the person driving it.

She rolled down the window. “I’m on the run from the mob!” She called out. “You wanna get involved in that?”

It took Peter a second to realize it was an invitation, then, he smiled. “Sure, why not?” 

He climbed into the passenger seat of his car without a second thought. ____

"I hope you have some place to go, cause I sure as hell don't," Gamora's nervous chuckle was only slightly forced, the impulsiveness of her actions starting to catch up to her. This wasn't part of the plan. She didn't have a plan. 

The only plan she had was run.

This was so far out of bounds of anything she'd ever done. And she didn't regret it at all.

"Yeah," he said, and proceeded to rattle off an address.

She paused, "uh… you know I'm not from around here, right?" Maybe she should've let him drive his car she just stole.

"You'll be driving along this road for the next ten minutes or so, then take a left on Magnolia. Only a few streets on from there. I’ll tell you when to turn.”

Gamora breathed out a sigh of- relief? Something, at finally having a plan, a place to go, even something as simple as literal directions to a destination. It was more than she’d had since she broke away from Thanos. More than she’d had in a long time, really.

Peter looked over at her, not really sure if this was the right time, but he’d never had much impulse control. “So, you mind me asking how you got mixed up with the mob?” His elbow rested near the passenger window, fingers idly tapping the car interior, going for casual instead of curious like he really was.

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. “I used to work for them.”

Now that got his attention. When he heard her problems were mob related, he expected something more along the lines of a troubled family member, maybe some bad business with a loan shark- you know, normal people reasons for getting involved with the mob. If he had to take a guess, he’d go with medical debt that a loan shark was intent on collecting upon. That was getting more common these days. People borrowing from less than reputable sources to pay hospital bills, and the interest rates on mob money- you couldn’t get out of that. And if you went to the cops, you’d find your house burned down that you put up for collateral six months later, all chalked up to an electrical fire. Pretty good reason for wanting to get away.

But working for them- now that… that he was not expecting.

He hadn’t pegged her for a criminal- she was so bad at stealing cars.

“What’d you do for them?” He asked before he could stop himself.

She tensed all over, her jaw tightening, and kept staring straight out the windshield in silence. Definitely the wrong thing to ask.

Peter cringed, slumping back in his seat, ready to shut up for the rest of the ride. Just when she seemed like she was starting to trust him.

Gamora breathed out slowly. He should- he should know. He might decide not to help her, but he deserves to know the truth. He would be getting ‘mixed up’ with the mob too cause of this, just because he was… kind. Whatever car thief/chop shop operation he at least had some ties to didn’t mean he deserved to die if Thanos ever found her.

“The worst of it?” She said with a forced levity. “We had guns for that. And we used them.” 

She had no desire to be more blunt than that. She was sure he got what that meant.

He didn’t react. At all. She kept waiting and waiting for something- anything, but nope. Nothing.

“That a problem?” Gamora tried to keep her tone as bland as possible. Hearing someone heavily imply they used to kill people for the mob- it didn’t exactly inspire confidence if they sounded like they were one wrong move away from snapping.

Peter hesitated. Then, “Not so long as I made a good first impression.”

Gamora laughed, surprising even herself. She took a quick glance over to see him still looking at her, seeming genuinely delighted at making her laugh. She quickly refocused back on the road.

“Very good,” she assured him. She was more hesitant to say this next part, because sharing made you vulnerable, and any vulnerabilities could be exploited, but- she really didn’t want him to think badly of her, that she killed people by choice. 

Still, she chose her words carefully. “My time with them was less than voluntary.”

“Kinda figured,” he said with a lopsided smile that was actually kind of charming. “I’m Peter, by the way.”

“Gamora.”

She still didn’t know what she was going to do next, but she knew she wasn’t going to have to figure it out alone.

He was right. She really did pick the best car to steal today.

[theladyofdeath]

V O I D { S E V E N }

Chapter 7. An ACOTAR fanfiction.

Nessian. Elriel. Feysand.

Previous chapters:  Fanfic Masterlist

“The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive.” ― John Green, Looking for Alaska

Feyre strode up to the looming mansion and pounded on the door. When three seconds passed and no one answered, she did it again.

It was just after sunrise, but Feyre hadn’t slept. She’s spent her night at the hospital, watching Rhysand’s chest slowly rise and fall.

It hadn’t been too difficult finding out where Rhysand’s family lived just outside of the city. She had hounded Azriel until he spilled just enough of Rhys’ backstory so that she could Google the details, only to find out that Rhysand’s father was one of the wealthiest businessmen in all of Velaris’ history.

From there, his address was easy to locate. He was practically royalty.

Feyre pounded on the door, once more.

A tall, slender man opened the door, dressed in black. “Good morning. May I help you?”

“I need to talk to Alastair Lunasa,” Feyre said, wasting no time.

“Mr. Lunasa has a number for his office you may call. Let me write it down-”

“No,” Feyre interrupted, wondering if the poor man in front of her knew how cruel his master was. “I need to see him now. It involves his son.”

“Rhys?” A quiet voice came from behind the butler.

The butler’s thin, bony shoulders stiffened as the woman moved around him.

She looked just like him. She had the same tanned skin, the same sculpted cheeks and jawbone. Her pink lips were just as luscious. Her long, black hair was braided. Dark circles rested beneath her hazel eyes.

“You’re his mother,” Feyre said.

She nodded. “Where is he? Has he come with you? Has he finally come home?”

Even her robe was made of the finest silk.

Feyre blinked. “I- no, he hasn’t come home. He hasn’t woken up yet.”

The woman’s lips twisted into a small smile. “He never was an early riser.”

Feyre’s anger lessened as the realization hit her.

She had no idea.

“Where is Rhysand’s father?” Feyre asked, with a little less hostility. 

“Readying for the day,” she answered, softly. “Who are you? Are you a friend of my son’s?” 

“I just came from the hospital.” Feyre wanted to yell, but her voice was nothing more than a whisper. “Where they contacted your husband days ago to tell him that his son was in an accident and has a serious injury. He hasn’t woken up yet. He’s in critical condition.”

The worlds fell out of her mouth without a breath, each one leaving a heavier impact on Rhys’ mother.

Her face had grown pale, but her eyes were ablaze. They shot from Feyre, to Elain’s little car where it was parked behind her. 

“Can you drive us?” she whispered.

The butler had begun to pretend like he wasn’t listening. Feyre had a feeling he did that often.

Feyre nodded, unsure of how else to react.

Rhysand’s mother gave her a quick, curt nod before softly shutting the door.

She hadn’t known.

The nurse said that they had talked to Alastair, but he had never told his wife.

It wasn’t even five minutes that had passed before Rhysand’s mother, and a teenage girl who was her mother’s spitting image, hurried out the front door.

The ride was quiet, at first.

Feyre had so many questions that she wasn’t sure which to ask, in what order.

She decided to begin with the simple ones.

“What’s your name?”

“Oh,” his mother breathed. “I’m so sorry. How rude of me. My name is Meira. And this is my daughter, Reina.” 

Feyre glanced in the review mirror. Reina wasn’t paying attention. She was watching the buildings pass them by in a blur, her violet eyes red and puffy.

They must have gotten their eyes from their father.

Feyre tried her best to smile. “It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Feyre. A friend from school.”

“Thank you,” Meira said, hurriedly. “For...coming. I-We...had no idea. As much as I appreciate you coming, however, it would best if you stayed away. For your safety. Alastair can be….”

“A dick,” Reina supplied, quietly. The first word she had spoken. “An asshole, a monster.”

The words were quiet, but Feyre felt them like a knife in the heart. 

She assumed they would not be so open if they were not so terrified, so anxious.

Feyre nodded, swallowing her building questions. 

To fill the silence, she gave them both the morbid details. She told them about the accident, about how Azriel and Cassian were holding up and healing. And by the time Feyre pulled into the hospital’s parking lot, her hands were shaking uncontrollably.

Their silence continued, as did Reina’s tears, as Feyre led them up to the fifth floor and down the hallway to where Rhysand’s heart monitor still steadily beeped.

Meira gasped, taking in her son’s appearance.

Silent tears began to stream down her cheeks as she strode to his bedside and knelt, taking his limp hand in hers and kissing it softly. “I didn’t know,” she wept. “I didn’t know, I didn’t know, I didn’t know.”

“They talked to my father? They told him that Rhys was here and what had happened?”

Feyre jumped at the sound of Reina’s voice. When Feyre glanced beside her, Reina was watching her mother and brother with an empty expression.

“Yes,” Feyre replied, quietly.

Reina said nothing more, didn’t move. She simply stood in the doorway, watching lifelessly. 

______

“You should really eat something, dear. It’s on me, so eat and get whatever you’d like.”

Nesta sat perfectly still on the other side of the diner’s booth. “I’m not hungry.”

“Are you ever hungry?” He asked. It was not a judgmental question, but his eyes were lit with mere curiosity.

Since he had found Nesta in the parking garage the night before, Hale had not let Nesta out of his sight.

He’d taken her to his home, which was massive on the other side of Velaris. She’d slept in his guest room, one of many, and was woken bright and early for breakfast.

She probably should have turned down his offer. He could’ve been a murderer for all she knew, although the elderly man looked completely harmless in his cardigan sweater and pressed khaki pants.

“Why do you live alone?” Nesta asked, instead. “Your house is huge but you’re the only one in it.”

Hale’s brown eyes softened. “My wife died about five years ago. It was her dream home, and I stay because of her. Although, personally, I could deal with something much less grand.”

Nesta couldn’t help but give him a slight smile. “No children?”

Hale took a deep breath before replying, “Just one. But, we fell out of touch about twenty years ago.”

Twenty years without seeing his child?

As if seeing Nesta’s questions brewing, Hale gently sat down his fork. “It’s a choice I made with a lot of thought and a lot of heartbreak. My son had a very horrible drug problem. I did everything I could to try and help him, but he didn’t want to be helped. He was abusive and cruel, and he used me often. For money, mostly. Stole a lot of what we had to buy drugs.”

Nesta nodded. “Had?”

Hale raised a dark brow. “Pardon?”

“You said that he had a drug problem.”

“Ah,” Hale said. “He passed away recently.”

Nesta nodded, once more. She picked up her fork and picked at her scrambled eggs. “Is he why you’re helping me?”

Hale tilted his head to the side, watching her. “When I saw you, you reminded me of him, yes, and also of myself. I, too, have battled with depression for my entire life. My worst years were in my early twenties. I remember that pain, that hell. You seem like a very nice girl, Nesta. A smart girl, with a bright future. I just want you to see that, too.”

Nesta met his kind gaze. “I could hurt you. I could be crazy.”

He shrugged, taking another bite of his French toast. “If that’s the case, I’m almost eighty years old. I lived a good, long life.”

Nesta laughed, breathily. “Fair enough.”

They ate in a comfortable silence, Hale asking Nesta questions every now and then about her life, her interests. Nesta returned his questions with those of her own.

And she actually began to enjoy herself.

_______

Azriel sat in his apartment, alone.

Cassian was still in the hospital.

Rhys hadn’t even woken up yet.

But Azriel had to leave the hospital, at least for a little while. He hated seeing Cassian beat himself up over something that was all of their faults. He hated seeing Rhys, too, lying there like a beaten rag doll.

Being home wasn’t any better, though.

Cassian’s room was empty. Cece stayed with him at the hospital. Rhys’ bag was still sitting open, his clothes strung throughout the living room.

Untouched.

He could’ve turned on the tv, or at least the radio, but Azriel sat in complete silence.

He should’ve been the designated driver that night. Should’ve stopped after one. He was usually so good about those kind of things, and the one time he wasn’t, it had cost him.

He felt like screaming.

He felt like reaching into his head to try and remove his racing thoughts.

Cassian.

Rhys.

He had gotten out almost untouched and he felt guilty.

Guilty that he was okay when his two best friends, his brothers, weren’t.

Guilt.

Azriel stood up from the kitchen chair in which he sat and began to pace.

Maybe he should pray.

He used to pray when he was young, not that it made much of a difference. At least it made him feel hopeful.

But he wouldn’t even know how to pray anymore, wouldn’t know how to start.

Maybe he should try and distract himself.

But with what? Alcohol?

No.

He was starting to sweat, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest as his hands began to shake.

He cursed, inside of his mind, those voices that controlled his thoughts becoming louder.

His phone began to ring.

Elain.

He knew it was Elain, she was the only one that had called him in recent days.

Sweet, innocent Elain.

Azriel had liked her, had wanted to get to know her, but then the accident happened and now Azriel wanted nothing but to be alone.

Completely and utterly alone.

It was better that way.

That way, he couldn’t hurt anyone else, wouldn’t be responsible for anyone else, for their pain, their misery, their lives.

Alone.

That was what he was meant to be.

______

Meira and Reina had gone to the cafeteria with Feyre, allowing Cassian to be alone with Rhysand.

It had been good to see Rhys’ mom and sister. They had always been kind to Cassian. He wasn’t surprised that Alastair wasn’t there.

Bastard.

Cassian glanced at Rhys’ heart monitor, beeping steadily, then at the clock, ticking slowly.

He met Rhysand’s blank face, dark eyelashes still against his tanned skin.

“I’m so sorry,” Cassian began, no more than a whisper. “I will never forgive myself for this. I need you to wake up, man. I need you to wake up, and make some stupid, cocky joke about all this, okay? I need you to do that for me.”

Nothing happened.

Cassian hated himself more as his eyes began to water. He wiped at them, angrily.

“I have a problem, okay? But I’m gonna get help. The alcohol, the anger… I’m gonna get help, alright?”

It was a promise, but Cassian didn’t know how much power it held if Rhysand never woke.

“Wake up,” he pleased, his forehead falling into Rhysand’s limp hand. “Wake up, Rhys, please, wake up. Wake up!”

His tears slid from his cheeks onto Rhys’ skin. He didn’t care. He didn’t care that he looked like a pathetic fool, that he was talking, yelling, at someone who probably couldn’t even hear him.

“Wake up,” he sobbed. “Wake up, Rhys, Wake up. Please. Please.”

He wanted to reach up, shake Rhys’ shoulders until his eyes opened and all was okay.

He couldn’t live with himself if this was it, if this was Rhys’ fate.

Beneath Cassian’s forehead, a finger twitched.

Cassian's gaze shot up and met a pair of tired, violet eyes.

The sound that left Cassian was something between agony and joy. He reached for a cup of water off the bedside table and held it to Rhys’ lips.

He drank and drank until the cup was empty. He looked to Cassian and blinked once, twice, then asked, “Who the hell are you?”

His voice was raspy, weak.

Another tear fell from Cassian's hazel eyes as he stuttered, “I- I, you don’t….”

Rhysand’s pale, chapped lips twisted into a smile as he whispered, “Kidding, jackass. This is one hell of a hangover, yeah?”

Cassian didn’t laugh, though.

Instead, his lip began to wobble and he laid his head against Rhysand’s chest and wept.

[scxretxsettle]

A Perfect Circle

There weren’t many places in the desert that could produce a perfect dead zone. Even fewer held a man-made shape like she’d been suggesting.

Part of his own site’s radio interference was the locale---an electric storm phenomenon they hadn’t quite understood, but hadn’t deigned it important enough to bring some scientist out to investigate it thoroughly, constantly loomed as a threat---but they’d have been stupid to rely on just that.

Signal jammers weren’t such a common find in the desert, outside of an in-progress raid. Too many invited attention. Without rumors to fuel hesitance and superstition, their own jammers might have garnered attention.

Or maybe they did. Maybe Tech had just been lucky enough to send word out, not far enough into to have seen anything yet. Not far enough in to have found anything under the sands, surface level or otherwise.

He urged his motorcycle a little faster.

It had taken a long time to have enough pieces to put together who all had been involved in this. Years of service to the Company, reading things other people didn’t have access to, peeking into files he wasn’t meant to read. The locations of the bunkers had been taken to the grave, but the people...

Sentinel had picked a hell of a team. Too good, maybe.

They’d put bodies in the ground in building these places to house the infernal, and these places would continue to add to those counts on their own.

She really couldn’t just let this be, could she? He should have known a spot like this would catch her eye sooner or later.

The hair at the back of his neck started to prickle even before he’d officially crossed into the space he was rapidly registering as an Old World Order kind of dangerous. If he put stock into the desert mythos, or what he understood of it, he’d maybe argue places like this were where Wartime spirits lurked, curled around the cursed things left behind after the world had ended.

The first few signs he came across---entirely too familiar, warning of various hazards of the desert wasteland---confirmed his suspicions about this place.

To see her lounging on the truck, only getting down as (he assumed) she registered his approach... she’d been there far too long. Too long for him to try to offer an explanation that would appease her.

“You have to go.” 

If her still-playful expression was anything to go off of, she either hadn’t heard him, or hadn’t yet registered his words.

She cracked a quip still in line with her radio musings, but he didn’t offer a retort. All of this had to get in the truck. She protested, loudly, but that didn’t stop him from trying to pack her up. There was too much... stuff, piled outside of the truck. Gadgets and... map. Map.

The sight of her little circle drawn around this place, even at a quick glance before he had started to fold it, add it to the pile of tools growing in the truck’s interior, kicked at an impulse he’d buried a long time ago. This wasn’t somewhere she should know about, and sure as hell didn’t belong on a map. He creased it more thoroughly than necessary, resisting the urge to just rip the thing to pieces.

Her defense finally had him turning to face her, but only to face her down evenly, with the severity of a man who knew a lot more, had seen a lot more, than he liked to let on. This was non-negotiable.

“You need to leave,” he repeated. “Put all this,” a flap of the map, held in his fist with enough force that it crinkled, “in the truck and get out of here.”

She continued to protest, ever the curious kid, defending her interest in the odd things of the desert. She thought this was benign; some neat occurrence the desert had produced.

“There’s nothing out here worth investigating,” he interrupted sharply. For once, he needed her to take him at his word and just go.

But she pressed on, asking questions he didn’t have easy answers to: “What do you mean? How do you know?”

He grit his teeth, mouth flattening into a thin line. Reaching a decision---a compromise with himself, really---he pressed on, letting more of his stress bleed into his words as he said, “I will explain everything to you if you would just,” he jerked an arm in the direction of the truck, pivoting with the motion, “get in the truck, I’ll--”

Something shifted on the truck with a metallic thunk, just visible out of the corner of his eye, but his attention was drawn away before he could face it fully, Tech’s weight lurching briefly against him. He caught her by the arms, surprise chasing the grim weight of his earlier expression to the corners of his demeanor. “Tech, what--?” What happened?

She shook her head in answer, eyes vacant like she’d just been knocked on her back and needed a minute to regain her wits. Instinct told him he knew what this was, prickled down his spine like dread.

He didn’t let the thought settle---part of him knowing this was different, even before he could put his finger on why---until the first drops of blood hit the sand. It was soaking through her shirt, stemming from around--- No. No.

“-Midnight?”

“Pumpkin--” He tightened his hold on her forearms, holding her steady, trying to draw her focus back outward. “Hey, look at me.”

He leaned back on instincts, now, letting old training offer up a train of action so he had something to shove the fear down with. Stop the bleeding. Keep her calm. Keep her talking.

Midnight eased her gently into the sand, sparing a quick, wary glance up in the vague direction of the bullet’s origin as the gunshot echoed across the empty sands before he went for his bike. As he pulled gauze free from his kit, he had the flash of a thought to be grateful he’d had the foresight to restock.

When he returned to her side, he guided her wandering hand away and lifted her back into a sitting position, muttering out a strained apology as he pressed gauze to both sides of the wound and drew a sound from her that made his own heart clench.

She wasn’t dead yet. He gripped that thought tightly as he took precious seconds to assess. She wasn’t dead yet, most of her belongings were in the truck already, and he just had to get her in there and get her... to the Haven. It was the closest place he knew to have medical supplies. A doctor. A real, honest-to-god doctor, and it was going to take one to deal with---

He let that thought go as her shaking voice prodded at the silence: “What-- What happens now?” But then she didn’t give him room to answer, panicked thoughts spilling from her mouth, undeterred by his chorus of ‘Hey’s that grew in volume and sharpness. If she didn’t stop, she’d send herself into shock, if she wasn’t already on her way.

Reluctantly---he didn’t want to hurt her, but she had to stop---he applied more pressure against the wound, forcing her words to taper off with a whimper.

What he didn’t say was that if whoever had shot her had wanted to shoot him too, he’d be dead already.

“First, I’m gonna need you to take a deep breath for me,” he prompted. He waited until she had---nearly asked for another---before continuing, “What happens now is you breathe, and you keep looking at me, and you don’t fall asleep on me.”

He just had to get her to the Haven. If she could hold on for that long, she had a chance.

“I’m going to pick you up and get you in the car, and we’re gonna go back to the Haven, and we’re gonna get you through this.”

When she offered no protests, he scooped her up in his arms, an easily hefted weight that he didn’t struggle to manage as he tucked her away into the passenger side. He’d leave the bike. It was probably the easiest decision he’d ever made about the damn thing.

She was too quiet.

He climbed into the driver’s seat, heard the old suspension squeak at the rough treatment of him pulling the door shut with more force than necessary, and all she had to offer after all that was, “Gear shift sticks unless you push it a little to the right first.”

He didn’t like the weight of the silence, but he didn’t know how to prod at it. “Need you to keep pressure on that. Hard as you can. Don’t let up if you don’t have to.”

From the corner of his eye, he could see her nod and move to do as she was told as he coaxed the old truck to life and into motion. He gripped the wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white, pushing the truck faster as the silence festered.

With nothing else to do but cut a path through the sand and race a ticking clock, there was room to think. Weigh the problem, rather than address the cold, heavy thing that sat coiled in the pit of his stomach.

There’d been plenty of opportunity to shoot her before he’d gotten there. And more than enough time to shoot her once he had. The pieces didn’t fit together neatly. But there were enough there to get an idea of the picture. That shot hadn’t been meant for him. That shot had been so not meant for him, that the shooter had waited until he’d turned, trying to minimize damage to him on the off chance that he moved back too soon.

There weren’t a lot of people who’d make a choice like that. He was the more obvious threat by far. There were even fewer people who could make that shot, far enough off, with enough cover, that he hadn’t seen a threat.

Sabine, if she was still alive, wasn’t in the region, last he’d heard. Jonah didn’t have the range proficiency, especially with an old weapon. But that left someone he knew was dead.

Or, she was supposed to be.

Tech’s sudden burst of movement drew him back out of his thoughts. He lifted his arm to give her space to tuck against him, curling it around her once she’d settled.

If he hadn’t been so focused on getting them moving, he might have taken more care to keep a radio within arm’s reach. The notion hadn’t quite occurred to him until she pointed out the truck’s constant static, but he should’ve tried to get out a call to the Haven, fill Tox in on as much as he could about the injury. But he’d tossed his own radio and his medkit into the footwell before he’d gotten her in the cab, and he couldn’t see her radio within reach.

Her breathing was a worrying thing against his side. It didn’t level out enough to suggest she’d fallen asleep, but she wasn’t as responsive as he’d like.

The Haven couldn’t come up fast enough.

The truck received the same rough treatment as before as he killed the engine and yanked up the parking brake. He left the doors open as he jumped out and gathered Tech back into his arms, covering the little ground that remained between him and the Haven’s entrance in long strides. 

He raised his voice to let his call of the medic’s name carry down the hall even as he followed Tech’s directions, even as Jack’s own shouting, then his high-strung presence, trailed after them.

Midnight rattled off as much information as precisely as he could as he eased Tech down onto the medical table. He answered what questions Tox had and stepped out of his workspace, moving to stand near the door as Tech and her brother exchanged quiet words.

It was out of his hands, now.

Her blood had mostly dried, but he kept his arms down at his sides, kept his hands from making contact with his clothes as much as he could.

He straightened up---leaned in---only when Tox spoke as though summoning Tech back, his words kicking at the worried thing that lived in his chest that Midnight was still pointedly ignoring.

But she was still responsive. She was awake, and talking, and--- and neither he nor Jack should be in the room for this part.

The knowledge settled with fast, easy clarity, grim in its truths though it was. Tox was quick to confirm as much, dismissing both Jack and him with an air of finality.

When Jack slipped out into the hall, Midnight trailed after him, trusting Tox to do his job.

He was expecting Jack’s sharp turn, but the hands---fists---in his shirt were more of a surprise than the fist to the face he was expecting to follow it up. He let Jack’s momentum carry them both back, didn’t push him off even as his back connected with the wall. Blind rage (and, if Midnight looked closely enough, fear, too, he’d guess, buried under the knee-jerk blaming) stared out at him from dark eyes. 

“What. Happened.”

He carefully closed his blood-flecked hands over Jack’s fists and met his gaze evenly.

“I’ll explain everything I can,” he said quietly, “but not here.”

[a-jynx]

Glory Rider - Part 2/3

Summary: Y/N’s best friends talk her into doing some tricks on her new Honda Grom, but what happens when doing a certain trick could possibly lead her to her riding days were over?

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of injuries, hospital visits, car crashes, pissed but loving Jared and Gen, somewhat graphic detail in gore (part 2), along with uncle Jensen and aunt Dan coming in to help,

Pairing(s): Jared x daughter!reader, Gen x daughter!reader, Jensen x niece!reader, Dan x niece!reader

Tags: @iliketowrite02 @waywardnewcomer @laceyn-1201 @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @casiskween @i-hear-crazy-calling-my-name @sandlee44 @j-k-ruffell  

Enjoy! Feedback is the glue to my writing!

“Hey, babe, have you seen Y/N?!” I called while making my way downstairs, attempting to fix my beanie into place as Gen peeked her head out of the kitchen, a large smile on her face.

“Yes, papa bear, she’s fine. She wanted to go take her new Grom out for a little while with Alex.” Gen grinned as Shep and Tom came running in from outside, large grins on their faces as they yelled at each other.

“Mm, you know how I feel about her being on those things..” I gently growled as she arched a brow, frowning before she walked forward wrapping her arms around my waist as I did the same to her.

“I know, but you know she’s careful - plus she’s been riding for almost five years; of course, I’m worried about her too because there are idiots in the world, but we can’t take it away if it makes her happy, J..” Gene gently sighed as I nodded, yet a frown still tapped to my lips when the boys came rushing out of the kitchen, crawling between our legs as we laughed.

“Hey, let me finish up breakfast and then we can all go to the park like we planned, I’ll have to call Y/N, and Alex to meet us over there.” Gene smiled as I scooped up the boys, them wiggling in my arms as I did small circles, them screaming and laughing as we went around, and around, and around - yep, I’m gonna be sick.

“Sure, I’ll have to-”

Suddenly, I was cut off by the sound of my phone ringing. Furrowing my brows, as I thought it was work or Jay, I carefully placed the kids on the floor as they went rushing away, I grabbed my phone and placed it to my ear.

“Hello?”

“M.. Mr. Padalecki..?”

“Um, yes, who is this?” I furrowed my brows at the sniffling on the other side, suddenly feeling heaviness in my chest as my eyes trailed over to Gene, who was too occupied with cooking to notice the worry in my voice.

“It’s.. It’s Y.. Y/N..” The coughing and cracking with choked sobs voice made everything seem to just stop. The world stopped spinning, my wife stopped cooking, and my kids stopped playing as I straightened my back - my mind whirling to what could’ve happened.

“What happened?” I quickly placed the phone against my ear and shoulder as I moved quickly, shuffling on my flip-flops as I moved to the kitchen and pressed a kiss to Gene’s temple, catching her off-guard as she frowned at my sudden worry.

“She.. She was doing a trick, and.. And this man - oh my god, he hit her with his truck!” The girl shouted as she couldn’t control anymore of her cries, and that’s when it hit me.. My baby girl is hurt, or even most likely dead..

“Dammit! O.. Okay, is there an ambulance there yet?” I growled whilst running a hand through my hair.

“Y.. Yes, it’s the Jefferson Hospital,” after that, I hung up, I couldn’t take any more of this..

“Babe? J? Jared, where are you - what’s happening?” Gene called as I rushed around, grabbing my wallet and stuff my phone into my sleep shorts as I threw open the door, I turned back to her and gave her this look of desperation as she furrowed her brows.

“I.. I’ll call you when I know exactly, okay? I love you.” I quickly shut the door and got into my car, my heart was already in my throat.. But I knew it would drop as soon as I saw her.. Jesus, God.. Please let her be okay..

As I parked near the entrance of the hospital, I could see Alex standing there with worry and anxiety just coming off him in waves. I made my way over, shouting for him as he looked towards me a small thing of relief flooded him as he ran to meet me.

“God, Jared.. I’m - I tried to stop her! I’m so sorry, I.. I..” Alex sighed, a broken noise tumbling from his lips as I grabbed him and wrapped him in a hug before pulling him back as he tried to contain himself.

“It’s okay.. She’s going to be fine, and don’t blame yourself, okay? Just take me to where she is,” Alex nodded as he turned away, leading me into the however-many-floors hospital and it made me sick to my stomach…

The smell of chemicals, the sounds of murmuring people, and seeing doctors and nurses with masks and latex gloves just sent shivers down my spin - my girl didn’t deserve to be here. She deserved to be out there - to be free.

“I already told the doctor and nurses that you or Gene would be coming, they wouldn’t let me go in since I’m not immediate family,” Alex sighed as we stepped into the elevator. I didn’t even quite register what he was saying as I attempted to keep tears from flooding my eyes, and my heart from exploding out of my chest.

Suddenly, the silence was broken from my phone buzzing, pulling it out of my shorts’ pocket I saw Jay’s picture appear before I answered, swallowing down the bubble that formed in my throat.

“Jay?”

“Jared! Hey, Gene told me to call you, is something wrong? She said you were acting weird before you rushed out of the house..” Jensen’s voice was somewhat drowned out by the sound of a cars’ engine.

“I.. It’s Y/N, J.. She was riding and got hit by some douche.” I stiffened as I said it - hearing myself say it made it all seem that more real.

Jay cursed before clearing his throat, the dinging of the elevator signaled Alex and myself of as we went towards her room.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, Jefferson Hospital, right?”

“Yeah..” I hung up, stuffing the phone in my pocket as I listened to the beating of my heart, and the flooding of my blood filling my ears as Alex stopped near a windowed room; and that’s when it happened - it all became real.

Y/N’s bodied laid on the hospital bed, a large breathing tube stuck down her throat whilst a machine kept her breathing, bandages wrapped around her midsection, and the only thing hiding the rest of her was a simple sheet. Dried blood clotted up in her hair and forehead, some stitches on it - she looked pale. Hell, she looked like she was about to greet Death like she would when I returned home after filming…

“Oh, my god..” My stomach lurked as I slowly rounded into the room; God the smell.. The smell of her metallic blood and the chemicals making it hard to bare as I stared at the girl I promised to protect.. To love and treasure more than anything, now laying in a bed with machines keeping her alive.

“Alex, who.. Who’s the man that did this?” I bit my cheek to keep from growling; whoever did this was about to get a whole other meaning of ‘pain’. Alex stepped closer, placing his hand on the bed as he stared down at his best friend; he was hurting almost as much as I was..

“He.. He stopped to check on her, but he never gave us a name or anything. All I remember was the license plate.”

“That’s good enough. I’m going to sue his ass for everything he has - dammit! I knew she should’ve never gotten into riding!” I turned and slammed my palm against the door, before running both of my hands through my hair, frustration rolling through my veins as I attempted to clear my head.

“Jared.. I - she loved riding, it was her passion. Plus you knew you couldn’t say no to her the day she asked you for her first bike..” Alex moved away from Y/N, placing a hand on my shoulder as I turned towards him, feeling the burn of tears in my eyes as I sighed, my bottom lip trembling.

“Well, this isn’t the first bike situation - this is the last one. She’s not going to leave the house on another one of those death traps ever again, and I don’t care how pissed, or how upset she gets - its final. Her glorified riding days are over.” I swatted a hand in the air, emphasizing the point of there was no more riding days to follow after what happened - I wouldn’t allow it.

“Jared, think about this rationally.” Alex slightly pleaded, but I waved him off. Moving around him as I grabbed the seat closest to Y/N’s bed, pulling it close and plopping down into it; I reached forward and took her wire-free hand into my own.. It felt cold.

“I am, Alex.. If this was your child, you would be doing the exact same thing!” I slightly growled, my papa bear showing through. Alex stood behind me, I could hear the delayed breathing from his nose as I narrowed my eyes at my daughter’s body.

“Jared, please… If you keep her cooped up after this, she’ll never want to ride again. She’ll be terrified to even leave the house,” he whispered with a slow yet painful sigh.

I rolled my lips together with the shake of my head, scoffing slightly before turning my head and glancing at him from over my shoulder. “Maybe that’s for the best.” I hissed as hurt and agony tightened in my throat. Rolling my thumb over her cold hand, a sudden commotion came from outside, only to reveal Jay from the hallway with worry and anger twisting on his face.

“Jared..” Jay took a few steps into the room as I stood, Alex, taking a few steps back as I met him halfway as we wrapped our arms around each other before pulling apart and turning back towards Y/N. “So, do we know what happened, or… How long?” Jay asked in a whisper as I swallowed thickly and shook my head, glancing at Alex, who stood there with furrowed brows and sad filled eyes.

“I just got here, but they haven’t said anything… I need to call the cops though, Alex said he knows the mans’ license plate, so I need to get them here soon.” I cleared my throat, before moving towards the door and to wave Alex to follow as he nodded once, quickly moving behind me as Jay moved further into the room before sitting down where I sat before, grabbing onto Y/N’s wrist and holding her hand tightly.

She’s already so broken, but if I lose her to some idiot… I’ll break them even more. 

Part 3: Coming soon! 

I hope you all enjoy this new chapter! I’m hoping the third part will be the best!