#I’m not saying in this case it was terrorism or it wasn’t.

[noirandchocolate]

Just in case, you know, anyone is interested…

Here’s New York’s statute on terrorism.

The pertinent parts someone may be…y’know possibly wanting to know about…

Are Section 490.05(1), which defines “act of terrorism,” and Section 490.25(1), which sets forth the elements of the “crime of terrorism.” Just to make things clearer, because statutes often are not, murder is a “specified offense” as defined in Section 490.05(3).

You will notice when looking at these sections, that “terrorism,” as defined by New York law, does not require a mass attack, an attack on a government or other public building, etc. Because murder is a specified offense, killing a single person is a sufficient underlying crime. Additionally, the statute does not require intent to coerce a government. That is one possible sufficient intent. Another is an intent to “intimidate or coerce a civilian population.” In other words, a group of people.

However, please remember, while you are thinking about this topic, that charging a person with a crime is not the same as convicting them. The State has the burden to prove every element of every crime alleged against a defendant, who is presumed innocent unless a jury decides the State has met that burden beyond a reasonable doubt. So if, say, someone murders a single person, and is charged with terrorism, the State will need to prove that this person possessed the requisite intent/state of mind associated with terrorism, not just the intent to kill associated with murder.

Just so you are aware.

And now, for people who do not like to click links, here are the provisions I’ve mentioned, below the cut:

Section 490.05(1)—

1. "Act of terrorism":

(a) for purposes of this article means an act or acts constituting a specified offense as defined in subdivision three of this section for which a person may be convicted in the criminal courts of this state pursuant to article twenty of the criminal procedure law, or an act or acts constituting an offense in any other jurisdiction within or outside the territorial boundaries of the United States which contains all of the essential elements of a specified offense, that is intended to:

(i) intimidate or coerce a civilian population;

(ii) influence the policy of a unit of government by intimidation or coercion; or

(iii) affect the conduct of a unit of government by murder, assassination or kidnapping; or

(b) for purposes of subparagraph (xiii) of paragraph (a) of subdivision one of section 125.27 of this chapter means activities that involve a violent act or acts dangerous to human life that are in violation of the criminal laws of this state and are intended to:

(i) intimidate or coerce a civilian population;

(ii) influence the policy of a unit of government by intimidation or coercion; or

(iii) affect the conduct of a unit of government by murder, assassination or kidnapping.

Section 490.25–

1. A person is guilty of a crime of terrorism when, with intent to intimidate or coerce a civilian population, influence the policy of a unit of government by intimidation or coercion, or affect the conduct of a unit of government by murder, assassination or kidnapping, he or she commits a specified offense.

[pepperpixel]

*my eyes burst open w a flash of light*

SEVIKA

Yadda yadda yadda jinx is generally seen as a loose canon, does whatever she wants type of character, totally unpredictable. When in actuality, up until the last few episodes all of her choices and actions r motivated by wanting to please someone else. Hell. Even in the last couple episodes, the very Last thing we see her doing is ENTIRELY MOTIVATED by devotion and love and grief for silco, she’s taking out her frustration at herself and the world, and also honoring his wishes and dreams. By shooting a fucking bomb at piltover, she’s ensuring his life wasn’t in vain, she’s honoring him. In that moment

Her entire, self!!! is centered around love and loyalty. Is centered around other people, She’s motivated by an insatiable urge to prove herself, to be useful to those she loves, to show that she can help them and be there for them and be WORTHY of there love. That they haven’t made a mistake in loving her. To prove that she can be as pivotal to them as they r for her. She goes to the ends of the fucking earth to do this. And it ends. Terribly.

She puts the people she loves on pedestals and supplicates at there feet, she has no motivations most of the show outside of making the people she loves happy… she yearns for connection and love and safety. For a home that will never leave her behind, or crumble under her feet, (an indestructible home, That she can’t destroy just by being her…)

Which is why.. it’s so. Interesting and intriguing. How now, she has no one on that pedestal to worship, no one to drag sacrifices and offerings to the feet of, no one to spiral around and build herself off of. She is a person so *affected* by her relationships w others, but there is no relationship now, no one is stepping up to the plate to love her. She’s too much. For anyone. The one person who seemed to have unlimited patience for her is dead, because of her. and maybe vi could still love her.. but. She’s already soured that relationship. Already broken that one too. Broken all her favorite toys that made her so happy. That were there for her. And scared all the rest away. (There is a limit to what vi can support and forgive to reconnect w her sister. And I believe terrorism is crossing that limit ghgh)

And maybe, jinx is cutting that part of herself out on purpose. To be stronger, she’s realized she just. Isn’t made for love. That she ruins it all in the end. That it just makes everything worse. Messier. More complicated. She’s better off on her own, but for what PURPOSE! Who will she be now! What choices will she make!?! Almost all of her actions in the show were for others, what is driving her now, now that she has this gaping void at the center of her being. Where love used to be… what kind of person will she become, Without a guide to follow… a sun to orbit around. it’s sad honestly ghghg-!!! like yeah it’s not healthy that she is this way but there’s no THERAPY IN ARCANE. THIS IS THE WAY SHE IS! And now. She’s alone… it’s rough. But also intriguing…!! And I honestly have no clue how she’s gonna act in season 2,,, or what sorta shit she’s gonna get up to. but I’m excited.

[starryjake]

medicine | s.j

in which jake is sick and the only thing that will make him feel better is a taste of you.

pairing: jake x fem!reader

includes: face sitting, oral sex, jake being sick, squirting, cumming untouched, cumming in pants, face riding (lmk if i missed anything).

jake was game to eat you out at any time.

you’re exhausted after a long day of work or classes? jake was there already kneeling in front of the bed, awaiting your pussy.

it’s the middle of the night and you’re tucked into bed, fast asleep? jake can’t help the craving he gets and just has to have one lick of your addictive taste before he’s able to fall asleep.

you step foot out of the shower and within less than a minute, jake is laying you down in the tub and devouring your pussy.

the point was, it didn’t matter the occasion. jake just always wanted to eat you out.

that was never anything you felt the need to complain about. you knew people who’s boyfriends refused to go down on them and you couldn’t believe it. you and your boyfriend had just about the opposite of that problem.

but since jake was always game, that meant he wanted it even when he was in not-so-great situations himself.

“no, jake,” you said assertively, shaking your head.

“please,” he begged, looking at you with those pleasing puppy-dog eyes.

at any other given time, you would’ve said yes. just like jake always wanted to eat you out, you always wanted to get eaten out. you two were a match made in heaven.

however, jake had picked up some virus going around campus and had been completely knocked out by it. he’d spent the past two days in bed sleeping, trying to rid his body of the sickness.

you’d been his faithful nurse, staying close by in case he needed anything. you made him soup, brought him medicine every few hours, monitored his temperature, and gave him everything else he could’ve possibly needed. except, that is, the one thing he actually wanted.

“why not?” he practically whimpered. “it’s been days. i deserve it. i’ll feel so much better.”

his desperation almost made you laugh. he wanted you so badly and if he wasn’t as sick as he was, you would’ve given it to him, but he just wasn’t well enough. he was still sniffly, still weak, still running a fever, and just simply was not in the right position to be giving you head.

“you deserve it?” you couldn’t hold back the laugh this time.

“i do!” he whined, not finding the situation funny whatsoever. “i’ve been stuck in this bed for days feeling like shit and all i want is to have my face buried between your legs. just a taste, baby, please.”

you shook your head.

“just a taste is gonna turn into you eating me out for hours,” you said.

“and what’s wrong with that?” he pouted.

“you need to be sleeping and getting better,” you told him.

he leaned forward in your shared bed to get closer to you, who was sitting at the foot of the bed. he placed his hand on your thigh, tilting his head to the side.

“your pussy will make me better,” he said softly.

you placed your hand on top of his, looking into his pleading eyes. he was still so handsome, even as sick as he was. you were tempted, you had to admit.

“i don’t know, jake,” you said.

“please, baby,” he begged you, practically on the verge of tears. “i’ll make you feel so good, i promise.”

his pink cheeks, his swollen lips, his teary eyes, you just couldn’t say no to him.

plus, he said it would help him feel better, so how could you argue with that?

“fine,” you gave in. “lay back.”

jake bit his lip to prevent himself from smiling in victory. his eyes lit up when you agreed and he immediately complied, lying back down on his back.

you crawled up the bed until you made it to his abdomen. you planted your knees on either side of him and hovered over his body, second guessing whether you should actually do this.

“are you sure, jake?” you sighed.

jake’s face flashed with terror at the mere idea of you changing your mind. his eyebrows furrowed together in worry.

“i’m sure,” he insisted. “please, i need it. it’s my medicine.”

for whatever reason, his words turned you on. calling your pussy his medicine was all you needed to hear to shuffle your shorts down your legs, leaving you bare and exposed to him.

he licked his lips and watched you closely as you crawled up the remainder of his body until landing by his face. you hovered above him, sighing at the sight of him underneath you.

“sit,” he urged, beyond eager to get his tongue inside you.

“stop me if you can’t breathe,” you warned, knowing his nose was stuffed and his mouth would be occupied.

he didn’t say anything, just grabbed your hips and pulled you down so you were actually sitting on his face.

a surprised moan escaped your lips as jake immediately started licking your folds, gathering all your wetness on his tongue. he moaned, muffled, but the vibrations from it were extremely pleasurable.

you dug your hand in his mop of messy hair, legs already starting to tremble as he swiped his tongue up and down the length of your pussy.

you looked down and you could just tell he was in his most happy place. his eyes were closed, savoring the sensation of licking your pussy and tasting your sweet arousal. he was almost moaning as much as you were, certainly enjoying it as much as you, if not more.

you turned your head back and weren’t surprised at all by the sight of his hips thrusting up into the air, desperate for any kind of friction. his neglected cock was straining against his pajama pants, but you knew he wasn’t expecting you to touch him. he just wanted to eat you out, and that was enough for him.

“tastes so fucking good,” he said through an exhale, taking a second to catch his breath.

“are you doing okay?” you asked him, raising yourself off his face.

“more than okay,” he assured you. “i could do this all fucking night.”

he grabbed your hips and pulled you back down onto his face, going straight for your clit this time. he wrapped his lips around the bud and sucked on it softly, swallowing your taste.

you yelped, your legs clenching around his face.

“oh fuck, jake,” you cried out, your grip tightening in his hair.

he released his suction on your clit and went back to gliding his tongue up and down your pussy. he stopped at your hole and delved his tongue inside, letting out a broken moan at your tight walls around his tongue.

you found yourself slightly grinding on his face, subconsciously trying to rub your clit against his nose while he thrusted his tongue in and out of your hole. you knew he didn’t care. in fact, he loved it. he loved you humping his face in an attempt to increase the pleasure.

you sat up again, removing your pussy from his face. a string of your arousal mixed with his spit kept your pussy connected to his lips.

he looked up at you in confusion and even a slight hint of frustration as to why you just took away his treat—your pussy.

“why?” he asked urgently.

“your forehead is so warm, jakey,” you said, having brushed against it while you were tugging his hair.

it’d brought you back down to earth, reminding you that you were riding the face of someone who was not entirely up to health.

“i’m fine,” he said, annoyed. “i feel so good, please just come back. let me have it again.”

he was so, so desperate. you knew you should get off and let him get some sleep, but he wanted it so bad. so, you lowered your hips back down to his face and allowed him to lick up your pussy lips.

“fuck, thank you,” he moaned out, relieved to have your warm pussy back on his face. “i feel good, i promise. just need your pussy on me, baby, that’s all.”

you sighed in pleasure, leaning back slightly and starting to grind again. jake closed his eyes again, lapping and slurping at your pussy.

your stomach was warm and the knot would unravel soon, you were sure of it. he was so good at eating you out, you never lasted long.

“harder,” he urged, pulling you down on his face even more. “ride my face harder, baby.”

you whimpered, humping his face harder. your puffy clit hit the tip of his nose every time you fucked your hips forward. jake fucking loved it. he loved inhaling through his nose and smelling your sweet pussy, having it right there in front of him.

he loved you sitting on his face just as much as he loved laying on his stomach and eating you out regularly. he loved when you would just lose all control and ride his face like you were riding his cock. he loved to be used.

“fuck, jake,” you sobbed out. “i’m gonna fucking cum, oh my—don’t stop, please don’t stop. fuck, i’m cumming!”

you squealed as your orgasm washed over you. your legs tightened around his face and his tongue quickened, eating your pussy through your orgasm and lapping at the excess wetness dripping out of you. you fucked his face, letting all your weight sit on him because your brain was in too much of a fog to care.

“fuck,” jake moaned against you. “you’re so fucking hot, angel. wait! don’t get up.”

he gripped your waist, stopping you from climbing off his face.

“why? you should sleep now,” you said, catching your breath from your orgasm.

he shook his head, pulling you back down.

“need more,” he mumbled, lightly circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, going gentle as to not overstimulate you.

“no, jake,” you declined, however made no attempt to stop him.

“shh,” he shushed you, disregarding your words. “please, baby. i just need a little more and then i’ll be all better, promise.”

you whimpered as he rubbed his wet tongue on your drenched folds. he wrapped his arms around your thighs, basically keeping you trapped on his face.

“jake,” you whispered, pushing some stray strands of hair out of his forehead.

“so good,” he mumbled, flattening his tongue. “ride my tongue, baby. c’mon, i know you can do it.”

you started grinding back and forth on his tongue, head falling back at the sensation. his tongue was so warm and wet and felt euphoric as he laid it out for you to use, to rub your spent pussy on.

if jake was paying attention to his own cock, he’d realize how much pain he was in. he was so, so hard, and needed to be touched desperately. but he couldn’t. he just wanted your pussy and nothing else, not even oxygen.

“fuck,” you moaned. “feels so fucking good, jake. i think i’m gonna cum a lot.”

you didn’t know what you were saying. you were so fucked out and jake was too pussy drunk and sick to comprehend your words either.

you knew what you meant, but he didn’t.

you rubbed your pussy all over his face, getting your wetness all over his nose, his cheeks, and his chin. he started licking you again, moaning nonstop.

“i’m gonna—mm, jake! i’m cumming!”

it hit you a lot faster this time, so fast that you couldn’t even give him a proper warning.

you also couldn’t warn him as a stream of wetness shoots out of you. you were squirting all over his face and that was what did it for jake. that was what had him humping his hips up into the air one more time and cumming untouched in his pants.

he moaned, feeling sweaty and lightheaded as he felt your wetness all over his face. briefly, he thought he might pass out. even feeling so weak, he still ate you out through your second orgasm, drinking all the fluid you’d just released and moaning from how delicious it was.

he hummed, babbling nonsense because he was so far gone. you pulled yourself off his face, your pussy twitching from over sensitivity.

“baby,” he mumbled.

“yeah?” you retorted.

“i came,” he told you.

you frowned, looking down at his pants and noticing the stain of cum seeping through the fabric.

“but…” you trailed off. “you weren’t even touching yourself.”

“i know,” he said. “i think i’m just…really sensitive when i’m sick. but guess what?”

“what?” you asked, already starting to pull his pants down to help clean up.

“i was right about your pussy being medicine,” he informed. “i feel completely better.”

you laugh, shaking your head in dismay.

“you’re such a weirdo.”

-

this is FILTH. what i wouldn’t give to sit on jake’s face man.

thanks for reading!

[damiansgoodgirll]

HIIIIIII I saw you're Damian and Rhea x reader that you just posted AND I HAVE A IDEA (No rush I'm just sending it so I don't forget)

OKAY SO in the same universe as the previous fic what if backstage on Monday night raw finn starts trying to convince the reader to join the new judgment day (bc he obviously still cares for the kid) like trying to get jd or Dom to guilt trip them or even getting liv Morgan to be buddy buddy since reader had trouble making friends.

But the reader STAYS LOYAL to the terror twins 🖤

running to write this because i love it, here’s part one

the judgment day x reader (platonic) , mention of drew mcintyre

‼️finn being a good manipulator lol, family issues, fear of abandonment, angst, reader feeling insecure, brief mention of suicidal thoughts (sorry it’s a little angst)

don’t break my heart - part 2

you lied if you said that you slept the night right after summerslam. no, you were in your hotel room watching the ceiling over and over, thinking of what was going to happen now. damian and rhea made sure to stay with you a few hours after the show, helping you calm down and making sure that you would eat something.

but they were tired and angry, so you perfectly understood when they waved goodbye and went to their rooms. they needed time to think and to cool off.

5 am and you were up to board on your next flight that didn’t leave until noon. you were living off on caffeine and sugar drinks but you didn’t care. you had no idea what was going to happen on monday night raw because you weren’t supposed to have any matches that night, you knew you would go with rhea and damian but you didn’t know what your future was going to be.

once you landed and you checked in into your new hotel room, you received a text from finn, saying to let him know once you arrived at the arena because he wanted to talk to you.

you drove along with rhea and damian and they both sensed your fear as you kept quiet, “you okay there?” damian asked you.

“uh?” you woke up from your trance.

“dam asked if you were okay, is everything okay y/n?” rhea added turning to face you.

“oh yes, i’m okay, just a lil nervous…” you hated lie to them, you hated lie in general but you couldn’t tell them that you were about to meet with finn. they would probably get mad at you and the last thing you wanted was to have your best friends hating on you too, so you kept it for yourself.

damian kept driving, knowing that eventually you would open up to them when you were ready.

once at the arena you waved them goodbye and went straight to your changing room. rhea told you to get ready in case something happened and if she needed your help so you did as she told you.

you texted finn and told him he could come over if he needed to talk to you so bad and not even 10 minutes later you heard a knock on the door.

“come in…” you screamed and he let himself in.

“hey…”

“hi” you couldn’t deny that the situation was awkward. you stood there for a couple of minutes before he could talk.

“listen…y/n i’m so sorry for everything that happened at summerslam” he apologized to you but you knew he wasn’t sorry at all.

“you lied to me finn…”

“and you lied to damian and rhea because i’m pretty sure they don’t know i’m here” he smirked at you and that look made you sick in the stomach.

“are you here to threaten me? are you to destroy the little family i have left? what do you want finn…i have no time for more bullshit, please” your voice sounded broken and finn hated himself for the way he treated you.

“i know…i’m so sorry for everything and you have to believe me…i’m not sorry for damian or for rhea because i got tired of being their little puppy, dominik too…but i have nothing against you, never have, never wil…i care about you y/n…don’t you remember all the things we shared? all the things we’ve went through?”

and you couldn’t lie to him. you will always remember how kind and patient and caring he has always been with you.

he was the first person you told about your past, even before telling damian and rhea. he was the one who held you while you cried when you told him about your thought of ending your life. he was the one who comforted you and made sure you never felt left out. and he was true when he said you’ve been through a lot because he was always there for you.

but so were damian and rhea so you couldn’t understand why was finn telling you all of that.

“why are you here finn?” you simply asked him, his way of bringing back memories made you feel guilty. seeing how much you depended upon someone made you realize that you probably were better alone than with someone.

“i want you to join us…”

“join who?”

“me…y/n, me, dom, jd and liv…listen, i know you and i know damian and rhea and they will leave you at some point…they are both chasing vengeance and power, they want their titles back, they won’t be with you forever and, i’m sorry to say it but they won’t take care about you forever…you saw the way rhea treated dom or the way damian treated jd…” his words were starting to impress in your head “jd kinda likes you” he chuckled “no, i’m pretty sure he has a crush on you…and listen, liv is really a friendly person, i know you don’t like her right now but i promise you, if you get to know her you will like her more…just give us a chance”

maybe he was right.

maybe you would ended up being alone one day and he was right about that damian and rhea had their own lives apart from you. hell, rhea just got married, maybe she would like to start a family one day…maybe finn was right.

finn always cared about you, he proved it many times so why were you afraid of trusting him?

“i-i…i don’t know finn…” your mind started to overthink. you were feeling overwhelmed and despite you still loved finn, despite you still caring for him, you couldn’t betray damian and rhea.

“listen i-…”

“no finn, you listen to me. how can you expect me to choose between you or them? how-how can you tear this family apart like this? because maybe for you it was nothing but for me…for me it was everything…” tears slowly falling down your face.

finn knew that it was wrong putting you in all of this mess. he knew that no matter what he still would have a space for you in his heart but the idea of choosing them instead of him made him feel useless, like somehow he failed you.

“i can’t choose between you or them because you are the ones who broke this group apart…” more tears falling from your eyes “i-i can’t finn…i can’t” and before he could say anything else, you turned to face the door and quickly left your changing room.

drew noticed you walking down the arena corridors with teary eyes and no matter how many time he called you, your mind couldn’t register any sound or noise. it felt like you couldn’t hear anything except your heart beating in your chest.

i just saw y/n crying and going towards the emergency exit of the arena. finn balor just came out of her changing room. don’t know what happened but she seems overwhelmed, she needs you.

drew texted rhea. he was pretty worried when he saw in what state you were in. he knew that even if he chased you, you probably would have just pushed him away. he knew something about your past and he knew how the other females in the roster would give you “the looks” and honestly he felt for you, he just wanted you to feel welcomed because for him, the wwe was just a big huge family. he knew that you needed time, that’s why he warned rhea.

when she read the text, she felt her heart missing a few beats.

“what?” damian asked a little concerned when he saw the look on her face.

she was still a little shocked “drew texted me…he saw finn leaving y/n’s changing room and he said that when she left she was crying…she’s probably going’s back to the hotel, he said she’s going outside”

that was all damian needed to hear before leaving rhea’s changing room and sprinting over the emergency exit. rhea following behind, making a note to thank drew later.

they both saw you sitting on the emergency stairs and slowly they both approached you.

damian sat in front of you while rhea sat next to you “hey angel…” rhea slowly turned your face towards hers “why are you crying beautiful?”

in that moment you saw it in their eyes.

they cared.

they cared like a family.

rhea was about to cry because she couldn’t stand the idea of seeing you upset.

“finn wanted to talk to me…he, well, he basically offered me a spot to join him alongside with dom, jd and liv…” you said. you feared that they would get mad but rhea’s eyes told you the opposite.

“and what did you say?” damian asked you, gently smiling at you.

“that i can’t…i can’t leave you, i can’t even look him in the eyes, it just hurts too much and i can’t have you hate on me too” you softly spoke.

damian looked at you and saw nothing but pure intentions “y/n…we could never hate you. we know how close you and finn are, and i know it hurts right now so we won’t forbid you to see him again if you want to…”

“but i can’t damian! it doesn’t feel right, it’s not right! i’m not turning my back on you, i would never do that…you guys mean so much for me and i can’t stand the idea of losing you or hate you but…but finn said some things that made me think…”

“what did he say sweetheart?” rhea gently asked.

“well, for instance, rhea you just got married…and i can’t hold you back for the rest of my life just because my head is a fucking mess, you have your life and i don’t want you to feel the need to look after me forever…same goes for you damian, i can’t depend on you for the rest of my life…”

“that’s absolute nonsense y/n” damian said and rhea agreed with him. she was mad with finn for playing those mind tricks with you, knowing exactly that your mind wasn’t in the right place and that you would get negative thoughts very easily.

“listen” damian spoke “we are a family okay? we stay together, now, tomorrow and in ten years okay? just because we have a life outside this company doesn’t mean that you’re not a part of our life outside of it okay? we stay together instead and outside…i love you like you are my own sister, fuck you could be my daughter y/n…” damian joked making you laugh.

“damian’s right” rhea held your hands “we stay together because we care about you, now and in a million years…”

“thank you for everything guys…” you smiled at both at them.

“you don’t have to thank us love…” rhea wiped some of your tears away “now, why don’t you help me getting ready uh? tonight’s gonna be a big night and i want to look perfect” she laughed making you laugh too.

“yup” you smiled and with their help you got up from the uncomfortable stairs.

rhea mentally noted to thank drew and to kick finn’s ass because he made you doubt yourself, and most importantly, he made you cry.

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

okay so what about part 3 with reader and drew getting to know each other and developing feelings for each other and damian and rhea acting like big parents to reader?

PART 3

[potatomountain]

CIY CH 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

📍Pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective afab reader

📍Summary: "It's okay to be scared"

📍WC: 3k

📍AU: detective/mafia

📍Genre: action, dark romance, poly romance

📍Warning(s): mentions of torture/r@pe, mentions of minor character death, mentions of sex trafficking and kidnapping, PTSD, panic attacks. trauma triggers.

📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @yourfatherlucifer, @flurrys-creativity , @bunnliix, @adelusionforyourthoughts and occasionally @daemour

📍AN: a comfort chapter but there are still some serious topics so read at your own risk. also, not all panic attacks are like what reader experiences here in the chapter (this is going off my own p.a)

📍dividers and banner made by me!

ageless blocks will be blocked immediately if you interact with this post

masterlist | Previous | Last

To say you haven’t had a moment alone would be an understatement. Someone was with you always, even when you had to use the restroom. Which- that was an embarrassing situation on its own, but after you had tried to take care of yourself alone the first time… well the embarrassment was better than the pain and anguish.

Surprisingly you didn’t mind someone glued to your side at all times. If it wasn’t Wooyoung, it was San. If it wasn’t one of them, it was Seonghwa. On occasion there were multiple. Sometimes Hongjoong was in here with Seonghwa, sometimes Yeosang was sitting in the corner on his laptop while Wooyoung or San, or both, had your undivided attention.

You couldn’t say how long had passed. A week? Maybe more? You hadn’t really moved from the room you were in, everything you could possibly need was brought to you. Food, water, any clothes from your apartment or belongings. Though you opted more for their clothes, the eager way some of them had begun to fight over who’s clothes you would wear next had you laughing.

Only for it to die as soon as you noticed the way they were looking at you. In awe, like their chest was aching.

It felt… wrong.

You were both grateful and appalled at the attention, and at the way they gave it. Ready to serve you, which from Wooyoung was normal and easy to accept- but when it was Seonghwa? Or the rare moments Mingi or Jongho or Yunho were here and soft with you… it left a bitter taste in your mouth.

None of them talked about it. They didn’t mention what had happened, nor the days before. Not even when you woke up screaming from a night terror, fighting off and hitting Hongjoong who had been the one watching you. The fact they felt the need to watch you was aggravating to say the least. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to be the first to say it. To mention it. To speak it into existence.

Once the pain began to subside, it was easier to forget it happened, pushing it to the back of your mind. In fact you were determined to act as if it had never happened, which wasn’t very easy to do, sandwiched between Wooyoung and San.

They were the touchiest, which you didn’t mind. Wooyoung was always touchy, but unlike before they were gentle and sweet: cupping your cheek, playing with your hands, kisses to your knuckles, and back rubs. San gave the better back rubs, rough and larger hands easing the tension there, but there was still a hard limit to how much they would touch you, as if the wrong touch would set you off. 

With a huff you pushed yourself up, both of them sitting up just as quickly ready to get you anything you needed. You let the annoyance show. “I’m hungry and I want to shower. One of you is a radiating heater and I am laying in my own sweat for fuck’s sake.”

San chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry Sweetcheeks, I can help you with the shower-”

“No, I want to shower by myself. You can help Mister Chef with the food.” You stared down your nose at him, daring him to say otherwise.

“How about I stay right here just in case you need me?”

“San.” You warned, ignoring Wooyoung who was watching the battle of wills with his fingers over his mouth in shock. “I can handle a fucking shower by myself.”

Sensing this was something you weren’t going to budge on, he sighed. “And you can shower by yourself, but I would like to sit out here and wait for you in case you do need me. I’ve been cleaning you up all week, who knows you might want me to fix the spots you missed.” He winked, resulting in you rolling your eyes.

His words did make you feel less suffocated, and you knew that was why he said them, which just had you conflicted. He read you a little too well sometimes.

“Fine then. Chef Wooyoung-”

“Yes my lovely Goddess?”

“I would like to come downstairs and eat so take your time.”

“Hm alright, I’m sure the others have suffered without my cooking anyways. Enjoy your shower Goddess. Would you like my clothes today?”

“I’m wearing them now.” You pointed out with a smirk. His sweats were the ones that fit you the easiest. “But I suppose.” Patting his head you climbed around them, ignoring the twinge of pain from your sore muscles. Being bedridden did numbers on your body, even recovering, but you ignored the damage in favor of putting on a brave face.

You also ignored their gazes on your back as you made your way to the bathroom, completely forgetting the fact that you had showered daily since coming here. Sometimes twice. Usually to keep your wounds clean, but mostly because you felt unclean. And each time, Wooyoung or San, or even Seonghwa, would stand in the shower in their swim shorts and a shirt to bathe you properly.

Before, you would focus all your attention on them, just follow their lead. Let them take care of you. It was easy.

Now, as you stare in the mirror with the shirt off, it was not easy.

The cuts and bruises had faded significantly but they were still there. There was still so much proof of what had happened. How can you pretend it didn’t when it was right there?

Taking a deep breath you pushed forward, muttering under your breath it was fine. You had left the bathroom door cracked, despite telling yourself it would have been fine to lock it and give yourself some space but the idea of you alone in a locked room?

You could handle this, you weren’t broken. He didn’t break you. It was just a shower.

Mentally you talked yourself through each step until you were under the nice luxury shower, shutting your eyes and letting the water run down your body. 

Big mistake.

There was no San or Wooyoung to keep you grounded. No clothes or sounds to remind you where you were, or keep your head out of that place.

You just wanted to forget. Just wanted to move on. But no matter how much you told yourself it didn’t happen, there was so much irrefutable proof that it did. No matter how much you didn’t want it to affect you, it did.

A scream erupted from you as arms were wrapped around you and you were pulled out of the shower. You slammed your fists down, hitting broad shoulders, but it didn’t deter whomever had you.

Not until you recognized San saying your name repeatedly.

You locked up, eyes flying open with fresh tears running down them. He had fresh scratches on his cheek from your nails, but his eyes held nothing but concern for you. “Are you with me now?”

Slowly you nodded, realizing you were panting- no hyperventilating just a moment ago. “I- yes. Yes I’m here.”

“Good. We need to talk.” He turned the shower off and then grabbed a towel. He wrapped you up and carried you out to the bedroom, door shut and curtains pulled tight: usually both were open so you didn’t feel more trapped.

They put so much effort into making you feel safe, you really didn’t know how to handle it. Was it because you were broken? No good to them? Or did they just feel like sucking up after what happened. You knew they felt guilty, from the moment you had latched onto Yunho when you woke up frightened. Then Wooyoung’s promise- which he had been keeping.

It was their way of caring for you, you couldn’t fault them for that. You just hated the why. Why they had to do so much. Treat you this way. And that without it you would be far more lost than you were now. You couldn’t run from it no matter how much you tried. How much you wanted to.

So as San sat you on the mattress and knelt before you, you peeled yourself away from him and grabbed the blankets to cocoon yourself in comfort. “Why did you come into the bathroom?”

San looked a bit perplexed, knees on the floor so he was still beneath you of sorts. “You were sobbing, quite loudly, and when I went in there you were struggling to breathe.” By your reaction, he gathered you hadn’t been aware of that. “Listen, I'm no stranger to these types of panic attacks. Sweetheart you have PTSD, which is understandable considering what happened. But pretending it didn’t happen isn’t going to fix it. Our bodies remember years after these things happen. I still struggle sometimes.”

Hugging the blanket tight you stared at him through the small hole you left yourself to breathe. “What do you mean? You went through something like that? Really?” It was hard to hide your disbelief, after all who could have gotten the jump on San? Big, muscly, trained to fight San?

He smiled wryly at you, and nodded. “Yeah… I did. I uh, guess it’s about time I let you in on my little secret. We went to school together, in fact you used to kick my ass in Taekwondo. I was a lot smaller then, higher pitched voice. Seemed to hit puberty late- yeah, now you remember.”

The more he had described himself, the more you did. The small twink that was a grade under year, and the only kid that wasn’t afraid to spare with you in your last year of high school. But he was shy, didn’t talk to you much, and he didn’t look much like the man before you. “But… didn’t that Choi San go missing shortly after his graduation? Don’t tell me you just joined up with these guys?”

He scoffed, but shook his head. “No, something happened first.” He crossed his arms over the mattress and rested his chin on the back of his hands, dropping the bomb. “I got sex trafficked. Red Wolves. I was one of the few that got sold in the city instead of shipped off, one of the Golden Circle business men had a certain… taste. It’s been a couple years but I still freak out about the idea of bottoming. I just…” He sighed, trailing off despite the bit of hurt in his voice. “Not with anyone here usually, but some days my mind just pluments and I can’t help it.”

Tears sprung back into your eyes at the imagery his words created. To imagine San, the sweet sunshine boy you remembered, going through something like that? “How’d you get out?”

“Wooyoung.” He brightened considerably at the name, smiling up at you. “He was hired as a call boy by the guy to do some things with me. He got me out by pulling some strings, and then put me here. I’m not the only one he got out of a tough bind, Yeosang too. He’s working hard to hopefully get his mother out of her situation but, that’s a lot harder than buying a sex slave or freeing you from someone else’s hold. Mingi too knows what it’s like, his mom got him into some serious shit when he was a minor.”

Your heart hurt for every single one of them. You couldn’t imagine the pain and fear you felt belonging to one of these men. Sure they were mafia. Sure they lied to you. But how could you doubt them when they had treated you like this the past week or so?

So much made sense, and it warmed your heart to know their care wasn’t out of pity, but understanding. They knew the fear that you were put through. And they knew what came after.

“Does it… does it ever go away?” You mumbled out, scooting closer and reaching for him.

San didn’t hesitate, sitting up straighter and holding his arms out. You climbed down onto his lap, shivering at the cold but he pulled the blankets back over you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Yes and no. It’s something that’s going to live with you forever. It’ll shape a lot of what you do, but if you mean the pain… that does go away. As long as you address it and feel it when it pops up. But then you have to remind yourself that it’s in the past. That man can’t hurt you any more- hell Hongjoong made sure of that. He was covered in the man’s blood.”

“I remember. I didn’t…. I didn’t know what to think about it at the time. I could barely process that Hongjoong and Seonghwa were there. That they were tortured too. I realize not like me… or maybe?”

“Yeah, what you went through was that bastard's way of trying to hurt them too. And I’m sorry about that baby girl. You're always going to be a weak spot for us, because we care so much about you. Wooyoung told you he loved you… he’s not the only one you know.” San gently rubbed your back, the same way he had every chance he got recently. It soothed you, helped regulate your breathing, and now you knew he did it because it probably worked for him too.

Smiling, you buried your face into his neck and breathed him in, always a comforting scent. “Are you going to confess now too?”

“Honestly I’m ashamed I wasn’t the first one. I liked you long before they even knew you.” He admitted with a huff and you could feel him smile as you laughed. “Even when you kicked my ass I thought you were the coolest girl and I had the biggest crush.”

Lifting your head you arched a brow. “Oh, now I see, that’s what you meant when you had said you had imagined pinning me down so many times. Twink 3000 was a major pervert huh?” You teased, laughing even more as he blushed, stumbling over his words.

“I was hoping you would forget I said that-”

“How can I?” You interrupted, cupping his jaw and forcing him to look at you. “There were times he would… touch me… that I comforted myself by thinking about those times with you guys. With you in the gym, Mingi, Wooyoung… I didn’t want to be scared of being touched like that.”

He softened, bringing his hands to your sides and holding you there. “It’s okay to be scared of it. It’s okay if you don’t trust us like that yet. Or ever again. We aren’t going to think less of you. We aren’t going to get upset if you don’t want us like that. Or if you only want one of us like that. Jongho doesn’t fuck all of us. Yeosang doesn’t either. Captain and Hwa share this bed, they’re a bit more than the rest of us but that’s fair. No one expects you to love or want us equally, but that doesn’t make you less of an equal in the ways that count.”

“Sannie-”

“It’s okay if you start crying randomly, or you need space or need the opposite. If you need a break or need to work. You went through something traumatic and you’re going to figure your triggers out and go through it differently than us.”

“Sannie.” You said it a bit louder this time, trying to get him out of his little tangent.

But he kept going, intent on getting his point across. “We just don’t know what you need yet so we were doing what works for us until you do but there isn’t anything wrong if you wanna keep this up too so like-”

“San!” You snapped out, then crashed your lips to his.

He was so startled he fell back, holding you to him but responding without hesitation once the shock passed. Of course kissing wasn’t something you thought you would want to do. Anything sexual, just as he had pointed out, but this was San.

This was your rock, your solid mountain. Your dimpled sunshine and perfect muscly pillow and you loved him. Just as much as you did Wooyoung.

Sure you hadn’t intended on confessing to the little yapper, but you had been spurred on his and knowing you were loved after what happened was oddly healing. There was a long way to go though.

Your hands found San’s hair, curling in the short black strands and moaning against the kiss as you proved to yourself you could enjoy this. At least until his hands roamed down to your ass. Pulling away while simultaneously catching your breath you grabbed his hands. “Kisses for now. And yes, I love you. If you had stopped with your big ‘It’s okay’ speech for two seconds I could tell you that.”

He chuckled bashfully but was grinning up at you so much his dimples were on full display. “You looove me~”

“This is the part where you say it back dumbass.”

He laughed, sitting up just as he swept you into his arms and somehow managed to get you on the bed and him on his feet in a matter of seconds. “I love you too baby girl. Now let’s find those clothes for you and then we can go downstairs and eat. Though I am vetoing you being alone naked, or in a locked room until you actually feel comfortable and am not doing it just because we annoyed you with our clinginess.”

With a pout you nodded in agreement. Considering both seemed to be things you just couldn’t handle alone - yet - you could agree there. “Can I freely roam the building then and, I don’t know, try and do some work?”

“Oh so you do want to work?” He hummed out, moving over to the bin of clothes that had been gathered for you. “As a detective or…”

Now that was the real question. Traumatizing hostage experience aside, and your love for two of these men, where did you stand with them? As individuals, in a career sense… in a partner sense?

“I guess I should talk to everyone and figure it out shouldn’t I?”

AN: One last chapter to go! Bringing Case: It's You to it's climax.

This story focused more on reader finding a home with Ateez and learning their secret, as well as some other things. but book 2, Case: It's Us, will tackle the usual plot point of taking down the rest of the crim world... if they can. From Revenge, to healing, to a whole lot of smut -- please look forward to book 2! I hope I can wrap this one up in a way that satisfies you all, and really shows where their relationship is here at the end of Book 1

Taglist will be done in reblogs and again, keep your eyes peeled for taglist instructions on the last chapter. Follow them and you will be added to the new taglist! The old one will be scrapped!

[solxamber]

do you do skully graves and reader (platonic)? If u do can like a qiqi!reader or huohuo!reader who helps him with stuff whilst either talking to ghosts are just being a forgetful zombie , thanks

Skully J. Graves x Huohuo! Reader

hi! I tried my best to adapt his personality to the new parts of event story, you can let me know if you wanted something different!

The fog clung to the streets, curling like ghostly fingers around every corner of the village. The eerie ambiance would have sent shivers down most people’s spines, but not Skully J. Graves. No, he basked in it, breathing in the cold, misty air with a grin so wide it would have made Jack Skellington proud. He adjusted his coat, looking proudly over the plans for his ideal Halloween.

“No lights,” he muttered, scribbling frantically on a scrap of parchment. “No candy. And absolute, complete darkness.” His grin widened, almost maniacal. “Perfect.”

“Skully, uh… why would anyone want a Halloween with no candy?” A soft voice broke his concentration, and he glanced up to see you, the strange friend who always seemed to be muttering to thin air. Except, in your case, it wasn’t thin air.

Around you, unseen to everyone else, lingered several translucent spirits, floating lazily like they didn’t have a care in the world. One of them—a particularly cheeky ghost with a mischievous smirk—whispered in your ear.

“No candy, no fun,” you echoed what the ghost said, looking between Skully and the air with slight anxiety. “I think he might be right, Skully… What if people just want to, you know, enjoy themselves?”

Skully rolled his eyes, barely hiding a grin. “Candy is for the weak. Jack Skellington never handed out candy. He—wait, what do you mean he might be right?” His eyes narrowed, staring directly where one of the ghosts hovered. “You talking to them again?”

You shrugged, giving a sheepish smile. “They’ve got opinions too, you know.”

Before Skully could respond, you were back to murmuring to another ghost. “No, no, no, I’m not ignoring you… Okay, okay, I’ll tell him.” You turned back to Skully. “Uh… the ghost by the market says you should maybe reconsider the ‘no lights’ thing. Might freak out the little ones.”

Skully crossed his arms, huffing. “Freaking out is the point, my dear! A true Halloween isn’t about fun and games. It’s about terror, darkness, and—beating up ghosts, obviously.”

One of the spirits around you let out a melodramatic wail, clearly offended. You winced, giving Skully a helpless look. “You really hurt their feelings…”

Skully sighed dramatically, waving his hand dismissively. “They’ll get over it. I’m just saying—Jack would agree with me.”

“He’s still mad you didn’t give him that apple the other day,” you added as if that were part of the conversation.

Skully paused, blinking at you. “Wait… what?”

“Not important!” you quickly blurted, pushing past the topic, eyes darting to the spirits floating around you. “But, hey, how about we add a few spooky lights, you know? Like those lanterns with creepy faces carved into them? It’d keep the kids from getting totally lost and still fit your dark aesthetic.”

Skully stared at you for a long moment, his intense eyes seeming to bore into your soul—or maybe into the spirits’ souls. You couldn’t really tell. Finally, he sighed, rubbing his temple. “Fine. Some lights. But only the spookiest kind.”

One of the spirits around you cheered silently, and you grinned. “See, compromise works!”

As you helped Skully finalize his Halloween of nightmares, you couldn’t help but think about how strange this dynamic was. You, a soft-hearted (if slightly anxious) spirit-communicator, and Skully, a Halloween-obsessed enigma who idolized Jack Skellington. And yet, somehow, you made the perfect team.

Then came the moment where you had to address the elephant in the room—or rather, the ghosts in the air. As you adjusted some spooky decorations, one of the ghosts began wailing about something from the past. You sighed, turning to Skully with a rare moment of seriousness.

“Skully, can we pause for a second?”

He glanced up from his pile of cobwebs and fake skeletons, raising an eyebrow. “What now? Another ghost’s feelings hurt?”

“No… it’s just…” You bit your lip. “I know I act a little… goofy sometimes. But I do take what I do seriously, you know? Helping these ghosts—it’s important to me.”

For the first time, Skully looked a little taken aback. He slowly straightened up, gazing at you with something close to admiration. “I know. You’re weird, but you’re good at what you do.” He hesitated before giving you a rare, almost tender smile. “Thanks for… you know… always being here.”

You grinned, a warmth spreading in your chest at the compliment. “Hey, someone’s gotta make sure your Halloween doesn’t turn into complete chaos.”

“Chaos is the goal!” Skully insisted, but there was a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

And as you two continued working on what was sure to be the weirdest, most ghost-infested Halloween in history, you couldn’t help but feel like—just maybe—this peculiar friendship (and the random ghosts) were exactly where you were meant to be.

Masterlist

[ebullientheart]

sleep mad. spencer reid x reader

content — hurt comfort. bau!reader. mention of bau case. short fic.

you don’t let spencer leave your hotel room after a fight.

it was a perfectly normal reaction, to storm out for fresh air after a tense argument. spencer didn’t expect you to literally scream ‘no!’ from behind him. he turned on his heel so fast, recognising the fear in your voice from case victims, preparing himself to see you being attacked. he wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of tears, and no criminal presence.

when the two of you disagreed, it was almost always with quiet voices and levelled frustration. this time was no different. neither of you had yelled, cursed, or become enraged. it was irritation and exhaustion at the root of it, and it wasn’t worth the look on your face now. his own eyes shot wide in concern, spencer saw how you visibly trembled in the doorway, despite the evening being uncharacteristically warm, humid even. in the dingy light from the hotel hallway, he could hardly make out the contours of your face, but he could imagine what it must have looked like. why had you shouted?

you swiped messily at the damp rivets dug into your cheeks from the sudden fit of crying, effectively willing yourself to stop as you folded your arms defensively. your voice was wavering but firm as you said, “no. if you want space, i’ll go sit on the fire escape, but you can’t… you can’t leave this late spence.”

he raised a brow at you. usually, he disliked being told what to do, but that clearly wasn’t your intention here. spencer could clearly see the terror on your face, but he couldn’t decipher what you were so afraid of. so, forgetting the rule to not profile each other, he asked. you reached forward and tugged him into the room by his forearm, ever gentle, before spinning away to leave him be. but he didn’t want space anymore, he wanted answers.

“what’s going on?”

knowing you could never successfully lie to spencer, you sighed and dug your hands into your pockets. you felt guilty for not allowing him what he’d needed to cool off, but you couldn’t let him leave like that while working this case. each of the three victims left behind a brokenhearted spouse, each of which you’d been interviewing since eight that morning. the last was the worst, breaking down fully in jj’s arms, wracked with uncontrollable sobbing as they explained the last interaction they’d shared was a verbally vicious fight. their last words were venomous, and no peace was made.

“tell me.” spencer’s demand was soft. he sat on the edge of the hotel bed, and your heart twisted as the new angle enunciated the dark circles stamped beneath his eyes. you were sure you sported a matching pair.

you tried your best not to shut down, to communicate, “we… we see so many grievers. how many tell us that their last conversations were full of anger? they… can’t ever accept what happened, move on, because they never go to say ‘i love you’ that last time. they think the other died hating them. if we’re apart, and something happens, and our last words were just mean…”

he listened as you struggled through your explanation, but when you finally trailed off and dropped eye contact, he stood slowly. you heard him pad across the cheap carpet to get close enough to find the palm of your hand, and you let him take it in his own. a light rain had begun to batter the small window.

“you’re right,” spencer whispered, something you rarely hear when dating a genius, “you’re right. our lives are dangerous. but i don’t want us to fight anyway. i’m sorry.”

you sniffed and tried to not think about how pathetic you sounded when you repeated his final sentence back to him, equally as sincere.

spencer thumbed lightly at the dip between your eye and cheekbone, “i love you. now, and when we fight. i- i always love you.”

again, you echoed his sentiment, accompanying it with the sweetest kiss you could press to his jaw. your fingers curled into his hair, carefully undoing a tangle, and simultaneously undoing every knot of tense muscle in his body.

most couples just worried about going to sleep mad. you weren’t sure what it said that your worries centred around one of you being brutally murdered before making up, but you supposed that unique thought process just came with the territory. there was no blanket pulled over your eyes, the world wasn’t hiding it’s most sinister corners from you. or if it was, you sought them out. but those fears that usually haunted you just melted away when you held spencer. you were just like most couples.

two young adults, completely in love, swaying back and forth to the rhythm of your breaths in a crappy hotel, blissfully ignorant to the residents of the rooms either side of you grumbling about being awoken by your hallway confrontation.

a mess of entwined limbs, you eventually made it to bed, to sleep. one of you, or maybe both, uttered an “i love you” every few minutes. an enforced reminder to linger in your half-asleep state, lulling your minds to rest.

sleep came easy, for once.

[georgiapeach30513]

Two Good Reasons, Part 4

Summary: it is time

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings:  language, sweet Ransom, difficulties with divorce, Scott, difficult conversations, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 8.1K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“Ransom,” the man rolls his eyes as Andy walks into his office foyer. Ransom was trying to talk to you, well, you are trying to talk to him about his messages from when he was in court. Of course your annoying boyfriend or whatever he is would come in and interrupt. “I need to speak to your office manager,” you playfully snort, while Ransom’s face falls flat. His eyes narrow at Andy. “Please.”

“I don’t want this to become a habit,” he tells Andy more than you. You aren’t the problem. Andy’s distraction and wandering eyes are the problem. “In fact, I never saw you venture this way much at all unless we needed to discuss a case. And now, you can’t stay away from my part of the office building.”

“It seems a fair trade off since I, the district attorney, come to your office for meetings. If you’d prefer, we can start conducting the meetings on the other side of the building.”

“Five minutes.”

“Ten.”

“Eight,” Ransom counters before Andy gives a nod, and holds out his hand for you. Leave it to Andy to start inserting himself now. You follow him down the long hallway before he’s dragging you into his suite, and on back to his office. His office is more your typical lawyers office, while Ransom’s is immaculate and more ornate. Stark difference between the two best friends, or as they call it, colleagues.

Andy pulls you in for an embrace, in lieu of a kiss. His thick arms wrap around you so tight, and you sink into him. It had been a particularly rough night. Night’s before your babies go to Scott’s for the weekend often are. It’s a pure terror and worry about what could happen, especially given the last time.

“You seem tense,” he says as he pulls back. “Your messages indicate that as well.”

“You’re almost too observant, you know that?” It was his job to be observant, but you aren’t one of his cases.

“And you’re avoiding my question.”

“It wasn’t a question, Andrew, that was a statement,” he sighs, pulling you back into him. Andy starts swaying the two of you to nonexistent music. Resting his face in the crook of your neck. He inhales your sweet scent deeply. If only things concerning Scott weren’t stressful, you could fully enjoy this moment.

“You can trust me to tell me,” he ends his words with a quick kiss on your sensitive skin. This is Andy, you could trust him. He’s not just any man, he’s your Andy. You just fear he’s going to try to fix everything, and unfortunately you didn’t see this being fixed.

“It was a rough night,” he hums, letting you know he is listening, but wants more. “It’s Scott’s weekend, and every time it’s his weekend, I’m left wondering how present he’s going to be. If his stupid bimbo will be there. Will they go against my wishes and she brings her damn cat around my baby? Will he come back home to me, and I have to go through his breathing treatments again? I fear that his apartment isn’t as safe for him. That cat is just one allergy, but what if my baby eats something, and Scott or Taylor don’t react fast enough?”

Your breath is so ragged as you cling to him. When was the last time you had someone just be there? Even if Andy couldn’t fix anything, just having that support is comforting. Scott was there, but was he ever there just for you? Andy doesn’t have to say anything, there’s nothing he can do. But him just being there means everything. Just to have a support system in what feels like years is a relief. Realizing you didn’t have that when you and Scott were together makes you feel stupid. You stayed, and you didn’t have this.

“Doe, I’m sorry,” he doesn’t have to be sorry, but there is a tone in his voice that shows you how sincere he is. “Tell me what you want me to do, and I will.”

“Could we just go to your place?”

“Your place is closer to Scott’s though, isn’t it?” It is. But…, “Wouldn’t it be better to be at your place in case of an emergency? We could get there faster?” True, but you didn’t want him to know that you didn’t sleep in your room. You didn’t care if Andy stayed at your house all weekend, but the embarrassment is already hitting that he’s going to see you avoid going into that room.

“You’re right,” of course he’s right, but your feelings aren’t wrong. They were right, too. Too soon your phone vibrates, and it’s probably Ransom telling you that eight minutes is up, and yes, you know. But you needed this moment, and little talk. Grabbing your phone, you answer it quickly, “Hello?!”

“Mrs. Huffman,” you hate that name with a passion, “Umm, I’m calling because it appears that someone forgot to pick up the kids.”

“What?” Anger laces through your one word question. Today is your late day working. Because you said you could. And Scott forgets the kids?

“Yeah, I know you said that it was Mr. Huffman’s day to get them this morning, but he’s not answering his phone,” you glance up at Andy who is looking at you with so much concern. “Can…”

“I’ll be right there,” she thanks you before you hang up the phone. “Scott didn’t pick up the kids. But…”

“Just bring them back here,” he’s joking. He’s got to be joking. “Listen, it’s Friday, Ransom doesn’t have any cases, and neither do I. We give that to the second ADA. Afterwards if Scott still hasn’t reached out, we’ll go take them to get dinner, and soft play. Audrey seems very concerned with that.”

“Andy…”

“Come on, let’s tell Ransom. You gotta get the kids,” obviously you had to get them. It’s bringing them back here that’s got you a bit paranoid. “It’ll be fine. They’ll be fine. We’ve got a fridge stocked with snacks. While you’re gone I’ll put any snack that Suede is allergic to up in a basket, and out of reach of him. And don’t you dare ask why I’m being nice. You need it. Go on, run and get the kids, I’ll let Ransom know what’s up.”

Standing on your tiptoes, you give him a chaste kiss in thanks before going to get your things, while Andy goes back to Ransom’s part of the office building. His friend and colleague glares at him. “I send you off with my office manager, and you return solo.”

“Scott forgot to pick up the kids,” Ransom groans, “She’s going to get them.”

“Today was her late day.”

“And she’s bringing them back here,” another groan. “Would you quit being so dramatic? They’re good kids. You won’t even notice them.”

“You’re getting involved,” Andy’s mouth curls up into a smile. “I told you not to get involved. This is the very opposite of not getting involved, Andy.”

“What was she supposed to do? He didn’t get her kids, they have to be picked up, it has to be her.”

“That’s not what I mean at all. I would have let her go, I’m not a monster,” he takes a slow calculated breath as he stares at Andy, “She’s the one, hmm? The one that got away. The one that made you never truly connect to other women? The reason that Penny or Melanie or whoever never worked out. You’re doing whatever you have to to make sure that she doesn’t get away again?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Ransom gives Andy one of his famous eye rolls. “I’m not a child. I know her, she knows me. So yeah, things are moving fast-ish. No, we haven’t slept together again. She needs friends. Her family isn’t anywhere near here, and even if she wanted to leave, she has this divorce,” Andy makes it sounds so much simpler than it is. Or maybe it’s because it is exactly this simple.

“Okay, Romeo. I’m just saying. She’s bringing them back here?” Andy smiles, nodding. He has to fix the snacks, and make sure everything is safe for Suede. “I don’t do kids.”

“Send them to my office if you have to,” Ransom was all bark, and no bite. He had no doubt that everything would be fine. And you wouldn’t be put in a bind. Yet, another thing you can add to your growing list of why Scott didn’t deserve full custody of your children.

Andy leans into Ransom’s waiting area, smiling to himself as you hold a slowly drifting asleep Suede in your lap. His face squished up against your chest while you type, and Audrey colors something on the floor. Laying on her belly with her tongue sticking out, and her knees kicking around. Andy clears his throat, and Audrey looks up at him with the biggest grin, “Andy! I wanted to see you.”

She leaves her coloring book behind as she jumps up from the floor and walks over to him, and Suede’s eyes burst open, “Na Na! Peas?” You can’t hide how happy you are for their excitement. Suede wiggles out of your arms, and Andy picks both kids up, and you gulp. Scott never quite gave you the tingling millions of butterflies in your belly just to see him hold onto your kids.

You aren’t sure how something can be both wholesome and sexy all at the same time. But the way his thick arms flex as he holds them has you feeling things, and the way he smiles at them has those butterfly wings flapping aggressively in your belly. Moments like these are so sweet and simple, and mean the world to you.

The way he gives each one attention, and not just your talkative girl. Asking them how their day was, and listening intently to every nonsensical word, and um that comes out of your baby boy’s mouth. He isn’t even looking at you for approval, he’s just being a normal father figure to them kids. This is how greetings with them after their day should be. When Audrey tries to interrupt, he tells her to wait her turn, looking at you to make sure it’s okay to correct her behavior and you nod. You hope that this isn’t an act, and you don’t feel it is. It’s natural.

How is it that a man that had no biological ties to these children can appreciate them more than their father? Scott wasn’t a terrible husband, when it was just the two of you. But his lack of involvement as a father was laughable. You were the woman, you were the one that took care of the house, and the children. All you wanted was a partner. Staring at Andy now makes you realize how wrong you chose, and just how long you made excuses for Scott.

“Andy,” Audrey finally gets his attention when Suede finishes. “If daddy doesn’t pick us up tonight, can you go eat with us? Mommy said we can eat at the pizza place, and and and go to soft play.”

Andy smiles. He starts to answer, but is distracted by a chubby little hand laying flat on his beard, and he turns to look at Suede, “Chess, pease,” you turn around quickly. You promised yourself that you’d never let your children see your emotions, but your chest fills with so much warmth and love. Feeling everything all at once. Suede only touched two people’s cheeks like that, and both you and Audrey are present. It’s like he has chosen another comfort.

You were told it could be a way for him to show comfortability and vulnerability, but he never did that with his dad. He never stayed in his dad’s arms for more than a few minutes before he was trying to reach towards you. Visiting Scott was the hardest on Suede. “Doe?”

“I’ve got to take something to Ransom. I’ll be back,” you grab some stupid piece of paper, and retreat from this. Trying to work through the emotions. On one hand you are a bit jealous that Suede found comfort in someone that isn’t you. On the other hand he had a man in his life that he trusts, and it is Andy. Your Andy.

“I need a snack.”

“Chess!”

“How does broccoli and ranch sound?” Audrey curls her lip, and Suede shakes his head no. “Well, I have you to know, that Sloane went and brought you back some safe food. And even apples.”

“Mmm, Appies!”

“With sun butter?” Andy nods, carrying the two of them to the break room. He looks back at you, and your back is still turned to him, still looking at a blank piece of paper, still bothered by something that transpired, and he can’t think of what. However, the kids were hungry, and they had to eat. He’ll come back and ask you about this later.

“Come on, it’s snack time, and then,” he lowers his voice, making it only audible for just Audrey and Suede, “I hear there’s a book about a little French girl in Sloane’s desk, you should ask her for it,” Audrey covers her mouth with her hand, giggling while she looks at Suede.

They sound so happy. You didn’t ask or beg Andy to spend time with them, he came to see them. He made sure that the unsafe foods were away from Suede. He was telling them secrets about the office. If you didn’t already have feelings for Andy that bordered on love — you’d have them now. You hated to admit that you still harbored feelings for him, but you did. And moments like these just made that blossom and get bigger until parts of you that felt so alone and hopeless, now feel like there was light at the end of the tunnel.

There was a hope that not only did your children not have to suffer, but you didn’t either. The feeling is like a hug. Simple, warm, loving, comforting, and the best thing in the world. It’s what a family should be, and should feel. Everyday is a new realization that you didn’t have these moments with your family.

“What are you doing?” Ransom asks, attempting to walk out of the door. “I don’t do tears.”

“It’s nothing.”

He blows out an exasperated puff of air. “Nothing doesn’t make you look so — weepy,” his voice is so flat, seemingly disinterested. “But if I can offer you some advice, you should trust him,” you furrow your brows as you look at him. There’s this part of you that doesn’t want to interrupt Andy and the kids, but you want to watch them. “He’s always wanted a family, and from the sounds of it, you’re the only woman he wanted it with. He doesn’t want to fuck it up, so he won’t. So let your walls down, and enjoy the moments. You’re used to his stubbornness and protectiveness, so…”

His voice trails off. He didn’t need to finish the sentence. So he won’t change. So there’s his flaw. So you’ll have to continue to deal with it. So now there’s little people for him to protect. “Oh, and Ray agreed to take your case,” that gets your attention. You straighten up. Ray would make a huge difference for you. Scott even mentioned Ray a few times during your marriage. “So…I don’t know, go make sure Barber isn’t poisoning the allergic one.”

That’s about as soft as you are going to get with Ransom, and you know it. But a quick little break to make sure ‘the allergic one’ is not being fed something he shouldn’t have, would not hurt. Ransom meant well, and you’re so thankful for him. But not as thankful as Audrey jumping up and down at Andy’s feet, while he holds Suede, squinting as he reads the ingredients on the back of a box.

“It’s a safe food,” you answer softly, and he lowers the packet of fruit snacks to Audrey. Suede gives him a little pout, but Andy is quick to grab his own pack, and open it for him.

“Go ask Sloane for her book,” he tells the two of them before they run off, and you immediately circle your arms around his waist. You couldn’t help a hug, and a quick peck to his lips, “What’s this for?”

“For being you,” his lips turn up in a smile, and he reminds you of the way he looked when he was younger. There were more freckles that dotted over his nose, and more wrinkles around his eyes. He is thicker in the best way, a luscious full beard, but the best parts of him are still the same. “I’m serious. You’re amazing with them, and I thank you for learning.”

“You gave Sloane a list of safe foods, didn’t you?” Nodding you stand on your tippy toes for another too quick kiss. Seeing him reading the back of that box was oddly sexy. You don’t regret not telling him that Sloane made a quick trip to the store, and you need to pay her for that. You could look at this man reading the ingredients daily because it was…breathtaking. The older you get, the more things of attractiveness changes. This wasn’t one you saw happening until it did.

“No word from Scott?”

“No. I’m sure he’s in court or something. I get used to not relying on him,” Andy searches your face, contemplating how to respond to that. You shouldn’t have to be used to it. That shouldn’t be normal. “It’s fine.”

“How often was it just you and the kids waiting on him?” You shrug. You didn’t want this conversation. You didn’t want to dwell in the past. Didn’t want to think of how much you let things slide with Scott because you felt you needed to make your marriage work, and he was still the one that stepped out on your family.

“I should really make sure the kids are okay,” if Andy could wrap you in a tight cocoon and make you see what you deserved, he would. He wants you to see your value to his life because to him you and the kids were not a burden. You know you’re a good mom, but did you know you are a good partner?

“I’m going to guess we’ll have the kids for dinner though,” we. He loves hearing you say we, especially when they’re involved. If he could fully take Scott out of the equation, he would. Not only did he not deserve them, or your kindness, Andy didn’t mind having them always around.

He definitely didn’t mind people making comments about what a beautiful family he had. Or even that his son looked just like him, and how he’s so good with them. He didn’t want to correct them. People never questioned it because that’s exactly what you were becoming. He knows he should slow down, and not get too attached or ahead of himself. Not growing up with a father himself, he’s always craved a son where he could be the dad that he wanted.

He sighs, it would only be a matter of time before Scott completely lost interest. Men like him only wanted to use the kids as a weapon for you. He was using custody as a way for you to worry. Asserting his dominance wherever he could. Prick. He’s an asshole. He just hopes that Scott sees who has been spending time with his kids, and just how happy they are, and their mama.

—

Ransom slumps down into his chair, hands reaching towards a file on his desk when he hears tittering, and he bends at his waist to look under his desk, “What are you doing down there?”

Audrey giggles, popping another fruit chew in her mouth, and then a third hand points at the book that’s in her lap. Suede peeks his body around his sister’s smiling up at the man, “I’m not doing a very good job at reading. There’s lots of words.”

“Chess.”

Ransom smiles, nodding his head, “You like to play chess?”

“No no, that um — that’s how he says yes. He says it a lot. It’s easy for him. Tell him Suedey.”

“Chess,” his hand presses over his mouth and he giggles, having to sit up and hold his tummy with how much he is laughing. They are cute kids, even if Ransom doesn’t do kids.

“See, mister. He loves it. Do you think you can read this book for us,” the barely visible smile on Ransom’s face fades, and his head slightly shakes no, “I can’t read, and my mommy is working, and,” she crawls out from under the desk, laying the book on the shiny wood of Ransom’s ostentatious desk.

“Do you think mommy can take us to Paris one day?” Audrey places a hand under the desk, helping her brother up, and Suede places two arms up to Ransom. “He wants you to hold him. You can say no,” Ransom takes a moment to ponder before lifting the toddler up into his lap, but Audrey stands beside him, opening up the book to the first page.

“It has a lot of words,” her finger drags under the words, and Ransom stares at her curiously. Even though she is tiny, you can see her squinting, and sounding out a few of the letters. Reminds him of his childhood, a boy too young, forced to be above children his age academically. “Would Andy take us to Paris with mommy?”

How is he even supposed to answer that? He could put a bug in Andy’s ear that she wants to go to Paris. He could ask Andy to take her to a French restaurant, but he can’t possibly say that he would take them and their mom. “Do you like Andy?”

“Chess.”

“Uh huh. Mommy smiles when he’s around,” the little girl turns to look at Ransom, and he’s shocked by how much she looks like you, especially in the eyes. The exact shape, and even the different flecks of colors. “Is Andy like Taylor is to daddy?”

“I don’t know what that means,” he turns his head to see the little boy smiling at him. He lifts his chunky little hand, and slightly touches his cheek before moving it back down to his lap and giggles at Ransom. “What do you mean by your question?”

“I think Andy wants to kiss mommy,” it is a simple enough sentence that holds a lot more weight than she realizes. Ransom smiles, shrugging at her. “She didn’t smile with daddy like she does with Andy,” Audrey turns to look at Ransom, smiling at him, and then her brother. “I like him, too. But can you read this?” Her little chubby finger taps on the book a bit aggressively, “I’m sorry, booky. Please, Ansom?”

“Ransom.”

“I said that.”

“Ann!” Suede throws both arms in the hair, and giggles. “Ann!”

“Is he always like this?” Audrey covers her hand with her mouth, giggling again, and she nods. “Fine. Let’s read the Paris book,” he clears his throat, making both kids giggle once more. “In an old house in Paris that was covered in vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines.”

“Ran,” opening the door, you stop abruptly, and all three of them look up at you. “Oh, I was wondering where you two were. Come on, we should leave Ransom alone,” all three pout. Even Ransom, confusing you immensely. He told you he didn’t do kids. He didn’t hate them, but didn’t want to be around them. And now he’s reading to them with Suede and his sticky fingers in his lap.

“They're fine. Maybe bring some popcorn in here or something?” Audrey shakes her head no. “Why not?”

“We’ll choke,” she deadpans. “Those scratchy things in the middle. Andy buys us the puffy ones, so we don’t have to worry about choking.”

“Does he? That Andy sure does try to make life easier,” clearing your throat, Ransom looks up at you smiling. “We’re reading about the Paris girl. I think Audrey and Suede deserve macarons.”

“Suede can’t. There’s eggs,” Audrey beat you to it. She is his little keeper, and so protective of him. You are sure she keeps Scott in line with him, even if it isn’t her job. “Mommy, did daddy call?” You shake your head no, thinking she’s going to be sad. “Oh yay! So Andy is taking us to pizza and soft play for sure?”

“We’ll see. Read your Paris girl book. It won’t be long until it’s leaving time. And behave. You want me to leave the door open, Ransom?” He shakes his head, and shoos you out the door. You did not see this happening. Ransom said he didn’t care much for kids, and here he is being all sweet and loving with yours. You wouldn’t tell him, but it suited him, even if it was just as the fun uncle that could give them back at the end of the day.

Even though Scott brought you out here away from your friends and family, you feel the need to give him a quick and silent thank you. It brought you to Andy, and now it appears you are growing an inner circle. People to rely on. People you can trust with your kids. People that don’t look at them like a burden. People that cared. What felt like your world had ended, just ensured a new start that you needed.

“Suede,” your little boy quickly sits down in his seat, offering a sweet smile to Andy. He had already been told once not to stand up in the seat. Andy’s voice is soft, but stern enough that Suede knows he needs to keep his bottom in the seat. “Thank you.”

“Chess,” he holds up his hand out for Andy who fists bumps him in return. Blinking his eyes hard at him before smiling up at you. Leaning in for a hug.

“Was your dinner good, buddy?”

“Chess,” Andy questioned you with the pizza at first, until you told him about this place that was very accommodating for Suede’s allergies. Suede turns to look at Andy, but his eyes go upwards instead. A moment of unease flashes in his eyes, and he leans into your body, “Mama, no.”

Following his eyesight, you catch Scott freeze, seeing the back of Andy’s head, and Audrey sitting beside him. He never looks like he's in a good mood, but now he’s completely unsavory. “What’s going on?”

“Daddy,” Audrey looks at you, and then up at Andy, her happy face now looking sad. “Uhh, Andy is taking us to soft play.”

“Daddy is really tired, and they’re closed. I need to talk with you outside,” he gives a point towards you. Of course he needs to talk to you. Showing up unannounced, and Andy is with you. His nostrils flare a moment with the impending anger that’s lighting up his face. Talk really means he wants to berate you.

“It’s not closed, we saw it. Andy said…”

“Audrey,” while he doesn’t yell, his voice raises, and you grit your teeth. Friday night, and they were looking forward to fun. Leave it to Scott to be a disappointment. Again. Wiping your hands on your napkin, you grab up Suede, handing him over to Andy.

“What the hell are you doing?” Scott turns to look at you as Andy pulls Suede out of your arms. It is becoming harder and harder not to want to scream at him, especially when he uses foul language in front of the children.

“You wanted to talk to me. So Andy can stay with the kids,” the man that has spent every single evening with you and the kids, stares up at you. His free hand rubs up your thigh, and he offers a sad smile, “I’ll be right back,” and his eyes move over to Scott, nodding his hey.

Oh he’s angry. Not nearly as angry as you are for his five hour late pickup. Didn’t even tell you he was coming, just showed up. You can see how angry he is as you follow him to the parking lot. You don’t like to compare the two, but Andy would never deny fun for the kids. He had a long tiring day as well.

You’re barely out of the restaurant when Scott rounds towards you, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Feeding our children dinner since you were late.”

“I was working, and you know exactly what I mean,” you blink slowly. If he wants to say something, he can, but you won’t be offering up any information. “Fucking Andy Barber? The damn DA, is this some competition,” you scoff, there was never a competition. “And you left our kids with him.”

“So you wanted them to hear you talk like this to me?” Scott sighs. You knew he wouldn’t answer the question. You’re always the one that is wrong, while he’s always the one that is wronged in some way. “What do you want to talk about?”

“You sure did move on fast?” You laugh at him, shaking your head as you turn to walk back inside. The audacity. He was moving on and the two of you were very much together. You didn’t have a say in the matter when he was laying underneath the damn babysitter. “Did you ever love me?”

“You were the one that cheated, Scott. You came home early, so you could fuck our babysitter in our bed. Did you even think about me? Or about how our daughter would feel? Suede is too young to understand, but Audrey knows you left her mom to be with the babysitter. Love was never our strong suit though, was it?” The stronger your love for Andy grows, the more you realized Scott and you had been going through the motions. Was there ever any love?

Rolling your eyes, you turn away from him. If this is the only conversation he wants to have, it’s useless. You’re doing nothing wrong. You hadn’t even slept with Andy since that first night. And even if you did, you two were legally separated and going through a divorce. “Suede could be older and still wouldn’t understand.”

“What did you say?” don’t turn around, and don’t look at him. He makes you sick.

“You heard me,” no, you’re not quite you did.

“And what do you mean by that?”

“He’s never going to be as advanced as Audrey,” if it wouldn’t hurt your case for custody, you’d claw his eyes out. If he wants to blame you for the marriage failing, you don't care, but to say one damn thing about your child is another thing. “You coddle him.”

“I hate you,” always your fault. Suede’s ‘delays’ as Scott called them, will forever be your fault. He was supposed to be his ‘boy’ and now he looks at your son like he’s a mistake. A failure. And he’s two.

“Feeling’s mutual, sweetheart. Now let me get my kids from your dildo.”

“Why are you so mean to him? Why do you put so much pressure on your son? He’s a baby.”

“No, he’s not,” you have to look at him now. You need to understand why he can’t just be happy with who Suede is, instead of trying to make him who he wants him to be.

“He just turned two. He is a baby. He wears diapers, his vocabulary is improving, but he is a baby. If you — if you don’t want him why do you insist on full custody? Why do you rip him out of my arms, crying, if you don’t want him? You don’t even like him. I’m not even sure you like Audrey. This a damn power grab, you’re using my babies as a weapon to hurt me. Just leave him with me and…”

“Go on, say it. Andy. Is he enjoying the bed that I fucked that baby boy in you in? You want to act like he’s so fucking grand. Sloppy damn seconds,” you take a deep breath in, wondering how he views you as sloppy seconds but not himself. Or even if Taylor is someone’s sloppy seconds. Pig. “Just trying to replace me because I left you. You even went after a goddamn lawyer,” of course he’d hit you with low blows, and as much as it infuriates you, it hurts more how he is with your baby.

“Answer the questions. You’re changing the subject, and I’m talking about our son. If you don’t want my baby, and he’s so difficult with his allergies, and his separation anxiety, then leave him with his mom!”

“You created a monster! Taylor can’t even deal with him most of the time because all he says is ‘chess’ or ‘my mama at’. Separation anxiety? No, you baby the boy, and made him rely on you so you think it’ll give you a leg to stand on with custody. Audrey was never that difficult, hell she was potty trained at his age. She’s starting to read now. And he’s…”

“He’s a fucking baby, Scott! Just let him stay with me, please!” You’re not above begging when it comes to your children, especially if Scott is getting them when he’s angry.

“No. Because if he stays with you then Audrey — you know how she is with her brother. They don’t like to be separated,” it’s always about the easy child. His pride and joy. The one he whispered to her about how she would become a lawyer someday. Another thing that annoyed you, pressure on a four year old. “They both are coming with me, as per our agreement. So let me get my kids.”

“Can you at least take them to the soft play, and trampolines for thirty minutes?”

“What is the damn deal with soft play? That’s all they ever want to do.”

“Because they’re kids, and they have fun! They want to play with their dad, is that such a wrong thing?” You turn into the restaurant, watching Andy calmly talk to your world. Such a beautiful picture in contrast to what their parents are doing outside. Suede lifts his chubby little hand, and holds it against Andy’s cheek, petting his beard. He waits until Andy smiles at him before pulling it away, and he snuggles into his chest. That was a father’s love. Not whatever the hell Scott is doing.

Despite what Scott wants to imply, there’s nothing wrong with Suede. His learning is delayed compared to Audrey’s, but from his doctors to his teachers, he is just a normal little boy. There’s a sadness that wraps around you knowing that Suede has more comfort with Andy than his own father. A man he’s known his whole life is nothing compared to the man that he barely knows.

“Does Andy play with them?” you look at Scott, and for the first time in a long time, there’s a sadness in his eyes, but it flares back into his competitive composure. If he is so concerned with Andy and the kids, he’s the only one that can fix it. It wasn’t Andy’s problem.

“We both do,” you answer solemnly before opening the door to the restaurant. You aren’t going to listen to him bully you or speak ill of his son anymore. You want him to suffer with the reality that his son is already replacing him with a man that is paying attention to him. You and Andy hadn’t been doing, whatever this is, long, and already Suede treated him like his father.

“Come on,” you try to smile as you reach for Suede. “It’s time to go to daddy’s house.”

“Mama, no,” this is the part that breaks you every time. Hearing him beg you not to make him go to his dad’s grinds your soul in half. You hate thinking that he may blame you, may think you’ve abandoned him. So instead, you just don’t look into his eyes.

“Audrey, grab your coloring sheet if you want to,” she reaches for her sheet as you grab up Suede, and she and Andy scoot out of the booth. Andy has never been part of a switch between you and Scott. It’s also why you preferred he picked them up from daycare. The extra hours with you made things difficult for them to leave. It’s him leaving you that seems to be the issue.

“Mama, no,” you can’t even meet his eyes as he touches your cheek. You know Scott didn’t hurt Suede. You also know he didn’t enjoy him or appreciate him, and with Audrey it is nonstop pressure to read, and write, and whatever thing he felt like she needed to be ahead for. Audrey has to be the best academically, and judging by the earlier conversation, he has no faith in Suede.

“Mama, pease!” He sniffles, cuddling into your chest, and you kiss on top of his head. Bit by bit part of your heart crumbles. The part that you gave your children, and it’s every other weekend. Audrey grabs Andy’s hand as you walk back outside. Getting an eye roll from Scott as soon as he sees Andy with his prized possession. His daughter. “Mama, no,” the first sign of his cries, broken words. “Me tay.”

“It’s stay, Suede. And you can’t stay because it’s my weekend,” Suede screams as Scott pulls at his body. Trying to take him from you. “Suede, enough!” He pulls harder, and his voice reaches a screeching high, shattering that part of your heart as his body shivers from anguish.

“Mommy will get you Sunday.”

“You’re only making this worse,” you hate him, and it has nothing to do with what he did to you, it’s what he’s doing to your children. “Suede, you’re fine,” you bite your tongue, holding back your own tears as he kicks. Thrashing around while Scott buckles him in, and one name on his lips. Mama. Over and over it tugs at your heart. Your baby needs you, and you can’t comfort him without causing more of a scene.

It’s one of the hardest things that you have to do. Ignoring him because it can get worse. You kneel down in front of Audrey, and she jumps into your arms giving you the biggest hug, “Will you make sure that Suedey is okay when you get in the car?”

“Yes, mommy. I’m sorry.”

“Baby, it’s okay. I’ll see you Sunday before supper, okay?” Audrey nods before she walks to her side of the car, getting in her seat herself, but Scott goes to buckle her. She extends a hand over to her crying brother, and more pieces of your heart break.

“Can you text or call and let me know when he calms down?”

“Yeah,” Scott answers shortly, closing Audrey’s door before he goes to the driver’s side. “Guess we can’t go to soft play with a baby that won’t stop crying,” bastard. Blaming Scott’s mistakes on Suede.

“I’ll take them Sunday,” Scott glares at Andy, and you are just numb. The teachers told you that while Suede was sad when his dad picked him up, there was no crying. You hate him for making you hear this. “Doe, let’s go.”

You’re not a person that wants to get even very often, but if you could make him feel like you did right now, you would. And if it is the fact that Andy already said he’d take them out Sunday after pickup that makes Scott hurt, so be it. It kills you to hear his muffled cries still. The fact that he had a good day, and evening, only for it to end with him in so much turmoil only hurts worse. You give a silent prayer that he can soothe himself soon. Scott never liked long crying sessions. He wasn’t patient enough to handle it.

“Your place or mine?”

“I don’t care as long as you hold me,” he opens up your car door, and you jump in, finally letting your tears cascade over your cheeks. You’re thankful you thought to leave Andy’s car at the house because you wouldn’t be able to drive right now. Everything in your body aches. Your his mother, and you couldn’t hold him until his tears stop. He is crying for you, and you have to walk away from him.

“He’s so mean to my baby. I don’t know if he hates him or if he’s ashamed of him,” you suck in a ragged breath, trying to calm your tears. “Suede’s always had health issues. He was born too early, it was a difficult pregnancy, his allergies were caught before he was a year old, now they’re talking about his vision, but he’s just a baby. And he’s usually so happy and full of light, but I think Suede knows that Scott doesn’t love him like he loves Audrey. Why are my kids the ones that have to suffer?”

“Audrey soothes Suede, but she’s a baby herself. She shouldn’t have to. They don’t have fun with their dad. And I don’t know how I could have been so wrong in a father for them. I just — I don’t care about me anymore, I just want them to be okay, and I fear that Suede is just forgotten there. A mistake,” god you hate reliving that day. That moment when that asshole murmured he was a mistake.

“What?” Andy’s voice is so hard. It’s a dangerous timbre.

“He said that Suede was a mistake,” you rest your head on the back of the seat. “It was that day that whatever I felt towards Scott was completely erased. I hated him and it took four words for me to hate him. My kids aren’t mistakes. They’re my everything, and if I have to feel this gut wrenching pain, so they don’t have to, I don’t care anymore. I’ll deal with Scott, but that — that is so hard to deal with, and it makes me feel so small every time because I can’t fix it.”

His hands grip onto the steering wheel too tight. His eyes staring out onto the road before taking a deep breath. He removes a hand, and places it on your thigh. You don’t smile, but you pick up his hand and hold it with both of yours. Weaving your delicate fingers in his, while your right hand clings to his so tightly. He didn’t have to say anything, but you know he’s offering to be your strength.

“I’m tired of this constant fight, and this constant fear that my baby is going to be forgotten, and neglected, and do you know what happens to unattended children? They get into things. Certain things he can get into could kill him,” your breath stutters in your throat. “I don’t think that they let them use the phone to call me as much as they want. It’s just another way to separate us. I call every day. Multiple times a day. Scott maybe calls every other day..”

Lifting up his hand, he kisses over your knuckles. “I just wish I could talk to them before bed, so I knew that they were going to sleep without tears in their eyes,” he kisses your knuckles again as you pull into the driveway. Another long weekend, but this time you didn’t have to spend it alone. Even a little bit of a distraction will help.

“Thank you,” your voice is so hoarse as Andy gets out of the car. He opens your door, undoes your buckle, and lifts you up into his arms. Letting you koala around him as he carries you into the house. It’s the most comforting gesture. Days like this walking is difficult, and he takes that responsibility from you. His comfort couldn’t change anything, but it can give you comfort and support when you just want to stare at nothing.

“I want you in something comfortable in five minutes, and then we’re going to be lazy on the couch the rest of the evening. Audrey told me she was sad because she wanted a slumber party with me, you, Suede, and Ann,” he smirks as you lift your head off his shoulder. Of course he’d get a kick out of Audrey asking him to spend the night.

“Ann?”

“I think that’s what they’ve decided to call Ransom. Go on. Get comfy. I’m just wearing sweatpants, and a t-shirt,” perfect clothes to cuddle him in. Your eyes get heavy just thinking about it. Drop offs like that are draining, and you want to sleep until you get to see them again.

“Old and worn in?”

“It’s the only way to wear it. Go on,” reluctantly you walk away from him. Opening up your bedroom door, and freeze. It’s the same time every time. That stupid blonde girl with her hands firmly on your husband’s chest while her body sucks him into her. No condom. You thought you had been seeing things, but he confirmed it. No condom. And lucky for him, he didn’t transfer anything to you.

So many things you couldn’t forgive him for. He is selfish. He’s disgusting. And you hate him. You hate that he’s the one that is in your kids’ life, and you don’t even know if there will ever be a time that you don’t hate him. You sigh as those thick arms wrap around your waist, and you lean your head back on his shoulder.

“It’s where you caught them,” Andy doesn’t ask, but you nod your head. You hate coming into this room. Everything about it reminds you of that day. He lit candles. There was soft music. And he was staring up at her like she was a goddess. His hands gripped her hips so tightly. Did he ever look at you liked that?

Andy’s lips pepper kisses down your jaw. “When was the last time you slept in here?”

“The night before it happened,” he lets you go. Starting to pull off the clothes from the day. His fingers glide over your skin like the strokes of a paintbrush. Getting you completely naked before he bends down, and pulls out his shirt from the day, and slips it on you.

“Grab you some panties, or don’t,” there’s something so solid in his voice as he walks over to the bed, and yanks off the duvet. Tossing pillows to the side of it. Ripping at every linen that you split tears on as you made the bed one last time. Ending with a pile of bedding, and then he grunts, pulling the mattress off to the side.

“We’re going bed shopping this weekend,” you gasp as you look at him. “Either we get you a new fucking bed, or we buy a house. What do you want to do?”

Kiss him. Make love with him. Why was getting rid of the bed so simple? That makes perfect sense to remove the bed. “Andy, I…”

“I already told you I was going to marry you. And when I do, I won’t be living in this house. But temporarily I need you to sleep in a bed. So, are we going bed shopping or buying a house this weekend?”

“Bed.”

“There’s my girl,” he grins, and you take a few steps to close the gap between you. Wrapping yourself into his warmth. “When you can’t do that anymore, I will be there. I hated that, and I can’t imagine what you’re going through. He’s a callous man, but he won’t win. I may only be a step dad to them, but,” he stutters. Pulling you even closer to him. “I love them, just like I love you. I will fight for both of you, and I understand court order. So I have to be productive where I can. And this is where I start, making sure you get good sleep.”

“Thank you,” you whimper, and he lets you melt into him. Soaking up his scent, and his strength. You needed him, not as another parent, but him. Just to be with you. “I love you, too.”

You let all those walls tumble down because you can’t continue to keep them up. You are one person, and you’re tired of fighting, and this isn’t a fight that was worth it. Why can you not love Andy? Why should you not just let him in, and trust him the way that you did Scott? Because being strong for your kids was making your other walls weaker. Instead of putting up boundaries from Andy, you want him inside your walls as added protection.

“We’ll buy a bed,” you laugh. It’s silly, but it’s freeing. Freeing to admit to yourself and to Andy you love him. You want him, and you don’t have to pretend anymore.

“And a dog.”

“No.”

“There’s dogs that detect allergies.”

“No.”

“Fine, when we buy us a house that we both, and the kids adore, and it has extra space just in case,” you look up at him and how adorable he is with his hope. You couldn’t have kids, but you wish you could give Andy at least one biological child. “We’ll buy a house. After the divorce. Deal?”

“You got a deal.”

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @kmm-fluv @rogersbarber @theinheriteddutchess @buckybarnesisdaddy

[satorusugurugurl]

I Think He Knows: (Chapter Eight)

Summary: When your novel takes off and becomes a best seller, doors of opportunities open for you. You can work on the series you have dreamed about all your life. And you’re also given the chance to stay in a tiny cottage in Europe for two years to help with inspiration! Your best friend, Geto Suguru, shatters at the news. How could he tell you how he feels when you leave him? His opportunity appears right before him when you confess that your editor thinks a change of scenery will help with your not-so-steamy romance scenes. They’re lacking a particular spice because you’re a virgin. So, Suguru does what any best friend would do. He offers to teach you how things work. Will you cross that line as friends? Or will you both say goodbye?

Pairing: Geto Suguru x FAB!Reader

Word Count: 4,759

Warning: nightmares, mentions of character death, panic attack, night terror, blood, PTSD, suvivor guilt Language, suggestiveness, grinding, neck kisses, dry humping,

A/N: oh man!! We have three parts left after this update, maybe two. Still plotting out the last chapters!!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven

Suguru knew something was wrong with you. Something was up the second you both boarded your plane as you mindlessly stared at your computer screen. He wanted to believe that maybe something happened with your agent or you were stuck doing rewrites, but his anxiety told him you were beginning to regret your decision to come with him. He didn’t want to hold you back if staying in Tokyo with something you wanted to do. He wanted you to follow your dreams.

He just needed to figure out how to bring it up.

However, that seemed like a terrible way to start this trip. He should be elated, jumping with joy over the fact that he spent time with you. You were going to be living together for the next four months. It would be if there were any time to tell you how he felt now. If he could muster up the courage to do that, he would follow his friend's advice, preferably today or tonight, once you guys got to your condo.

Suguru was going to tell you how he felt finally. He was going to be upfront and honest. He didn’t want to be your friend anymore. He would much rather be your boyfriend if you would accept him.

If he continued to beat around the bush, there was a chance he would lose you. That was something he could not afford to do. Losing you would be like losing part of his soul.

For now, he just needed to keep things lighthearted and stress-free. Which would be easier if you weren’t mindlessly staring at your computer screen. Your eyes were slightly swollen, and your manicured nails tapped against the side of your laptop as the word seemed to evade you, seeing you were so lost in thought.

Without thinking, Suguru reached over and gently grabbed your hand, holding it tight, drawing you out of your fantasy world and back into reality. Your tired, swollen eyes glanced down at your conjoined hands, and for the first time since you boarded the plane, you smiled. It wasn’t the fake smile that you had put on since you both sat down. No, this was your genuine, honest smile.

Which made his whole heart sing.

“You okay?” Suguru asked as you pulled your headphones up to listen to him.

“Oh yeah, I have a nasty case of writer's block. I hope going to the beach when we get there will help.”

Hearing you speak so freely about the issues you were having lifted some of the tension on Suguru’s shoulders. Knowing that you were just stuck in writer's block and not regretting your decision to join him, he slumped back against his chair as his fingers slowly interlaced with yours. He was afraid if he moved any faster, you would disappear.

“I’m sorry, having a blockage like that sucks. Is there anything I can do to help?”

A flush crept across your cheekbones and over the bridge of your nose. “H-Here?” The shushed, almost reprimanding tone of your voice had your best friend smirking. “W-We’re in public! And people would catch us.” Suguru gave your hand another reassuring squeeze.

“I didn't mean like that. Is there anything I could do to help you get through your writer's block?”

“Oh,” your flush deepened in color, “right, yeah, you didn’t mean us fucking in the bathroom.”

Fucking?

You hadn’t noticed the word you had used, but your best friend did. None of your sessions thus far had gone farther than touching and dry humping. So, for you to outwardly say something like that, it was entirely out of left field. Suguru’s cheek flushed a rosey shade as you continued to ramble on about how there were no planes in your fantasy world, and you didn’t see how that would help with your writer's block but profusely thankful for his offer.

Fucking?

That word had been something he was familiar with countless times before. He had had his share of partners in the past, but you were different. You weren’t just some girl. You were his best friend, and you deserve the absolute best. Fucking, was something he never wanted to do with you. No, Suguru wanted to make love with you.

Love. Making love. That sounded so much better than fucking. Making love sounded like something you were so deserving of.

“Suguru?” Your free hand reached forward, touching his forehead with the back of your hand. “Are you okay? You look a little flushed.”

“Oh, yeah, I uh—it’s just a bit warm in here.” it sounds like a bullshit excuse because it is a bullshit excuse.

You just softly grin, dropping your hand down to cup his face. The gentle touch alleviates all the stress and thoughts continuously forming in Subaru’s mind. He finds himself in the back of your hand, leaning into your touch. Everything would be okay as long as he had you by his side.

He could return to Okinawa and paint a mural of a girl he had failed. He might be able to go back to the street where she had died eventually. And he would tell you how he felt.

All because you were with him.

Even though you were by his side, he found himself shaking as he looked out at the ocean as the taxi drove you both to the condo you would call Home for the next four months. Thoughts of Riko and Gojo playing with sea cucumbers on the beach and enjoying soba noodles at a restaurant just up the shoreline, there were a lot of memories in this place, ones that had been fueling his nightmares for years.

Before those dark thoughts could dig their claws into his arms, pulling him under, you leaned your body against his back, peering out the window with him. “Whoa, look at those waves!” Your breath fans against his cheek before you press your face against his. “We should go for a walk tonight once we’re all settled in!” As he had thought on the plane, you were doing exactly what he knew—making this whole excursion easier for him to process.

“Yeah, a walk sounds nice.”

Anything involving you sounds nice. The remainder of the ride to the condo is quiet. A peaceful, calm, serene, until you're dropped off at the condo building. That relaxed, tranquil feeling is replaced with a sense of excitement, especially when you both walk inside.

The condo was a one-bedroom, one-bath, one-bath condominium with a living room, kitchen, and balcony. What made it even better was that it was fully furnished with all the necessary furniture and necessities. Making it a perfect home away from home for the next few months. Suguru stepped inside, holding the door open for you, watching your eyes sparkle as you kicked your sandals off, running across the polished wood flooring. You made a beeline for the balcony window, your back straightened before your world around to face him as he shut the door.

“Suguru! We’re super close to the beach! We should go for that walk later tonight!”

The excitement planted across your face and thick in your voice had Suguru’s heart fluttering. “Yeah, weekend. I have to call the aquarium first and let them know we made it.”

“Hell yeah! I’ll go start unpacking!”

Suguru chuckled, watching as you carried all the bags to the bedroom. He quickly called his employer. Much like he thought this time in Okinawa would involve a lot of working and less playing. The aquarium Director wanted to stop in the office to discuss what they wanted and where the mural would be. They had also been kind enough to purchase all the supplies for him. Paints, brushes, ladders, everything he could want or need would be provided.

The director wanted Suguru to take the rest of the day off to settle in before you came in the next day, which was great—having a day off. Which meant he would be able to spend it with you. Maybe if things went right tonight, he could finally tell you how he felt because he was getting tired of hiding behind some bullshit excuse to ‘help’ you with your book.

“Hey,” Suguru tapped his knuckles against the door frame as he shoved his phone into his pocket. “So the aquarium said that we could—” When he enters the room, you glance up from your phone, and Suguru can see tears swelling in your eyes. His heart drops into his stomach as you quickly wipe at the falling tears. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing. I’m okay!”

“Please don’t lie to me.”

The talent of his voice leaves no room for arguments, which she’s anticipating you giving him. “Sugu.” But instead of arguing with him, you smile, blushing yourself off the bed before grabbing his hand. “I was just reading a fan someone wrote about Oaklynn and Ilsan!” You swallow hard, whiter as you squeeze his hand tight. “But what were you say about the aquarium?” Suguru knows there's more than just some fanfic behind your tears, but if you keep pushing, he’s afraid he’ll ruin the first night in the condo with you.

“They said we could take today to settle in.”

You both head to the store to get groceries to cook dinner together. The whole time, Suguru watches you with weary eyes. Knowing you guys were out and about, you seemed fine, but he also knew you. You were pretty talented at putting on a mask behind your genuine emotions. He signs that if you’re not doing better by the following day, he will bring it up again and confront you about what was happening.

The next day, you’re okay, and the following day and the day after that. He’s happy to see your smiling face with no traces of tears in them. He wishes his face mirrored yours. Instead of worrying about you, he’s beginning to worry more about himself. It’s not that being with you makes him sad or that living together for the last week hasn’t been what he has always dreamed about. Being with you was a dream come true. Waking up next to you, cooking meals with you, taking an evening stroll on the beach, and being with you were the best part of returning to Okinawa.

But it was the flashbacks he wasn’t loving.

Images of Riko on the beach, running down the sidewalk. Enjoying her life to the fullest, not knowing this would be the last trip she would ever take because of him.

The second night in the condo was when the nightmare started up again. The same ones he’d been having for years. Riko in the aquarium, the blue hue of the lights around turning red before he was lying down on the street, staring into her lifeless eyes, while her blood-stained mouth told him it was his fault. He hadn’t been fast enough and pushed you out of the way. He had chosen one over the other; those toxic thoughts were the source of the nightmares plaguing him. That also had him stirring in his sleep next to you.

You had been struggling to fall asleep. You and Suguru had been in Okinawa for a week, and you still hadn’t been able to break the news about the cottage to him. That was why you were so upset when you arrived and had been crying a week prior. Eventually, you knew you would have to come clean about it, but you couldn’t do that right now, not when he needed you.

Not wanting to linger on those thoughts any longer, you were about to turn onto your other side when Suguru gasped, yelling your name as he sat up in bed.

“Sugu?!”? You sat up with him, watching his chest. His eyes are brimming with tears. “Hey, I’m right here.” Very gently, you grabbed his thigh, squeezing him, grounding him. “I’m right here with you.”

Suguru breathed heavily and yanked your hand to his chest, holding it there as if he was afraid he would vanish if you didn’t touch him. Scooted towards him, sitting on your knees, watching the adrenaline coursing through his veins slowly settle down. His muscles relaxed, and he watched as the pulse in his throat slowed down. Once he calms down, you lean closer, copying your hand against his cheek.

Leaned into his lips against the palm of your hand. “Sorry.” He pressed another gentle kiss. “Did I wake you?” Shame and embarrassment clouded his eyes as they roamed over your face.

“No, I was already awake.” That seems to make his shoulders relax more. “Were you having a nightmare about me?”

“How did you—?”

“You screamed my name.”

Suguru averts his gaze, biting down on his bottom lip. “Sorry, I—I—uhm—“ your hand leaves his face quickly, grabbing his hand again and squeezing it.

“Talk to me, please.”

Suguru never went into details about his nightmares with you. He only talked about it with his therapist and had mentioned them to Gojo one night when he had been drinking. His therapist had said that it was his conscience. The guilt of what had happened was eating away at him. After increasing his meds, he had encouraged Suguru to talk to his friends about the nightmares, but he had never had the urge to.

Right this second, as he sat down in bed with you. Countless times, you had woken up alone, having to deal with the pain, fear, and memories in the dead of night. Now, it was different. You were with him held. This was why you had agreed to come with him to Okinawa. Even if the nightmares revolved around you, want to talk to anybody else about it

“I have nightmares about the accident over and over again. And it’s not just about Riko—it’s about you too.” Suguru went into details, telling you about the aquarium, Riko, and the street where she had died. In that dream, he described how Riko always blamed him for pushing you out of the way of the moving car. The entire time, you were silent, taking in his words, holding his hand, caressing the back of his knuckles with your thumb. You would give him a gentle, reassuring squeeze whenever his voice would crack or his gaze would linger on the sheets for too long.

You had known his nightmares were terrible, but you never knew how bad they were. Suguru had to suffer with them constantly. Of course, he would have insomnia! But there was one thing about the dreams that didn't make sense.

“Suguru, why do you think you pushed me out of the way?”

Your best friend blinked slowly, looking up from the bed to focus on your face. “Huh?” Confusion was etched into your features. “Be—because I did?” Suguru’s face contorted with confusion as you quickly moved forward, cupping his face in your hands.

“You didn't.” When he says nothing, you feel like your stomach is crawling up your throat. “Oh my god, Suguru, all these years, you seriously thought you had picked me over Riko?” His eyes go wide, and a mixture of relief and confusion swirls in the pit of his stomach. “Suguru, honey, I was across the street. Satoru stole my boba, so I chased him.”

“I—I don't remember that—”

“Of course you don't.” You stroked his cheeks with your thumbs. “You were crossing with Riko when the car lost control.” Images of that day flashed through Suguru’s mind. Him walking in front of Riko, grinning back at her on a perfect sunny day. “The second you saw the car coming, you turned around to grab her—” Your eyes watered as you could feel the heat creeping into his cheeks. “You wrapped her in your arms, shielding her. But her head hit the crib when you guys hit the ground.”

Hearing you tell him the truth, the details of what happened, brings the memories back. They were fuzzy and distorted, like a television during a horrible thunderstorm, but he could see the picture. You pouted, jumping up and down across the street as Satoru held your boba above his head. You were right; you were nowhere near him when the car lost control. It had just been him, Riko, and Kuroi.

He remembered the screaming and yelling as he heard the blaring car horn. Jumping into action, he grabbed Riko, pulling her into his chest, with his back towards the car. The hit hurt, but he tucked his body as he and Riko took the hit, slamming against the street hard. Everything hurt, and his ears had been ringing, but what mattered the most was that he and Riko were okay.

At least, that's what he had thought until he felt the warmth of spreading blood pooling beneath them.

The room felt like it was spinning as everything hit him at once. He hadn't pushed you out of the way. He tried to save Riko! He had shielded her. He didn't choose you over her.

“I—I tried to save her.”

“Yes, and it wasn't your fault that she passed. You did everything in your power to save her.” you brushed your thumbs over his flushed cheeks, watching as tears streamed down them. “It wasn't your fault.”

That truth, in a way, had set him free. Well, part of him, at least. That night, he lay there with you, watching you sleep, remembering how you screamed his name after he was hit, how you were the first person running towards him as soon as traffic stopped. You had been sobbing, stroking his hair back, holding his hand; you had been the one, holding his hand, sitting in the chair next to his hospital bed.

You, god, it was always you. How was it even possible for him to fall even deeper in love with you? He had to tell you how he felt, but he couldn't just blurt it out; he needed it to be perfect.

A week passed, and you were dragged down the sidewalk, grinning up at your best friend, who was holding your hand as tightly as he could. He was talking you to the aquarium to show you his work on the mural so far, which had been a vast improvement since he always dreaded going. But since last week, he seemed to be doing a bit better.

Just because he had realized that the accident itself was not his fault didn't mean he was going to heal overnight miraculously. It was more like he was a glass of dark water, and you had turned the faucet on, allowing clean water to start flowing in. Over time, the dark water would become more transparent and clearer. Riko and everything that happened here in Okinawa will always be part of Suguru, but thinking about it would be less painful over time.

“Come on, this way!” he grinned, pulling you through the halls and leading you to the area he’d been hired to work on.“I can’t wait to show you.”

“Okay! Okay!” You giggle, gripping his hand tighter as you enter the main aquarium you had been to when you were seventeen on your class trip.

The room had a certain blue hue as blue whales and other fish swam in the tanks around you. A wall on one side of the room had been zoned off with plastic covers, hiding what was going on behind the scenes. Suguru pulled the plastic cover back for you, and as you stepped inside. The second you’re both behind the fronted cover, Suguru turns on a light and points it to the wall.

There in all its well-sketched glory are Riko and the whales. You walk along the wall, fingers gently grazing over her sketched-out form, following the sketch. The wall had to be half a kilometer long, and seeing Suguru’s art on a wall like this was surreal. The pencil work was excellent to see it painted—you stopped in your tracks, taking in the wall.

It wasn’t just Riko, not anymore.

All your friends were there: Gojo, Shoko, Nanami, Haibara, Suguru, and you. Each of your friends was spread out, mixed in with different people, each other except for you and Suguru. The two of you were standing near each other. Seeing you on the wall near your best friend, depicting both of you grinning at each other, made your heart race.

God, you wanted to be with him so bad. You wanted to be more than friends. Especially now, seeing what he had drawn made you realize how badly you wanted to be his girlfriend.

“What do you think?” Suguru asked as he joined your side, his hand rubbing against the back of his neck. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.”

“Yeah? The aquarium staff seem to like it, too.” His fingers trace over the pencil markings on the wall. “I can’t remember the last time I had been so excited about doing a piece like this.” You watch with bated breath as Suguru runs his thumb over your drawing on the wall. “I have a pretty amazing muse and friend to thank for pushing me.”

Friend.

You swallow hard, clenching your hands tight. Tonight, you would finally take Yuki’s advice and show him how you felt about him. You could do this!

While those thoughts were in your mind, you ran through different scenarios. Suguru was thinking about his plans. Tonight was the night he was going to tell you how he felt. He’s going to sit down with you and have an honest conversation about how much you meant to him. he wasn’t going to allow this façade to continue. Now was the time for honesty.

Honestly, it ended up with you kissing each other the second you made it back to the condo. Your hands tangled in his dark hair, and you kissed him with no remorse while he reciprocated with gentler kisses. You kicked the door shut, moaning into his mouth while he locked the door. You pushed him inside, turning into the bedroom, where you shoved him against the bed.

“Wh-whoa—“ he chuckled nervously, pushing himself on his elbows. “What’s gotten into you—mmhm!” You straddled his hip, kissing him harder, rocking eagerly against his crotch with whimpers and whines. Suguru groaned, hands twitching as he resisted the urge to grab your hips and rock you faster against him. “Y-You break that writer's bl—ahh fuck.”

“Mhmm.” Your pussy twitches against the hardening bulge in his pants. “Mmm~.” Gentle kisses are planted down Suguru’s neck, over and over, down to the collar of his shirt, where your teeth nip at.

“Princess—we should—“

“Shh, just relax.” You pull back, tugging your shirt over your head and throwing it to the ground before you do the same to Suguru.

Fuck, it was hard to relax with you being so seductive. Your perfect, beautiful body rocks and rolls against him, leaving Suguru wholly enamored by how gorgeous you look on top of him. His shaky hands gently grab your hips holding them, and you try with all of your might to rock against his cock.

You fight against his hold; you need him to know how much you care about him. You wanted to be more than just friends. Showing him how you felt was going to be your best bet. What better way to tell him you want to be more than friends than sleeping with him? If it worked for Yuki, surely it would work for you.

Reaching around your back, you unclasp your bra, allowing the flimsy fabric to fall to the bed, revealing your bare tits. They jiggle with each roll of your hips against his. You can feel his fingers digging into your hips before you slowly trail up the sides of your body. His fingers caress over your sensitive skin before inching further and further up until they cup your breasts.

As his hands gently massage them, your head rocks back while you rut your hips faster against his jeans. His cock throbs hard at your sensual rocking while his thumbs gently rub circles over your nipples, and his fingers knead at your sweet soft breasts. Out of all of the sessions you two had shared, this was by far the most sensual one. This felt real and raw.

Suguru felt it, too, as did how hot and heavy things were getting. He could feel how wet you were through your panties that hid underneath your floral skirt. He could see it in your face, the way your skin flushed, and your eyes rolled back as your hands gripped his pectoral muscles for support as you rolled your hips harder against his throbbing cock. That’s when he knew this wasn’t about your research; this was you taking control, taking what you wanted. He would’ve been happy for you to do that any other time.

But he didn’t want to be a one-time thing.

“Princess.” He began watching as you sat back on the heels of your feet, unbuckling his belt, the clanking of the metal deafening. “Princess.”

“It’s okay,” you pull the zipper to his jeans, tugging them down to his thighs.

“Hey—” his boxers are pulled down.

“Shh—” The Floral skirt is the next to go, flying across the room before your panties join it.

“Hey.”

“Sugu—”

“I can’t do this!”

He shouted, sitting up completely and staring at your naked body as your eyes widened with shock. Did Suguru not want to take this further? Was all of this to help you with your book, like really help you, nothing more than that?

Your chest heaves as your hands cover your breasts while you quickly slide off of his lap. Embarrassment, shame, and Amy of other emotions settle in your heart and stomach as his words repeatedly replay in your mind. This is not what you had anticipated when you sent your plan in motion. You thought that maybe deep down inside, he felt the same way you did.

Your eyes and the inside of your nose begin to burn with tears that you’re trying hard to hold back. What were you even supposed to say in a moment like this? What was the proper etiquette for being turned down by your best friend you had fallen in love with over the years? The only thing you could think was to collect your clothes and leave.

Before you even have a chance to jump off the bed and grab your panties to slide back on, Suguru pulls you back into his arms. Your bare chest is pressed firmly against his. The sudden reconnection of your body makes you inhale sharply as his hands slowly down your back.

“I can’t hook up with you.”

“Yeah, you made that clear, Sugu—“

“Stop!” One of his hands rests against the smell of your back while the other grabs you by the back of your head, pressing your forehead firmly against his. “I can’t just hook up with you because I love you!”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3

INHK Tag List (TO BE ADDED AGE MUST BE IN BIO)

@lemonintrovert01 @spankmydepression @renttheannihilator @witchbybirth @missmuffinr @lialia3945 @theobsidianempress @aquasan29 @toffeebrat @aussiemeerkat @chimichangagirl @zoroisminty @spankmydepression @em-aizawa @gojosimp26 @moonlightazriel @candy-s72 @makingtimemine @strflp @angel-academia @xocandyy

[sunnie-angel]

Part 12: The Reunion

part 11 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x f!reader

summary: jason reaches out for help with his serial killer case. dick comes to help and that goes about as well as can be expected.

tags: complicated sibling dynamics, stalking, fear for one's life, gaslighting, off screen implied sex

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.3k

a/n: thank you so much to everyone who helped me trouble shoot the plot problems i was having with this chapter!

Jason’s gonna kill Dick for this. How Dick had ended up in the middle of Gotham University’s campus at 10:08 in the morning waiting for Jason to show up to a meeting no one had bothered telling him about, Jason doesn’t know. He also doesn’t care, only he can’t have this happening again. Dick wasn’t supposed to be here, he wasn’t supposed to be the one Jason was meeting with, and he definitely wasn’t supposed to know about this side of Jason’s life at all. Maybe he should have known better. You attract the attention of one Bat, you get them all.

Which fuck, fine, Jason can find a way to live with their nosiness and their disappointment if that means he can keep you safe. What he won’t stand for is them terrorizing you. Jason can tell from a few tense lines of text that you’re nervous, that Dick makes you nervous. Can already see the down-turned lines carving themselves into your cheeks as you glare at him suspiciously. So he plays it off, the little shithead brother looking to stir up trouble with his family, anything to make the hard line of your shoulders soften. He’d dropped everything and broken more than a few traffic laws driving to campus, hoping against hope that for once in his life Dick would actually listen to him.

Jason slows to a fast walk as he yanks the doors to the student union open a little too hard, panicked but not wanting to show it. A muscle in his jaw clenches as he finds the place practically deserted and Dick sprawled out on the bench where Jason expects to find you. There’s the requested chili dog sitting on the table across from Dick and so Jason grudgingly takes the bench in front of it.

“What are you doin’ here?” Jason asks bluntly. He keeps his hands below the table, unable to hide how badly they tremble at seeing Dick for the first time in years without a mask on.

“You know Jay, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you weren’t happy to see me,” Dick says playfully.

Jason grits his teeth. “Well you don’ know better and don’t fuckin’ call me that.”

“Interesting,” Dick murmurs, leaning back in his seat. “You asked for help, I’m here to help.”

“No,” Jason shoots back, “I asked Barbie for help. You’re not Barbara.”

“Babs is busy with her own thing, I wasn’t. Besides, all this info is going back to her anyway, I’m just the messenger.” You were right, Dick’s grin is too wide, especially when it’s forced. Jason snorts.

“You just wanted a chance to be nosy,” Jason scoffs.

“Can you blame me?” Dick doesn’t try and deny it. “Look what you’ve built for yourself Littlewing–” Jason tries not to flinch “–you’ve got a life outside of the capes, just for yourself.”

Jason rolls his eyes at the way Dick honest to god starts to tear up. “Contrary to what B believes, I do have hobbies outside of killing people.”

“And friends,” Dick’s quick to add. “One of them in particular was very protective–”

“People are dead,” Jason interrupts, unwilling to let Dick’s fishing expedition go any further. Jason’s hands clench in his lap. “I asked for help because I haven’t been able to catch the motherfucker, not because I wanted a family reunion. So either be helpful or leave.”

“Fine, fine!” Dick puts his hands up in mock surrender. “Give me what you’ve got and I’ll get it all back to Babs.”

Finally, finally the conversation moves past the unsubtle prying and back to the problem that has had Jason grinding his teeth again in the few hours of sleep he now manages. When it comes down to it, Dick is a reliable partner, focused and attentive on all the details and getting as stubbornly focused on catching this killer as Jason is. It’s... nice in a way, to finally have a conversation that doesn’t end in screaming or entreaties to come back home. Dick’s– Dick’s finally listening to Jason. Only interrupting to ask questions about the things actually coming out of Jason’s mouth and not just the things that Dick’s trying to hear from him. All because some sicko decided that some women shouldn’t be allowed to breathe anymore. It would be nice, if the reason why didn’t make the acid in Jason’s stomach churn. The chili dog ends up in the garbage.

There’s eyes on you. Following you. For at least the last week the hair on the back of your neck has been standing up at random intervals. The paranoia that’s been dogging your steps ever since the first girl was found dead has been keeping you on edge, pulling the worst things from your imagination into reality, but this time you know its true. Hanging around Jason – the Red Hood – has taught you to look up more often, to scan the skyline for a familiar silhouette. What you see perched on top of the building down the street is not familiar.

You slam the door to your apartment shut, locking it up before sliding down against it. Your breath comes in heavy pants. Maybe, maybe it was just one of the city’s vigilantes, you try and reason with yourself. But you know that the only one that haunts this side of town is Jason, and whoever it was on that rooftop was not Jason.

Heart in your throat, you creep through your apartment, a foreign land in the darkness. Back to the wall, you use the edge of one finger to pull the blinds back a smidge, just far enough you can peer through it without the appearance of anyone being home. The streetlights are just bright enough outside that you can make out the figure still lurking on the building opposite yours.

Your nightmares always go something like this. Chased, cornered. Alone with the monster scratching at your door. It’s long leans limbs are nothing like Jason’s, it’s too short to be his frame. It moves with a fluidity that is so alien from Jason’s bullheaded focuses your brain clangs with the wrongness of it.

Your hands shake as you fumble for your phone in your pocket. It doesn’t even finish ringing once before Jason picks up.

“Jason?” you whisper, unable to tear your eyes away from the figure.

“What’s wrong?” his voice is tinged with alarm.

“There’s– there’s someone watching my building. I swear m’not imagining it, there’s someone watching from the roof across the street. I don’t– I don’t know what to do.” You break down on the last word, terror clawing through your chest as how violently alone you are won’t let you ignore it any longer.

“I’m— huff – on the way. Stay on— stay on the line— huff – and lock the doors,” Jason pants down the line.

You murmur something, probably your agreement, and then sit on the cold wooden floor of your bedroom frozen in fear as you pray to whatever deity might be out there that Jason will get there in time. The figure starts to move just as snowflakes start to cut through the beam of the streetlight. It disappears just seconds before Jason’s recognizable form goes careening across the rooftop.

“There’s— pant— there’s no one here,” Jason puffs and your fingers curl tighter around the hard edges of the phone.

“But there was. Someone was just there, I’m not imagining it,” your voice wobbles with desperation as you try to keep what’s real and what’s just the paranoia straight in your mind.

“— I believe you,” he says, but you’ve already heard the hesitation there. You swallow thickly.

“Will you– will you stay with me for a bit?” You ask, hating how needy it comes out.

Later when you’re lying in bed, the warm steady beat of Jason’s heart under your cheek, you can’t shake the feeling that something about the stranger’s silhouette was familiar. Nothing you can quite place, but still it itches at the back of your mind as you trail delicate patterns into Jason’s skin.

There’s only 8 minutes until class starts and the coffee shop you’re in is a 10 minute walk away from the building so understandably you’re in a rush to grab your order and go. You spin around, burning liquid caffeine clenched gratefully in your fist, and promptly nearly spill it all down the front of the guy that’s standing way too close to you. His hand snaps up with a startling speed to steady you and disaster is narrowly avoided.

“Sorry!” You call out only you look up and make eye contact with Jason’s still smiling brother and freeze.

“No worries, it was my fault for being too close,” he tries to apologize charmingly. “I was hoping to run into you again,  I want to—”

“Sorry I’m running late, maybe another time,” you interrupt him and flee the coffee shop.

All through class you can’t help but to think over the encounter. That was weird right? Him showing up to a student cafe on campus, standing so close he was almost on top of you. It was definitely weird. Again something at the back of your brain itches but you can’t quite figure out why.

Jason’s waiting to walk you home from class, collar turned up against the cold and hands firmly tucked into his pockets. He neatly slides your bag over his shoulder and waits for you to finish mulling over whatever it is that has you so distracted.

“I thought I ran into your brother earlier,” you start, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Who, Dick?” He scoffs. “Probably not, he’s in Bludhaven.” You frown. That’s only two hours away. “Besides, he doesn’t come back to Gotham that regularly anymore. The other day was a special one off.”

Except it had to have been Dick because he’d tried to talk to you. Either Jason’s lying, or he doesn’t know his brother as well as he says he does. You hope he’s not lying.

Jason feels bad about lying. Well, not about Dick always being in Bludhaven – from the little he knows, Jason’s reasonably sure Dick’s been visiting to mentor Talia’s little demon regularly – but Dick definitely hadn’t been in Gotham today. In fact, Dick had blown off Jason’s offer to meet earlier while you were in class because of his own fact finding mission. It was probably just some other cheerful guy with a similar build and colouring. He covertly observes the roof across from your building for any hint of Nightwing blue when he double checks your locks. It doesn’t hurt to be cautious.

Dick’s early to the rendezvous point, a pointedly 3 blocks east of your apartment building and just on the edge of the territory Jason has greedily claimed as his own. The wind’s not so bad tonight, snowfall remaining unlikely on the forecast when Jason had checked it earlier. That doesn’t stop Jason from shivering in his steel toed boots as the temperatures trend towards freezing.

“Oracle hasn’t found anything you hadn’t discovered already,” Dick tells him upfront. “It’s not that he’s particularly tech savvy, just lucky.” Jason swears.

“Asking for help was meant to, you know, get help,” he snarls. “I’ve got nothing to show but you sticking your nose into my life.”

“Show to who?” Dick asks. Jason chooses to ignore the question.

“At this rate another girl’s gonna get taken tomorrow night and you know we won’t find her alive,” he reminds Dick.

“That’s one thing I did notice. All the girls – he’s got a type, a very specific one. Hair, eyes, ethnicity, all of it the same. And I couldn’t help noticing at the coffee shop that they’re all a match for your friend.” Dick levels his gaze at Jason, impassive behind the domino.

“I can want my friend safe and still want justice for the others too,” Jason says, hurt at the accusation he’s worried is going unsaid.

“That’s not what I— look, does she know about this,” Dick gestures to Jason’s Red Hood getup.

“Might,” Jason hedges, unsure of where this is going.

“So she matches the victim profile and she knows enough to trust you to protect her,” Dick heaves out a sigh. “I don’t think we’ve got much choice, our usual methods just aren’t turning anything up.”

“You want to use her as bait,” Jason says, the flat affect of his voice modulator turning his words into a blade. Dick flinches but nods. “You said “at the coffee shop”. You didn’t meet her at the coffee shop you met her in the middle of the food court.”

“I guess I misspoke,” Dick shrugs. “Coffee shop, food court, close enough.”

Jason may not have lived under the same roof as Dick for years but still he can tell when Dick is lying. He’s lying right now.

“She thought she saw you earlier today. Was kinda spooked about it actually,” Jason takes a menacing step towards Dick. “You wouldn’t do that Dickie, would you? Lie to me about being somewhere else so you could go and stalk my— my friend. You wouldn’t be lying to my face right now would you?” There’s a growl to Jason’s voice and boots are making heavy, even thuds as he prowls closer. Dick backs away.

“She called you Jay—” he starts but Jason cuts him off.

“I DON’T CARE WHAT SHE CALLED ME!” He roars. “YOU LIED TO ME DICK!” Jason is very, very glad he’s wearing the full helmet tonight. Tears don’t show through layers of plastic and metal. “You lied, Dick, and I believed you. I believed you over her and I should have known from the start because you and B always do this. You try to manage me. I’m done. Tell Barbie to figure out another messenger because you’re not welcome here anymore.”

Jason turns and runs for the edge of the building. The grapple catches and he feels the pull of it heavy in his shoulder. Whatever Dick shouts after him gets lost in the wind.

part 13

[fanfictionalraven]

Unforgettable

Title: Unforgettable

Song Inspiration: Unforgettable by Thomas Rhett

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Word Count: 2,822

Warnings: N/A

Author's Note: This story was originally posted by myself under the account Winchestersgirl92. It was published January, 2018. Flashbacks in italics.

You knew it was stupid to be mad. You weren’t exactly in a “normal” relationship. Dean wasn’t the roses, chocolates, or candle-lit dinners type. And, to be fair, you’d never really considered yourself the type to want those things either. You knew it was stupid to be mad. But, dammit, you couldn’t help it.

One year ago today, you and Dean had met and the chemistry was instantaneous. It had been a great night, the best night of your life honestly. The next day, he brought you back to the bunker and you’d never left. You’d never really defined the relationship, it was a sort of unspoken but obvious dedication.

So maybe it was a little unfair to expect any form of “anniversary” celebration or gifts. But was some form of acknowledgment too much to ask of whatever it was you had? Probably.

You groan and lay your head on the library table. Sam, sitting directly across from you with a lore book, was oblivious to your internal argument. He looks up now.

“You okay, Y/N?” He asks. You shake your head, not moving it from the table. “What’s up?” You can hear the laughter in his voice.

“What are we?” You ask. There’s a moments silence before Sam speaks again.

“Well – we’re hunters,” he says. You sit up and narrow your eyes at him. “What?” He asks, laughing again.

“Me and Dean. What are we?” You ask again. His laughter stops and confusion spreads across his face. “Are we boyfriend and girlfriend? Are we friends with benefits?”

“Pretty sure you should be having this conversation with Dean,” he tells you, looking back at his book. You groan and lay your head down again. “Why is this suddenly bothering you?”

“Because I can’t decide if I have the right to be mad that he doesn’t remember we met a year ago today,” you admit. Sam starts to laugh again and you sit up quickly.

“He forgot your anniversary, huh?” He asks. You shush him quickly, looking over your shoulder. Dean had been in the garage most of the morning working on his car but he could come back at any moment. “Look, Y/N, I’ve never seen Dean like this with anyone. Ever. You mean more to him than I’m sure he’s said. But he isn’t used to the whole relationship thing. I’m sure he’ll come around though.”

“Hey, Sweetheart. Can you come down here?” You hear Dean call from the hall. You sigh as you stand and start down the corridor. Of course, you had been overreacting. You knew how much Dean cared for you, even if he never said it. And you didn’t need a day set aside for him to prove it more.

You stop short at the entrance to the garage and smile. Dean is leaning back against the hood of the Impala, his hands shoved down in the pockets of his jeans. He’s wearing your favorite of his flannel shirts, the one that makes his eyes pop a little more. It was the same one he’d been wearing the night you met.

You’d rolled into Lebanon, Kansas earlier that day, having found a case. It was an easy one. Open and shut. A vengeful spirit terrorizing a local family. You’d already worked out who it was and were just waiting for the cover of night to go salt and burn the body.

While you were waiting, you’d decided to hit a local bar. The one you picked looked like just the perfect mix of seedy and respectable. You’d been sitting at the bar for over an hour now, nursing your second bottle of beer, when someone slides onto the stool next to you. A blue and green checkered flannel hugs the muscles of the man’s forearms in all the right ways as he flags the barkeep for a beer. You shake your head quickly, having to remind yourself why you’re here in the first place.

You allow yourself one glance at him and immediately regret it. He’s looking back at you with piercing green eyes, already mentally undressing you. You look forward quickly and take a long drink of your beer before turning to face him. He angles his body towards you as well, smiling in the most irresistible way.

“Look,” you start, avoiding his eyes. “I’m only here for work. I’m really not looking for a drunken one night stand.” They weren’t the words you wanted to say. You wanted to tell him where you were staying for the night but you knew you had to stay focused on the job and if he went back to your motel room you’d never want to leave again. The man laughs and you look up at him now.

“Okay number one, I’m completely sober,” he says before taking a long drink from his bottle. You feel your face heat up when he runs his tongue over his lips. “And B, I’m not looking for a one night stand either.”

“No?” You ask, tearing your eyes away from his lips. He smirks slightly and shakes his head.

“I’d need at least a week with you,” he says. You can’t help the laugh the erupts from you. He smiles as he watches you. “What do you say?” He asks. Before you can answer, someone else is tapping on your shoulder. You turn to find another man.

Under normal circumstances, those circumstances being the man you were currently sitting next to not being there, he would have been a perfectly attractive man. However, your present company seemed to make every other man on the planet pale in comparison. The new suitor smiles at you, a smile that would no doubt be dazzling if you hadn’t already seen the other man’s.

“Care to dance?” He asks, nodding towards the empty space in the room where one couple was drunkenly swaying to some song in their head. You could give him a simple ‘no thank you’ but quickly decide that wouldn’t be any fun. Instead, you reach over next to you, placing your hand on the knee of the man beside you. You feel him twitch under your touch and fight not to smirk.

“Sorry. My boyfriend just got off work,” you tell him. Your ‘boyfriend’ waves at the other guy, a smirking playing at his lips. The man leaves you alone, quickly moving on to another girl in the room. A hand comes over yours and you look over at him.

“Can I at least know my girlfriend’s name?” He asks. You laugh and pull your hand out from under his.

“Y/N,” you tell him, picking your bottle back up. You feel his eyes on you as you take a drink. “Y/N Y/L/N. And you are?”

“Dean Winchester,” he says quickly.

“Babe?” Dean’s voice draws you from the memory. He’s standing in front of you now, a piece of cloth in his hands. You look at it then at him, raising an eyebrow.

“If this is a kinky thing, I’m not in the mood,” you tell him. He rolls his eyes.

“Will you trust me?” He asks. You smile a little and nod. He moves to stand behind you and carefully slips the cloth over your eyes. You sigh as he ties it in place. “Can you see anything?” He asks. You hear him moving back around you and can imagine he’s waving a hand in front of your face.

“Nothing. Dean, what’s this about?” You ask him. He chuckles and takes your hands in his, pulling on you. You take a couple of clumsy steps and hear the door of the Impala opening.

“It’s a surprise,” he says, guiding you carefully into the front seat of the car.

“You’re acting weird,” you tell him. You know he rolls his eyes again before closing the door. A moment later, the door on your other side opens and you feel Dean slide into the seat next to you. His hand comes to rest on your knee, the way it always does when you’re in the car together, before the car starts to move. His thumb rubs against your knee as he drives quietly.

“The Dean Winchester?” You ask, staring at the man next to you. He sits back slightly and nods. You’d heard plenty of stories about the Winchesters and all of their exploits. “I heard you were dead. Like – three different times.”

“Didn’t take. You’re a hunter?” He asks. You nod and look back at the bottle in your hands.

“Are you here for the case?” You ask. He sits back, shaking his head.

“No, actually we live just up the road,” he tells you. You look at him quickly.

“You live somewhere? Like…permanently?” You ask. He laughs lightly and nods, leaning forward onto the bar.

“Yea. Sammy and I have a place. It’s, ugh, an old bunker for a secret society that died out in the 50’s. It’s pretty awesome,” he says. You nod, mulling this over for a moment. “So what’s the case?” He asks, looking back at you now. You shrug and glance at the window.

“Vengeful spirit. Wanna go on a salt and burn with me?” You ask, smiling at him. You knew you could definitely use the muscle. It would take you all night to dig the grave up on your own. But with Dean’s help you could be done in a few hours and maybe even have time for a little something else. Dean smiles as he watches you, as though reading your mind and nods.

“My car’s parked out front,” he says. You smile widely and quickly finish off your beer. Dean tosses some cash onto the bar before rising to his feet and holding a hand out for you. You take his hand, your fingers interlocking, as he pulls you from the bar.

You feel the car come to a stop and cut off. The driver door opens then closes and a moment later your door opens. Dean’s hand takes yours and he carefully helps you from the car. You can smell the dirt and feel the soft earth under your feet.

“Dean, where are we??” You ask, sighing. He stops you by placing his hands on your shoulders from behind. He reaches up and pulls the blindfold off. You blink against the late evening sunlight and look around. It was a sight you knew well but you were very confused as to why you were here. “A cemetery? Are we working a case?” You ask, looking back at Dean. He rolls his eyes.

“Not just any cemetery,” he says, turning you to face the graves again. You sigh as you look around before breaking into a wide smile as it hits you.

“Our first date,” you say as his arms snake around your waist.

You’re sitting on the edge of the hole you and Dean had been working on for some time now. He’s shed a couple of layers, his jacket and flannel shirt, leaving himself only in the tight black t-shirt that clung to him with sweat. You bite your lip as you watch him move another shovel full of dirt out of the hole.

“Ya know, as much as I love that you’re checking me out right now, we could be done if you’d help,” he says suddenly, looking over at you. You blink then smile coyly and shrug.

“Well, you’ve been trying to show off this whole time I thought I’d finally let you,” you tell him. He stops and turns to face you, resting his arm on the standing shovel.

“It is working?” He asks with a smirk. You shake your head as you look him over. Pushing off the ground, you slide down into the grave and walk over to him.

“I mean, if I had a thing for the sexy, bad-boy hunter with a heart of gold, maybe,” you say. He throws his head back laughing and you suddenly realize you could spend the rest of your life watching him laugh. You quickly shake away those thoughts as you reach for the shovel. You dig into the dirt and hit something hard instantly. Looking back at Dean, you smirk, “Finished.” His eyes narrow and you can’t help the giggle that escapes you as you kneel down and wipe the dirt from the top of the coffin. With Dean’s help, you pry open the top half of the casket.

“Well, there she is,” he says, pointing to the old bones.

Dean climbs out of the hole then offers you a hand. You take his hand and allow him to pull you out as well. Your pour the salt over the remains as Dean dumps the gasoline in. You pull the box of matches from your back jean pocket and strike one on the side of the box before dropping the lit match into the open coffin.

“So,” Dean starts as the flames engulf the body. You look over at him. “You think I’m sexy.” You roll your eyes and grab two fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him into a deep kiss quickly. His hands find your waist instantly as his lips move against yours. You pull away from his lips abruptly and take one of his hands in yours, pulling him away from the burning grave and back to the Impala parked a few yards away. “Are we leaving?” Dean asks, a hint of disappointment in his voice. You laugh lightly and open the back door before sliding in.

“You coming?” You ask, looking out at him when he doesn’t follow. He stares down at you in disbelief before shaking his head and getting in quickly, closing the door behind him. You move into his lap, straddling his waist as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Ya know, I’ve got a bed back at the bunker,” he says, his fingers grazing the skin at the edge of your shirt. You smile and lean in, kissing his lips briefly.

“We’ll get there eventually,” you tell him. He smirks slightly.

“Oh?” He asks. You laugh lightly and nod, running your fingers against the back of his neck.

“Well, yea. You said you’d need at least a week with me, right?” You ask. He blinks and his smirk turns into a wide smile.

“I did say that,” he says, nodding. You smile and lean back in to him, pausing just before meeting his lips again. He chuckles and shakes his head. “I think I’m gonna marry you someday, Sweetheart.” You let out a laugh before kissing him.

Dean’s lips graze against your cheek gently and you smile, running your hands over his arms. He squeezes your waist slightly before turning you around to face him. You bite your lip and look down.

“I didn’t think you remembered,” you confess. He smiles before his lips find your forehead and you look back up at him.

“I remember everything about that night. I remember what you were wearing, what you were drinking. I remember the entire conversation on the way to the cemetery. I remember that first kiss and then you taking charge like you did. I remember taking you back to the bunker and staying up all night just talking. And the next morning, we made breakfast together and you met Sammy,” he says, his eyes soft as he watches you. You swallow hard, suddenly on the brink of tears. “And you stayed for a week.”

“And that week turned into two which turned into a month,” you say, laughing lightly. Dean smiles and his lips graze down the bridge of your nose.

“And a year later, here we are,” he says, his voice soft. You smile and close your eyes, standing there in his arms. His lips brush against your cheek before coming to rest next to your ear. “I love you,” he whispers. Your smile somehow manages to grow even wider as you lean away from him slightly. He’s watching you again, afraid he’s stepped too far. You stand up and press your lips against his in a soft, tender kiss. You feel him smile against your lips before you pull away.

“I love you too,” you tell him. He lets out a breath and you laugh lightly. “Did you think otherwise?” He shrugs his shoulders.

“You’re too good for me. It would make more sense if you didn’t,” he says. You roll your eyes at him before running your fingers into his hair.

“I moved in with you pretty much after one night together. I’m not going anywhere,” you assure him. He smiles and nods slightly.

“Well that’s good, cause I meant what I said a year ago,” he tells you. You raise an eyebrow at him. “I’m gonna marry you someday.” You laugh again before pressing your lips against his, hoping it wouldn’t take him a year to get around to that too.

[bitterrfruit]

houndtooth [7]

[masterlist]

Ghost x f!Reader - tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers, abduction, bodyguard, forced cooperation, smut 18+ mdni - 3.9k words

The air of your cell is thick and savoury like soup. You choke on it, every breath, drowning in it – filling your lungs with its foul warmth and barely slaking your battered body’s need for oxygen.  

The sore minutes following your husband’s execution had blurred into incomprehensible smoke. Fleeting. Suffocating. Obfuscating.  

You are lost. Uncertain whether or not you are grieving. And if you’re not, whether you should be. 

His words were each a bullet, each meticulously calculated to injure you where it would hurt you most. Almost perfectly crafted to ensure your captors lose any semblance of pity or reverence they held for you – so that they might lose whatever restraint they’ve been attempting to maintain. So that they may do to you whatever they have been itching to do. Their exploitation justified. Because you’re just a whore.  

But in your desperation to comfort your own distraught mind, you argue with yourself. Your own devil’s advocate. 

Perhaps it was a game. Could have been a bluff. 

He must have loved you, right? After years of serving him, of acting your part, of loving him the way he wanted you to.  

He had to have loved you. You had always dreamed someone would. 

No matter the case, the outcome is the same. There’s no way back. Whatever nightmare you’re stuck in will only, only, get worse. Regardless of which pack of wolves you are left to, your fate remains inescapable. You’ll be used. Consumed. Digested. Shit back out.  

The Captain had ferried you to a new cell – the one you now sat in, atop a makeshift bed with a squealing steel frame. He had carried you like a child, an arm under your knees and an arm under your neck, he let your head fall on his chest despite your fading effort to stay skittish and defensive. His charity disingenuous. White knight he is. 

But you’re weak. Exhausted. Delirious.  

You sit in dead silence, knees tucked up tightly to your chin, body only partially dry after your water torture.  

The Captain stands in front of you. Hands magisterially on his hips, he pouts under his beard. Wrestling with how best to interact with you, like you’re an animal in an exhibit. Careful not to scare you off, but frightened you’d bite if he gets too close.  

“There were no bullets in the gun, by the way,” he says gruffly, voice hoarse like he’s gargling gravel. “I wasn’t going to kill you. It was a… a bluff.”  

You say nothing. Give him nothing. You glower at him from under your brow, hoping he leaves so you can finally lie down and cry like a hurt little girl.  

“Can I get you something? Water?”  

You say nothing.  

“Look. We’re – we’re not going to hurt you. But I need you to answer some questions, alright?” He insists. “We need to know about who your husband worked with. I’m guessing he must have called them his colleagues, eh?” 

Give him nothing.  

“Do you know a Vladimir? Makarov?”  

That name, you know. You know it well. You know it like an apple knows teeth. Like a deer knows an arrow. Like a carcass knows a knife.  

Less so a colleague and more a rival. Two lions fighting for the same throne. Vladimir hated your husband so viciously it wouldn’t surprise you if he had orchestrated this entire series of events just to be rid of him.  

But the enmity between he and your husband isn’t what strikes icy shards of terror through your chest. Isn’t what churns your stomach and pushes dark bile up your throat. 

You swallow. 

“Mh. Looks like you do know him,” he grunts, crossing his arms over his broad chest, rocking on his boots. “Can you tell me about him?” 

He persists in his questioning, despite your sealed lips. You know that talking might help you. That spilling your vague knowledge like water from a faucet might ingratiate you. Might earn your freedom.  

But what freedom awaits you?  

If these soldiers cast you back to your blood-soaked estate, or your petit trianon – as a traitor of your husband, a scorned widow – you will simply be bait. Raw meat to lure bears. Honey to lure wasps. There is nowhere you could possibly hide to evade them, no scheme to outsmart them.  

You’d be better off dead.  

“When was the last time you saw him?”  

“Did he come to your estate a lot? Did he travel with your husband?”  

“Have you ever spoken to him?” 

“Does he know you?” 

“Could he help you?”  

“Where is he?”  

He leans forward, props himself up with his palms on his knees. His blue eyes are piercing, discerning. “Do you know where he is?” He insists, “Mia. I’m trying to help you.”  

You say nothing. 

He is quick to grow frustrated, grunting like a bear and standing upright, he rubs his temples in exasperation as if you’ve given him a headache.  

“You don’t want to talk to me. Okay.”  

Give him nothing.  

“Who will you talk to? Anyone?” He presses, tapping his boot in impatience. “Do you want to talk to the Lieutenant?”  

You say nothing – but some shift in your expression must have said something for you. You’re not sure if it was the widening of your eyes, the softening of your brows, the loosening of your shoulders – but he spotted it. And nodded slowly. Knowingly.  

“Alright, love. I’ll go get him. Then you’ll talk to him, eh?”  

“Simon,” came the gruff bark of Price’s familiar voice. Irate.  

Ghost sat on a bench in the empty mess hall, under a flickering fluorescent bar. Bouncing his knee, leaning his elbows on the table in front of him, he pinches a cheap Russian cigarette and holds it between his teeth.  

Tastes like shit. Does the job.  

“What,” he grunts, swivelling on the bench so that he faces out towards the approaching Captain. “Did she kick y’in the head, too?”  

Price only frowns, confused and plainly irritated, he comes to a stop before him and crosses his arms. “No,” he puzzles. “She kicked you, eh? That’ll learn you.”  

Leaning back indolently, Ghost tugs the base of his balaclava back over his mouth, tucking it under his jaw. Squishes the butt into the plastic surface of the table behind him.  “Not me.”  

“Mh,” the Captain acquiesces. “She does seem to like you.”  

Ghost only scoffs, not quite a laugh, but carries the same disbelieving amusement. “Right,” he chuffs, “for killing her husband?”  

“Possibly,” Price shrugs derisively, “beats me.”  

“Has she said anything?”  

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Like talking to a brick wall,” the Captain complains. “A pretty little brick wall.”  

Ghost rolls his eyes, turning his head to look at the open door to the hall. He rubs his brow vexedly with his thumb. And you chide me, you hypocritical prick.  

“She’ll talk to you,” Price insists.  

“Why the fuck would she talk to me?” Ghost retorts. “I waterboarded her.”  

“I asked her.” 

“What, and she requested me?”  

Price tilts his head, a lazy shrug. “Not in so many words.”  

“Right. So you’re full of shit.”  

“Jesus, Simon. Don’t make me order you,” Price sneers, “No clue why she’s interested in you, but, you never know with women like that, eh?”  

His stomach churns at Price’s insinuation. Must have taken your cunt husband’s ramblings at face value. Rookie error for a captain.   

Ghost bounces his knee in annoyance. “Just let her sleep, for fuck’s sake. She’s probably delirious.” 

“Exactly,” Price nods. “She’ll be nice and compliant, eh? Open to persuasion.” 

He's right. Ghost is playing dumb. He’s very familiar with the game, so fluent in the art of exploitation that he could do it with his eyes closed. Beaten, defeated, worn down to a quivering mess is when you’ll be most susceptible to influence. The most pliable.  

Letting you sleep, allowing you to recover your strength as you cocoon yourself in your shell is a surefire way to ensure you never utter another word. He can’t let your fear bubble into spite, into anger, into vengeance. He must kick you when you’re down.  

But – he's tired. He’s already fucking sick of it. Sick of being confused by his own repulsion. Sick of his pathetic eyes raking over your body despite his efforts to restrain it. Sick of your eyes looking through him like you know him better than himself.  

“Too delirious to give us anything useful,” Ghost clarifies, through teeth.  

“I don’t give a shit about whatever vapid rumours she has about Zakhaev. It’s pretty clear she knows nothing about his enterprise.”  

“Then why the fuck do you want me to keep interrogating her?”  

“I don’t want you to interrogate her, Simon,” Price badgers, “I want you to convince her.”  

Ghost frowns, crosses his arms testily. 

“Convince her to what?”  

~

Ghost hears the squeaking of your shoddy bed as he brutishly unlocks and opens the door to your cell. 

You had been lying on your side, curled up like a foetus on the mattress – but the second you are disturbed, you sit yourself upright. Alert. Frightened. Skittish. Stare at him like a cornered cat. 

Looks like you’ve been crying. Eyes red and swollen, cheeks glistening with the afterglow of your tears. Your lips part just slightly as your weary eyes land on him, as though a rush of air just escaped your lungs. He shuts the door behind him, stands in the middle of your small cell with crossed arms. 

He mines his thoughts for words to say. Finds them turning to ash on his tongue. 

“Sorry about your husband,” he says, eventually, tone more facetious than he had intended. 

He sees the cinder flickering in those sparkling little eyes, your chest rises as you inhale in preparation for your retort. “How can you – how can you say sorry for killing–” 

“Not for killing him,” he clarifies with a grunt. “Sorry that you married him.” 

That leaves you quiet. You look sour, because he’s right. 

“Was he always like that?” He persists, feels the snake of spite rising to his throat, needlessly adding an air of mocking derision to his words. “Did–” 

“Why are you here,” you snap to cut him off. Your cadence needle sharp, so starkly at odds to the sweetness of your earlier pleading. Nothing left to beg for, he supposes. 

Ghost draws in an impatient breath. He doesn’t want to be here either. “Boss said you’d talk to me.” 

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you grumble, voice wavering. Pouting at him. Cute. 

He sucks his teeth. “Right,” he scoffs. “Yet you’re talkin’ to me, aren’t you?” 

You fall quiet again, pulling your knees up to your chest, you clutch your bare feet with agitated fingers. “He’s nicer than you,” you mutter scornfully. 

“I bet,” he agrees dully. “But you won’t talk to him.” 

“Don’t trust him.” 

“Oh?” He queries cynically, “so you trust me?” 

You seem to think for a pointed moment before you speak. Wet stare lands on him, scans from boots to head, evaluating. 

“You do what you say you will,” you bitterly admit, and he can see it pains you to say so. 

Christ. 

You trust him? Or, rather, whatever tentative hopeful dependence that you are forced to rely on in a predicament as dire as yours. Still. He squirms at the thought that you’ve decided he’s the best you’ve got. You’ll be sorely disappointed. 

Won’t you? 

“Have you got more questions for me,” You ask flatly, breaking the off-putting silence. 

The defeat in your voice is like nails on a chalkboard. He’d rather you be hysterical, tearful and delirious, overwhelmed with grief but a still riddled with a desperation to survive. 

Instead you’re merely hushed and trembling. Perhaps you’re in shock. Perhaps you’ve got a plan. But, what he is most fearful of, is the likelihood you’ve given up. No desire to fight for whatever life might await you now that your husband is out of the picture. 

Detrimental to their entire operation, yes. They have no leverage to use against you if you have no interest in staying alive.  

More than that, though, he needs you to keep fighting him. To berate and antagonise and kick and scream. All of his adversaries would viciously resist him and that would justify Ghost’s brutality. When his blistering hatred for you was at its peak, not ten hours ago, he could justify hurting you as badly as he wanted to. 

Now what? 

How can he bring himself brutalise you when you look at him like that? Teary-eyed, shaking in either cold or panic - but giving him no resistance? No talk-back, no threats, no ploys to escape? 

How can he hurt you any further? 

He can tell you just want to sleep. Your lids are heavy and swollen despite how hard you try to keep your eyes open and vigilant. Poor thing. 

Ghost shakes his head, stepping towards a steel chair that sits propped against the wall. He lifts it with ease, twisting it in the air and putting it down in front of your bed – sits in it casually, leans back. Thighs spread and fingers interwoven in his lap, he bounces his knee as he chews on his response. 

“If you’ve got information we can use, sure.” 

You sigh deeply and slowly, picking at the cherry-red polish on your toenail with a ferocity that appears to him like self-flagellation. “I don’t know what information I have. Let alone whether it’s useful.” 

“’Alright,” he huffs, takes a minute to think of the question. “Said you’re from Nottingham, yeah? How’d you meet him?” 

A crease forms in your brow as your dubious eyes jump around his face, searching for an intention. You won’t find one. He doesn’t know what it was. 

“How is that useful information,” you seethe. 

He shrugs indifferently. “Need details.” 

You huff as though reluctant, looking at your feet. “I met him in Berlin.” 

He stays silent, and when your stare quickly jumps to him for approval, he gestures with his brutish hand to elaborate. Unsatisfactory answer. 

Your gaze returns to your toes. Focusing as you scrape the glossy red paint with your fingernails, leaving specks that look like dried blood on the dirty mattress. 

“I was a dancer. Um – he came into the club I danced in, with some other men. All in expensive suits. Rich men like that are cheap. Usually never spend a thing. Still want a piece.” 

A stripper. Not what Ghost would have guessed. But he can picture it, all the same. And he does. Pictures you spinning on a slippery pole, peeling off a lacy bra, slender little hands stroking over your buttery body as you present yourself to dogs like meat. 

He grounds himself with a clearing of his throat. “S’that right.” 

“Mhm,” you answer distastefully. “Was always the working boys that spoiled us. Wanted to spend what little money they had just to please. Just because they could. Men in suits, they want what they pay for. And they pay next to nothing because that’s what we’re worth to them.” 

“And Zakhaev…?” 

You draw in a slow breath. “Victor was different.” 

That’s it? C’mon, love. His silence an insistence to continue. And you do. 

“I dunno,” you sniff, he sees your eyes swell red. “I guess he saw something valuable in me.” 

He chastises himself for his interest. Why the fuck does he care how a whore comes across a man like Zakhaev? Billionaire wants a trophy wife, so he buys one. It should be no surprise at all. 

“So he bought you, eh?” Ghost asks harshly, and your wet and angry stare shoots daggers at him in response. 

But you relent. Maybe he’s right. Your gaze returns to your toes and wipe your nose with the back of your hand. 

“He gave me fifty-thousand euros for a private dance.” 

Fucking hell. 

Can’t even fathom spending that much money on anything. But when he looks at you… if he had that kind of money, maybe he’d do the same. 

Nearly smacks himself at the thought. 

“Generous,” he says instead, disdain on his tongue. 

“He was sweet,” you continue, voice wavering as you visibly swallow the urge to cry. “He – he said he could save me. Would take me to his nice house and protect me. Said he’d treat me like a goddess.” 

Ghost snorts spitefully. “Did he?” 

You scowl at him. “Yes, he did.” 

A knife of guilt plunges through his sternum, a truly unfamiliar sting. 

Did you love him? 

He cannot fathom that you could have. Not after that repulsive tirade, so unbearable to hear he felt compelled to execute him just to make it stop. He thought he had done you a favour. Still mostly believes he has. 

“Didn’t sound like it,” Ghost remarks derisively. 

You chew your lip. “It’s your fault he snapped,” you murmur, under breath. Doesn’t sound like you believe what you’re saying. “He was – he was good to me.” 

He sniffs, licks his teeth. “You had bruises.” 

“Fucking ‘course I have bruises, you tortured me.” You hiss. 

Shakes his head. “Before,” he ripostes. “You had bruises on your collarbone. On your thighs. From him, eh?” 

You bite down on your tongue, he sees your eyes well. Must have prodded a sore spot. 

“What is this? What do you want me to say? Do you want me to tell you he beat me so you feel better about murdering him?” 

That sparks his anger. 

“You think that would make me feel better?” He barks, “I feel fucking fantastic. Shooting that cunt is the best thing I’ve done all week.” 

“You’re sick,” you breathe. 

“I’m sick? Do you know what your fuckin’ husband did? Do you know what he was?” 

“He was a businessman,” you utter, unconvincingly. 

“He was a mass-fucking-murderer. He started a war. You wanna know what the body count for that is?” 

You fall quiet. Shivering and tearful. But you listen. 

“Your husband was busy building bombs. Chemical weapons. Busy selling explosives to fucking terrorist militias in the middle east. Paid for the bombings in London last year. I’m fuckin’ proud that I shot him, whether or not he beat you.” 

You’re ghostly. Blood drained completely from your apple cheeks. Your mouth opens to sip a trembling breath, and your tears begin their cascade. 

“I didn’t know,” you whimper. 

“’Course you didn’t,” he chides doubtfully. 

You heave in a whining sob, tears dripping off your chin as you plunge your face against your knees. Was that your last straw, little thing? 

“I didn’t,” you stutter, snivelling. “I – I knew he… he was an arms dealer. Just an arms dealer.” 

He’s nauseated at the sight of you sobbing so sorely. Finds himself wondering you look like when you smile. 

“He was a warlord.” 

You sob, dropping your knees open so you sit cross-legged, Ghost’s eyes shoot between your legs. Get a fucking grip. Watching you cry and still stealing his glances? Can’t help it. You cry too pretty. 

You move the focus of your self-mutilation from your toes to your fingernails, picking off the lacquer. You sniffle quietly for a minute, and he lets you. What else can he say to you? He’s not much interested in comforting you. 

But there’s an ache, sharp and yet nebulous. The acknowledgement that you didn’t know the extent of your husband’s evil. That he likely kept it hidden from you. Or you, hidden from it. That your torture was fruitless and extraneous. Cruelty for the sake of it. 

“What happens now,” you ask, near-whisper. 

Ghost leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees, lets his hands hang nonchalantly. “Still got one use for you.” 

Your stare lands on him carefully. You breathe as though preparing yourself, a tear lands in the corner of your parted lips. You uncross your legs, hanging them slowly off the edge of the bed, hands turn to fists on your knees. 

“I thought you weren’t interested,” you squeak. 

Ghost’s jaw clenches inadvertently, biting down on nothing. Knows what you’re implying. Do you think he’s here to rape you? Here to unwrap you, to tear off that tissue that barely conceals the prize? 

His glower is probably serving as evidence. Boring into you with a hunger beyond his control. Jesus. Control yourself. 

He could do it. Fulfil your suggestion, accept your offers. Play the role of the lecherous hound you believe him to be.

You’d let him. 

You’d lie face down on that bed for him. You’d let him hitch up your hips, presenting your soft pussy for him to take. You’d let him rake down those pathetic pink knickers. You’d let him spit on his fingers and push them into you, to prepare you for the incursion of his spiteful cock. He’d curl and drive them deep, he’d make sure your pussy releases a spate of its sweet liquor just for him.   

You’d probably whine sweetly – in pain, at first, as he penetrates you, as your cunt stretches to fit him. But those muffled whimpers into the mattress would evolve into cries of shameful rapture, poignantly humiliated by how good it feels when he fucks you. He’d fuck you slowly. Deeply. He’d make sure the blunt head of his cock rams into that aching spot that makes you squeal. 

He’d coat his thumb in your syrup, he’d press the pad of it against your puckered hole. He’d listen to your cloying noises as he pushes it, popping past your tight, clenching entrance, easing it in until he’s knuckle deep. He’d feel his cock rutting in and out of you, through the thin fleshy wall between your holes. He’d feel it cinch so tightly around his thumb, pulsing in rhythm with the abashing orgasm that he fucks out of you. He’d threaten to pump you full of his come, and when you only mewl wetly in response, no dispute, fucked drunk; he’d oblige you. 

He’d let you think he’s finished. He’d give you a moment to breathe, as he pulls out of you, as his hot come drips from you, coating your thighs. Your pussy would look too pretty drenched in a concoction of your fluids and his, twitching still in the aftershock. 

So he’d flip you, hoist up your soft body by the hips as he sucks your cunt into his mouth. He’d eat another orgasm out of you, voracious and messy, he’d swallow it, and continue; just to feel you writhe in dispute of the overstimulation, just to listen to the squeals of contest that squeak from your wet throat. 

He’d leave you choking, panting for air, as he allows you to recover. He’d let you sleep, and he’d know that you’d dream of him. 

You fucking animal. 

Pulled back to reality by a shivering sigh from your chest - he’s repulsed by himself. Reels in self-loathing as his cock jolts behind his trousers, swelling in anticipation of a crime he won’t commit. 

His peers have chastised him for being a beast. An uncaring monster. The kind of animal that would fuck you while you cry, that would take pride in making it hurt.  

They’re wrong. 

You simply look at him, pupils stretched wide and dark, glassy with worry. Your cunt might be pulsing in between the thighs you hold together so tightly, readying itself for him, preparing for the worst. 

No, little rabbit, he wouldn’t do that to you. Not unless you beg him for it. 

So he leans back in his seat, feigning disinterest, hoping you don’t notice the turgid heat that radiates from him. 

“Not that, sweetheart,” he sighs hoarsely. “We’ve got a more important use for you.” 

here's your tag bestie: @rafaelacallinybbay

[sleepyyywriter]

Just You Is Enough For Me

A/N: I’d like to point out that my recollection of the movie is vague because I have only watched it once, but I needed a fix it fic asap. This one is for me but if you enjoy, yay! (Also, might’ve altered or moved events around but, you know. Fiction. Also, also! I did ridiculous research on pleas and whatnot and again, because this is fiction, I used what I liked and ignored the rest.)

Word Count: 8k

Genre: Fluff, fix-it fic

Heads up, this is not the fic for you if you liked Lee's character. Sorry.

Finally, thanks to @soulsdontbreaktheybeeend for listening to me spiral about Arthur and for giving me the space to come up with this idea. Love youuuu! 💜

The pencil in her hand snapped in half as she gazed up at Arthur, her eyes wide and the terror clear as day in them. The biggest mistake he could make at this point was firing them as counsel.

“My client needs a break, your hon-“

Before she even knew what she was doing, she had grabbed at Arthur’s suit and yanked him down, her eyes boring into his and effectively halting his protests.

She wasn’t sure what she was trying to tell him with her eyes, she couldn’t actually say anything aloud, even if she could get her mouth to open, but Y/N needed him to understand what she knew in her heart.

They were his only shot at not rotting at Arkham for the rest of his life. They were his only shot at getting the help he so desperately needed. That he deserved and had been denied his whole existence. She knew that, why didn’t he?

The voices around her sounded so distant as they looked into each other’s eyes, hers pleading and his avoidant.

No. Not avoidant. He was looking for her, no doubt. All he did was look for her, the one responsible for this shitshow. The one who was in it for the fame and publicity that came with being the joker’s girlfriend, or whatever the fuck she was.

Y/N knew about her, who didn’t? And she hated her. She told herself it was because of the harm she was causing Arthur’s case. And because it was so obvious she didn’t actually care for him. Not all of him anyway. But if she were to be honest with herself… Well. There was no time for that right not.

Right now, they had to figure out if there was a way to salvage any of this.

As they made their way to the room they were provided with by the court, Y/N could tell Maryanne was pissed. They had been dealing with the repercussions of everything Lee said and did in front of the media, and Arthur’s outburst could very well be the straw that broke the camel’s back. Hell, she wouldn’t be surprised if Maryanne herself asked to be dropped as counsel.  

As the bailiff shackled Arthur to the table at the center of the room, Y/N intercepted Maryanne at the door, involuntarily cringing at the glare sent her way.

“Let me talk to him first?”

“This is not the place for your stupid cru-“

Y/N yelped and shut the door, hoping Arthur hadn’t heard that from the other side.

“This has nothing to do with that!” she interrupted, lightly shouldering Maryanne away from the door and towards the bench outside of the room. “You need to calm down. If you go in there, guns blazing, he is going to shut down and we won’t be able to convince him to stay.”

“You think we can? You think you can?” she sneered, her lips pursing in anger as she massaged her temple with her fingers.

Y/N smiled tightly and made her way back into the room, “I’m gonna fucking try.”

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

She didn’t know how long she had been standing there, arms across her chest as she leaned into the closed door, her eyes on the squirming, hunched over figure in front of her.

A part of her was trying to find the words, nice ones at least, to try to talk some sense into Arthur. Another part of herself, the pettier side, was enjoying how uncomfortable Arthur seemed.

Good. She hoped he knew he had fucked up. She especially hoped he knew how he had hurt her feelings.

She was very aware the crush was one sided, judging by the dopey smile he got on his stupidly handsome face every time Lee was brought up. And that was okay. Really! Her main concern was getting Arthur the help he needed, not any silly schoolgirl fantasies her exhausted brain would concoct right before she passed out on her bed.

Y/N had accompanied Maryanne from day one as she worked Arthur’s case, and she thought they had formed a friendship. Maryanne of course cared for him and wanted to help; she was more centered, maybe even more professional? And that why she was so damn good at her job.

Y/N was the younger associate. She could afford to be swayed by emotions. She could afford the reassuring smiles and the daily jokes and teasing banter. She was the good cop to the clients. And more so with Arthur. She could still remember how skittish he was at the beginning. How accustomed he was to people hurting him or making fun of him, that he didn’t talk to them at all for the first three days.

It wasn’t until Y/N told a joke, a very bad one she profusely apologized for, that he finally acknowledged them. She remembered how her heart ached at the sight of his scabbing eyebrow and his busted lip. How a smile made its way to her lips at the sight of his smile, so child-like and innocent and a perfect match for the twinkling seas of juniper leaves in his eyes.

It was with that memory in her head and those emotions in her heart that she finally moved. She pulled the chair next to him and sat, her elbow on the table as she rested her face on her palm.

“What the fuck, Arthur?” she sighed, her eyes searching his.

Laughter burst from his lips, but she recognized this one. It wasn’t that breathy huff before a genuine smile painted his lips. This was the laughter he couldn’t contain. The one that hurt him and wouldn’t let him get enough oxygen into his lungs. This was the laughter that left him hunched over in pain, gasping for air and afraid.

Y/N pursed her lips, mentally kicking herself for triggering him like this, and placed her hand on his back as she hummed Durante’s Smile, hoping it was as comforting for him as it was for her.

He was always singing something, nothing she ever knew of course. He had once wrinkled his nose in the most adorable way when she had played some of her music for him, her AC/DC and Bon Jovi “too loud” for him. She had laughed and they had both agreed that music could be important to both of them without necessarily meaning the same type of music.

Still, this one was one of the few “oldies” she had in her repertoire, and she hoped it was offering him some comfort.

As his chest stopped heaving and his laughter had been reduced to sporadic bursts that didn’t leave him as breathless, he began to speak.

“Lee is trying to free me. She is helping me, Y/N.”

“Arthur,” she began, her eyes shutting as she tried to keep her distaste for Lee from her face.

“We’re going to build a mountain! We’re going to be happy! And you just want me locked up. She said-”

Her hands balled into fist over his suit, and she had to make a conscious effort to pull away and not pull at his clothes.

“She said what, Arthur?” she asked, her voice tight with poorly disguised anger.

“That you- you don’t want to help. That- that you’re like them. You underestimate me and you think I’m dumb, and you don’t care about me. And-”

She raised her hand to silence him, using the other to push away from the table and get herself to her feet, needing space from him.

“I’m here, jeopardizing my job to beg you to please let us help you. Every day I go home from the office, I have to make sure nobody is following to scream at me, throw rotten shit at me or hit me because I am defending you. Which has happened by the way. And every day, every fucking day Arthur, I go back into that office and stay there until the break of fucking dawn trying to find a way to help you. And you’re telling me I don’t care? Because the one who is actively sabotaging your defense told you so?”

Maryanne came back inside at that, surprise on her face at the tone Y/N had taken which usually only she used when she needed to strongarm stubborn clients.

“You know what? I actually don’t fucking care whether you fire Maryanne or not. I quit regardless.”

Y/N ignored Maryanne’s calls and she certainly didn’t look back at Arthur as she stormed out of the room, with what felt like her whole heart stuck in her throat as she blinked the tears away.

She knew it wasn’t fair to talk to Arthur like that and much less to up and abandon him. Even if that was what he was asking for. She had proved to him once more that everyone left him when he needed them the most, but his words had cut her too deep.

She had poured her heart into doing everything in her power to help. She had called witnesses, she had read over files numerous times, fighting through the tears as she read about every despicable thing Arthur had lived through.

When what she read began plaguing her dreams, she would get back up and continue her work at home, hoping to find the smoking gun that would get the world to see he wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. He was a product of his fucked-up upbringing and the disregard society had for the poor and ill. Arthur needed help, proper help he was not going to receive where he was currently locked up at and so every day she worked. How could he say she didn’t care? How could he believe her? Y/N was in his corner first. Which was a stupid sentiment. Childish even. She still couldn’t stop feeling it.

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

Y/N couldn’t remember how she had gotten home. She must’ve taken the right buses because there she was, keys in her hand and her back to her door as she blinked into her dark apartment.

With a sigh, broken and drawn out, she took off her shoes and chucked her briefcase and purse somewhere into the living room. She’d look for them in the morning but now, she was a woman on a mission as she stalked toward her kitchen, two things on her mind. Vodka and ice cream.

As she carried her bowl and the entire bottle into the living room, the phone rang. She groaned and looked down at her occupied hands. There was clearly only one thing to do. Y/N poured a hefty amount of vodka into her ice cream and set the bottle aside as she grabbed the phone and carefully held it between her ear and shoulder.

“What the hell happened to ‘I’m gonna fucking try’?” the voice on the other end laughed.

“I will hang up on you if you’re calling to scream at me. Or make fun of me. I’m off the clock, you can do it tomorrow and pay me for it,” she grumbled, shoveling a spoonful of her special ice-cream into her mouth.

“You’ve been ballsy today,” Maryanne snorted and Y/N rolled her eyes at the sound.

“Can I help you or…?”

“He’s not firing us.”

“Good! Best of luck to y-”

“-on one condition. He wants you back on the case.”

Y/N scoffed, wincing as the too big spoonful of ice cream momentarily froze her brain. “And you told him to fuck off?”

“I most certainly did not. I said we would go up to see him tomorrow bright and early because you have a good head on your shoulders and a lengthy career ahead of you and you’re not going to let a stupid crush keep you from working this case, winning it, and watching your career take off.”

Y/N glared into her bowl, her eyes following the puddle forming around the lump of speckled white, both from the vodka she had added and the heat from her hands that was melting the rest.

“He’s a person. Why can’t we just help him because he deserves it? Not because of what that can do for us?”

Maryanne sighed and her tone softened, “We’re doing that too, Y/N.”

They spent a couple of minutes on the line going over ideas on how to salvage the shitshow that was today before they both agreed to meet at Arkham bright early tomorrow morning.

Y/N had an idea. She thought it would gain sympathy from the jury and get rid of Lee. That would break Arthur, but it would help their case. Even if it meant he hated her for it.

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

Y/N refused to look at him. It was “Mr. Fleck” this and that and even Maryanne couldn’t contain her laugh.

Still, the backstabbing bitch found a way to leave them alone for a bit, something about speaking to the warden about something. Oh, Y/N could’ve killed her.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I-”

Okay, maybe shoving an unlit cigarette in his mouth was childish, but if it kept him from speaking to her, who was actually winning?

Absentmindedly, she lit the cigarette with the lighter she always seemed to carry now. Even though she didn’t smoke. This definitely did not coincide with meeting Arthur.

Arthur sighed and took out the cigarette, putting it out on the ashtray as best he could with shackled hands before trying to apologize once more. “Y/N I-”

“You hurt me. What you said was mean and hurtful. And-” Y/N faltered as she tried swallowing down the knot in her throat. “I know she is, you know. But you know me. You know I care. And you still doubted me.”

Their eyes met and her breath caught in her chest. His eyes had the tendency to change according to his surroundings. The room they were in was poorly lit, but the pale hues of his jumpsuit still found a way to reflect on his eyes. They were favoring the ocean today, the one that used to be in her backyard during her childhood. The ocean that lulled her to sleep and brought her safety and comfort. His ocean was currently twinkling with unshed tears, and she hated being responsible for that.

Maryanne barreled into the office in that moment, not paying attention to them as she slammed a file on to the table.

“She has been lying to you and using you to get back at her rich daddy. And it’s about time you knew.”

Y/N turned to Maryanne, her eyes wide in shock. This was news to her and certainly not the plan of attack they had come up with last night. The plan was to get Arthur to denounce the Joker as a figure meant to incite riots and violence. Y/N figured that the minute that Arthur separated himself from the madness and violence done in his name by people who didn’t know or care about him, Lee would leave. Since she was just in it for the exposure. For Joker, not Arthur.

Arthur was meant to bring attention to who he was. A hardworking, devoted son who woke up day after day and went to work and sought out help and wanted to get better. He just needed a little bit of help to get back on his feet and the death penalty was not the way to go. That was the fucking plan. Not this!

“Maryanne?”

“Y/N? Did you know?”

At this, Y/N found herself at his side, his shackled hand in hers as she gazed into his eyes. “No, Arthur. I did not. Please believe me this time.”

Arthur nodded and Y/N dropped his hand, sending Maryanne a glare before she picked up the file and read on.

She could feel the warmth of Arthur’s body as he leaned into her to read the file as well.

Arthur had told her that Lee had set fire to her mother’s home. She had painted quite a story for him, and Arthur believed her.

Instead, she was a rich girl who hadn’t struggled a day in her life. What’s more, she had voluntarily committed herself for some crazy reason, and had then convinced Arthur it was his fault she was being sent away. The only truth she had ever told him was her name. “That bitch!”

Arthur stiffened beside her, and Y/N gritted an apology through her teeth. That was still his girlfriend at the end of the day.

“I want to talk to her.”

Y/N and Maryanne looked at each other; they both knew that was a bad idea. She would find a way to twist the facts and he would believe her. She would be free to continue wreaking havoc and inching him closer to the death penalty.

Arthur was trusting and more than anything, he just wanted to be loved. To be seen. That was the key to manipulating him. She could do it too. While she knew he didn’t feel the same way for her, she was aware that she become a friend to him and she could use that to get him to do what she wanted him to do. What she needed him to do for his own good.

Just thinking about it made her feel wretched and she knew she couldn’t do that. Especially after she had just begged him to trust her seconds ago. No. She had to do better. He deserved that much.

“Arthur,” she began, turning to him and taking his hands into hers once more, “can you give me a few moments of your attention? No interruptions. No questions. Just listen to me for a minute. And then I promise to listen to you. Can you do that?”

His head tilted to the side as his eyes bore into hers, trying to figure her out. Everyone always brought up his upbringing, his poverty, his low IQ. As if that made him less. As if life hadn’t seen all of that and still deemed it necessary to teach him lessons in the hardest, most despicable ways possible. Arthur had the uncanny ability to see through people’s intentions. He knew when he was the butt of the joke. But he wanted to be loved and so he put up with the taunts and the abuse because a part of himself thought it was a small price to pay to be loved. What a silly, hauntingly beautiful man. God, when had this become more than a crush?

With a nod and a squeeze to her hands, Arthur broke her from her reverie. And so she talked.

She explained how it would be a good idea to hold off on talking to her. How, it was great that they loved each other (that was a lie but he didn’t need to know that) but the public didn’t care for that. How, as much as we shouldn’t care what the world has to say about us, in this instance, public opinion literally held his life in their hands. Finally, she explained how she would not be able to live with herself if they were unable to win his case, if the same society that failed him again and again won in the end and took his life. Y/N begged him to please let her help him in the best way she knew how. She reassured him how Lee and he could go back to being a happy couple as soon as this was over and nobody would be able to tell him otherwise. What she didn’t say, however, was how she didn’t think Lee would stick around when the news outlets and camera flashes stopped following her every move. He could hate her for the rest of his life so long as he was off death row and living the life he always deserved. She could live with that.

“I know it’s not what you want. You deserve to talk to her and ask her to clear this up. I’m asking for the impossible from you, Arthur. But I need you to help me help you. Yes?”

His face was contorted in agony and despair, the lines around his eyes deepening as he furrowed his brows and a part of herself broke knowing she was once again the cause for his pain.

She didn’t speak and neither did Maryanne; they both knew the ball was now on Arthur’s side of the court and whatever he decided would dictate the course of his case.

“How much longer will this go on for?”

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

They left with a tentative agreement from Arthur. He wasn’t willing to cut off contact with Lee for too long and so now they had the difficult task of trying to end this trial quickly, and in their favor.

“I have a feeling he would hate this. But… what if we file a written motion for a change of venue?”

“That would push the trial date back, Y/N.”

“Yes, but you know the riots and general unrest in the city are not doing him any favors. Any jury picked from Gotham is going to convict him no matter how good our case is. And-” Y/N trailed off, collapsing into the sofa in Maryanne’s office.

“-and it creates more distance between Arthur and Lee if we move it?” Maryanne finished knowingly, handing her over her own glass of whiskey.

Y/N grumbled a plea for her to be quiet and took a generous gulp of her drink, scowling at Maryanne’s laughter.

“You know, Dent is not going to agree to that.”

At this, Y/N smirked and straightened in her seat, “oh! Did I forget to tell you how he got Sophie Dumond to testify in court?”

“Did you find something?”

“No. But I can.” She begun, shushing Maryanne before she could even get a word in. “Do not ask questions you don’t want the answer to.”

Maryanne nodded and with that, Y/N left her office and made her way to her own, to draft up the motion and call up one of her old contacts.

Fabricated evidence would never hold its own in court, but the threat of said fabricated evidence tarnishing Harvey Dent’s stellar reputation? Well. That would work. Y/N meant it when she said she would do everything in her power to give Arthur a fair shot at the life he always deserved. And he would never know the lengths she’d go to. Because she didn’t need him in her debt. Y/N just wanted him to have his happily ever after. With whoever and wherever.

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

Lee had not taken the forced separation from Arthur well. It had been a week since they had filed the motion and had gotten it approved. Once news outlets caught wind of it no longer taking place in the city and noting Lee’s absence from the hearing, and general cluelessness about everything that was going on, they had lost their interest in her. She was no longer page one worthy news and judging by the number of times she stopped by the office, shouting and shoving at the security guards, she was not handling it well.

Which is why it was no surprise to her when she received a call from Arkham’s high security wing from a contact, letting her know Lee was currently in a visit with Arthur, despite explicit instructions to the warden to not allow her in.

She was in the area and so she quickly flagged down a cab, cursing up a storm and throwing the driver a few extra bills to entice him to break any laws necessary to get her there as soon as possible.

Once there, she knew exactly who had allowed Lee in, if the terrified expression on his face was anything to go by.

“Sullivan, I swear to God I will sue you and every single one of your fucking descendants if you don’t open this goddamn door.” She seethed, satisfaction filling her as he jumped off of his stool, his fingers clumsily clicking and clacking in his rush.

With a final glare, she stalked into the visiting area as soon as the gate was unlocked. She paused momentarily and gave a final warning over her shoulder, locking eyes with the only one who needed to hear it. “And if you take this out on Arthur, I will know. Remind me, what was your lovely granddaughter’s name again? She’s a second grader now, isn’t she?”

She watched him gulp and nod before she gave him a smile dripping with every ounce of distaste she had for him and continuing her trek.

Instantly, she caught sight of Lee’s back. She also saw Arthur. His lips pursed even if his eyes shouted the love and adoration he felt for her. Her heart melted at the knowledge that he was trying to keep his word and not talk to Lee. Even if she was right in front him and there was likely nothing he wanted more.

“What are you standing there for?” She barked at the guard in the corner.  “Get her out of here. She is not an approved visitor, and you know that.”

Arthur’s eyes flew to her face the minute he heard her voice; his eyes wide and pleading, almost as if begging her to believe he had nothing to do with the woman currently in front of him.

Y/N barely had the chance to reassure him before Lee’s hand connected with her face, a sharp smack ringing into the silence of the visitation area.

Her jaw tightened as she brought her hand up to her cheek, her eyes hardening as she wiped away the blood drawn by the ring Lee was wearing.

The silence was cut by Arthur’s shout of Lee’s name and Y/N felt the proverbial butterflies in her stomach at the sight of Arthur’s angry expression directed towards Lee. His eyes, stormy and narrowed as a scowl marred his usually smiling lips; Y/N was ridiculously in love.

“Don’t you get it?!” Lee shouted, struggling against the guards who were dragging her out, “She is trying to keep us apart because the little bitch wants you all to herself!”

Y/N watched as she was finally out of the visitation area, smirking in satisfaction as she hissed after stupidly banging at the iron door keeping her out.

A part of her wanted to stay that way, her back to Arthur as she willed the universe to open up and swallow her whole. She likely would’ve stayed there long after visiting hours were over had she not heard the soft call of her name. Like a moth to a flame, like a sailor falling prey to the siren’s song, Y/N turned and closed the gap between them. As much as she could with the glass in between them, at least.

“Is it true?” Y/N didn’t know if he was asking about whether she was trying to keep them apart on purpose or even worse, about the crush, but answering neither would be of no help.

“I told you from the beginning, everything I do is for your own good. Not because you can’t make decisions on your own, but because I know how things work in these cases and I want to use that knowledge to help you. The power is in your hands, Arthur. You can choose to let me go whenever you like.”

And he could. He could choose to hire someone else. Or worse even, to represent himself. But she didn’t mean it that way and she prayed he hadn’t caught her slip up. Even if it would be good if he did.

Maybe then he could release her from the hold he had on her, a hold he likely didn’t even know about. Maybe then he could stop doing things that were confusing her. Like smiling at her like she was the only person in the world. Or murmuring her name, soft and intimate, like it was made from fragile glass. Maybe then she could get her head out of her ass and behave like the professional she was before she met him. Before she fell for him.

Oh, but sweet, shy, lovely Arthur didn’t catch it. For someone who was as in love with the idea of love as he was, he was quite blind to people who actually cared for him and loved him for him. She hated and loved that about him.

He nodded, his face softening with a smile that lit up her whole world and she cursed him and loved him a little more for it.

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

These had been the most agonizing weeks of her life, and she couldn’t even begin to imagine how Arthur had been feeling. Alas, the day was finally here. Today would decide Arthur’s fate.

These last few weeks had been tedious, and Y/N had learned just how high her threshold for hate could go. More than once, she was ready to bash Dent’s head with a chair, that’s how despicable she found him. She didn’t understand how he had built a reputation of a respectable, protector of justice, when he was quite frankly a piece of shit.

Y/N had convinced Maryanne not only to change the venue, but also to move it to a more affluent area. Y/N knew there was nothing rich people loved more than pretending they cared about the little people and with the evidence they had to support Arthur’s not guilty by insanity plea, she knew the rich people who would encompass the jury would be on their side. They would be able to boast about their good deed and feel better about being filthy rich while the rest of the city died.

They wouldn’t be making the wrong call. They had more than sufficient evidence to support their claim, and anybody with half a braincell would agree that Arthur needed help in the form of rehabilitation, not incarceration.

Why then, was it that this pillar of justice was so adamant to lock Arthur up and throw away the key? Almost like he was also just after what convicting Arthur would do for his career. God, Y/N could kill him.

Arthur was a bundle of nerves beside her. She was a tad concerned that he would dislocate a knee with how he was bouncing it. She couldn’t look at him, afraid that he would see how nervous she was as well and that that would set him off, so she simply placed her hand on his knee and squeezed reassuringly.

She heard him inhale to say something, but the jury walked in, the bailiff and judge right after. Her insides origami’d themselves into a gnawing creature as she helped Arthur to his feet and stood as close to him as professionally acceptable.

As the foreman affixed his reading glasses atop his nose and cleared his throat to begin reading the verdict, Y/N sent one last prayer above. This had to go in Arthur’s favor, or she didn’t know how she would live with herself.

“We, the Jury, having carefully considered all the evidence presented in this case, find the defendant, Arthur Fleck, not guilty by reason of insanity.”

Everything else was drowned out in the rush of blood inundating her head and she found herself with an armful of Arthur, his face cradled in the crook of her neck as he cried. She was counting on Maryanne to listen to the rest of the verdict as she clung to Arthur and whispered reassurances in his ear.  

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

“So what now?” Arthur asked, looking so fragile and small as he sat in the corner of the interview room they had been sent to as they made preparations for his transfer. The minute he had been uncuffed and had been able to decide himself where to go, he had picked that corner to retreat to.

Y/N’s heart broke at the realization that this had been the first time in years he had been able to make a decision as simple as this and she had found herself sitting next to him, his hand in hers as she traced soothing patterns on the back of it.

“Maryanne is drafting a document asking the court to take into account the time you have already served. If we are lucky, you’ll only be required the three-month rule in a state institution, and then your life begins. Well, kind of. You’ll be required therapy for the rest of your life, but that is a good thing. I will ensure that whoever sees you now actually cares and helps. I promise,” she finished with a squeeze to his hand, a smile on her face as he breathed out a soft laugh.

“Will you visit?” he murmured after some time, not quite turning to look at her but she could feel his eyes gazing at her from under his eyelashes, as if afraid of her answer.

“As many times as you want me to,” Y/N reassured, slightly distraught at how vehemently she meant that. Fuck, she was stupid in love with a man who saw her as nothing more than a friend.

“Every day,” he beamed. His eyes finally meeting hers and she marveled at the weight that had clearly lifted from his shoulders. His bejeweled emerald eyes shined brightly in the dimly lit room and for a split second, she forgot how to breathe. She didn’t think breathing was as important as not missing a second of the awe-inspiring sight in front of her. The way his chestnut locks framed his face, or the way his thick lashes dusted the thin, purplish skin of his eyelids. He was beautiful and how she wished to be the one to gaze upon him every day. Sadly…

“Have you talked to Lee?”

Her smile tightened and she cleared her throat, hoping to swallow down the distaste. “I called her myself after the verdict but got her answering machine. As soon as she calls back, I will let you know.”

“I think she’s mad. I hope she doesn’t hate me,” he mused sadly, his shoulders slumping forward.

“You did what you had to do for your wellbeing. She loves you, I’m sure she’ll understand,” Y/N consoled, nudging him with her shoulder. “Besides, you can blame me if you want. That way she can’t be mad at you.”

His eyes searched her face until they settled on the new scar on her face, courtesy of Lee. From the corner of her eyes, she saw his free hand nearing her face, but right before he could make contact, she jumped up. Y/N didn’t know if she could come back from knowing what his hands felt like on her face.

“There is another thing we must discuss, Arthur,” she began, hoping she was successfully playing off how flustered being so close to him made her. “Medication. I know you don’t like the way you feel but taking it will likely be a requirement.”

He slumped over once more, an adorable pout taking over his lips and Y/N cursed the heavens for the feelings lighting up sparks within her.

They discussed the topic a bit more, and Y/N died a little when he admitted he was not aware he was allowed to ask to be switched to other medications until they found a good fit for him. He assumed the lifeless, zombie-state was the norm and Y/N’s heart broke a little more for him. He deserved the world and she wanted to be the one to give it him.

Maryanne came in then, a grin on her face as she sat on a chair, beckoning for the other two to do the same.

Y/N obliged and offered Arthur her hand to help him up, then guided him to a chair and took one next to him. He looked at her then, questioning, but all she could do was shrug as she did not know what Maryanne’s grin was about.

Their questioning looks soon turned to astonishment as Maryanne explained how the judge, who happened to regularly play golf with her husband, had agreed that the time Arthur had served should be taken into account. What’s more, he believed one of the ways society could atone for its sins against Arthur was to waive the three month rule and set Arthur free, to the care of a guardian who would assume responsibility for him. He would still be required to attend counseling for the rest of his life, and follow any guidelines his medical team recommended, but that was of course next to nothing compared to being institutionalized.

Y/N’s mouth hung open; she could almost feel her jaw unhinge as she tried to comprehend the feat Maryanne had just accomplished.

“I- I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Her heart, bruised and battered, broke a little more at the sound of his broken whisper and she turned to him, words of comfort on her lips before Maryanne cut her off.

“Sure you do. Y/N is the court-appointed guardian the judge, Dent and I agreed on.” Maryanne said this nonchalantly, but Y/N could hear the smugness on her voice. “By the way Y/N, verify your address with accounting. Due to your new circumstances, we’ll have to ship a PC to your home. I’m thinking you can do three days at home and two in the office? Or as necessary. We’ll figure that out later. For now, we have accommodations to make.”

She then sashayed out of the room, and had it not been for Arthur’s hand on her shoulder, Y/N would’ve sat there frozen for God know how long.

“Is- is that okay? You can say no, Y/N. I don’t want to trouble you.” He said this with a smile, and she knew that even if she refused to house him and this meant he would lose his freedom and go back to being incarcerated, he would truly not hold that against her. God, he was so good. How could anyone ever think about hurting him? When he deserved nothing short of the world?

“And why would I do that, roomie?”

The grin he gave her was like the sun peaking from the horizon on a freezing December morning. Nothing could’ve ever topped it, except for the tight hug he gave her.

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

It had been a couple of months since Arthur had moved in. The first few days were… a learning experience. She tried to accustom herself to having another person living under her roof, a person she had feelings for but could not act on. And Arthur was trying to remember how to be free again. As free as he could be considering the restrictions he had on him.

Y/N’s heart broke every time he forgot where he was and would wait around for the door to be unlocked and opened for him. As he waited for permission he no longer needed to accomplish mundane tasks, Y/N would approach him carefully and softly, as if afraid to shock him, and she’d remind him that he could move as he pleased. She’d remind him that he was home now (God, how she hoped he felt like he was home) and was in charge of his actions.

Without fail, wonder filled his eyes, and he looked around the room, as if taking it in and reminding himself where he was before settling on her face. And then, then he’d steal her breath as he smiled at her, soft and sweet. Oh, how she loved him.

Lee had seemingly disappeared from the face of the earth. As much as she didn’t want to, for Arthur, she had called in favors to try and find her.  To no avail.

Last she heard, her parents had shipped her overseas to distance her from everything she had said and done in front of the cameras, but that was the last they had been able to find about her.

Arthur was of course heartbroken, but he claimed he was at least happy knowing she was safe. It didn’t matter that she no longer loved him and didn’t want to see him.

For her part, Y/N swore that if she ever saw her, she’d rip her face off and keep it as a trophy.

Today was one of the rare days off they had. Arthur had no session today and she had finished her work for the week. After breakfast, she had asked him what he wanted to do for the day and, without missing a beat, he had suggested a walk around the city.

The area Y/N lived in was on the other side from where Arthur grew up. It was decidedly nicer, cleaner and nobody seemed to know or care who Arthur was. Arthur loved going on walks whenever they both had the time, and without fail, he would steal yet another piece of her heart as he marveled at the most mundane things they encountered on their walks.

She recalled the giggle that escaped his lips the first time they had come across a flock of ducks in the park and Y/N could do nothing more but slip into a bodega to purchase frozen peas so Arthur could feed the ducks. Nothing could put a price on the delight lighting up his face.

And so, the plan was the same today. As they walked out of the familiar bodega, hand in hand and frozen peas secured, Y/N marveled at how good of a life she had.

As they made their way to the park, they stopped every few houses and marveled at the Halloween decorations adorning the streets. It was mid-October, her favorite time of the year, and she loved the way the city looked.

As they approached an empty park bench, she turned to Arthur, wanting to point out the ducks to him only to find him already looking at her.

That had been a recent development and she wished she could ask him to stop. She, of course, couldn’t do that. Not without explaining that her heart threatened to leap out of her chest and into his hands whenever he looked at her like that. Not without confessing her feelings to him, which would be incredibly unfair.

He didn’t feel that way and she had no right to take away the only safe place he had ever had. Arthur deserved a good life, he deserved to experience everything that had been denied from him his whole life and she couldn’t rob him of that by telling him about her silly little feelings.

What was she supposed to do when he told her he didn’t feel the same? Even worse was the thought of him feeling pressured to reciprocate out of fear his new world would be yanked from his feet. No. She would never tell him. But God, how she prayed he would stop looking at her like that. How she wished to dig into her chest and rip out her heart, to lock it in a box and shove it somewhere it could never come back from. How she wished not to feel. Just for a bit.

They sat at the park for what was certainly hours. He talked about his sessions and how they had finally settled on a medication that did not make him feel dead. It made him a bit sleepy, he said. But he could think, feel, and eat.

That she could attest to. He often asked for seconds during meals and just last week, when she was coming out of her room for a mid-day break from work, she had encountered a shirtless Arthur coming out of the restroom after a shower. Recovering from the shock, she turned back to her room with a squeak but not before allowing her eyes to roam his shirtless frame. She had noticed how his ribs were no longer protruding, and there was a softness cushioning his belly that was not there before when she had helped him dress for his trial, which seemed like eons ago now.

In turn, she talked about work without going into many details. Confidentiality and all. And she asked about the at-home nurse that would come in whenever Y/N had to go into the office. Arthur had no complaints and he confessed she almost felt like a mother, a proper one. Y/N grabbed his gloved hand and squeezed, a surprised squeak leaving her lips when he pressed his forehead against hers. If her breath hadn’t abandoned her, and her limbs obeyed her, she likely would’ve pushed him away. Instead, she shut her eyes and allowed the tremors to wash down her back and could do nothing but nod dumbly when he suggested they head back.

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

 The walk back had been quiet. She thought she had done well at not making it awkward despite the silence from her part.

A talk would likely need to happen. If she wanted to hold on to the last bits of her sanity, boundaries would have to be set. Maybe she’d take up Sam’s weekly invitations to go out for drinks after work. Maybe that was what she needed to get over Arthur. Or to at least not go into cardiac arrest over physical contact.

He unlocked the door for them, likely realizing her dazed state and gently guided her inside and on to the couch.

Arthur left her eyesight for a bit, and she figured he had gone into his room. Even as she heard clattering in the kitchen, she didn’t turn to look, too lost in her thoughts.

It wasn’t until he reappeared in front of her, a steaming mug of hot cocoa in hand, topped with whipped cream and marshmallows like he knew she liked, that she broke through her dazed state.

“I thought you were cold, so I made this for you,” he began as he set it on the coffee table in front of her. He then reached around and grabbed the blanket draped over the couch and fluffed it before wrapping it around her. “I shouldn’t have made you stay outside this late. I forgot how cold it gets.”

Like a petulant child, she pulled the blanket over her head with a groan, wanting to lovingly punch his stupid face for making her feel feelings. This was too much for her.

Arthur laughed out a ‘what’s wrong?’ as he attempted to free her from her self-made blanket prison, soft giggles leaving him the more she fought against him.

Knowing she wasn’t going to win this battle, she broke free, furrowing her brows as she looked at the giggling man beside her.

Arthur snorted and reached over to smooth down her hair, his eyes twinkling with amusement, his cheeks flushed and lips curled in a smile.

“Arthur,” she began, grabbing his hands and placing them on his lap before folding hers in front of her chest, as if that was going to protect her heart.

“You know I care for you. And I will always be here for you. But-”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have…” he trailed off. He remained silent for a few seconds before giving himself a reassuring nod. His eyes met Y/N’s briefly before he turned to focus on the long-forgotten mug. “Dr. Sloane recommended I tell you how I feel but- I’m not good with words, Y/N. I hoped my actions could, I don’t know,” he trailed off with a half-hearted shrug.

Y/N, on the other hand, was fighting through the static ringing in her ears as she tried making sense of Arthur’s words.

“How you feel?”

“I’m sorry Y/N. You’re probably just being nice. I knew you didn’t feel the same. But Dr. Sloane said I should try and-”

“Arthur!” she called to him firmly, her hands finding his as she tried to keep him from going down the spiral he currently was. “You have feelings for me?”

Arthur nodded shyly, his eyes on their intertwined hands as he rubbed the tips of his index finger and thumb together, a nervous habit he had picked up now that he was trying to quit smoking.

“You like me? But, Lee?”

“I don’t know if she was real. If what I thought she felt or what I felt for her was real. But you,” at this he smiled, so blindingly bright that for a moment she wondered how he had captured the moonlight in his smile.

“And you haven’t noticed I’ve liked you since day one?” she interrupted him, fighting a smile as his hands stiffened in hers.

Arthur’s head snapped up as his eyes searched hers, trying to decipher whether she was lying or not. She let him look, making sure to let her face and eyes shout about the love for him she had been trying to bottle up for what felt like an eternity.

“How- Y/N, how long?” he whispered, his eyes wide and pleading.

“Since I set foot in that room, shitty joke in my notebook. Since you laughed, so soft and shy and then told me one of yours.”

He made a choking sound and before she could worry about hearing him choke on that laughter that rarely made an appearance now but he still feared, he had closed the distance between them by pulling her into him.

She squeaked and surprised, allowed him to wrap his arms around her. He felt so warm. So safe. So right.

“We’re going to have to talk about this Arthur!” she laughed, succumbing to the kisses being peppered on her face.

“I’m serious, Arthur. We’re going to talk.” Y/N valiantly tried once more, sighing at yet another peck to her nose. Her forehead. And the corner of her lips. God, this man was a fuckin’ tease.

He groaned before cupping her cheeks with his palms, warm and calloused. “We will, later. But can I please kiss you now?”

It was Y/N’s turn to silence him, her lips finding his and her eyes fluttering shut. She didn’t know how the fireworks going off in her stomach had travelled to just behind her eyelids, but as Arthur pressed his lips to hers, urgently yet sweetly, she found she didn’t really care.

In that moment, nothing mattered. Not the road they had travelled to get here. Not where the road would take them tomorrow. All that mattered to her now was how his lips, chapped and warm moved against hers. How his hands felt, one on her back, branding her with his fingertips through her clothes. The other on her cheek, his thumb ghosting over her skin, staking claim to what had long belonged to him.

Nothing mattered but him. Always him. Forever him.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

The Twist (Will Graham)

Description: Hannibal meets Will's wife that he didn't know Will had. He figures out the dark reason why Will kept her a secret.

Word count: 2,555k

He shot up in sweat panting hard, his body shaking as he panted and looked around. He constantly had nightmares about the cases he was investigating. It never got better for him. “Will, are you okay?” She asked, sitting up with him and rubbing his sweaty back. That was until she came along. His beautiful Y/N. She made everything better for him. Sure he still had nightmares but she calmed him after. “Yeah, just another one.” He said, referring to his ongoing terror. She had gotten used to it all. After all they’ve been together for years she even had a ring on her finger. “You’re okay.” She told him. They laid back down in the bed together. He let out a sigh and pulled the girl to his chest. 

Hannibal was in awe at the sight before him. He made dinner and invited Will over and Will brought a guest that wasn’t a co-worker but a woman. The woman was young, maybe 25 ish. She was beautiful and had a ring on her finger. Not just any ring but a wedding ring. He knew Will wasn’t married so why did he bring this woman to their dinner. It was then he looked at Will’s hands and saw a matching ring. Hannibal wasn’t one to be shocked but certainly was at this point. The woman and Will engaged in a deep conversation in front of him as he observed while getting the food ready. She wore a smile as the man talked. Her eyes lit up and she did look in love.

Hannibal could see that smile never grew all the way and her eyes weren’t that lit. “Well nice to meet you..” He trailed off not knowing her name. “Y/N Graham.” She said. Hannibal smiled at her. “Didn’t know Will had a wife.” He said as he eyed Will. Will looked nervous but why? “Yeah we’ve been married for 3 years.” She said. Will was older than her that Hannibal knew. She was 22 when they got married and 20 when they had began dating. Will was 14 years older than her. Hannibal was fascinated by what Y/N was saying. “You’re a very good cook.” She tells the man. He thanked her but couldn’t get passed the fact that Will was married. And why would he hide it? 

Hannibal saw more of her as the days went on. Observing her every move. She seemed to calm Will when things got bad. Though Hannibal couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was going on. “So you have a wife and I’m just now knowing about it.” He confronted Will. “Yeah well I wanted to keep her out of my work.” Will said sipping the wine. “What work? I’m your physiatrist Will a friend even.” Will shrugged at his response. He didn’t talk about her much even when Hannibal already knew. He seemed to be avoiding the subject like it was a secret still. Hannibal decided to drop the topic and move on but kept the thought of how Will acted about her in the back of his mind. 

Will had just killed someone. He had been having these dark thoughts for awhile but he actually did it. The dogs were going wild as he killed what looked like a human dressed as an animal. Y/N shot up from their bed and looked to see that Will wasn’t in the bed. The dogs barked loudly as she got up to see what was going on. She gasped as she saw Will panting and someone on the ground. “Will?” She called out to him. He faced her with a dark look in his eyes, one she remembered seeing before. “You weren’t supposed to see that.” He tells her and walks up to her. Her body was shaking in fear and she almost ran up the stairs away from him. But she knew better than to do that. He pulled her into his chest as he sighed. She managed to relax some in his arms. “It was self defense baby, he was going to kill me.” He whispered. She sighed and fell deeper into him. Maybe everything would be alright. 

Hannibal stared at the body that Will brought him. It was the latest killer. He looked at Will and saw darkness in his eyes. Will enjoyed killing him. It was in that moment that Hannibal knew Will had a dark side that his little wife was part of. “You wanna talk about it?” 

Will’s hands were shaking as he sighed. He never told a soul about what happened. He couldn’t believe he was about to tell Hannibal. He started at the beginning of when they met:

It was 5 years ago at the store a cliche type deal. He saw her looking at dog food and deciding which one to get. She looked focused. Too focused to notice Will staring at her. “Do you need some help?” He asked her. She looked at him and smiled. At that moment he knew he was in love. “You have dogs?” She asked. He nodded. “Yeah lots of them.” He tells her. He didn’t get her name that day but he secretly followed her through the store and saw what car she got into. He kept track of her after that. He knew her every move. Where she worked, what she ate and her special coffee order she would get every morning. He felt bad about what he was doing but he wasn’t going to take rejection.

Which is how she ended up tied to a chair in his basement. She was knocked out with tape covering her mouth. He sat in a chair across from her watching her for what felt like hours before she woke. She groaned as she slowly opened her eyes adjusting to the light. He watched as she looked at him and her eyes widen. “Hello beautiful.” He smiled. She remembered him. He helped her pick out dog food. She didn’t know his name. But he tied her to this chair in a basement? She didn’t care to know anything about him. “You were asleep for awhile.” He says and pushes his chair closer to her. Her eyes held the widen stare and she felt scared. What the hell was he going to do with her?

His hand reached forward and ran through her hair. She tried to flinch away from his touch and he laughed. “I wish things would have been different for us.” He whispered as his hand traveled down her body. She hated his touch and wanted to get away from it. But he got her tied up pretty good. “I should have just went up to you like a normal person but we both know that I couldn’t.” Why couldn’t he? This was crazy. He had a dark look in his eyes as he played with her some more. Tears welled up in her eyes as she watched him. “Oh no baby don’t cry.” He wiped her tears away. “You’ll love it here and me.” He told her so sure of it. 

It took months for her to even talk to him. He gave her good food and water and tried to get her to see that he wasn’t a monster. She knew things could be worse but still she wasn’t a fan of him either way. She cried for hours not wanting to believe that she was in this situation. Her eyes hurt from how much cried and prayed that her family came looking for her. Will sat by the basement door and listened to her cry. He felt awful for his actions but in his head he didn’t have a choice. Her sobs racked through the house and all he wanted to do was comfort her. 

“Y/N.” She whispered to him as he placed the food he made for her in front of her. He looked up at her. “What?” “My name is Y/N.” She told him. He smiled and nodded. “I’m Will.” She stayed silent as he finished setting up her dinner. She hated herself for thinking he was cute. He kidnapped her and she still thought he looked good. Though she wouldn’t imagine herself saying that outloud to him. 

After that they slowly began talking. She felt like she owed him that due to him being kind to her. He could be an asshole to her and not really feed her and abuse her. He didn’t though. He was grateful that she didn’t seem to really hate him.

It would be months before he let her outside of the basement and into the living room. He had enough trust with her that she wouldn’t try to escape. She felt like she couldn’t. He was smarter than that. She looked around at the place seeing how beautiful his house was. The dogs that he owned came and tackled her to the ground. She began laughing for the first time in months. Will was happy to hear that sound. 

She sat and watched him cook. He seemed very calm and collected it was hard to believe he had kidnapped her. He felt her eyes on him and he looked up at her. She quickly looked away. He smiled and thought it was cute. Maybe there could be something more for them. He sat down the food he made for her and she took a bite. She almost moaned at the taste. It was super good. “You know you’re a really good cook.” She tells him. “I mean my kidnapper could have been someone that was terrible at cooking.” She said. He looked at her weird and laughed. He didn’t expect her to make a joke out of the situation. “Yeah I’m sorry about that.” He said and started eating his food. “Why’d you do it then?” She asked. He looked at her. “I found you really beautiful and I guess I just couldn’t take the rejection I felt like you’d give me.” He tells her. It was the truth and she could tell. “So you find a girl pretty and you want her so instead of asking her out you kidnap her?” She asked. He nodded. “Yeah I guess so.” “Well I might’ve said yes.” She tells him. She felt like in another life she would have said yes if he asked her out instead of kidnapping her. “What about now?” He asked her. 

Their first kiss happened a week later after he came home from a stressful case. He wasn’t in the mood for anything other than sleep. Though he was happy he had Y/N at home waiting for him. He opened the door and greeted the dogs and looked around. She didn’t greet him at the door. Not that he thought she should. It was after his shoes were off that she came over to him. He smiled at her and she looked at him. “Welcome Home.” was all she said. “Thanks.” was his reply. He could tell something was off with her as she never greeted him. Sure they talked a little each day but that was a big step. “You okay?” He asked her. She shrugged. She honestly didn’t think she was. She was starting to feel like she wasn’t a victim anymore. Like he saved her life and she owed him. She didn't wanna think about it but she had feelings for the man. “I’m sorry.” He said. “Then why not let me go?” She asked him. “I can’t.” “I won’t go to the police or tell anyone.” She tries to reason with him. “Yeah well I don’t know that.” He snaps at her. She looks at him shocked. He hadn’t raised his voice to her yet. “Sorry I just truly can’t help but still want you around.” He tells her. She sighs and thoughts race around her head. She got what he was saying. She felt the same way as sick as it was. She wanted him too. “I probably wouldn’t go even if you let me.” She mumbles. He heard her and his jaw dropped. She had Stockholm syndrome. He walked closer to her. “But why? Why wouldn’t you want freedom?” He asked her.

She felt stupid. She looked down for a moment. “I don’t know Will, I guess I like it here and I like you.” She tells him. He smiled at her words but knew that the reason she felt that way wasn’t okay. “I think I’m gonna let you go.” He said and walked away. She looked confused and turned to him. “What? I don’t understand you kidnap me because you wanted to date me and now that i’m telling you the feeling is mutual you want to let me go.” He sighs. “You feel that way cuz you don’t have a choice.” He tells her. She walks over to him. “You can’t tell me how to feel or why I feel the way I do.” “Y/N I put you through this and I’m sorry.” He says. She shakes her head with tears in her eyes. “Will please I love you.” He looked at her. She was sure that she loved him and she stopped denying it long ago. She cupped his face. “Please Will. I love you.” He had tears in his eyes as he leaned down and kissed her. She kissed back immediately confirming what she said to him. He loved her too and that was all that mattered. 

Their relationship was perfect after that. She felt as if she hadn’t been kidnapped but saved. Will still wanted to keep her from the world that he was in. He didn’t want anyone in the work field knowing about her. She was able to leave the house of course but never met any of his friends or co-workers. She questioned if the man even had friends. He never talked or hung out with anyone unless it was work related. He spent most of his time with her. 

It was a year later he’d have a ring on her finger. They had a small quiet wedding that consisted of them and the dogs. Not even their parents knew that they had gotten married. Will wasn’t ashamed of her by any means. He was ashamed of what he did. Though she seemed happy in the back of their minds they knew that things would have happened differently if he didn’t kidnap her. 

Hannibal looked at the man as he told him everything. He knew that Will had a dark mind but didn’t think it was this dark. He remembered back to when she first smiled. He knew that something was off and now that he knows everything it all makes sense. Though he couldn’t help but question Will as if he wouldn’t do the same. “You kidnapped your wife?” He asked. Will nodded. “I was in a very dark place.” They both knew that wasn’t an excuse for his behavior. But Hannibal couldn’t help but praise the man before him. It was genius in his eyes. Will had the perfect love life it seemed and Hannibal couldn’t help but feel jealous. Though he didn’t know who to be jealous of more. He nodded his head and lifted up his glass of wine. “We aren’t so different after all, are we, Will?”

I didn't include the warning due to the twist of the story. I also don't know Will's exact age as I haven't finished the show yet. I just started season 3 :) Feel free to let me know his age if they ever say it and I'll update it.          

[livi-in-digital-circus]

That one time when Ragatha (surprisingly) got jealous

For day 1 of Bunnydoll Week 2024 - Jealousy

It was the day a new character arrived at the circus. And unfortunately for Ragatha, it was a strangely cute pinkish rabbit. Dressed in pastels and ribbons, Mary Sue was the prettiest figure in the entire Digital Circus. But it was not her looks that the rag doll was jealous of.

After combining everything they remembered from their past lives, a conclusion was formed that Jax had in fact dated Sue in high school. Usually, girls lose their feelings for their boyfriends after they haven’t seen them for a few years, but this particular case was different. After being reunited with the ‘love of her life’, Sue wanted to make sure their relationship was still possible, but even though she seemed sweet and innocent, she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

The problem was that recently Jax was currently dating Ragatha and there was no way he was going to break up with her.

Right?

The first adventure Caine prepared for Sue also worked to Ragatha’s disadvantage. It was to be a treasure hunt throughout the circus, including the bedrooms. The team was divided into pairs and one trio, which was Ragatha, Gangle, and Kinger. All groups had about thirty minutes to find all the items to get a grand prize, which surprisingly wasn’t a feast.

Terror washed over Ragatha as she remembered something Jax had left in her room the night before. The thought of someone finding it under her bed made her dizzy, as their relationship was still a secret she shared only with Pomni. Mostly so as not to scare Gangle and not to make Zooble think badly of the rag doll.

Once the details of the adventure were explained, Caine snapped his fingers, and random valuable items spawned in various locations. There was no map or clues as to where to find them, which was to be expected from the ringmaster. His adventures weren’t supposed to be easy after all.

As they wandered through the main area, Ragatha heard a giggle coming from another side of the circus and she could swear it was Sue. Unfortunately, she was paired with Jax and was probably trying to convince him that they should continue their relationship. And that made Ragatha’s non-existent blood boil.

In all the years she was trapped in the circus, Ragatha never felt jealous of anyone. She had her own opinions about each character, which differed slightly from what she said she thought about them. But no matter how bad or good they were, jealousy was something unknown to her.

Until now.

Even though Jax had promised Ragatha a thousand times that he had no interest in cheating on her, Sue's presence made her anxious. She glanced again in the direction the sound was coming from, but saw nothing. That didn’t help at all, as Ragatha felt her fists clenching.

She didn‘t care about the girls Jax was talking to because they were their friends. But this was his former girlfriend and that was a problem.

“Ragatha, are you okay? You’re shaking all over.”

“Huh?” The rag doll was pulled out of her thoughts by Gangle, who looked at her with a worried expression. “Oh! Yeah, I’m fine! No need to worry!”

“You always say that when something is wrong…”

Ragatha let out a deep sigh and moved her non-button eye to the ground. What was she supposed to say? ‘Oh, I’m just pissed off because this Mary Sue turned out to be Jax’s girlfriend from the real world, and by the way, me and Jax have been dating for quite some time’? No way.

Instead, she just kept walking until they reached the bedroom area. The first room they decided to check was Pomni’s, but Ragatha quickly ran to hers. She had to calm herself down before she flew into a rage, grabbed Sue by her bunny ears, and threw her out of the circus.

She sat on the bed and thought about what to do. What if Jax had already broken his promise and cheated on her? Ragatha felt her eye water. She had to find out. But before she could do anything, the door opened and none other than Jax entered the room. The first thing he noticed, of course, was the rag doll.

“Quitting the adventure? That’s not your style, Raggy.” He sat down next to her, expecting to hear some sort of complaint from her, but all he saw was her tears and trembling. The smile faded from Jax’s face. “Alright Dollface, what’s going on?”

“I… don’t like you hanging out with another girl, especially if she’s your ex…”

Jax’s eyes widen at those words. He had never seen Ragatha jealous before, so it took him by surprise. But it was a sight to behold.

“Awww, you poor little thing. Remember what I promised you? [BEEP], Sue doesn’t even have romantic feelings for me anymore, she just spends a lot of time with me just because she wants to be friends again.”

Ragatha looked at him as if he had just said that he had drowned Caine in the Digital Lake. She felt a huge embarrassment and hid her face in Jax’s chest. She hadn’t even had a chance to get to know Sue better and was already making assumptions based on her and the rabbit’s past relationship.

Jax put a hand behind her head and slowly ran his fingers through her yarn curls. He wasn’t angry with her for being jealous. In fact, he found it quite impressive.

Ragatha also had no idea that her boyfriend had noticed her strange behavior and the way she gave Sue a death stare. What a cutie.

Yes, she should be jealous more often.

Thanks for reading!

[boldlyvoid]

Come Together

18+ Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Summary: Ever since the academy, Aaron and Y/N have been at each other's throats for a spot on the BAU. He got it, She didn't. Now they have to plan the Bureau's Holiday party together without killing each other.

Warnings: angst, fighting, mutual pining, enemies to lovers, Aaron had a crush on her while married. why he and haley broke up, miscarriage mentions, divorced Aaron, flirting, teasing, kissing, fingering, hate sex, p in v smut, rough sex, no condoms used

Word Count: 4.8k

Penelope is usually the one to plan holiday parties… but after last year's spiked punch— that ruined a lot of upper agents' sobriety, which wasn’t her fault at all, the director delegated to having two random people plan it together. He pulled names from a hat that just happened to be Aaron Hotchner and Y/N Y/L/N. 

She was happy to do it, and he was fine with doing it… they just weren’t happy about doing it together. The two agents couldn’t stand each other and it goes all the way back to being in the same year at the academy. 

They were tied for the top of the class, duking it out to be the chosen one for Agent Rossi’s new right-hand man. And of course, it went to a man. It didn’t matter to them that she was fantastic at what she did, or that her final score was 0.2% higher than his. He was a man so he got it. 

She got a job in CARD which, she liked, it was still an opportunity to solve cases and bring kids home to their parents… she just had to work with the BAU more than she liked and take orders from them. And then Rossi left, Gideon stepped down and Aaron Hotchner was the fucking Head of the BAU. 

She was taking orders from him. Him and his goon squad of pretty people he picked over her. 

She would’ve pushed everything aside and dealt with him, she would’ve mended things if he accepted her into the team. But he never did. After 5 applications and being looked over for everything while he hired younger and younger, she finally gave up and started to hate his guts even more. 

Now she’s in the elevator, pushing the button for floor 6 and shaking the thoughts of strangling him out of her head so she can deal with him for half an hour. He’s always so busy that she’s been waiting all week just to talk about this stupid fucking party, and the only time he has is at 8:30 pm on a Friday when she should be at home. 

She walks right into the bullpen, up the stairs and knocks on his door. “come in?” He calls. 

“Hey,” she says with a deep sigh. “Can we talk about the party?” 

“Mhm,” he nods, waving her in. “Come sit, I already have some ideas.” 

“Okay…” she sits down in front of him, ignoring all his plaques and accolades and staring down at her clipboard. “I called around and there are 3 places available that are big enough to hold us, on the 3rd Saturday of the month.” 

“Awesome, I already called a friend of mine with a Christmas tree farm and acquired 3 trees— Douglas furs, all pretty and big, we’ll just need a ceiling over 12 feet to house them,” he explains. 

“And who’s going to decorate them?” She asks. 

He shrugs, “We’ve got a big budget, we can hire someone to do it.” 

“Who did Penelope use?” 

“Herself,” he smiles that devilishly condescending smile. “I’m sure if we ask she’d want to help out again. She loves Christmas.” 

“Did you ever figure out who spiked the punch last year?” She asks, genuinely feeling sorry for Penelope. 

Penny was the only one on the team that she actually liked. 

He nods, “Dax Cooper up in counter-terrorism.” 

“Yeah, he’s an asshole.” 

“Worse than me?” He teases. “Seriously, when are you going to stop being mad at me?” 

“When you admit you hate me!” She fights back. “I did nothing to you. You’re the one who conspired with Dave and got hired here and then you purposely lost all my applications and never let me know why you wouldn’t even interview me.”

“I didn’t lose them, I put them to the side,” he shrugs. “You weren’t ready to be on our team.” 

“But the walking calculator and teen Mrs. USA are?” She laughs.

“Reid and JJ are wonderful assets,” he snaps, jaw tight and eyes full of fury. “This is why I don’t want you. You wouldn’t be a team player. Not until you get rid of the attitude and accept that this job is about more than numbers. Yes, they’re young, yes you beat me by a fraction of a percent, but that doesn’t mean you have what it takes to do what we do.” 

“I look at cases full of missing, dead and raped kids all day, how is that any different?” She honestly can’t believe it. 

“Because you look at a screen all day with facts and witness statements and I go out into the field and I talk to parents and I deal with the cops and I don’t start fights over petty bullshit,” he reminds her. “I have never called you names or signalled you out. All you do, every time we're on a scene together, is whisper and gossip and try to undermine me. You need to grow up.” 

She just shakes her head, holding in a comment that could hurt him because… and she hates to say it, but he’s right. “Whatever. Should I call one of these places and book it tomorrow or what?” 

“Do whatever you want, just give me the address so I can have the trees and decorations sent over,” he honestly doesn’t care. “I trust your judgement on a caterer, I’ll pick a band… what else would we need?” 

“Invitations, which I can handle,” she assures as she stands up to walk to his door. “I’ll cc you on everything and include the director for oversight. I’ll call you if I have questions.” 

“Y/N,” he calls out to her before she leaves. “I’m going to be looking for a new agent in a few months…” 

“And?” 

“If we can work this out by then… maybe things will be different when you apply this time?” He suggests, giving her innocent eyes and genuinely meaning it. 

“Okay.” 

—

“Did you see her last night?” Dave asks, walking right into Aaron's office with two coffees right at 8am. 

He nods, “I did… you don’t have any connections to a band I can book for Christmas, do you?” 

“The Jazz club might be able to lend us some members,” he suggests. “I’ll make a call… but I take it things went well?” 

“As well as they could go, she’s still so mad at me for getting this position over her,” he shakes his head. “I don’t know how to make her realize she just wasn’t ready. Our working together would’ve been awful. It would’ve—

“Ruined your marriage that just ended?” Dave teases. “I know you liked her, I saw the way you two looked at each other and I saw the teasing and the way you talked about her. She was more than a friend to you… I couldn’t have her on the team like that. I couldn’t see you go through what I did with Caroline.” 

“I hate thinking about how different things could’ve been if she was on the team though,” he shakes his head and stares off out the window. “We almost broke up back then, you know? We almost never had Jack…” 

“You know it’s perfectly normal for marriages not to work out, it doesn’t mean you loved her any less, it just wasn’t meant to be forever,” Dave reminds him. “You’re still friends, there’s no ill will. You never cheated, she didn’t either. You just grew apart. It happens.” 

“But now I’m single and I can pursue Y/N… but she hates me,” he sighs. “I don’t think she’ll ever stop hating me.” 

“Nasty hate sex is fun,” Dave teases, making them both laugh. “I’m serious… you wouldn’t believe the women I’ve—

“I know, actually,” Aaron shakes his head. “Strauss can’t look at you the same anymore.” 

“Hey… that wasn’t hate, it was just indifference,” he teases. 

“Whatever,” Aaron can’t help but smirk. “Can you work on the band for me?”

“I will, I’ll get them to throw in some love songs too,” Dave teases on his way out. 

This was going to be interesting. 

—

Two weeks of planning and emails blow by in the blink of an eye. 

He gets ready for the party early, having to be there to check things over and meet the band and shake hands with the higher-ups as they arrive. He has a nice suit on, a red tie for Christmas and dark green socks that no one will ever notice. But he wants to look nice. 

For her. 

He walks up to her where she’s hiding in the corner. Adorning the most stunning golden dress and holding her clipboard, making sure everything gets delivered and set up in time for the start time at 7. They still have 4 hours till then, but she’s an overachiever. And a worrier. She needed this to be perfect. 

She looked perfect. Like the 2000 Holiday Barbie brought to life. He’s absolutely astounded by her beauty he just stares for a moment before he says anything. 

“You know, you look very pretty today,” he compliments but she doesn’t take it that way. 

She looks at him like he just insulted her mother. “What?” 

“That dress, it looks nice on you,” he looks her up and down. Smiling like he has some tricks up his sleeve. “What? Can’t I think you look nice? Haven’t we spent enough time talking this last month to let me compliment you?” 

“Don’t you have a wife?” She asks, disgusted he’d hit on her. “And a kid?” 

“We got divorced back in April,” he shrugs. “And you say you want to be a profiler, yet you haven’t looked at my hands in months?” 

She looks now, noticing that he doesn’t have a ring and the tan line that should be there is long gone, which means he’s telling the truth. “Oh… sorry.” 

“It’s better this way,” he nods, giving her a sweet smile. “Is everything going to plan?” 

She nods too, “Yeah. Just waiting on your band… please tell me they’re good?” 

He laughs, “They’re great. Dave’s got this Jazz bar he basically owns with how much money he’s spent there so they owe him one… You’ll like them.” 

“Jazz, at Christmas?” She can’t believe it. “Hotch—

“Aaron,” he corrects her. “Please, for the love of god, call me Aaron again.”

“Why?” She laughs, “We’re not close.” 

“Oh, come on,” he teases. “You can’t tell me that before everything went down, we didn’t have something going on? We were friendly, I almost thought you had a crush on me?” 

She looks at him with a brow raised, “You thought I had a crush on you?” 

He nods, “And then you found out I was married.” 

“So you’re saying if you weren’t married we could’ve hooked up at the academy?” She asks. “Sounds like you liked me too, regardless of the wife.” 

“No—

“Be honest,” she begs, stepping into his space even more. “If things were different- if you didn’t have a wife and we fucked back then, would you have screwed me over for the job?” 

“I didn’t screw you over, I simply already knew Dave,” he finally admits after 10 long years. “I knew he was about to leave, he knew Gideon didn’t want to be in charge. He wanted someone to run the whole unit who wouldn’t choke— not saying you’d choke, he just knew I was already hard on the inside, I wasn’t going to lose my mind with all the shit we see.” 

“You could’ve put in a good word for me, Aaron, I would’ve been fine working under you. I would’ve loved even just an office job in the BAU, I want to work with more than just missing kids,” she begs. “I’ve done it for 10 years, now. You know that makes me strong. You have a kid of your own, you know it’s not easy to think about them missing, let alone deal with it.” 

“I know… and I was serious, I have a new position opening up and I want to give this another try,” he admits. “I want you on the team.” 

She shakes her head, “how can I be on the team when this—” she points between them. “This, whatever this is, is going on?” 

“The sexual tension?” He teases and she swats his arm. “We’ll be fine.” 

She shakes her head. “Just, give me some time to think about it?” 

“I can do that…” 

—

She watches him from afar most of the night. Talking only when they needed to, like in front of the director or on stage while introducing the band and thanking everyone for being there… she was having a very hard time being in the same room as him with all she knew now. 

She was still mad at him. 

Mad because she’s wasted so much of her life hating him when they could’ve been happy together… but at the same time she was sad for his ex-wife. She wondered how long the marriage was loveless. Did she know? Did she suspect? Who broke it off? Does he see his son? She knew he was a good man back then but, what kind of good man has a crush on someone else while married? Would he just do that to her if they got together? 

She had so many questions in her mind and they wouldn’t shut up. 

He approaches her again while she’s deep in thought, staring at the floor while she sips on a drink she doesn’t even like. 

“Having fun?” He asks. 

She shakes her head, “No.” she puts her drink down on the table just behind her and turns back to him as he begins to speak.

“Something not going according to pl—

“Why the fuck did you have to tell me you like me?” She snaps. “I was so okay with hating you for the rest of my life because I couldn’t be on the team I always wanted to join and then you tell me you like me? That if you didn’t have a wife you’d want to be with me back then?” 

He steps more into her space so they can keep their voices down and between each other, “because you deserve to know.” 

“No, I don’t think so,” she fights back. “You were never worried about me being too immature for the team, you were scared you’d end up cheating on your wife with me. I didn’t even know you had a wife until I developed feelings for you. You never wore your ring to class, we spent every day sitting together in class or at the library and you came back to my dorm a few times… you pursued me as much as I was pursuing you and then you made it my fault.” 

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he bows his head, ashamed. “My wife and I weren’t in a good place, we were talking about getting separated… then she got pregnant.” 

“I thought Jack was only—

“We lost a couple babies before him,” he admits. “I didn’t want to be like my dad. I didn’t want to knock her up and leave her so I stayed. I stayed but I wasn’t a good dad anyway. I was always at work, I missed important things with my son and she was the one to end it because she deserved someone who wanted to be home with her and my son deserved to grow up knowing his dad wasn’t always going to be there but loves him enough to be as present as possible when he is home. I couldn’t be that when I was with his mom. we’re so much better apart, I love having weekends alone with my son and doing things we like and not worrying about fighting with his mother in front of him. And she’s happier now with her new boyfriend and Jack's happy with the prospect of a stepdad who can step up in all the areas I lack.” 

“That’s a really mature thing to do for him,” she manages to give him a small, press-lipped smile. “Still doesn’t make me feel better about what you did to me.” 

“I’ve wanted to tell you the truth and that I’m sorry for so long, but when we’re together it’s always a fight. I can never get an honest minute with you, you always just come in guns blazing and my instinct is to tease you back,” he admits. “I am sorry. I wish things were different. I would like to start over if you’d allow me to.” 

“I don’t want a job on your team,” she says, stepping in even closer. Close enough to kiss him. “I can’t work with you like this.” 

“Why?” He smirks. 

“Because Strauss hates you enough as is without you fucking your subordinate,” she whispers. “I’m not throwing myself under the bus… just to be under you.”

He lunges for a kiss, pressing his lips against hers as he cups her face. She backs up slightly in surprise, bumping into the table behind herself. Aaron’s instincts are sharp, he reaches behind her and steadies it so the drink doesn’t crash against the floor and draw more attention to them. She knows the few people in this corner are already looking at them, but she doesn’t care. 

This is a kiss she’s waited a decade for. 

Her hands go inside his suit jacket, she reaches around to grasp his back and pulls him flush against herself. They break the kiss just to breathe, going in for another and another until their tongues meet and they’re the odd couple making out in the corner of the party. 

His hand slips from her cheek to her jaw, along the side of her neck and then she pulls away, “not here,” she reminds him they’re in public and he can’t touch her anywhere he wants to. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “How long do we have to stay here?” 

“I have to stay for shutdown tonight,” she sighs. “But…. Come with me.” 

She pats his side and moves past him, leading him out of the little corner they’re in and towards the main room. He follows her up a staircase, past people they both know and respect and they catch a few eyes but, she puts on a fake pissed-off look and they think she’s leading him somewhere to yell at him… cause that’s what they do. 

“Hey man, where are you going?” Derek asks as they pass him and Penelope sharing a plate of hors d’oeuvres. 

He’s quick on his feet, “One of the vendors fucked up, we have to chat with their boss and discuss how they can make it up to us.” 

“Oh, damn, well… have fun,” he teases. Letting them go on down the small corridor towards some offices. 

She leads him to the only open office she has access to, flicks on the light, lets him in and locks the door behind them. He’s quick to crowd her space, press her up against the door and grip her chin to tilt her attention up toward his eyes once more. She’s back inside his suit jacket, he’s so toasty-warm in there she can only imagine what it’ll be like to be naked with him.

“What were you saying about fucking up and making up for it?” She teases him. 

He smirks, “I will… but first we need to find a way to release all that pent-up frustration we have against each other.” 

She tries her best not to laugh, just shaking her head with a smile as she lets out a little huff, “Ah yes, fuck me like you hate me so we can restart fresh.” 

He cups her face with both hands, eyes darkening with lust, “you’ve been such a brat for so long.” 

“And I’m sure you know the cure for that?” She teases, pulling him in closer. One of her legs slips out of the slit of her dress and she brings it up to wrap around his hip, he’s quick to drop one of the hands from her cheek to grip her thigh. 

“I do,” he whispers, his voice so deep it makes her stomach drop with anticipation. 

He kisses her abruptly, she grips his back pulling him as if they could possibly get any closer but they can’t. Not yet. He grinds against her as their tongues meet again, his hand on her leg goes a little higher until he’s gripping her ass. The hand on her cheek starts to slip again, caressing her chest, she lightly moans into his mouth at the feeling. He’s everywhere, boxing her in against the door, but she wants more. She wants him buried deep inside of her, pounding her against the table over there, letting her know just how much he’s wanted her this whole time. 

He kisses the side of her mouth, her jaw and down her neck, letting her catch her breath just to knock it all out of her again when he starts to lightly suck on her skin. “Aaron, don’t you fucking dare,” she scolds him. 

“I won’t,” he speaks against her, just lightly nipping and sucking at her skin on his way down to her cleavage. 

She pulls her hands out from inside his jacket to roam his shoulders until one hand ends up at the nape of his neck to play with his hair. Her head is tossed back against the door, and he kisses every inch of available skin on her chest. 

He reaches down and gets both of his hands under her ass, making her jump up so he can carry her. Still kissing her neck, he moves them over to the table and sets her down. She’s just the tiniest bit taller now, he kisses her cheek again, looking her in the eye once more as he spreads her legs and runs his fingers along her thighs, realizing now she has nylons on. His hands go further, towards her aching cunt, he grips her thighs while both thumbs play with the seam of her nylons. 

“I’m gonna rip these,” he announces, finding the weakest part of the seam and tearing it open enough to fit his cock through, without completely ruining them. He moves her thong to the side and drags his index finger over her clit. “You’re fucking soaked…”

She tosses her head back, both hands gripping the table like her ice depends on it when two of his fingers plunge into her. “Oh, fuck,” she moans a little too loud. 

Attaching his lips to her neck again, he sucks on her pulse point while fucking her on his fingers. It’s hard and quick, covering the palm of his hand with her slick as his thumb rubs her clit. She’s always known his hands would be good for this, if nothing else.

“Please, Aaron? Oh my god,” She starts to beg.

“Words, princess,” he teases against her neck, teeth grazing her skin, his breath hot, it sends a shiver down her spine. 

“Wanna cum,” she whispers, breathy and so close. “On your cock.” 

“Okay,” he pulls out, bringing his hand to his mouth and licking his palm up to his fingers. He sucks them into his mouth with a groan. His cock twitches between them, jumping with excitement. 

She whines again while he undoes the zipper and tugs his cock out, “please?” 

“Hold on,” he spreads the excess wetness over his cock, stroking himself twice while biting his tongue. It clearly felt so fucking good but she knew her tight cunt was going to be better. 

He slips in slowly and her grip changes, letting go of the counter, she wraps her legs around him and grips his back with her fingernails dug into the skin. “Better?” He whispers into her ear. 

She whimpers when he doesn’t move, feeling so full, “fuck me, please? Fuck me the way I deserve.” 

He hums, kissing her cheek before looking into her eyes, all watery and blown out, her mascara started to run a bit. He tilts his head to the side, “how hard?” 

“Hard,” she looks him dead in the face. 

He slips out, pulls her off the table and turns her around so her chest is against the cold hardwood table-top and flips her dress skirt up and out of the way. He rips her nylons even more, all the way up the back so her ass is exposed. He takes her ass cheeks in his hands and spreads her apart, amazed at how her pussy clenched in anticipation. 

“Please,” she whined, almost stomping her feet with desperation. 

He slams into her without warning, making her gasp loud enough to be heard by anyone wandering the hallway outside.

He pulls out a bit and slams back into her again and again and again until the noises she’s making are complete nonsense. She whines and moans and leans against the table for dear life while pushing back against him. He slaps her ass a few times, making the sound reverberate around the room like an echo. 

He needs more friction, so his thrusts get less powerful and more rhythmic, he uses her like a toy bouncing her on his cock like a rag doll. She felt like her main purpose in life was to be fucked by him like this, it felt so good, it felt incredibly right, and she loved every fucking second of it. All those years of fighting paid the fuck off.

He slams into her cervix over and over, the head of his cock kissing the puckered spot inside again and again. Her hungry cunt sucks him in so deep, never wanting him to leave, and he can tell she’s close just from the way she clamps around him like a vice. He reached around to her stomach and drags his hand down her mound to rub her clit with his middle finger. The rhythm barely matches, but she loves the way it feels. It’s unpredictable, it’s all under his control, she just sits there and takes it like the good girl he’s raised her to be. 

“Cum on the cock you hate so much,” he insists, “I wanna feel it. I want you to cover my cock in your cum before I fill you up to the fucking brim.” 

Too fucked out to really respond she reaches one hand behind her back so he’ll hold it. He intertwines their fingers and leans forward to kiss her shoulder as his hips snap against hers with force. She starts to shake, her legs barely able to keep her up as her orgasm hits her and rattles through her body. He feels the spasm from the inside, her cunt flutters as she releases all the built-up tension in her body She’s so fucking tight he’s barely able to register his own orgasm approaching when he topples over her on the table. 

He fucks into her as deep as he can go and then stills. She can feel rope after rope of his cum pump into her, they can hear the dribbles on the floor between them as it overflows and drips out of her, along with her own. 

He kisses her back, breathing hard against her. She’s just trapped there under him, legs quaking in her heels, “holy fuck?” 

“Sorry,” he pulls back and out of her, “shit… we didn’t think this through.” 

She sighs, holding her dress up so she doesn’t make a mess. “Are there any tissues in here?” 

He looks around, “Yeah… but it’s just that brown paper towel roll like we have at work.” 

“It’ll do,” she shrugs. Watching him walk over to the dispenser near the sink in the corner of the room, he takes a bit out and cleans himself up quickly, putting himself back in his boxers before her gets some more.

He leans her forward again, kneeling behind her, he cleans her up to the best of his ability and then he repositions her thong. He even wipes up the floor before tossing the paper out. “I can’t believe there was so much…” 

She laughs, dropping her dress back down and fluffing it so it looks normal again. “10 years worth of—

“Okay,” he shakes his head with a smirk, stepping back into her space, he wraps her up and kisses her forehead, “you did so good.” 

“Thank you,” she smiles sweetly, she feels so different. There’s so much affection in her chest as she looks up at him once more. “I’m glad we got that out of the way.” 

“I’ll stay with you here while they’re cleaning up,” he assures. “And maybe later I can show you how sorry I am for keeping secrets all these years?” 

“I’d really like that… but I’m still not working for you,” she teases. 

“I guess I’ll just have to take on more CARD cases so you’re forced to see me,” he teases right back, smiling at her. 

This is going to be fun. 

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