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afewproblems · 1 year

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Part Four: Final Part Four Mean!Eddie Misunderstandings Au

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Read in full on Ao3

Thank you to everyone that cheered me on @samcoxramblings for your kind words on every post! @flowercrowngods and @barbariansteves for your helpful advice and @zerokrox-blog for your original prompt waaaaay back in February, I'm sorry this took so long but I hope you finally get the comfort you wished for!

***

The kids demand two weeks to prepare for their Hellfire session, insisting that they need this time to debrief Eddie and come up with their game plan, which is fine by Steve.

It also gives him two weeks to decompress from his last interaction with the kid's Dungeon Master, and time to try and untangle exactly how he feels about the whole situation.

It was nice for things to start moving back towards something resembling normal. The kids seemed happier, even going so far as to begin splitting their time between Eddie and Steve once again. Asking for rides to the hobby shop in Indi from their resident metal-head rather than Steve. It was nice to finally have a little bit more time to himself again.

Even Robin, who had previously been steadfast in her Anti-Eddie stance, had suddenly grown rather tight-lipped about the whole thing.

She had even offered to accompany Steve on his errands for the day they scheduled their Hellfire meeting, citing that she was always up for a grocery run and he may need help bringing everything in.

Which, in hindsight, should have been Steve’s first clue that something strange was going on.

“So, you ready?” Robin hums as they walk up and down the canned food aisle of Marsh Market, “you can still back out you know?”

Steve smiles and grabs a box of onion soup mix, he’s fairly certain he has some sour cream at home to make a dip of some sort, much easier than the last snack he tried to prepare for the group.

“Yeah, Robs, I know, I think it should be fine,” he crosses off the soup mix on his list and turns the cart around the empty aisle to head towards the produce section, “the kids are already setting up now so the only thing I need to do is be there,” he shrugs and stops in front of the humming displays.

Steve waits until the misting stops before reaching for a bag of mini carrots and tossing them into the cart.

“Can’t believe you trust Henderson to have a key, I can’t believe you hold us at the same level of trust!” Robin grumbles under her breath as she picks up a granny smith from one of the bins and rubs it on the rolled up sleeves of her navy blazer; it’s just slightly too big for her, most likely stolen from her dad’s closet.

Steve rolls his eyes and continues pushing the cart around the produce area, "careful Birdy, you roll those up anymore you're actually going to turn into Don Johnson".

"I should be so lucky," she snarks back as she catches up to him by the celery.

She tosses the apple back and forth between her hands, nearly dropping it twice before placing the produce into the cart under Steve’s unimpressed gaze.

She starts snapping her fingers and shuffling her feet as they continue walking up and down the aisles, going through their list bit by bit. Steve finds himself watching his friend’s nervous fidgeting with curious eyes, it was just a grocery trip, there shouldn’t be anything to really make her act like this, right?

He takes a quick glance around at some of the employees stocking the aisles, in case Vickie or some other pretty classmate of Robin’s is wandering around.

But, they’re alone.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” Robin asks, as Steve folds up the list and turns the cart towards the check out tills.

She tips the small watch she’s wearing up to her face, her eyes flit back and forth between Steve and the watch as she chews on her bottom lip, which is more than a little odd.

The kids are already at the house and Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire gang won’t be arriving for at least another hour, they have plenty of time?

Robin steps away from the cart and throws her thumb over her shoulder at the chip aisle, “you do realize that you’re going to have like ten teenagers at your house right? You think veggies and dip is enough?”

“I’m ordering pizza later, I think this is fine?” Steve says slowly, gesturing at the cart, confusion and suspicion saturate his words as his eyes narrow at his friend.

“Robin,” Steve murmurs, walking the cart closer towards her, “what's going on?”

“Nothing, why would you --nothing!” She stutters as her freckled face pales slightly.

Steve smirks, Robin is probably the worst liar he’s ever met, and it's always endearing whenever she tries.

The last time she had lied to Steve, it had been about the mascara wand she had dropped onto the passenger seat, staining the leather just slightly, and smearing the black makeup all over the floor covers.

Robin had panicked and insisted that had been there before she had sat down.

Steve had been sitting in the car with her at the time.

He knew a Robin lie when he saw it, but he also knew it wouldn’t take long for her to crack.

“Okay!”

There it is.

“Listen,” Robin hisses sharply, she steps closer until she’s nearly whispering in his ear in the empty chip aisle, “I’m stalling you okay?”

“Probably not something you should be telling the person you’re stalling but okay?” Steve snorts as he leans onto the cart handle, “also, this was the worst place to go to stall us, it's two in the afternoon on a Wednesday, no one else is here”.

“I know!” Robin groans, letting her face fall into her open hands, she slowly lifts her face once more and lets her fingers drag across her forehead and cheeks, pulling at the skin, “I should have said no, I wanted to say no, but they used Will--”

Steve nods, “and you can’t say no to Will, yeah I gotcha”.

The words register after a beat.

“Wait, backup, the kids put you up to this? The unsupervised shitheads in my house right now?”

Robin nods, her blue eyes wide and the barest of smirks still covered by her hands.

“Oh christ,” Steve mutters under his breath, “do I even want to know?”

Robin drops her hands away from her face and scowls for a second before sighing, “I would absolutely love to tell you,” she shakes her head and looks up at the ceiling, “better yet, I’d love to just take you to Indi for the day, forget about this completely, but those God Damn kids know exactly what to say,” she looks at him once more in barely concealed exasperation, “how do they always know what to say?”

“How angry do I need to be, on a scale of like one to ten?”

Robin stares at him consideringly, her eyes scanning his face, “I mean, if I were you, it would be at like, a hundred,” she says eventually, “but since it’s you?”

“Maybe a four”.

Steve nods and drums his hands on the cart handles, blowing out a long slow breath as he makes his decision, “how much more time do they need?”

Robin looks at her watch again and smiles this time, “Well this bought them another five-ish minutes, so maybe another half hour?”

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a crumpled five dollar bill, “come on, I’ll getcha a coffee or something?”

“Wait, do I even need these snacks? Robin?”

Robin was wrong, this at least warranted a five for the groceries alone.

***

The drive back is uneventful, Steve did end up going though check out, rationalizing that, no matter what, he needed some veggies for the rest of the week so there were worse things he could have spent the money on.

Robin had bought him a coffee from the gas station down the road. There wasn't enough creamer in the world to make that palatable so he leaves it in the cup holder while driving back. Even with a hot chocolate Robin hasn't fared much better.

"Okay, well that's the worst five dollars ever spent," she groans after taking a sip. Robin wrinkles her nose and sets the cup in the other empty holder beside Steve’s before sneaking a quick look at her watch once more, “worth it though,” she says with a small smile.

It slides off her face after a moment when she realizes that they’ve turned down her street, “Steve?”

He looks between her and the road, tilting his head as she touches his elbow gently.

“You can just come over you know, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to and that includes letting people force you to--” Robin snaps her mouth shut with an audible click of her teeth.

She shakes her head and takes her hand back, “sorry, I promised not to say anything”.

Steve pulls over onto the Buckley’s driveway and finally turns to face Robin as much as the driver's seat will allow.

“Still sure about this whole thing only warranting a four?” he asks softly as a bubble of anxiety begins to expand from his stomach and into his chest, as though he’s absorbed her nervous energy over the course of the afternoon.

Robin shrugs, “I don’t know, but,” her blue eyes bounce back and forth between his own, “just don’t let them make you make a decision you’re not ready for,” she chews her lip again, “no one gets to push you around but me”.

Steve laughs as Robin leans out of her seat to give him a quick, but firm, hug before she opens the door and steps outside. As soon as she’s out of the car, Steve wishes he had asked her to stay, to come with him and hold his hand through the unknown. The bereft, hollow feeling from before returns in full force as she walks up to her front door.

She turns around and holds up her thumb and pinky as she lifts her hands to her face, mouthing, ‘Call me later,’ as she waves with her other hand.

She stays outside as Steve slowly reverses, hesitating on the street for just a moment as Robin walks backwards the rest of the way to her door, she moves her hands, motioning for him to get going.

Steve nods once and takes a deep breath as he shifts into drive and heads down the street.

It’s just the kids, he tells himself, how bad can it be?

***

By the time Steve pulls into his driveway, he’s nearly turned around to retrieve Robin and insist that she come with him at least five times. Even now as he pulls the emergency brake for the slight incline of the Harrington driveway, he considers starting the car again and leaving.

The last time he felt this anxious to be home was after graduation, after he’d been rejected from every school he’d applied to and knew there was no getting around that conversation with his dad.

That conversation had ended with the crack in the table, a hastily completed Scoops application, and his parents leaving for three months.

If it hadn’t happened he wouldn’t have met Robin, so at least there had been a silver lining on that occasion.

He’s not sure if there will be one this time.

Steve gets out of the car before opening the back door to grab the paper grocery bag from the store, he leaves the full coffee and hot chocolate cups with a grimace and makes a mental note to throw them out later before locking the car door.

Steve slowly makes his way to the steps, balancing the bag on his hip as he rifles through his pants pocket for his house key.

He looks around the street and spots Eddie’s van parked a few houses down. Great.

Steve knew that Eddie and the others would be showing up around now, even before Robin went ahead and spilled the beans about whatever it was the kids were secretly doing, but he had still hoped for a moment to just breathe before he had to face the inevitable.

Steve takes a deep breath and grabs the door handle, scoffing as it opens immediately. He makes a second mental note to scold Dustin for leaving the door unlocked for just anyone to come in --especially since the rest of Hellfire was already here apparently.

“Hey assholes, the snacks are here,” Steve calls out as he steps over the threshold, tossing his own keys into the dish on the side table.

He kicks the door closed and locks the deadbolt with a roll of his eyes, “and I do include myself with that statement,” he adds under his breath with a smirk.

Steve slides off his shoes and pauses, looking around the foyer.

It’s quiet.

Where there is normally an abundance of yelling and laughter, of the kids arguing amongst themselves, or Eddie’s usual dramatic storytelling, there’s nothing.

Steve walks into the kitchen and puts the bag onto the counter, “guys?” he calls out again, only to be met with silence.

Steve makes his way into the dining room through the swing door and stops in his tracks.

The table is gone.

“What the fuck?” he hears himself whisper as he walks into the middle of the space, nearly into the hanging light in the center of the room --he’d never noticed just how low it was, what with the table that was normally there to stop him from walking directly into it.

“What the fuck?” Steve hisses again, his heart starts to race as he steps around the light and spots the open sliding door to the backyard.

“If you little fuckers decided to move my grandmother’s table when there is a perfectly good patio table out there, I swear to Christ--”

But the kids aren’t outside either.

Eddie freezes as Steve walks around the corner of the house, he’s standing next to the dining table with a piece of sandpaper in his hands.

“Steve,” Eddie squawks in surprise, quickly hiding the sandpaper behind his back, “hey!”

Steve’s not entirely sure just what he’s looking at as he takes another step further into the yard. Eddie’s normally black ripped jeans are covered in a fine layer of dust, his wild curls have been pulled back into a messy ponytail away from his face, and an open container of wood filler sits beside him on the concrete patio.

Steve takes another four steps until he’s close enough to touch the wooden surface, his mouth hanging open as he takes it all in.

The surface of the table has been sanded down in its entirety, removing the beautiful deep cherry varnish, but the crack in the center has been mended, some kind of slightly darker putty has sealed the gaping wound that had marred the surface.

“Can you,” Eddie’s voice shakes, drawing Steve’s attention once more, “can you please say something, I can’t tell if you’re mad or what?”

“You fixed it,” Steve whispers, his eyes fixed on the table, he reaches to run a shaking hand over the surface.

“Careful,” Eddie says softly, grabbing Steve’s hand before it can touch the center with long sure fingers, “that still needs about an hour or so to cure”.

Steve looks from the table to his hand, still cradled in Eddie’s own, before looking up to see two big brown eyes staring into his own.

“I don’t understand,” the words come out in a whisper as Steve swallows around the sudden lump in his throat, “why?”

“Well,” Eddie murmurs as he squeezes Steve’s hand once before threading their fingers together and dragging Steve towards one of the pool loungers in the grass.

Eddie sits down and pulls Steve with him to sit, he feels a deep flush begin to wash over his neck and the tips of his ears, it's impossible to hide in the bright sunlight this time --not that he’d even be able to with Eddie’s firm grip on Steve’s hand.

“Those kids of yours are pretty genius,” Eddie says slowly, deliberately, his gaze never wavering from Steve’s face, “and they love you so fucking much man”.

Eddie clears his throat and rubs his thumb over Steve’s knuckles, “and there seems to be some confusion about how I actually feel about you, so allow me to uh, lay it all on the,” he gestures with his free hand towards the dining table and smirks, “well you know”.

Steve feels his heart leaping out of his chest, he can’t sit here, listen to this, he’s heard it before, it isn’t real.

Steve moves to stand up from the lounger but Eddie is faster as he manages to grab Steve’s other hand, holding him in place.

“Eddie--”

“You said no one had ever bothered before,” Eddie barrels on, speaking so quickly that Steve hardly understands at first. He squeezes Steve’s hands lightly again, the skin warmed metal from Eddie’s rings press into the palms of Steve’s hands.

“No one’s ever tried to fix it, have they?” Eddie breathes out as his eyes flit back and forth, searching Steve’s own, “would you let me try?”

For a moment, Steve lets himself just sit with the words.

Lets himself indulge in the soft, almost reverent way that Eddie asks. He lets the warmth of Eddie’s hands tether him to something resembling hope.

Before he shakes his head.

“You don’t know what you’re saying Eddie,” Steve growls, but the words lack any true bite.

“I know exactly what I’m saying,” Eddie insists, he gets up from beside Steve and kneels in the grass in front of him, “but I don’t think you do, I think we’ve been talking past each recently Steve, and it took speaking to a bunch of people --way smarter than me, to realize it. So here it is--”

“Don’t,” Steve shouts at the same time that Eddie whispers, “I like you,” and for a moment neither moves.

Steve slowly takes his hands out of Eddie's now slack grip.

He lowers one hand down to the edge of the pool lounger, gripping it so harshly that his knuckles slowly fade to white, while the other he brings up to cover Eddie’s mouth.

“Don’t say something you can’t take back,” Steve says softly.

Eddie just stares for a beat, his forehead pinched in a terrible frown, before he reaches up to cup Steve’s cheek and gently removes the hand covering his mouth. He smiles softly and lets his thumb gently run over the crest of Steve’s cheekbone.

“Good thing I don’t want to take it back,” Eddie insists, he slides the hand on Steve’s cheek down to hold his chin firmly between two fingers.

“Steve,” Eddie lifts himself up so he’s balancing on the balls of his feet, just high enough that they are at eye level now, “I spent a very long time holding onto things that weren’t even remotely true, and they made me act like an asshole, I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that sweetheart”.

“What if you change your mind, what if I--”

“Steve, what the fuck could you do at this point that would shock me?" Eddie says with a derisive laugh, he lets go of Steve's face to press his hand briefly to his own chest.

"I’m a drug dealing, satan worshiping, murderer who almost ate it in another dimension from killer demon bats".

Eddie grins as he peppers his speech with air quotes but the edges of it are jagged, and the good humour doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Steve breathes out sharply through his nose and shakes his head, “I get angry sometimes, I say things I don't mean, I…"

He sees himself surrounded by ceramic shards again, crying as he sweeps up his own mess, and shudders.

It's enough for Eddie to nod, and shuffle closer still.

"Pot," Eddie says softly as he pokes Steve in the sternum with this pointer finger and then brings it around to point at his own face, "kettle".

Steve chews his bottom lip as his thoughts swirl together and fly apart, disjointed and frenetic, "I just," he swallows around a harsh lump that begins to form in his throat, "I don't want you to think that I'm something that I'm not”.

Steve closes his eyes, missing the way that Eddie freezes at the words, but he can’t stop now --he has to get this all out or he’ll never be able to.

"That I've changed, that I'm this thing you've built up, for your sake, because let me tell you, it's pretty heartbreaking when everything you hoped was real turns out to be all in your head".

Steve opens his eyes as Eddie makes a sound like he’s been punched in the gut.

He’s still kneeling in front of Steve, even closer now, almost close enough that Steve can count the light dusting of freckles on his nose, and it feels like his heart will burst at any moment.

Fuck it.

"I've been halfway in love with you since you woke up from the hospital," Steve blurts out, “only to find out that you didn't feel even remotely the same about me, this whole time,” he breathes in shallowly as Eddie pales.

"I don't think I could take it if that happened again Eds,” Steve continues as he drops his gaze to his knees, “I think it would crush me".

"That's why I don't want you to say something you can't take--"

The words die on his lips as Eddie grabs his face and kisses him.

It’s harsh and clumsy, their teeth clack as Eddie loses his balance, pushing himself into Steve. They fall over the lounger, Steve’s shoulders and lower back hit the metal frame hard, forcing a muffled groan out as Eddie falls on top of him with his own faint, ‘oof’.

Eddie tries to raise himself up by his hands before falling even further as one of his hands slips through the rubber slats of the chair and he crashes into Steve's stomach.

Eddie babbles a string of incomprehensible apologies as he frees his trapped hand and manages to gently straddle Steve. Eddie hovers over him and lifts his hands to cup Steve's face.

“Shit baby, are you okay? Fuck, that’s not how I wanted that to go at all, I’m so shit at this”.

“Can we, can you get off and then we can get off the stupid chair?” Steve wheezes as he tries to catch his breath and shift his weight away from the metal still pressed into his back, “lets go inside, we can..talk about this”.

Eddie curses under his breath, his expression nervous, and moves his legs off of Steve and the chair before holding a hand out to help Steve to his feet.

Steve rubs his back as he leads the pair back inside through the sliding glass door, not daring to turn around and face Eddie.

He feels his own mortified flush spread across his chest and neck and winces; this is probably the most he’s blushed in years all in the span of a single afternoon.

He kissed me, he kissed me, he kissed me, plays on a seemingly endless loop in Steve’s head as he walks into the house, he can’t help the wide smile that blooms over his face --despite the other, darker thought that whispers in his ear, be careful, be careful, be careful.

Steve takes them through the empty dining room and into the living room before dropping onto the couch with another low groan. He looks up as he realizes that Eddie is no longer beside him.

Eddie stands in the entryway to the living room, he’s holding a thick handful of hair over his mouth and watching Steve carefully.

“Can’t talk with you all the way over there,” Steve huffs.

He tries for a smile but the effect is lost as Eddie continues to stand and stare at him, looking as though he could bolt from the house at any moment.

“Please come here Eds,” Steve tries again, his voice small. He takes a deep breath, if Eddie can be brave so can you, he thinks as he holds out his hand.

Eddie hesitates for just a moment more, his eyes flick beyond Steve to the hallway linked to the foyer and back, it’s so quick Steve nearly misses it.

Still, he keeps his hand steady, holding it aloft.

Eventually Eddie takes a tentative step, then another, slowly moving forward until his fingers brush Steve’s own. He takes a seat next to Steve on the plush gray couch but doesn’t relax as Steve turns his body to face him. Eddie tenses even further as Steve gives his hand a gentle squeeze.

He opens his mouth to start but Eddie beats him to it.

“I’m so sorry Steve,” Eddie whispers, his voice strained and thin as he takes his hand back, “I just fucking attacked you? Jesus, I," he cuts himself off, whatever he had been about to say trapped behind the teeth that dig into his bottom lip.

"I mean," Steve mumbles, hating the hunched line of Eddie's shoulders, "I tell you I've been in love with you for months and you kiss me, that makes sense to me?"

"Stop doing that," Eddie bites out as he stands up, slapping his hands on his knees to launch himself away from the couch.

He paces the living room, not looking at Steve and getting progressively more agitated as he walks.

"I apologize and then you turn it around on yourself, why do you do that? Just let me apologize!"

Eddie halts suddenly as he straightens and faces Steve, it's as though a lightbulb has blinked on in the ether as Eddie speaks his next words slowly and carefully, "stop letting me off the hook Steve, be honest with me".

"I have been honest with you," Steve tries but Eddie shakes his head.

"Nope, you've told me some of your stuff today, but not why you keep downplaying everything, why you're not just telling me you're upset, it's like you're censoring the stuff you think I don't want to hear, come on”.

"My stuff," Steve mutters under his breath as a hot flicker of irritation licks at his ribcage.

"Yes," Eddie says, throwing his hands into his hair in frustration.

"Everybody censors themselves Eddie, you think I tell the kids everything? That I've told Robin everything?"

At this Eddie blanches, surprise etched over his forehead as his eyebrows climb into his wispy bangs.

"But Robin--"

"Knows enough, but not everything,"Steve scoffs as he crosses his arms over his stomach, "and she doesn't need to".

Robin may know his parents are hardly around, she may have formed her own opinions, assumptions about what she thinks is going on; but Steve has gotten very good at hiding these things -especially over the years.

Pulling out the King Steve persona, make them laugh, make them mad, watch this hand while the other pulls the wool over their eyes.

"Then tell me," Eddie says softly, but there is a challenge to his words.

He shifts his stance slightly, putting more weight on his left leg as he cocks his hip out to the side, "shock me Harrington".

Steve shifts on the couch, feeling pinned under Eddie's gaze, before swiping a tired hand over his face and dropping it into his lap.

"That crack in the table happened just before I graduated," Steve says softly, his head tipped down so the words tumble into his knees.

He ignores the sharp intake of breath from Eddie, not daring to look up as he continues, "my uh, my dad opened the rejection letter from Vincennes, that one had just been delivered that morning I think".

Steve breathes out slowly and picks at a hangnail on his left thumb, he hasn't ever spoken about this to anyone, he's never really managed to talk about his home life growing up without side stepping things.

There had been moments where Steve thinks Tommy and Carol might have had their suspicions, but they never asked and Steve wasn't in a position to talk about it.

"I think that was at the beginning of June, so, so his logical conclusion was to uh, go looking for the other letters, the ones I must have received already".

Steve barks out a laugh, but the sound rings out hollow in the large living room, he startles slightly as the couch dips down next to him as Eddie sits, close enough that his knees are brushing Steve's own.

He doesn't say anything, but it's enough for Steve to breathe out and keep going.

"And he found them, my dad, in the shoebox I kept in the back of my closet".

"I don't know why I had even kept them," Steve shakes his head, "I should have thrown them away".

Steve absently traces a faint white line across his temple, staring past his knees into the patterns of the ornate area rug, "I got home from school and he had the letters waiting for me".

"He laid them all out on the dining table," Steve sweeps his hands out, setting the scene in his head, "like you see in those detective movies right? He just needed some string to connect them all to me".

Steve shivers and closes his eyes, the words still echoing fresh in his mind, the hot spittle that hit his face as his father cornered him against the wall still makes him flinch if he thinks about it too hard.

"He asked when I was planning to tell him about the rejections, and I couldn't give him an answer," he reaches up and pinches his nose, just once, blinking a few times as he wills away the gathering moisture.

"I didn't raise you to be this way Steven, like some fucking ungrateful coward --look at me when I'm God Damn talking to you!" Richard seethes as he slams the flat of his palm into the center of the table, his Harvard class ring splitting the wood as it connects with a loud crack.

Richard doesn't look down, his hand slides to one of the letters, snatching it from the surface as he steps around the table, towards Steve, in three sure strides. He backs his son towards the wall, looming over Steve as he shoves the paper into his face in one hand while the other grips the collar of Steve's T-Shirt.

"What will people think, huh, our only son didn't get into college, Hagan got in for chrissakes," his dad shakes him once, forcing Steve's head to connect with the wall, "what am I supposed to tell people Steven, what are we going to tell your poor mother?"

"I thought that Wheeler girl was supposed to be smart, tutor you or something," Richard scoffs as he finally lets go of Steve's shirt collar, "or did she finally come to her senses?"

Steve sneers before he can stop himself, "I didn't think you were even around enough to see that dad--"

The blow comes swiftly, catching him across the temple, his father's class ring comes out to play once again as a hot burst of pain blooms across the entire left side of his face from the backhand.

"Don't you ever speak to me that way again, you want to be a big man Steven? Just see what happens".

Steve blinks once, coming back to himself, "my dad, um, he has a problem with anger, with uh, expressing it I guess".

"But that isn't what this is about," Steve whispers, and this time he can't keep the wobble from his voice as he speaks.

"I'm afraid, I'm just like him, that I could do what he did if I got upset enough, and you," he breathes out sharply but the sounds more like a sob than anything else, "you want me to be honest?"

Steve finally lifts his eyes up to meet Eddie's own. Eddie, who looks as though he wants to melt into the floor, his shoulders tense and his own eyes seem suspiciously shiny as they stare back at Steve.

"Why couldn't you be honest with me, huh?" Steve whispers, "from the beginning?"

A tear breaks the surface, tracing down Steve's cheek. He manages to catch it roughly with the back of his hand before reaching up to press the heels of both his hands into his eyes --as though the pressure could stop the building deluge he knows is inevitable.

"I was so angry with you when you told me that you hadn't meant what you said in the Upside Down," Steve manages to speak through the tightening of his throat as he drops his hands back down into his lap, "that I smashed a plate in my kitchen after you left, I don't, I don't know what happened".

His breath quickens suddenly and every other word comes out as a gasp, "but it's like my worst fucking fears h-have come true and I don't, I don't know what to do, I don't, I--"

"Oh sweetheart," Eddie says softly as he reaches for Steve, pulling him into his arms with gentle fingers, "oh, I gotcha".

Steve lets himself be moved, for his head to be tipped into the crook of Eddie's neck and his body tucked into Eddie's chest.

Steve tries to slow down his breathing, to stop the shuddering of his chest as he fights the tears.

"It's okay," Eddie tries but Steve shakes his head.

"It's not," he bites out, the words taper off into a whine, "it's not--"

"Okay, you're right, it's not," Eddie says so softly Steve nearly misses it.

"I'm so, so, sorry Steve," Eddie murmurs into Steve's hair, holding him tighter as Steve finally gives in and lets himself cry.

He's not sure how long they sit for, eventually Steve feels a steady hand card through his hair while the other strokes down his arms, he feels the tension in his shoulders begin to melt away and the tears slow to a gentle trickle.

"I'm an idiot," Eddie huffs out, the breath flutters Steve's hair, making him twitch at the sensation.

Steve reaches up and wipes at his face with tired hands. The skin feels warm to the touch and puffy around his eyes and his nose which refuses to stop running, he must look like an absolute sight right now, he thinks to himself with a grimace.

"You're not an idiot," he manages to croak, but Eddie's already shaking his head sharply, turning himself to look at Steve.

"Oh believe me, I've fucked up before, pretty spectacularly, but this takes the goddamn cake sweetheart".

"And you're right," Eddie says slowly, carefully, "I shouldn't be harping on about you hiding how you feel when I'm the reason why we're in this mess".

Eddie chews his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth before pulling away from Steve entirely as he reaches up to cup Steve's face between his hands.

"I'm sorry for not being honest with you Stevie, and I will spend every day trying to make it up to you if you let me?"

Steve looks at Eddie, really looks at him.

He takes in the drooped curve of his shoulders, the subtle pink of the tip of his nose and the glassy sheen in his brown eyes. The way his chest has stopped rising and he drops his hands away from Steve the longer he openly stares at the metal-head, the way Eddie anxiously spins and spins and spins the rings on his hands the longer he waits.

It’s an easy decision to reach out and place his own hand on Eddies own, to halt the frantic movements with a gentle squeeze.

“So,” Steve says, grinning as Eddie finally looks up at him once more, "on a scale of helping to chauffeur the kids to finishing fixing the table, what kind of making it up to me are we talking about?"

The smile Eddie gives him is nearly blinding as he launches himself at Steve, gathering him up in his arms. His hair smells like sawdust and there's the barest hint of some kind of cologne that Steve can't place.

Eddie leans back into the couch cushions, laughingly wetly and taking Steve with him. The sound makes his chest ache as Steve realizes just how much he’s missed Eddie’s laughter. He buries his face in Eddie's neck as they cuddle into one another, letting themselves sit with nothing but the sound of the occasional car driving down the street outside or the humming of grasshoppers through the screen door to the backyard.

"For what it's worth," Eddie huffs, breaking the quiet, a hint of dimples revealing themselves as he smiles, "I've never met the guy, but from the sounds of it, you are the farthest thing from being like 'Ol Dick Harrington".

Steve says nothing but feels something in his chest finally unclench for the first time in weeks.

"Besides, there's nothing like a good plate smash every now and again Stevie," Eddie hums as he runs his thumb over the crest of Steve's cheekbone again.

"That's what Robin said," Steve mumbles, as he leans further into Eddie with a smile, "she came over that night, after".

"A wise and terrifying woman," Eddie says sagely, "who I hope to never piss off again".

He stops suddenly and looks up at Steve, a nervous pinch to his brow as he plays with a loose curl hanging in front of his face, "I'm glad you guys have each other," Eddie says slowly, letting his thumb stroke Steve's hand absently, "that you have people in your corner and--”

Eddie swallows, his eyes darting back and forth between Steve's eyes as he finally seems to steel himself.

"I hope you'll let me be one of those people".

This nervous, quiet Eddie, is so strange to take in, but then again Steve's also never been on the receiving end of so many apologies all at once, it's just shy of being overwhelming at this point.

"Oh come off it Eddie," Steve huffs with a roll of his eyes, "you had me the moment I saw that fucking table outside and you tried to hide the sandpaper behind your back --real smooth by the way".

The way Eddie stares at him in surprise and that same look of awe from before, tells Steve that was the right thing to say.

Eddie barks out a wet laugh and squeezes him tighter, tipping his face to nuzzle Steve's ear, "I missed you teasing me".

"That was the worst part about all of this," he shudders once and drops his head to Steve's shoulder, "I thought I lost my friend, but I have you back".

"Yeah, you have me Eds," Steve says softly.

Steve rests against Eddie, uncaring that the position is growing more uncomfortable as the arm tucked closest to the metal-head falls asleep. Eddie holds him with such gentle reverence that Steve feels as though he may just burst from happiness at any moment.

Everything he's wanted for months, has finally fallen into place.

It's quiet for another moment. Steve plays with one of Eddie's hands, running his fingers over the calluses from playing guitar and the eclectic rings decorating his knuckles.

Eddie clears his throat after a beat, swallowing once, “so uh, earlier….that wasn’t exactly how I pictured our first kiss you know?"

Steve feels a small grin slowly bloom, he's not quite facing Eddie the way they're sitting, so he can play coy a little longer.

“You’ve pictured it huh?”

Eddie snorts “Oh yeah, you have no idea, there’s usually more tongue involved and less chipped teeth”.

Steve nods, letting them sit for a moment longer, letting himself be chased for once.

Eddie pulls back slightly, leaving his arms loosely wrapped around Steve, “think we could uh, try again?”

“Will you mean it as much as you did the first time?” Steve says with a smile as he rubs his lip with his thumb and flushed cheeks.

“You liked that huh, always knew you were a freak like me Harrington,” Eddie barks out, his eyes shining with mirth as he leans closer to run the tip of his nose down Steve's before nuzzling them together, "wanna make some good memories in this house Stevie?"

“Only if you’re with me Eds,” Steve whispers against Eddie’s lips as he slowly leans in.

Steve’s heart races, anticipation flooding his veins and filling his chest with a giddy realization that he finally, finally, gets to have this.

That he knows Eddie finally, finally, feels the same way.

He’ll call Robin later, let her know about Hellfire’s plan, the apology, and maybe even the truth about everything he’d kept hidden away for so long. The old hurts soothed and the lid of the box in his mind permanently open now, the lid wrenched off its hinges so as to never close again. Maybe he could let people in, to let them know him.

For now, Steve lets himself be lowered onto the couch, lets Eddie's hands roam freely, over Steve's shoulders, his neck --letting his fingers gently brush the long scar from the Demobat tail, before lifting one hand to cup his cheek while the other climbs into Steve hair, threading his fingers through it and giving the locks an experimental tug.

Steve's hands make their way up Eddie's back, under his shirt, tracing over the raised scars on his sides. Eddie shoots Steve a wicked grin, his eyes crinkle at the sides as he lets his weight gently fall over Steve, catching himself with his hands on the couch cushions on either side of Steve's face, effectively caging him in.

Eddie moves slowly, deliberately, it's not nearly as brutal as the first time but Eddie kisses like a wildman starved, licking into Steve's mouth and grazing his bottom lip with harsh teeth.

It feels like Steve is being consumed, slowly, carefully.

It's overwhelming in the best way. The feeling of his soft lips against Steve’s own, the harsh stubble that rubs against Steve’s chin. The smell of weed, and sawdust, and cologne invades his nose.

Eddie pulls back briefly before leaning down again to place a soft kiss against Steve’s lips.

“How's that for a second kiss?” he asks with a raised eyebrow and a wide smirk pulling at his slightly puffy lips.

Steve scoffs and tugs at Eddie’s shirt collar, “I dunno, maybe we need to check again?”

Eddie’s laughter rings out loud and long in the Harrington living room, as he leans down again and hugs Steve tightly.

For the first time in a long time, Steve feels himself relax.

He lets the weight of Eddie press him into the cushions and releases a long contented breath, the Harrington house, finally feeling warmer than it has in a long time.

I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed working on it! This was the first fic of this length that I was still actively writing as I was updating that I've actually completed and I'm pretty damn happy about that! I was so worried about abandoning this guy and I'm glad I was able to finish it, hopefully it has come to a satisfying conclusion <3

Taglist: @zerokrox-blog @samcoxramblings @thosemessyvibes @liketheocean @vampireinthesun @themostunoriginalpersonever @merricatty @hyperfixationgoddess @hippieg1rl420 @mysticcrownshipper @estrellami-1 @clumsiluni @messrs-weasley @the-obsessed-nerdist

#platonic stobin #mean!eddie wip #finally finished this big boy #eddie munson has a bad dad #protective wayne munson #the party #will byers can and will weaponize those eyes of his #I broke my promise about how long this would take #angst with a happy ending #steddie #getting together #afewproblems writes #afewproblemswrites #steve harrington has a bad dad #implied referenced child abuse both verbal and physical #its only a small section but its not great #hurt steve harrington #slaps steves chest 'this boy can hold so much trauma'

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sylvanfreckles · 9 months

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(@whumptober-archive)

Day Eight: Outnumbered

Summary: Ambushed and wounded in Rexxentrum, Caleb turns to Beauregard for help and safety.

#whumptober 2023 #no.8 #outnumbered #critical role campaign 2 #fic #whump #physical assault #implied/referenced abuse #caleb widogast #trent ikithon #beauregard lionett #misc. volstrucker

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leavemeal0newithmym0ss · 2 years

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TW: IMPLIED/REFERENCED PHYSICAL CHILD ABUSE!!! IF THIS BOTHERS YOU SIMPLY SCROLL PAST AND STAY SAFE!!!

YOU SURE WERE ABLE TO KEEP THAT “CURSE” OF YOURS AT BAY UNTIL YOU AND HUNTER WERE ALONE WERENT YOU

Also surprised that people didn’t really talk about the fact that in this first minute or two heavily implies that bitchlos is physically abusive. Ik people talked about the end where he gives a warning by slicing near Hunters head, but here Hunter full on flinches when belos’s normal un-cursed hand comes at him (I don’t know how to put vids in here and idk if u can tell with pictures but when belos places a hand on him his shoulders hike up and his head tilts down immediately. He only lifts his head when it’s clear belos wasn’t going to attack him) he even just witnessed bitchlos calm down from a “curse attack”, so logically he wouldn’t attack hunter with his curse right then.

Also can’t tell if hunters shoulders hitch up in this one, it looks like they do when belos squeezes and gets his gross cursed goo on him

#tw implied child abuse #tw referenced physical abuse #tw implied physical abuse #let me know if there are any other tw tags I should use to filter and I will do it ASAP #toh hunter #hunting palismen #I hate belos so fucking much #toh belos

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narvaldetierra · 9 months

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Whumptober 2023 - Day 2

Don't forget to check the tags before reading.

#whumptober 2023 #No. 2 #'I’ll call out your name but you won’t call back'#'They don't care about you.'#OC #Fic #violence #physical abuse #implied/referenced self harm #implied/referenced suicide attempt #interrogation #First-person narrative

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miles-prentiss · 1 year

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Where is my mind

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Additional Tags: Mental Health Issues, Childhood Trauma, Psychological Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Child Abuse, Past Abuse, Abuse, Physical Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Drug Abuse, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Substance Abuse, Schizophrenia, Hallucinations, Nightmares, Dreams, Panic Attacks, Short One Shot, One Shot, Angst, Heavy Angst, Angst and Tragedy

Words: 414

I walk down the long hallway the walls a saturated marron colour

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

"Hello!" I call out unaware of my surroundings.

I reach the end of the hall, I am met with a off white door, I open the door with hesitation not knowing what is awaiting my arrival.

The door open revealing a living room which seem familiar .

"Hello?" I call out once more.

... no reply .

I begin the gather what Is surrounding me, soft yellow wall, a dark green couch, a muted red carpet, off white lace curtains.

I turn around to see a man who was once standing behind me.

I stand in confusion not knowing who the man infront of me.

"What do you not know your own father?" He asked as if he was informing me on who exactly he was.

I couldn't believe it.

"I thought- you're in prison!?" I enquired.

"What do you not miss your pa?" I ignored his statement and walked away.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" He demanded grabing my shoulder and spinning me around to face him.

I flinched and his grip on my shoulder is getting tighter. He takes his free hand and wraps it tightly around my neck ,blocking my oxygen supply.

"Pleaae..." I let out a pathetic whimper.

"Ahhh!" I sit up walking myself up from my slumber in a cold sweat.

"Why?...why now?"

The past is catching up with me fast than I thought, I hang my head in defeat not wanting to deal with this at the moment.

I turn to my alarm clock which reads '3:12AM' 'the devils hour'.

I get out of bed and walk over to my bathroom. I flick on the light, illuminating the bathroom.

I stare at myself in the mirror, my dark curls framing my face, dark circles for eyes, the pale yellow-ish tone on my skin.

I turn to look at the shelf bellow the mirror which is filled with numerous boxes of pills

I look back up to the mirror to see Him behind me, his hand wrapped firmly around my neck, I turn around only for him not to be there.

I Fall back against the sink, knees coming up to my chest, hand falling into my arms, tears rolling down my face, slight ringing in my ear

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...." I repeat over and over knowing how I failed being my mother's perfect little girl

"Where is my mind?"

#Mental Health Issues #childhood trauma #psychological trauma #tw ptsd #implied child abuse #child abuse #past abuse #tw abuse #Physical Abuse #Emotional/Psychological Abuse #Drug Abuse #Implied/Referenced Abuse #Substance Abuse #Schizophrenia

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atlabeth · 2 months

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dance until we're bones

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem reader

summary: you and hotch both confront a lifetime of things left unsaid when a case forces your past into the light.

a/n: so i started this. two years ago. got 1k in and left it, came back now for some reason, wrote like a freak until it was done. lol. this is quite heavy and different than most things i usually write and it is SO much longer than expected but im very proud of it 🫶 i didn't really pay attention to the canon timeline so just know that reader and hotch were in their early and late 20s in law school (90s) and early and late 30s in present day (early 2000s). title from i lied by lord huron and allison ponthier

wc: 17.2k

warning(s): a lot of angst. typical bau case stuff, murder (familicide), implied/referenced past child abuse, reader and hotch go at it basically the whole time, character death, kidnapping, slight mention of drugging, injuries, mentions of blood. i wouldn’t say a happy ending but a hopeful one

Hotch can barely stay awake.

He got the call thirty minutes to 4 a.m, and if he hadn’t already been up, he would likely be in a much worse mood. He can only hope that the rest of the team has gotten used to rude awakenings at this point.

It’s poor planning on his part—he already got out late due to extra paperwork, and once he got home, he found himself staring at the wall, and then staring at the ceiling. If he’s lucky, he’ll get to sleep on the jet. If things go the way they usually do, he won’t be out until their first night in a hotel.

He started making calls to the team on his way to the office, but to no one’s surprise, he was the first one there. He had time to wash down a shitty office coffee and get started on a second one by the time everyone’s there.

Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ all have coffees—JJ comes prepared with her own thermos, but Morgan and Prentiss fall victim to the BAU’s supply—Reid is fighting back yawns as he tries to fix a hastily made tie, Garcia is slightly less energetic than normal as she passes out files, and somehow Rossi looks the same as always.

Hotch just hopes he’s put together enough to make the team feel better about being here at an ungodly hour.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome,” Garcia greets, setting down the last folder in front of Reid before taking her spot next to Hotch at the front. “As lovely as it is to see all of you this morning, I’m afraid that we’ve got a grisly one on our hands, hence the hour.”

“Great,” Prentiss mutters. “How bad is it?”

“Three married couples have been murdered in St. Louis, Missouri in the past two months, with the most recent one happening yesterday,” Hotch says, and Garcia grimaces as she clicks onto the pictures. “Mom and dad are killed, but the children are spared.”

“Awful lot of similarities between the parents,” Morgan says dryly as he flips through the folder. “Looks like our killer has some family issues.”

Reid nods. “The unsub likely stalks these families once they see the similarities. I’m guessing he was abused as a child, seeing as they kill the parents but keep the children alive.”

“Probably has a grudge against his father,” Prentiss remarks. “They make it out the worst every time.”

“There’s no method to the torture,” Morgan says. “It looks like he’s just trying to make it hurt as much as possible.”

“Our guy probably isn’t trained in anything, then,” Rossi says.

Reid flips to another page in the file. “Serial killers like to see their victims suffer. If he’s not torturing the mom physically, then he’s likely making her watch.”

“He doesn’t kill children, though,” JJ notes.

“Maybe he thinks he’s doing them a favor,” Reid says.

“The unsub sees himself in the kids?” Morgan suggests. “He’s doing what he didn’t get the chance to do.”

“Whatever it is, we have to keep a tight hold on this,” JJ says. “The press eats this stuff up, and the last thing we need is a terrified city making it harder to do our jobs.”

“Especially with families being killed,” Morgan murmurs.

JJ sighs. “I’ll draft something on the jet and make some calls when we land.”

Hotch nods and he closes his file. “Wheels up in thirty. I hope you’re all ready for a long day.”

The jet is silent the entire way to Missouri, full of sleeping agents trying to delay the inevitable—save for JJ scribbling down notes on a legal pad for the first thirty minutes, but even she knocks out sooner rather than later. Thankfully, Hotch manages to fit an hour in himself, though it doesn’t do very much for him. He spends the rest of the time reading through the case file.

The team settles in quickly at the city’s precinct, and Hotch takes charge as usual. The uniforms are just as tired as they are, but he makes it work. Soon enough, JJ is off to work with the local liaison to craft a narrative, Reid has situated himself in an empty conference room to get to work analyzing maps with Garcia, and Hotch and the rest go to check out the crime scene.

It’s brutal—much too brutal for this early, but Hotch forces the emotions out of it and gets to work questioning the present officers. Morgan follows suit, with Prentiss and Rossi going to investigate the rest of the house.

They don’t learn much from the officers that they don’t already know. This is the most recent crime scene—George and Marsha Springfield, undeserving of such a grisly fate. Their two kids, 8 and 9, were off visiting their grandparents in Nebraska when it happened, and though they avoided the same fate, they’re going to deal with a lifetime of guilt.

It’s all Hotch can think about as he examines the first body. The six children left to deal with the carnage, about their past and future marred against their control.

All he can think about is Jack, and the dreary fate that awaits him if his father falls in the field.

Hotch swallows his doubt and his guilt all in one and forces every thought out of his mind. He has to be unshakable for the team, for what’s left of these families, for a city on the brink of hysterics.

They’ll find whoever did this. That’s what gets him through it.

They spent early morning at the crime scene, collecting evidence and gathering information from the officers and trying to make sense of the killer’s motive. Progress is slow, partially because of the hour, but they make enough that Hotch feels comfortable moving onto the next job.

Their four a.m. start time was too early to go knock on doors and get interviews, but now it’s a more normal 10 in the morning. After a quick stop back at the station to share information with Reid, Garcia, and JJ and down a few cups of coffee, they get right back on the road.

Hotch and Prentiss take one van and Morgan and Rossi take the other, splitting up to get what they can from interviews. It’s difficult working with kids, especially with such recent trauma, so they hold off on it for now, allowing the local uniforms that have been with them for a bit longer to set things up before the BAU tries anything.

First they go to a neighbor’s house, then an alleged eye witness. They don’t get much other than personality reads, but it at least gives them the beginnings of a profile. The third place they hit is their earliest idea of a suspect.

“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss reads off the file one of the local officers had put together. “Thirty-nine, born and raised in St. Charles, Missouri. High school degree, but never got to college because he was in and out of jail.”

“What has he been charged for?”

“Booked a few times for public intoxication and convicted three times for assault. Once was for third-degree assault, Missouri’s version of aggravated assault,” she says. “He got out of jail a little less than a year ago, and it looks like he’s been living in St. Louis for some of that.”

“Assault and drinking is a far cry from serial killing, even aggravated,” Hotch says. “What makes him a suspect?”

“Both parents are dead,” she says. “And from the looks of it, it was not a happy home while they were around. He’s got a sister, so it fits the initial theory of trying to replicate his family.”

Hotch lets out a loose breath and nods. “We’ll start there. Try and get a story from this guy, build a profile, see if it matches the one Morgan and Rossi have made for their guy.”

“And hope we pin something down before more bodies show up,” Prentiss murmurs.

They’re at their destination soon enough, and Hotch parks in an open spot on the other side of the road. His eyes dart around as they walk up to the front door, filing things away in the back of his mind.

The house number and last name—1432, Hartford—on the mailbox plagued with rotting wood. What there is of a yard is poorly cut, and a small garden of wilted flowers has their own corner, victims of the winter weather. One car is parked slightly crooked in a small driveway—there’s no garage, so at least he’s probably home. Two potted plants sit on either side of the door, thankfully alive.

“Remember,” Prentiss says as they come to a stop together, “be nice.”

“I’m plenty nice,” he murmurs, and she huffs the slightest laugh.

Hotch knocks on the door as Prentiss fishes around for her ID, and thankfully, they don’t wait long. The door cracks open after a few seconds to reveal a woman—certainly not their unsub, but something a whole lot more surprising.

You.

Your brows furrow at the sight of him, and Hotch has to hold back his shock.

You don’t live in St. Louis. And your last name certainly isn’t Hartford.

“Aaron?” you ask in disbelief, and he doesn’t even have to look at Prentiss to know the questions he’s going to get later.

He says your name, able to control his surprise with only the slightest crease of his brows giving it away, then corrects himself just as quickly. “Miss Hartford. My name is SSA Aaron Hotchner, and this is SSA Emily Prentiss. We’re here with the FBI.”

Your frown deepens as they show their IDs, and you actually take it from Hotch, skeptical eyes scanning over it for much too long. You glance back at him as you hand it back over. “What is the FBI doing here?”

Emily clears her throat as she puts her credentials away. “We’re here investigating the latest murders in St. Louis. Can we come in?”

“The murders?” you ask with exasperation. “What— what murders? And what do I have to do with them?”

Aaron notices the way your grip tightens on the door just the slightest bit, and a shred of sympathy strikes him before he speaks up.

“We’ll be able to explain everything if you let us in,” he says.

You swallow thickly in your throat, your gaze darting back to Aaron before you finally nod. “Okay. Sure. Why not?”

You move and Hotch and Prentiss walk inside, gesturing with a hand towards your living room as you shut and lock the door behind them. “Take a seat. Uh— do you guys need anything? Water, or coffee, or…”

You trail off, and Prentiss shakes her head. “Thank you, but that’s not needed.” She takes a seat on the sofa, but Hotch can’t stop himself from looking around the house.

It’s a small place, one story—likely rented, seeing how paintings sit on countertops and mantels rather than hanging on the wall. It has a certain charm to it, but something is off about it all.

Two styles clash—decorative pillows at odds with a filled and painted-over hole in the wall, an attempt at neutral tones ruined by dark articles of clothing scattered around, one person’s mess barely being held back by another’s cleaning efforts. You lived with someone else. Likely Lucas Hartford, possibly their unsub.

“Are you gonna sit down, Aaron?” you ask, snapping him out of his profiling haze. “Or do you want to look around some more?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, clearing his throat as he walks over and sits down in an open chair near Prentiss. “Just curious.”

“That makes two of us,” you say, and you cross your arms as you look at him. He notices that you don’t sit down yourself, and there’s still a coldness in your eyes. “You’re FBI now?”

He nods. “I had a change of heart.”

You huff a laugh. “Thought at least one of us would be a lawyer by now. I guess not.”

Hotch frowns, but Prentiss takes over before he can continue on that particular thread. “Miss Hartford—”

You interrupt by saying your first name, and it spurns something strange in his chest. It’s been over a decade since he’s heard your voice. “You can skip the formalities.”

Prentiss nods and repeats your name. “As you know, we’re investigating the murders that have been occuring in the St. Louis area.”

“And you think I have something to do with it?” you ask, the accusatory edge to your voice not lost on him.

“Not you,” Hotch says. “Do you know a Lucas Hartford?”

“He’s my brother,” you say, and your frown deepens. “You’re not saying—”

“No,” Prentiss interrupts, “we’re not saying anything. We’re just asking.”

And just like that, your entire stance, your visage, it all changes. Hotch can sense the walls slamming up around you, and he immediately realizes two things:

Getting information out of you is going to be much harder than planned, and you’re not anywhere near the same person you used to be.

Hotch doesn’t know what he expects, really. He graduated with the intent to prosecute for at least a decade—now, he’s with the BAU. It’s not fair to assume you’re that same girl he met in law school.

“My brother is not a murderer,” you state clearly.

“And we aren’t accusing him or you of anything—” she starts.

“Me?” you interrupt, and you let out a harsh laugh. “I’m a suspect too?”

“If you would allow Agent Prentiss to finish her sentences, you would be less upset,” Hotch says.

You glower at him, but you stay silent.

“We aren’t accusing either of you of anything,” Prentiss finishes. “We’re just trying to gather information with what little we know.”

“I know my rights,” you say, unflinching gaze still meeting Hotch’s. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Prentiss looks at him as well, but his eyes don’t leave yours. “That’s unfortunate to hear, Miss Hartford.”

“You know my name, Aaron. Use it.”

He does, and the letters feel strange on his tongue after so long. “This is a serious matter. This isn’t an accusation—we’re in the early days of this case and we need all the information we can get.”

“Ask away,” you say. “Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss starts. “He’s your brother?”

You nod. “He lives with me.”

He lives with me, not we live together. Makes him think that you pay for the place, he came knocking, and you didn’t have the heart to turn him away.

“Why is that?” Hotch asks.

You look at him, those scrutinizing eyes attempting to peer into his soul the same way they did all those years ago. But Hotch has changed since law school, and he’s much better at guarding his emotions. It seems you are, too.

“He’s a student,” you finally say. “He goes to community college. I’m giving him a place to live while he gets his associate’s.”

“Community college and living with his younger sister at 39?” Prentiss is trying to get information out of you, even if it isn’t in the kindest way. Your jaw clenches, and he knows her words have some effect. You’ve probably heard it more than once, the way things are going.

“He’s getting his life back on track,” you say defensively. “I’m the only one left that can help him, so I am.”

“What about your parents?” she asks. “Surely they’re a better option than this.”

“Both dead,” you answer. “And no one else cares enough to help him. Are you here to do anything other than dig up my past?”

Hotch feels Prentiss’s eyes on him, likely because it’s a step in the right direction for a really shitty reason, but he can’t look away from you.

“Really?”

He knows your parents are dead—it was in your brother’s profile, and by extension it applies to you—but it still hits him.

He met your mother, had countless lunches and dinners with her. Helped her move out of her old house. Spent two Thanksgivings and a Christmas with her.

And he didn’t even know when she died.

You shrug and wrap your arms around yourself, and for the first time you look something other than defensive or standoffish. You look— well… sad.

“Mom went a few years after you graduated,” you say, looking at Hotch. “Dad went last year.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Prentiss says.

You nod your thanks, the notion a bit numb.

“You never told me,” Hotch says with a slight frown.

“We haven’t talked in ten years,” you say. “Sorry that I didn’t know you still wanted updates.”

Hotch tries to think of something to say in response, but Prentiss starts getting a call and she stands up. “Excuse me.”

His jaw clenches for a moment as Prentiss ducks into a nearby bedroom, but he’s recovered by the time you look at him again. Your arms are crossed, but your expression is even.

“I take it this was as much of a surprise for you as it is for me.”

Hotch nods. “We came here looking for your brother.”

“Does your team know about our history?” you ask simply.

“No.”

“Do you want them to?”

“…No.”

You huff a laugh, your eyes narrowing a bit. “‘Course not. Probably counts as conflict of interest.”

You wait another beat, then ask another question. “How’s Haley?”

“Good, last I heard,” he says, and then he hesitates. “We’re… divorced.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

He nods. “This job isn’t easy for anyone.”

You look like you want to say more, but once again, Hotch is saved by Prentiss as she walks back in. Her phone is closed in her hand and she looks at him. “Morgan and Rossi have a lead. The chief wants everyone back at the precinct to go over everything we’ve found.”

Hotch nods again and stands up. Prentiss takes her card out of her pocket and holds it out to you.

“Thank you for your time, Miss Hartford. If you find out any information, or want to tell us anything else, please give me a call.”

“Pass that along to your brother, too,” Hotch says.

You reluctantly take the card, but you don’t look at it. “You can see yourselves out.”

Prentiss nods. “Thank you again. Have a good day, and stay safe.”

She leads the way, and Hotch follows after her. He fights the urge to look back before he shuts the door.

Prentiss looks at him as they walk back to the car, and he can only imagine what is going through her mind. But eventually she just shrugs and pulls out her phone again.

“Garcia?” Prentiss asks after she picks up.

“You’ve reached the office of all that is holy.” Penelope’s voice comes out through the speaker, and Hotch can’t help the smallest twitch of his lips. “What’s up?”

“Dig up everything you can find on Lucas Hartford,” Emily says, and her glance at Hotch does not go unnoticed. “And throw in his sister, too. He’s one of our only suspects, and we need to know if she’s in on it.”

“On it,” Garcia says. “I’ll call you back when I’m done.”

“You’re the best,” she says, and then she hangs up. They get back to the car, and it only takes Prentiss all of five seconds after they get in for her to start drilling him.

“Alright,” she says, buckling her seatbelt with a click before she sets her attention on him. “What was that back there? You two know each other?”

Hotch busies himself with his own seatbelt and starting the car, answering as casually as possible as the engine revs to life. “We were friends in law school.”

“Sure,” Prentiss nods. “The way you were around her, that’s not just ‘law school friend’ stuff.”

Hotch is once again reminded of how, sometimes, it was a downfall to constantly be around profilers. It was nearly impossible to keep anything a secret.

“It’s nothing,” he says as he pulls back onto the road. “We knew each other, we fell apart, we’re here now.”

Emily hums. “Is it too far to ask if you were together?”

“Yes,” he says sternly, maybe a bit too hasty. “It is.”

“Fine,” she says breezily, and she looks out the window. “But that tension was thick.”

Hotch knows what she’s thinking. Hasn’t he been with Haley since high school, what kind of history did you and him have, were you together, would he be okay to work this case—

He doesn’t really want to answer any of them. You were a part of his past he hadn’t expected to resurface any time soon—if Hotch is being honest, he didn’t know if he would ever see you again once he graduated. Not after the way he broke things off.

You’ve changed a lot. So has he.

And now your brother is a murder suspect, and you could be covering up for him.

That’s the only thing that should be on his mind.

“For the last time,” you huff as you storm down the stairs, “I don’t want to deal with this.”

“Because you know that Mia is a lying bitch!” Cleo exclaims, following after you. “I’m sick of you stealing my clothes!”

“I’m not stealing your clothes,” Mia scoffs in your wake, just behind Cleo. “They’re too ugly for me to want anyways. I bet I wouldn’t even fit into them.”

“You are! And you’re stealing my fucking jewelry, too!” she yells. “All of my shit is going missing, and I know it’s not Little Miss Law School, so it’s got to be you!”

Mia draws out a mirthless laugh. “You are not accusing me of this.”

“I don’t have anyone else to accuse!” Cleo shouts.

They both look at you, and Mia says your name. “You have to settle this before I kill her.”

“Oh, I’ll kill you first!” she hisses. “At least I’ll get all my stuff back!”

You clench your jaw as your nails dig into your palms, and you’re about to bite back when the doorbell rings. You don’t even try to hide your sigh of relief.

“That’s Aaron,” you say as you grab your coat and your bag from the table. “I’m leaving. If you kill each other, don’t get blood on the furniture.”

You don’t give them a chance to say anything before you rush to the door, open it, and shut it behind you.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” you breathe.

“What’s going on in there?” Aaron asks, amused.

“My roommates are fighting again.” You roll your eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You’re much more interesting.”

“You know this is a study date,” he says wryly, and you cut him off with a kiss.

“Still a date,” you murmur against his lips. “And something seriously needed.”

Aaron chuckles as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side, and the two of you walk to his car. “You’ve gotta get out of this house, honey.”

“I know,” you grumble. “But I can’t afford a place on my own.”

“Doesn’t have to be on your own,” he says as he opens the door for you. “It just has to be away from the girls that are making you miserable.”

“The lease ends at the end of the semester,” you sigh. “Just have to make it until then.”

“You know,” Aaron boxes you in against the car when you lean against the side of it, smiling softly at you, “I do live alone.”

“Oh yeah?” You ruffle his hair with your fingers and grin. “What are you proposing?”

He shrugs, letting his hands linger on your waist. “Just that you hate your roommates, and you don’t hate me. You could spend your time somewhere else.”

“Careful,” you warn. “You keep saying things like that and we might not make it to the library.”

“You keep saying things like that, and I might not mind,” Aaron muses.

You grin as he leans in and kisses you again, once, twice, three times as your back hits the side of his car and you card your hands through his hair. Mia and Cleo are probably killing each other inside, but you don’t really care at this point. They’ve made your life hell for a semester and a half—they can bother each other for once.

“Aaron,” you whisper against his lips, and he gets one more in between words, “I’ve got a test on Tuesday.”

“And today’s Sunday.” He nips at your neck and you laugh, your eyes falling shut as you lean your head back. “You’ll be fine, honey.”

“You have one on Monday,” you remind him, and he sighs. You feel his hot breath against your neck.

“Ruining our fun in the name of schoolwork,” he says. “No wonder all your professors love you.”

“Everyone loves me,” you correct. “Including you.”

You steal one more kiss before you open your door yourself and get in, and Aaron lets out a breathy laugh.

“You’ve got that right.”

He closes your door then gets in the other side, and you’re already rifling through the glove box full of cassettes. You pull out the mixtape you made for him for your six month anniversary and pop it into the player, and Aaron smiles as the first few notes of Stairway to Heaven come on.

“You’re a threat to my grades, y’know.”

“Maybe it’s all part of my plan,” you say. “Distract you with kisses to make sure I’m a shoe-in for this fellowship.”

“A dastardly plan,” he says with mock austerity.

“I’ve been told I have to be more of a shark,” you muse. “Consider this me taking down my competition.”

Aaron laughs, and you find yourself smiling just at the sound of it. You love the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, how they soften just so, how he acts like himself around you, and not some perfected or stoic image that he thinks he needs.

Falling in love with Aaron Hotchner has been the easiest thing in the world.

“Don’t let anyone know,” he says, and he reaches over to intertwine your fingers together. “But I’ll happily fall to you every time.”

“As long as you don’t tell everyone how whipped I am for you,” you tease.

“Looks like we’ve both got reputations to keep up.”

“Looks like it.”

You share a smile, yours just on the edge of a grin as you try to bite it back. You hold hands the rest of the way, just soaking in each other’s presence with songs from bands you introduced to each other floating through the air.

(It is a goddamn struggle to get any work done at the library with that face across from you the whole time.)

You had sky-high aspirations when you were younger.

Ones that would make your teachers offer a smile and tell you to shoot a little lower, that would make your friends’ eyes widen, that your father would scoff at and your mother would humor you on just to get you to move past it.

You didn’t listen. You’ve wanted to be a lawyer since you went on a class field trip to a courthouse in elementary school and saw all the attorneys hustling about, dressed to the nines, making last-minute deals outside the courtroom.

They were just… so confident. So smart, so stoic, always knowing the answer to everything. The good ones had money, sure, but more importantly they had the power to change lives for the better. And as a kid that had to cover up bruises before the school day, nothing sounded more appealing.

All you’ve ever wanted to do is help people.

And as you sit in a cold, empty interrogation room, you can’t help but wonder where the hell you went wrong.

You don’t want to be here, obviously. But you know the FBI won’t stop bugging you until you give them answers—you know Aaron Hotchner won’t stop bugging you.

Because god— what are the odds?

What are the fucking odds of your ex-boyfriend from a decade ago showing up at your door with a badge and an attempted case against your brother?

It’s ridiculous, and it’s such bad luck that you think it could only happen to you. You’ve thought about Aaron Hotchner more than you’d like to admit over the years, especially when you found your old GW crewnecks, and the box of school supplies you used for a decade, and those photo albums from what should’ve been your golden years.

It’s not like any of it matters, though. You only agreed to come in and talk because you want them off your back and you don’t want them poking around your house. You saw it in Aaron’s eyes—he was profiling you and your place the entire time.

If the cops want to invade your privacy even further, they can get a goddamn warrant.

Your thoughts are interrupted when the door opens, and you hold back a mirthless laugh, because of course it’s Aaron. He greets you with your name, and he has a file in his hands. You wonder if it’s on you or your brother. “Thank you for taking the time out of your day to come in and talk with us.”

“Well, you seem to think my brother is a murderer.” You cross your arms as you sit back. “I’m not really gonna let that stand.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked for a lawyer,” he says as he sits down across from you.

“I don’t plan to be here for very long,” you respond tartly. “But don’t worry—that can always change. I know my rights.”

“I’m the last person you need to tell that to.” Hotch sets the file down and looks right at you. Though he’s obviously older—more grizzled, more hardened; harsher, sharper lines that define his face; lips set in a taut, unflinching line—you still see that young man from law school. The passion, the care he puts into everything, the penchant for striped ties.

You wonder what he sees when he looks at you.

“Your last name wasn’t Hartford when I met you,” he says. “Why is it now?”

“Not one for small talk,” you remark.

“I never have been.”

“I remember.” You hold his gaze. “It’s my mom’s maiden name. I changed it to put some distance between me and everything else.”

You can practically see the gears of his brain working, neural pathways branching off with every word you say to make sense of it and reason a thousand different meanings from it. Aaron’s always been like that, but it’s tenfold now.

You suppose one has to be like that, to try and get anywhere with the types of criminals they face.

“How long have you been living in St. Louis?”

“Seven years. I’ve had that house for three.”

“Rent or own?”

“Rent,” you scoff. “I don’t make enough for a down payment, and I don’t want a place tying me down.”

“What inspired the move?”

“Close enough to home to be familiar, far enough to not be.”

“And home is?”

“St. Charles,” you say, and you purse your lips. “Shouldn’t you already know all this?” You nod at the file in front of him. “It’s either on me or my brother, and we share a lot of the same info.”

“We prefer to get our information from the source,” he says.

“Sources can lie.”

Aaron doesn’t waver. “And we can charge you with obstruction if it harms our investigation.”

Your lips twitch for a moment, not entirely without heart. “Ask your questions, Aaron.”

He opens the folder and slides the first picture over to you—your brother’s first mugshot, taken when he was only twenty-one. You still remember riding your bike to the station in the sweltering August heat to drop off his bail and pick him up.

You had to catch the bus home together, you had to pay his fare, and his bail drained everything you’d been saving from your waitress job. But your dad refused to pay it, and you refused to be alone in that house any longer than you already had.

You swallow the memory. It still tastes as sour as the day it happened.

“Lucas Hartford is our main suspect,” he says. “He matches our initial profile—in and out of jail since his twenties, his parents are dead and he has an unstable home life, and he’s got a sister.”

“None of those sound like questions,” you say.

“Where is your brother?” he asks firmly. He’s given you a bit of leniency, but you can tell he’s getting tired of you. Some things never change, you think to yourself bitterly.

“I don’t know,” you admit.

“You don’t know,” he repeats.

“I let him stay with me, and my only requirement is that he goes to his community college classes and stays out of jail,” you say. “He’s done both, so I stay out of his business.”

“And you’re telling me you haven’t questioned it?”

“I called him the other day after you left,” you say. “He didn’t pick up, and I didn’t get a call back until the next night.”

Aaron’s eyes sharpen. “What did you say to him?”

“I called to see where he was,” you say evenly. “I think you all are wrong, but I wanted to make sure he was okay.”

“You didn’t tell him—”

“No,” you interrupt, “I didn’t tell him about your investigation. If I think you’re wrong, why would I need to let him know?”

He still has that look in his eyes, and you know you’re getting on his nerves with the constant interrupting, the constant backtalk. But he probably deals with much, much worse.

“Good,” he nods. “You could be putting lives in danger if you do—including yours.”

“Please,” you scoff. “He won’t hurt me. He never has.”

“Why do you let him stay with you?” Aaron asks. “You’re straight-edge, he’s a borderline alcoholic that’s been in and out of jail for years. You’ve got a law degree, he never made it past high school. You’ve got your life together, his is falling apart.”

“That’s why I do it,” you say. “Our parents are dead. I’m all he has left, and he’s all I have left. I want him to get better, so I’m trying my best to help him get there. How can Luke put his life back together if he’s got no support?”

“That’s an awful lot of faith to put in someone who hasn’t earned it.”

“I’ve gotten good at that over the years,” you reply.

Aaron stares at you, and you stare back. You let the moment linger. You hope it stings, even fleetingly.

“And you’re wrong, by the way.”

“About what?” he asks. Again, unshaken.

“I don’t have a law degree,” you say. “I dropped out.”

And for some reason, that is what gets him. He frowns, and you wonder what it means that this is the most unexpected thing he’s gotten out of you.

“Why? You were only a year out. You had stellar grades.”

“My mom got cancer,” you say. “Luke was serving his second stint, Dad fucked off to some corner of the country to drink himself to death a couple months before. I was the only one left to take care of her, and I couldn’t do that from DC.”

“I had no idea.” This is the first time he looks taken aback since you’ve met him again. “And she’s—”

“Dead,” you supply without waiting for an answer. You know he already knows it, but it still seems to have some effect on him. “Went a couple months after I was meant to graduate.”

“…I’m sorry for your loss,” he says. He’s just repeating what his agent said at your house, but it feels genuine, at least.

“It’s been a decade,” you say. “I’m just sorry it was her instead of my dad.”

Aaron’s brows knit together again, and less work goes into covering it up this time. “You seem to have something against your father.”

You huff a mirthless laugh. “Excellent profiling.”

“Child abuse is common for serial killers,” Aaron says. “We find it’s typically the root of their problems later in life, or plays a part in their MO.”

You stare at him again. This isn’t just an interrogation with Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner—it’s revealing parts of your past that you never told your ex-boyfriend Aaron.

“Yeah,” you finally say. “Our dad beat us. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“You know th—”

Aaron cuts himself off before he can finish whatever he wants to say, and he lets out a short sigh with a nod. “It’s valuable information for the profile.”

The room feels a lot colder all of a sudden. “Sure.”

He still looks like he wants to say more, but he bites his tongue as he takes the picture back and closes the file.

“I’ll be back,” he says. “Would you like anything? Water?”

You shake your head and remain silent. He takes the folder and stands up, and you watch him the entire way to the door. Just before he can open it, you find words escaping without you thinking.

“Look, Aaron,” you blurt out. He pauses, and he turns to look at you. “I know this is your thing, and this is your investigation, but I’m telling you—my brother and I don’t play any part in it.”

“The profile—”

“I don’t care what your profile says,” you interrupt. “He didn’t do it. He couldn’t have done it.”

“He’s rough around the edges, I know. In and out of jail isn’t good for anyone.” You hold onto the edge of the table as you continue rambling, needing something to do with your hands. “But he’s working to get better, and he is not the kind of person to do something like this. If you believe anything I say, believe that.”

“I suppose we’ll find out,” he says evenly.

He leaves the room, and your hands fall into your lap as your nails dig into your palms. You don’t mean to be desperate, but you feel it. You’ve been defending Lucas at every chance, but you’re terrified of being wrong. You’re terrified that Aaron might be right—that he might be behind all of this.

For his sake—and your sake, honestly, because you think you deserve to be selfish when he’s all you have left—you hope you’re right.

You have to be right.

The room feels even colder.

Your stare drifts to the one-way mirror, where you know his team is watching. You saw the way Agent Prentiss watched Aaron when they came to your house—he said he doesn’t want them to know, but you think they already do.

You wonder the kind of things they’ve come up with about you and him.

Morgan whistles when Hotch walks out of the interrogation room.

“She does not like you.”

“Did you gather anything else?” he asks placidly. He sets your brother’s file down so he can fix his tie.

“Abusive dad, dead parents, criminal background,” he says. “Lucas is looking like a stronger suspect. Oh— and she really doesn’t like you.”

“If you don’t want to go back to building a file on your suspect, move on,” Hotch demands.

Morgan shrugs, clearly unfazed, but he keeps his mouth shut. Reid, meanwhile, is still staring through the glass at you. You haven’t exactly relaxed, but you’re not as tense as you were while talking to Hotch. You pick at a loose strand of thread on your sweater, and when you pull it out, you let it fall to the floor.

“Her brother feels like a prime suspect,” Reid murmurs. “I feel like I could just figure it all out if I could talk to him.”

“I told Penelope to keep an eye on him,” Prentiss contributes. “She’s tracking his cards, the car registered in his name, even called the person in charge of the AA meetings he goes to to keep an eye out—everything. We’ll know if she gets anything.”

“Serial killers want to see the damage they’ve done,” Reid says. “Things are falling apart here—the whole city is terrified. He’s gotta be in St. Louis still.”

“You’re sure that he’s still in the running.” Hotch glances back at you, and he knows he has to at least ask, for your sake. He doesn’t want to put you through anything more than he has to—not after what you’ve told him.

And Hotch knows your past is your business—he just can’t believe you never told him.

He’s turned over your relationship in his head just as many times in these past few days as he did the months after he ended things.

“I’m sure, sir,” Reid says. “I’ve read over both their files, and Lucas matches with our preliminary profile. His stressor could have been his father dying.”

Morgan frowns. “Explain.”

“Family annihilators typically go after their own family for a myriad of reasons,” he says. “Paranoia, to cover up their lies, to free themselves from what they see as oppression, sometimes just pure jealousy.”

“He’s killing the parents but leaving the children alive,” Hotch says. “Sounds like a liberator to me.”

“That’s what I think,” Reid nods. “If Lucas has been banking on killing his father for that attempt at freedom, and then lost the chance?” He shrugs. “That could be why he started going for other families.”

“Other fathers to take his place,” Morgan realizes, and he nods again.

“You should talk to her, Spence,” Prentiss says. “You’ve got a handle on the profile, and you’re pretty good at conveying info. She seems like a reasonable person—just can’t accept her brother doing something like this.”

“It’s typical for someone to deny their family member’s involvement,” Reid says. “No one wants to think their sibling is a murderer.”

“If you lay it all out for her like that, with facts and the profile, I think she’ll listen.” Prentiss looks at Hotch. “She’s too closed off with you.”

“That’s how she is,” Hotch claims.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, “but it’s much easier to hate you than it is to hate Reid.”

Hotch glares at her, and Reid clears his throat to insert himself back into the conversation.

“I’d be happy to talk to her,” he says. “I know what it’s like to be in this kind of position—I can put her at ease, sympathize with her.”

They all look at Hotch, and he wants to say no. He wants to be the one to get this out of you—some part of him wants as much time with you as possible. But he decides to swallow his ego.

“Fine.” He nods, and he hands the folder to Reid. “I trust you to handle it.”

Reid nods too, far too many times, and he takes the file. “Thank you. Uh— sir. I appreciate your trust.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, but it has no bite to it, and Reid walks inside.

He says your name and sits down across from you. “I’m Spencer Reid. I know we’ve already said it, but thank you for talking to us. It may not seem like it, but it goes a long way towards figuring out this case.”

You nod. You already seem more at ease than you were with him, and it makes Hotch…

Not jealous, because that would be insane. But it makes him upset that he doesn’t understand you the way he used to—that he doesn’t hold that key to you anymore. God, it feels like he doesn’t know you anymore.

Hotch doesn’t get why a side of his brain still thinks this way about you.

“They sent a new one in,” you say.

“You looked like you needed a break from Hotch,” Reid says. “Don’t worry. We all do sometimes.”

You huff a slight laugh and your posture eases, your expression softens just so. Reid was right, as usual.

“I can imagine.”

He starts talking to you about the case, laying out all the facts, and though you don’t look happy, you don’t cut him off like you cut Hotch off.

“She’s pretty,” Morgan offers, glancing at Hotch. “And stubborn. I see why you like her.”

“Shut up, Morgan,” Hotch mutters.

He chuckles and holds his hands up, and focuses back on the interrogation.

The rest of it passes in silence, save for the occasional input from Prentiss or Morgan to elaborate on a point. You talk much more with Reid than you did with Hotch, and you don’t stare daggers at him the entire time.

Time doesn’t always heal all wounds, he thinks.

When Reid is finishing up inside with you, Morgan glances back at Hotch. “You think she’s part of this?”

He shakes his head. “No. She has no reason to kill, nothing to gain. She talks about her past too plainly—it hurt her, obviously, but it hasn’t taken over her life.”

“What about her brother?” Prentiss asks.

“The more we learn, the more I suspect him,” Morgan says.

She nods in agreement. “We just have to find him.”

Hotch isn’t sure yet.

But for your sake, he hopes his gut feeling is wrong.

Spring has finally sprung in DC, and you couldn’t be happier.

It’s hard to feel down on your walks to class when the birds are singing and the sun is beaming down on you, when you see students sitting on blankets reading and talking and actually enjoying life for once.

You’re two years into law school, and it feels like you’ve spent 90% of your time studying in either the library or your room. A bit of a sad existence, but it’s made better with Aaron.

You’re laying down on a blanket—one you crocheted yourself in undergrad—resting your head on Aaron’s chest as he reads a book, the spring sun shining down on you. It feels like the first moment of relaxation either of you have had since classes started, and you chose to spend it together in the University Yard.

You should probably be studying or doing some kind of homework, but you don’t care. It has been too damn long since you’ve gotten to just sit around and exist with Aaron, and you’ve got at least a couple days until your next quiz. That’s far enough away for you.

It’s been a rough semester for both of you, between classes and endless homework, between your internship and your endless family issues—Luke is two years in, and his parole was denied, and your dad still insists on being the reason you stay on campus year-round.

You don’t think you’re pushing it when you say Aaron’s support has been the only reason you’ve gotten through it, your grades—and your mental state—relatively unscathed.

Aaron says your name, and you hum.

“Are you listening?” he asks.

“Of course,” you say.

“Your eyes are closed.”

“I don’t need my eyes to listen,” you say wryly. “What’s up?”

You feel him tense for a moment, feel him adjust his position slightly.

“I got a call from Haley,” he says carefully.

Your eyes open and you frown.

You know the name, but only in the way that you talked a bit about your past relationships while you were still getting to know each other. She was his high school girlfriend, and it was a big deal then, but they broke up before college because they both wanted different things.

It shouldn’t be a big deal now. But he’s treating it like one, and that makes you hesitate.

“Yeah? What’d she want?”

“…She’s in DC for the weekend,” he says. “Some conference for school. She asked if we could grab a coffee or something and catch up.”

You finally sit up, his hands falling from where he’d been playing with your hair, and you look at him.

“Your high school girlfriend wants to catch up.”

“An old friend wants to catch up,” he corrects. “I haven’t really talked to her since we graduated high school.”

“…Okay,” you say slowly. “Do you want to see her?”

He shrugs. “I thought it would be nice.”

“Do you think she thinks it’ll be more than nice?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t even know how she got my landline. I think my mom might have given it to her.”

Your eyebrows rise. “Your mom gave your ex-girlfriend your number?”

“It’s the only way I can think of her getting it,” Aaron shrugs. “Like I said, I haven’t talked to her since graduation.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to think as you look at Aaron.

You’ve met his mom a dozen times. You’re insistent that she doesn’t like you, despite Aaron’s assertions towards the opposite—it wouldn’t surprise you if she gave this girl his new number in an effort to push him in a new direction.

But that train of thought feels a little crazy. You’re confident in your relationship with Aaron—you love him, and he loves you. God, he made an off-handed comment about marriage the other day. You’re not threatened by a girl from his past wanting to catch up.

“Go for it,” you finally say.

He frowns, like he was expecting the worst. “Really?”

“I trust you, Aaron,” you say. “You say she’s just a friend, I believe it.”

You lean forward to kiss him, your eyes fluttering shut, and it lasts much longer than it should. When you pull away, Aaron’s smiling softly at you.

“Thank you,” he says.

“‘Course,” you say, tipping a shoulder. “I’m known to be rational from time to time.”

He chuckles, and you smile as you lay back down on his chest. Soon after, you feel the weight of his hand on your shoulder.

“I love you,” he says. It feels more like a reminder than anything.

You entangle your fingers together and press a kiss to the back of his hand.

Sometimes you need reminders.

“I love you too.”

“Four more bodies,” Prentiss mutters. “God.”

“You can say that again,” Morgan murmurs.

Hotch is silent as he examines the father’s body. They’ve been so busy the past few days trying to nail down the profile, both on their unsub and geographically, that this happening again hadn’t been at the top of their list. There was a month between the first two, and two weeks between the second and third.

No one expected this to happen so soon.

The entire family was killed this time, and once again, the parents look similar to the other victims. It’s the work of their unsub, no doubt.

Hotch and the team had already been at the precinct for an hour going over all the information they’d found when they got the call at 8 in the morning, the bodies discovered by the family’s maid when she arrived for work.

An entire family, parents and children, senselessly slaughtered for one man’s deranged quest for liberation.

Hotch has been in this business for a long time, seen things that most people only imagine in nightmares, and he still has to take a step back when children are involved.

He sees Jack in every single one. He can’t help it.

Hotch took Prentiss and Morgan with him to the crime scene—JJ has a kid, Rossi had a kid, and he just didn’t want Reid to see it. They’ll all be more valuable working together back there anyways, and it’s imperative that JJ controls the narrative before this can break to the press.

Again, Prentiss talks to the officers at the scene and Morgan helps him examine the bodies. After all, there are double the amount.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Morgan says as he stands back up. “Our guy is killing surrogate parents to get back at his own, fine. Dad was tortured again, mom was killed with a bullet. But bringing the kids into it isn’t his thing.”

He uses a gloved hand to gingerly lift the father’s arm away from his body so he can examine the underarm. “Look at this. He’s been stabbed at least ten times, and his arm’s nearly severed from his body.”

“And his neck,” Morgan mutters. “He’s half decapitated.”

Hotch sets the arm back down. “The unsub always wants the father to suffer, but this is a new level.” He looks up at Morgan. “I don’t think he has a reason for killing the children. I think he’s getting sloppy—he’s getting overwhelmed by his anger.”

“You think he’s devolving,” he says, catching on.

“Something tells me we’re coming to the end of the line,” Hotch says. “Whatever he does next, he’s going out with a bang.”

The mood in the precinct has fallen dramatically since the last hit. The uniforms aren’t happy that they’re working around the clock, the chief isn’t happy that the BAU hasn’t figured everything out yet, and the city isn’t happy that ten murders have been committed with what they think is no end in sight.

JJ and Rossi have gone out to bring in the suspect that he and Morgan found together for the sake of covering their bases—they still haven’t been able to find Lucas, despite Reid calling you every day to check in and upping police presence around the city.

The rest of the team sits around a conference table, over a dozen coffees between them, going over everything and racking their brains for information.

“This just isn’t matching up,” Reid complains. “Lucas has just been at home for the first two, but for the third and the fourth he’s got alibis.”

“What are they?” Hotch asks.

“He was on the road all night when the third happened,” Reid says.

“And how do we know?” Prentiss asks.

“Garcia picked up his debit card being used a couple times from Des Moines back to St. Louis when the third set of murders happened,” Morgan contributes. “Must’ve been a road trip, because there are stops at a gas station, a restaurant, and a rest stop.”

“The last one happened during an AA meeting he was supposed to attend,” Prentiss says. “I called the leader and she said he was there.”

“Do we have footage from any of those places?” Hotch asks. “We need to make sure.”

Reid nods. “I asked her to check it all this morning, including the AA meeting. She must still be going through it—I can’t imagine it’s easy to get all that access.”

“What about a second unsub?” Morgan suggests.

Hotch shakes his head. “These are all meant to be personal for liberation—catharsis. Involving someone else would take away from the feeling.”

“What about your suspect?” Prentiss asks, looking at Morgan. “Could he be the unsub?”

“Patrick Fenton,” Morgan says, and he shrugs. “He fits it—dead parents, jail time, child of abuse. But he’s got two sisters, and his parents died when he was in his twenties from a car accident. I don’t see why he would start killing almost twenty years later.”

“Maybe we’ll figure something out in questioning,” Reid says hopefully.

Morgan’s phone suddenly goes off, and he hits the button to answer. “You’re on speaker, babygirl.”

“I found the security footage from those three places, the ones that Lucas was at on his supposed road trip when the third family was hit,” Garcia says, voice slightly tinny through the phone.

“And?” Hotch asks.

“I was getting there,” she says. “Lucas wasn’t there. He wasn’t on any of the footage—his sister was.”

Hotch frowns. You?

“You’re sure?” he asks.

“I’m always sure,” Garcia responds. “And I don’t know if Spencer is there, but he also wasn’t there at the AA meeting—I combed through the whole meeting, and he didn’t show up at any point. Just another guy that looked like him.”

“And you’re sure about that, too?” Hotch asks again.

“What is with this questioning of my abilities?” she asks, offended. “Yes. I’ve stared at so many pictures of Lucas Hartford over these past few days that I’ve got him burned into my brain.”

“Thanks, babygirl,” Morgan says. “We’ll call back if we need anything.”

“And you’re always welcome in this house of miracles,” she muses. Morgan chuckles before he hangs up.

“Lucas gave her his card,” Reid realizes. “It’s an easy alibi, but it falls apart when you look into it even a little bit.”

“Probably seemed solid to him at the time,” Morgan says. “He doesn’t seem like a detail oriented guy.”

Prentiss frowns. “That means he’s back on the chopping block. We can put him at the scene of every murder.”

Hotch leans over the table and grabs Lucas’s file, and he pulls out the page compiling his family. “His father died a year ago from liver failure. Hartford got out of jail nine months ago after a six year stint.”

“If he’s been plotting some elaborate murder of his father for years, just to get out of jail and find out he drank himself to death?” Morgan shakes his head. “He’d snap. It doesn’t feel like justice.”

“He thinks he’s saving the kids of these parents that he kills,” Reid says. “He sees himself in them—he can’t look past his own childhood, and he assumes those kids must want their parents dead too.”

“He’s trying to get back at his dad,” Prentiss says. “We know that.”

“But that’s not his main goal,” Reid insists. “If his dad died when he was a kid, the abuse would have stopped. His mom wouldn’t be the battered wife anymore, and he wouldn’t be the battered kid.”

“His goal has always been protection,” Hotch realizes. “Yes, he’s getting his revenge by killing his father over and over, but ultimately, he’s trying to save himself.”

“But he didn’t anticipate the kids being home this time,” Prentiss says. “He had to kill them too.”

“If he‘s seeing himself in these children, recreating what he never got to do, then that means that he effectively died in this scenario,” Reid says.

“He didn’t get what he wanted,” Morgan says. “That’s gonna take a toll on him.”

“He’s coming to the end of the line,” Prentiss nods.

Hotch’s brain is working overtime as they work information off of each other. They’re so damn close—they just need the last piece of the puzzle. If they find Lucas’s next victim, they find him.

“His next crime will probably be his last before he goes out himself,” Reid says.

“You think it’ll be a murder-suicide?” Morgan asks.

“It’s common with family annihilators,” Reid says. “Hell, it’s common with anyone who sees no future beyond their murders. It’s their way out.”

And then the answer hits Hotch like a ton of bricks. Reid is still rambling next to him.

“If his dad was still alive, I’d say he would be the target. But the only one left—”

“—is his sister,” Hotch grits out, and he’s dashing out of the conference room before anyone can stop him.

“Hotch!” Morgan yells, and he turns to Prentiss with wild eyes. “Where the hell is he going?”

“The last victim,” she says as she starts following him. “The one person he never managed to save.”

“Goddammit,” Morgan curses, and he grabs his phone from the table, dialing Garcia as fast as she can while he runs. Reid is close behind him.

“What’s up, sugar?” she asks. “Got anymore leads?”

He laughs dryly. “We’ve got a big one, babygirl. Lucas has finally reached the end of the road — he’s going for his sister. I need you to call JJ and Rossi and—”

“Send them the Hartford address and fill them in on everything?” she interrupted, and he could hear her fingers flying across the keyboard. “Already on it.”

“What would I do without you?” he asks.

“Be half the man and twice as sad,” she says. “I’ve got to call JJ. Be safe, my love.”

“Always,” he responds, and he hangs up.

Hotch distantly registers Prentiss stopping by the chief to alert him of what’s going on, because he’s in the fog of a rampage. He’s in the driver’s seat before he knows it, starting the car, and he sees Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid running out after him.

Prentiss takes shotgun and Morgan and Reid file into the back, and they’ve all got Kevlar vests in their hands. He didn’t really think of that through his haze.

“We’ve got an extra one for you,” Reid says, reading his mind.

“Thank you. I— I know what you’re all thinking—” Hotch starts, but Prentiss shakes her head.

“Just drive.” Her lips set themselves in a taut line. “We’ve got a murder to stop.”

And he does.

You sit on the curb, surrounded on either side by a box of your things. Packing up everything made you realize how little you had at his place. You thought you’d integrated yourself into his life fully, but it really just took an afternoon while he was in a lecture to disappear.

Summer has fully turned to winter, and you’re as morose as the weather. This side of town looks so depressing without the warmer months to pick it up—the sidewalks are lined with dead trees, the grass is shriveled up and yellowing, and you feel like you’re living in grayscale.

A shiver runs through you, the weather only partly to blame.

Amy is supposed to pick you up, but as usual, she’s running late. You don’t know if it’s a personal issue or DC traffic has just struck again, but it doesn’t really matter. Either way, you’re stuck here, and your bad luck seems intent on making it worse, because you watch a familiar car pull around the corner.

It parks a distance away—there’s no space in front of the complex, and he always complained that they didn’t do assigned spots—and you have to hold back a scornful scoff.

Of course you have to deal with this now.

Aaron picks up his pace when he gets out of the car, surprise—and what you think is shame—painted on his face. He says your name when he slows down.

“You’re already packed.”

You shrug. “I’m nothing if not efficient.”

“I could’ve helped you with all this,” Aaron says, frowning.

“Why do you think it’s done already?” you ask.

His throat bobs and he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Let me save you the pain of chivalry,” you say. “I’ve got a friend coming to pick me up. I’ve already found a place. I called your property manager the other day and argued my way out of the lease, but I still paid my next month. You’re welcome.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says.

“You know what they say about a clean break,” you intone.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron tries again. To his credit, he looks like he means it. Against his credit, it’s about the fiftieth time you’ve heard it from him in the past two weeks.

“I shouldn’t have let you get that coffee,” you say with a grim smile, “should I?”

His lips pull into a taut line. “I didn’t cheat on you.”

“I know,” you say. It’s the one thing you do believe. “I just don’t think you ever fell out of love with her.”

Mercifully, you see Amy’s car pulling up in the distance. She’s your only friend with an SUV, so at least your boxes will fit.

“My ride’s here,” you say as you stand up, and you pick up one of your boxes. Amy throws on her hazards and she gets out to open her trunk.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she breathes. “Traffic was awful, and Jake has been so annoying—”

“Don’t worry about it,” you say with a slight smile as you put your box in the back. “You’re already doing me a huge favor.”

“I want us to still be friends,” Aaron calls. When you turn back, he has your other box in his hands, his expression shamelessly desperate. Amy glares daggers at him.

“Why?” you ask innocently. “So I can go without talking to you for ten years, ask you for a coffee when I’m in town, and then get you to leave Haley?”

“That’s not what happened,” he says, but you’re already shaking your head.

You take the box from him and smile thinly.

“Have a good rest of your life, Aaron. I hope it doesn’t involve me ever again.”

You let out a noise of frustration as you struggle to get the key into the lock, gritting your teeth as you try to fit it in. It’s always been finicky, but you just don’t have the energy to deal with this tonight. Thankfully, just when you start getting annoyed, you get it open.

You get a few steps in before your eyebrows rise, the sight of your brother at the kitchen table a surprise. He’s got his head in his hands, and your surprise turns to concern.

“Lucas,” you say with a slight smile, shutting the door behind you, ��I didn’t know you were gonna be home tonight.”

His attention shoots to you immediately as he says your name, and he looks slightly out of it. “I was wondering when you were gonna get back.”

“Stole the words right out of my mouth,” you say wryly, and you ruffle his hair with your free hand as you walk past him. He swats your hand away in brotherly protest, and you snort. “This place has been quiet without you. Well— except for the cops. They were pretty loud.”

“They haven’t been back, have they?”

You look back at him and notice his leg is bobbing up and down insanely fast, and he keeps scratching at the soft wood of your table with his nail.

Your smile fades. “Don’t tell me you’ve been drinking.”

“Of course I haven’t,” he insists, but you turn on the kitchen light, then move closer to peer into his eyes against his protests.

“At least you’re not high,” you murmur, taking one last look before you pull away. “And stop ruining the table. I need it to last for the next ten years.”

He huffs, and you can practically hear him roll his eyes, but he stops.

“Did you go to class today?”

“You don’t have to act like Mom,” Lucas says, crossing his arms again with another huff.

“And you don’t have to act like a child.” You roll your eyes as you set your tote bag on the countertop and begin unpacking the groceries you bought. “I’m asking you about your day—that’s definitely not acting like Mom.”

“Yes,” he mocks. “I went to class.”

“Good.” You glance back at him. “I’m proud of you, Luke. You’ve been making progress.”

His smile is a bit thin, but he nods. “Thanks. How was work?”

You scoff and shake your head as you put a couple things in the pantry. “Don’t even get me started. I swear, Marie’s going to get me fired someday if she keeps her bullshit up.”

“She’s still on it?” Luke asks, and you can’t help but smile a bit.

“Don’t act like you know what I’m talking about,” you say. “Just agree with me.”

“I agree with you,” he says.

“That’s it,” you muse.

Your eyes fall back on your bag, and you’re reminded of what you meant to do next time your brother showed up.

“Oh—” You go back over to the kitchen table for your bag and pull out your wallet. You slide a debit card out and hold it out to your brother. “Thanks for letting me use it while I was up in Des Moines. I finally got my bank to get rid of the freeze on my card.”

“…Of course,” he says, and he takes it back. “Glad I could help.”

“I’ll pay you back, obviously,” you say as you get back to your groceries. “I just have to wait to get paid again.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “And uh— you never answered me. Did the cops come by again?”

You huff a mirthless laugh and shake your head. “You have nothing to worry about, Luke. I think they finally realized they were barking up the wrong tree.”

“…Good,” he says. “I can tell they’ve stressing you out.”

“Like that looks any different than my normal state,” you say wryly. “Besides, it wasn’t that bad.”

You recall the shock you felt when you opened the door to Aaron, and how nervous you were on the drive to the precinct. It’s almost been a decade, and yet he still has an effect on you that he has no right to.

“You remember that guy I dated when I was still in law school? Aaron Hotchner?”

“I think? I was in jail, so.”

You roll your eyes. “I know I told you about him when I visited you while we were together.”

“I remember you telling me how he broke your heart,” Luke says.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“That he’s with the FBI now. The BAU,” you enunciate, and you huff. “He’s one of the guys on this case, coincidence that it is. They came here—they even brought me in for an interview.”

He frowns. “What’d you say?”

“The truth.” You pull your cutting board and a knife out of a drawer and get to work washing your vegetables. “That I didn’t know anything, and neither of us are involved in either way.” You shake your head with a sigh. “They must believe it, because they haven’t come back.”

“What have they said about me?” he asks.

“I’m not supposed to say.” You roll your eyes. “I think you’re innocent, but I could get charged with obstruction, and I really don’t feel like dealing with that…”

You trail off into a sigh as you finish washing the peppers and set them on a towel. “I hope they find whoever’s doing it, though. It is freaking me out that there’s a murderer out there.”

You pick up your knife and start cutting them up—they’re not the freshest, but it’s all Kroger had after work—and you glance back at Luke. “You really shouldn’t be going out so often with this going on, y’know. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m careful.”

“I doubt that,” you say wryly. “Still, though. I worry about you.”

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” he asks. “I’m your older brother.”

“I worry about everything,” you say. “It’s my thing.”

You hear him huff a laugh and you smile a bit to yourself. You get through your first pepper before you remember what’s been nagging at you your whole ride home.

“Oh— can you get the TV?” you ask. “Channel 8, I think. Marcy is getting interviewed for something with her nonprofit, and I told her I’d record it for her.”

Lucas doesn’t respond, though you hear the scrape of the chair as he gets up.

“Thank you,” you say. “I think they have a fundraiser coming up or something…” you trail off and shake your head as you scrape the cut peppers onto a plate. “God. I need to start paying attention in the break room.”

Another few seconds pass, and you don’t hear the television switch on. You huff and turn your head slightly. “Luke, I’m making dinner tonight. This is the least you could do.”

“I’m sorry.”

The words come out as a murmur, but you can tell he’s much closer than he was before.

You don’t even get the chance to turn around before something crashes against your head and your vision goes dark. You feel yourself fall to the ground, and your head hits the floor hard.

Then, there’s nothing.

Hotch has been breaking every speeding law there is.

The station isn’t too far from your house, but it’s still too far. All he can see is your body, crippled and lifeless just like every other victim they’ve had to look at.

It should never have gotten to this point. Lucas has been a suspect for the first day, but they looked to other suspects, got caught up in statements from neighbors and the kids of the victims.

If Hotch just found him and booked him on the first day, this wouldn’t be happening. Your life wouldn’t be in danger.

His hands tighten on the steering wheel.

“I seriously think we’re looking at a murder-suicide if this gets to play out,” Reid speaks up from the backseat. “This is his way of ending this for both of them—the ultimate protection of his sister.”

“No one can hurt her if she’s dead,” Morgan mutters.

“Hotch,” Prentiss starts, treading carefully, “are you sure you’re okay to lead this?”

“Yes,” he says, though he wants to say what kind of question is that?

You were together a lifetime ago in law school, yes, and he might still have feelings for you that he didn’t even realize were there, yes—but he’s an agent and a professional before all of that.

It doesn’t matter that you have history. It doesn’t matter that you likely hate him.

It doesn’t matter that he thought he was going to marry you one day, and then was watching you drive out of his life after he got back with his high school girlfriend another day.

Aaron Hotchner is not going to let you die. It’s as simple as that.

Hotch’s phone rings and he picks it up and flips it open immediately. “Talk to me, Garcia.”

“JJ and Rossi are on their way,” she says. “Are you headed to their place?”

“Yes,” he says, and he puts it on speaker. “I’ve got Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid with me still.”

“Do you think there’s anywhere else he could be?” Morgan asks. “If he’s going to kill her, he might not want to do it in this house.”

“Already a step ahead of you, my love,” she says, and he can hear mouse clicks through the phone. “They grew up in a house in St. Charles—it’s abandoned, from the looks of it, some place on the outskirts. Never got another buyer after the past owners moved out. I’m sending the address to Emily right now.”

Prentiss gets a buzz on her phone and she nods in confirmation after flipping it open. Hotch immediately switches lanes and makes a U-turn, his jaw clenching.

“Tell me how to get there, Prentiss,” he says. “He’s there.”

“You need to get on I-70,” she says, and then her brow furrows. “How do you know?”

“He’s killed everyone else in their homes because he sees it as the source of it all. His sister’s rented place isn’t personal enough.” Hotch shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t he want to go back to theirs to end it all?”

“Hotch.” Penelope’s voice rings out in the car, and he doesn’t even realize he forgot to hang up.

“What?”

“Be careful,” she says, and he rushes to turn it off speaker and press it to his ear. “I�� I know how important this is to you.”

Hotch’s throat bobs and his eyes burn with the beginnings of tears. He blinks them away—he can’t be weak now. He can’t let his team see him be weak now. “Dare I ask how?”

“I found an article about GW’s mock trial team,” she says. “Kind of went down a rabbit hole from there.”

Somehow, he huffs the slightest laugh. It feels like a lifetime ago—it honestly is, at this point. Before he saw carnage and gore on a daily basis and tried to solve it, when he thought the DA’s office was the endpoint, when he came home to your smiling face every night.

And now…

Hotch’s spine somehow stiffens, and he knows the other three in the car are watching him. He can’t decide whether he cares or not.

“Thank you, Garcia.”

“No problem,” she says, and he can almost hear her blink in the pause. “Uh— for what, exactly?”

For the memory, he wants to say. But he doesn’t. He can’t, not right now, so he tries his best to snap out of it.

“Keep a watch on the patrol cars,” he says instead. “Update JJ and Rossi on our plan, but tell them to stay on their path. I’m sure I’m right, but we need to cover our bases.”

“Of course, sir.” He hears her fingers flying across the keys. “I’ve got yours and the squad cars’ locations up—I’ll call them now.”

“Thank you,” he says.

“Good luck, Hotch,” Garcia says softly.

Hotch hangs up before he gets too emotional. Penelope has a way of bringing that side out of him.

“We’ll get him,” Prentiss assures. She’s been watching him this whole time, he can feel it—she’s been attuned far too keenly on this entire part of the case involving you and him. “And we’ll save her.”

His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, and for once, Hotch can’t find the words.

It feels like your head is slowly being cranked in a vice when you eventually wake up, a dull but insistent pain. Your arm stings too, but you don’t know why.

You blink a few times as you try to figure out where you are, a low groan slipping out as you fully come back into consciousness, and you move to rub the grogginess out of your eyes.

Your arms don’t move. You try again, panic spiking your heart for a moment, and that’s when you realize you’re in a chair—tied to a chair, your wrists bound together behind you and your ankles bound to the chair legs.

Now the panic fully sets in. There’s a murderer in St. Louis, but you don’t fit the victimology from what you’ve seen, but does any of that fucking matter when you’re stuck in something out of a horror movie?

Lucas was the only one there with you. So either he’s in the same situation, or he—

“You’re finally awake,” a voice murmurs. When he comes into view and sits down across from you, your heart stops.

For a moment, all you can do is stare at your brother with wide eyes. You see the gun in his hand through your peripherals, but you don’t look away from his gaze.

“I was worried I was too rough,” he says softly. “But you’ve always been resilient.”

“Lucas,” you breathe. “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s finally going to be over,” he says, ignoring your panic. “We’ve been hurting our whole lives because of that bastard of a father, and I can finally make it all stop.”

Your brother is fucking crazy. He’s fucking crazy, and he’s going to kill you.

You’ve spent two weeks telling Aaron he was crazy and your brother was innocent, and now he’s going to be proven right when he finds your dead body.

You try to tamp down on your panic. You don’t have a law degree, sure, and you never officially practiced, but you’ve been a good speaker, a persuasive one, all your life.

And if there’s ever been a fucking time to be persuasive, it’s now.

“You don’t have to do this,” you whisper. “We— we can talk if you want to talk.” You tug at your ankle restraints. “This is unnecessary.”

He shakes his head. “I know you. You’d run.”

“Come on.” You manage as much of a smile as you can. “I’ve always been there for you, Luke. Why would this be any different?”

“…You’ve always been too nice,” he says, and he sets the gun down on his leg. At least he doesn’t have his finger on the trigger. “Anyone rational would’ve kicked me to the curb when I asked you for help.”

“You’re my brother,” you whisper. “I— I love you, Lucas. I’d never do that to you.”

“Family’s supposed to be everything, right?” He shakes his head. “You were the only one of us that understood that. You were there to pick me up every time my sentence was up.”

“I’ve always believed in you,” you say.

He huffs a monotone laugh as he stares at the ground. “You’re definitely the only one.”

You shake your head. “That’s not true.”

“Mom didn’t care enough to stop anything,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “And Dad wished I was dead every goddamn day. He didn’t have the guts to do it himself, but he definitely tried.”

You can’t defend your parents. Your dad’s a piece of shit, and your mom didn’t stop anything he did—but you could never find it in yourself to fully hate her because he hurt her too, with more than just bruises.

“I’ve dreamt of killing our dad every day for twenty years,” Lucas says. “And that old bastard had to fuck me over one last time and die while I was in jail.”

You remember when you got the news. You were next of kin—your mother was dead, and your brother was incarcerated—so you got the call from the hospital. You deliberated for hours before you bought a plane ticket to Montana—apparently that was where he fucked off to drink himself to death—and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt more numb than when you were sitting in some lawyer’s office, listening to him drone on about his will and how his estate would be divided.

“So you killed all of those people?” you asked. “Because you didn’t get to kill our dad first?”

“I was saving those kids!” Luke yells, and you shrink in on yourself. “Saving them before their parents could fuck them up like ours did to us!”

“You don’t have to do this,” you repeat. “You’re just letting Dad win. Proving every shitty thing he said about you.”

“And that’s the zinger, isn’t it? Luke laughs and shakes his head. “He was right. We’re a whole family of fuck-ups. An alcoholic abuser, a battered wife, a nonstop jailbird, and you…” He shakes his head with a sigh. “You should be out there prosecuting people like me.”

“He ruined us,” Luke murmurs. “And I’m finally going to fix it.”

All you can do is stare at your brother, wide and teary eyed. You can’t find the words, but you don’t have to.

Police sirens begin to filter through the air as they get closer, and Luke huffs. “Of course.” He eyes you. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” you say weakly.

When he leaves to peer out the front door, you take a second to look at your surroundings. It takes a second because they’re so decrepit, but you could never forget.

Luke brought you back to your childhood home—the place in St. Charles, rotten down to its bones. It’s abandoned by now, but the atmosphere is nothing less than oppressive. There’s a reason you graduated high school a year early, why you never came back once you got to college—except with Aaron, to help your mom move her things out.

You refuse to die here. Even if you have to claw your way back through the gates of Hell inch by inch—you will not die here.

You hear footsteps, and when Lucas comes back in, he has a crazed glint in his eye. He shakes his head as his finger returns back to the trigger, and you can’t help but flinch. He won’t. Not now.

“Looks like your friends the FBI are here,” he drawls. “You said you didn’t tell them anything.”

“I didn’t,” you insist. “They’re profilers—they figure things out.”

He shakes his head. “They don’t realize that I have to do this.” Luke kneels down in front of you and takes your chin in an iron grip. “This is the only way to end our pain.”

He lets go of you then stands up, moving behind you—you want to protest, but you don’t get the chance. He presses his gun to your temple and then the door is broken down. Four agents rush in, guns at the ready. Aaron leads them, and he’s got fire blazing in his eyes.

“FBI,” he barks. “Hands up.”

Lucas doesn’t seem fazed, his breathing staying the same. You stare right at Aaron, unfiltered fear in your eyes, and you feel torn bare. He’s going to watch your brother put a bullet in your head.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he says smoothly. “This is a family matter.”

“Put the gun down, Lucas,” Aaron says.

“You know my name,” he says. “I know yours too, Aaron Hotchner. My sister told me you were with the feds. She also told me you broke her heart.”

“Put the gun down,” he repeats.

“I don’t think I will,” Luke says. “You see, I don’t go around just kidnapping people for fun. I have a purpose here.” He tilts his head to the side. “But you know that, don’t you? You’re all profilers.”

“You’ve been targeting families that look like your own,” he says. “You think that killing them will end the pain inside you, and protect those kids in a way that you never got.”

“I don’t think it,” he bites, “I know it. If my dad had been shot thirty years ago, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“This isn’t going to bring you peace,” Aaron says. “Your sister has been the only person to stay by your side through every part of your life. Do you really want to lose that?”

“Trust me,” Luke says. “I’m not losing her.”

He flicks the safety off and you flinch. He’s going to kill you.

“Put the gun down,” another agent warns.

“If you all don’t leave right now, I’ll shoot her.” Your whole body stiffens as he presses the gun harder into the side of your head, your breathing going off kilter. “Except you, Aaron Hotchner. You can stay.”

“We’re not doing that,” the woman says. Agent Prentiss, you think.

“Really?” Luke chuckles. “You think you hold the cards here?”

“It’s okay,” Aaron says. “Go.”

Agent Prentiss frowns, and the other two men look different levels of puzzled. They obviously doubt the decision, but they don’t doubt Aaron, because one by one, they leave.

“Wow,” Luke muses. “They really trust you.”

“Because I know you don’t want to hurt her,” Aaron says. “Deep down, you know you’re not protecting her. Not by hurting her.”

“I’m not hurting her,” he says. “She’s always been the one to keep me safe over the years—I’m finally paying the favor back. I’m finally taking her pain away.”

“You were abused as children. Both of you.” Aaron looks at your brother. “Your sister always tried to protect you, but it never worked. It just made it worse for her, and it made you feel worthless. You’re her older brother. You’re the one that was supposed to protect her.”

“My sister said you’re profilers,” he says, and though his tone is lazy, you know your brother. You can tell it’s starting to get to him. “Is that what you’re doing right now? Profiling me?”

“You would never be good enough for your father, and your mother would never do anything to stop it,” Aaron continues. “All you had was your sister, and even that wasn’t good enough—you hurt her just as much as your dad did. At least your dad didn’t think he was a good person.”

Luke growls, and he puts a hand on your shoulder to pull you closer to him. “Shut up.”

“Your sister has told me you can be more than this,” he says. “And I think she’s right. You’re better than this—better than living between the margins and jail.”

“I’ve had a hole in my chest since I was born,” Luke mutters. “And I’ve tried to stop it, but it’s just grown and grown and grown. This— this aching pit of pain, and he caused it. You’ve got it too— I know it.”

“I— I do,” you say. And you’re not lying. You’ve had a pit of despair in you for as long as you can remember. The only difference is that you’ve fought every goddamn day of your life to keep it from consuming you. “And it hurts, Luke. Trust me, I know. It took me so long to even be able to deal with it, but I know how to. I can help you—we can both walk out of here.”

“No,” he whispers. “No—we can’t.”

“Yes, we can,” you plead. “I love you, Luke. I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life helping you if that’s what it takes to get rid of that hole.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. For a moment, you think you’ve gotten through to him. Aaron never takes his eyes away from you.

“I’ve never been able to protect her,” Luke murmurs. “Not from our dad, not from the world, not even from you, Aaron Hotchner.” He presses the gun harder than ever into your head, like he wants to bury the metal in your skull along with the bullet. “But that all ends now.”

You screw your eyes shut. You don’t want to see Aaron’s face when your brother kills you.

And then it happens so quickly you barely process it.

There’s two gunshots, almost at the same time. You scream, first because of the gunshots, then because of the sudden roaring pain in your side. There’s a thud next to you, your eyes shoot open, and you see your brother’s lifeless body fall to the ground.

You scream again—you can’t even control it, it just rips out of you at the sight of the hole in his head and the blood pooling beneath it—and Aaron drops his gun to rush forward. The rest of his team thunders in after him, all in guns and bulletproof vests, and they’re talking, but you can’t focus on a single goddamn thing because your brother’s dead body is right next to you.

Aaron pulls out a pocket knife and begins to cut through your restraints, and the instant he finishes you collapse. He catches you without a second thought, and you immediately wrap your arms around him.

Torrential sobs wrack your entire body as you bury your face in the crook of his shoulder, every part of you shaking as the reality of it all hits with full force.

Your brother is a serial killer. He killed ten people, he tried to kill you. And now he’s dead.

The only part you had left of your family—gone, just like that, with four other families ruined in his wake.

Aaron’s soft voice in your ear is the only thing bringing you back from the edge of hyperventilation, his own hold on you the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs and he shrugs off his windbreaker to wrap it around your arms. “You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

“He’s gone,” you choke out, voice muffled as you speak into his chest. “He’s gone, and he tried to—”

A fresh round of emotions hit you, unable to get the words out, and you fully break down in Aaron’s arms.

“I know.”

Aaron’s fingers linger on your side and you feel some dull pain, but you feel his breath still for a moment.

“You were shot,” he says with your name. “We have to get you to a hospital.”

You don’t even feel it. God, you don’t feel anything. There’s a distant ringing in your ears, an insistent pain in your skull, and you finally realize Aaron is right when you pull away and see the blood on his fingers.

But black spots start to fill your vision. You may not feel it, but your body holds the score. The pain intensifies in your side as your adrenaline starts to slow down, and you collapse against Aaron.

“Get an EMT in here!” he yells, keeping an arm wrapped around you. “We’ve got a GSW— she’s losing blood fast!”

You can feel Aaron’s rapid heartbeat, can feel his steady arms as he keeps you propped up. You feel the warmth of his body, feel the warmth draining out of yours.

“Aaron,” you whisper, your strength fading. You don’t think he hears you.

He helps you up and you’re suddenly hoisted onto a stretcher, and he’s beside you as the EMTs run you out of your childhood home. The night is a blurry canvas of red and blue lights, and your eyelids feel like they’re made of concrete.

“Aaron,” you try again, and you have enough left in you to grasp his cheek. “Thank you.”

And as the world goes black around you for the second time, you see his lips form your name.

It’s not a bad thing, you think before darkness overtakes you, for Aaron Hotchner to be the last thing you see before you die.

You wake up in the hospital alone.

You don’t know what you expect. You have few acquaintances, fewer friends, and the last part of your family is dead after he tried to kill you.

The real surprise is that you wake up at all.

Lucas is dead.

He tried to kill you. You thought he succeeded.

You let out a slow, even breath, accompanied only by the sounds of beeping machines. It still doesn’t exactly feel real.

You’ve spent the last two weeks defending your brother against every accusation, and you ended it in the hospital—well and truly alone for the first time in your life.

You look at the television. Some muted soccer game is playing, and you’re thankful. You were worried that you and your brother would be the topic of the day.

Who are you kidding? You’re going to be the topic of the year. He killed ten people. He tried to kill you, and you think he nearly did. He shot you, after all.

You let your head fall back against the pillow. All of your limbs feel insurmountably heavy, your side aches like hell, and you’ve got the worst headache of your life.

And you can’t stop playing it all over in your mind.

He was going to kill you.

Your own brother, your flesh and blood, the only person you had left, tried to kill you and would have killed you had it not been for the BAU.

Had it not been for Aaron Hotchner.

The door opens and someone walks through, your eyes following the movement, and when he sees it, he pauses. And so do you—apparently the devil appears even when you think of him.

“You’re awake,” Aaron says after a moment. It’s the third time he’s sounded surprised since you’ve met him again. Seeing you, finding out your mom is dead, seeing you.

But there’s relief there, too.

He has a coffee in his hand and his tie is undone, the sleeves of his white undershirt rolled up to his forearms. It makes you realize his suit jacket has been slung over the back of the chair near your bedside.

“How long have you been here?” you ask, your brows furrowing ever so slightly.

Aaron closes the door and sets his coffee on the table before he answers you. “Three days.”

“And how long have I been here?”

“Three days,” he says. “You suffered head trauma, they discovered drugs in your system, and… you were shot. You had to go into emergency surgery.”

You frown, and he answers before you can ask any of them. “…Your brother. After he knocked you out, he used something to… keep you out. And after I shot him, he still got one off—thankfully, as he was falling. The bullet hit you in the side instead of the head.”

“How bad was it?” you ask.

Aaron glances away. “You died on the table. They managed to bring you back, but…”

“I guess Luke did succeed,” you say absentmindedly. Aaron doesn’t laugh, and you glance away too. “Sorry. Bad time for jokes.”

He shakes his head. “If anyone’s allowed to joke about this, it’s you.”

Your lips twitch for a moment, but then you look back at him as he takes a seat at your bedside again. He looks— god, he just looks tired. Tired and ragged and downtrod, and you can’t imagine you look much better.

“You were out for two days after,” he explains. “This is the first time you’ve woken up.”

“Why are you here, Aaron?” you ask quietly. “Why have you been here?”

Aaron frowns. “Where else would I be?”

Your throat feels like it’s closing up, and you feel the telltale pinpricks of tears. You blink them away before they can start.

“My brother was a serial killer, Aaron.” Your hands clench into fists as you stare at the wall. “He killed ten people while he was living with me and I— and I didn’t even fucking notice.” Your gaze moves back to him. “I went against all of you because I thought I knew him, and look where it got me.”

“It’s not a crime to want to see the best in people,” he says. “Especially your family.”

“It’s a crime to fucking murder people,” you huff, and it’s only slightly unhinged. “I— I thought I knew him, and I didn’t. And if I did, maybe none of these people would’ve had to die.”

“Don’t blame this on yourself,” Aaron demands. “Lucas was lost. Mentally ill. He was on a path for revenge, for his deranged idea of protection—nothing you could have said or done would have stopped him.”

You shake your head. “It might be easy for you to say that, Aaron, but I— I can’t. He’s my brother. I gave him a place to live, I gave him easy access to families— god, I fought with you all for two weeks about his innocence, all while he was planning his next fucking murder!”

“It is not your fault,” he repeats, slower and enunciating the words. “He was the only member left of your family, and you loved him. You were just stubborn, and that’s nothing new.”

“I just don’t know what to do.” You’ve had these walls up for so long, especially this past week, and now that everything’s come to a head and you’re in the hospital and your fucking brother is dead, the floodgates have opened. “I have to plan a funeral because I’m the only one left to plan one, but— but does he even deserve one? He’s a serial killer, and he tried to kill me for god’s sake, but he’s my brother and even though he’s gone he’s still all I have left and—”

You break off as you suck in a huge breath of air, the notion shaky as you clench your hands into fists to keep the rest of your body from doing the same.

“And I just don’t know what to do,” you repeat, barely a whisper.

You meet Aaron’s eyes, almost desperately. You feel like you’ll shatter into a million different pieces if you even breathe wrong and he might be the only solid thing in your life.

“Whatever you do,” he says, “you don’t have to do it alone. Not if you don’t want to.”

“Aaron,” you start shakily, but he continues.

“I know what you think, and that’s not what I’m suggesting.” Aaron pauses for a moment, and it’s obvious how carefully he’s crafting his words. “I’ve… always regretted how we left things. And I regret losing touch with you. This isn’t the way I would’ve liked to meet you again. But I’m thankful I have.”

He pulls a card out of his shirt pocket and holds it out to you. You realize it’s his business card, and it’s got his number.

“I’m sorry for the formality,” he says dryly, “but I don’t exactly go around prepared to give out my number for purposes other than work.”

You take it without giving yourself the chance to think about it. You run your finger around the sharp edge of the cardstock, pressing the pad of your thumb against the corner.

“Years ago, you wished me a good life, and that you didn’t want to be involved in it,” he says, still treading carefully. You can’t believe he remembers the last thing you said to him. “But— but a lot has changed since then, and I hope that has as well.”

“I’d like you to be a part of my life again,” Aaron finally says, “if you want to be a part of mine.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Two and a half years of law school flash behind your eyes—coffee shop dates and endless hours spent studying at the library. Movie nights cuddled on his couch, hauling boxes out of your house at an ungodly hour to get away from your roommates. An unhealthy amount of all-nighters immediately followed by going out to celebrate a miracle of an A on an exam. Getting through every soul-sucking part of earning a J.D. together, falling apart before either of you could make it to the other side, and somehow…

Somehow, you’ve ended up on a completely different side together.

“My life isn’t going to be easy,” you say faintly. “Especially… moving through this.”

“My life isn’t easy either,” he says. “I’m divorced with a kid and I try to solve murders every day.”

“It’s not a contest.” An attempt at a joke, but it falls flat for you. Aaron’s lips still quirk at the edges the slightest bit.

“Getting through this certainly won’t be easy,” he agrees. “But I have more experience than most in these sorts of things. So if you ever need anything, call. Please.”

“I imagine you’re pretty busy,” you murmur. “Unit chief and all.”

Aaron shrugs. “I make time for the things I care about.”

Thankfully, you don’t have to figure out how to respond to that, because there’s a knock on the door, and a nurse walks in after you call a come in.

“It’s good to finally see you awake, sweetheart,” the nurse says with a smile. It warms you from the inside out.

“It’s nice to be awake,” you say. Her smile widens and she moves over to the computer in the side of the room—to add some things before she makes her checkup, you assume.

“I’ll give you some time alone,” Aaron says.

Before he can stand up, you grab his hand. It’s fully on instinct, and he looks just as surprised as you feel.

“Don’t go,” you plead, and it’s almost a whisper. “I— just— please.”

Aaron stares at you for a moment, that shock glinting in his eyes before it transforms into something a lot warmer. He nods and sits down.

“Okay.”

And he stays.

This time, he stays.

#i was truly possessed while writing this i can't understand it #i wrote 15k words in 5 days #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner imagine #sadie writes

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hectorthedoggo · 1 month

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teehee!! new chapter!!

tws under cut (but, they have slight spoilers, so steer clear :D)

Tws: referenced underage drinking (/j), suicidal ideations, implied past es not living la vida loca (slight physical, emotional child abuse), also, there is no csa/sa at all in this fic for es, btw :)

(@kani-miso good morning)

#milgram #milgram es #es milgram #fugue au #fuuta kajiyama #kazui mukuhara #mikoto kayano

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yandere-daydreams · 10 months

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Title: The Housepet.

Continuation of The Houseguest.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Kaveh x Reader x Yandere!Alhaitham (Genshin).

Word Count: 2.0k.

TW: Implied/Referenced Non-Con, Prolonged Imprisonment, Mind Break, Physical Abuse, Dehumization, Obsessive Behavior, and Delusional Thoughts.

You’d been shaking for the past two hours.

Violently enough for the tremor to be visible in your shoulders, in the jerkiness of your rare movements, but not so aggressively as to disrupt the path of the tears Kaveh would occasionally catch running down your cheeks. It’d started halfway through your tryst, while his head was still buried between the thighs he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for weeks, and the warm bath he’d run hadn’t comforted you the way he’d hoped it would. He thought that getting you out of Alhaitham’s clothes, Alhaitham’s colors might help, but even dressed in one of his shirts, your hair pulled out of your face by one of his jewel-studded clips, you shook like a leaf caught in the morning gale. When he tried taking your collar away, hoping that it’s absence would let you (however momentarily) forget Alhaitham, you broke your silence to beg him not to, and his bleeding heart won over his better judgement. You got to keep your collar, even if the sight of it around your throat sent a bolt of discomfort straight to the pit of his stomach.

Currently, he had you on his bed, curled up in a nest of his sheets and wrapped in his arms as he tried to tempt your permanently downcast gaze back onto him. It hurt him to see you in such obvious distress, as little as you seemed to care what he thought. He could only imagine what you were like when Alhaitham had his way with you, that brute. At least Kaveh had made an effort to be gentle with you. He was sure that, behind closed doors, Alhaitham wouldn’t so much as—

Speak of the archons and they will appear. As he rubbed shallow circles into your bruised hip, Kaveh heard the door to Alhaitham’s flat creak open, a series of familiar footsteps following shortly after. There was no pretense of a search – Kaveh could’ve counted the seconds it took Alhaitham to arrive at his door, to let himself into Kaveh’s room with the same irritatingly neutral, ‘I already know this will be a waste of my time’ expression he always seemed to wear. He didn’t even attempt to knock, but Kaveh supposed that was just karma. He supposed he wouldn’t be in this mess at all if he just tread a little more carefully around Alhaitham, around you.

Despite his brazenness, Alhaitham chose to linger in the doorway, his gaze flickering from Kaveh to you to the love bites littered down the length of your neck. Kaveh was the one to break the silence, eventually. “You’re supposed to be working.”

“And you’re supposed to be paying rent.” Then, resting his shoulder against the doorframe, “I left early. I wanted to see how you two were faring.”

Kaveh scoffed. “Don’t pretend you’re clairvoyant.” Alhaitham paid him a look, and he threw his head to the side, pulling you closer. “I’m only trying to some love to someone you’ve been neglecting for months. The poor thing’s so traumatized by your company, a little affection’s rendered them nearly catatonic.”

Alhaitham let out a dry laugh, his expression remaining completely unchanged. “That is not what they look like when they’re catatonic.”

Kaveh moved to spit out something accusatory and defensive, but Alhaitham only held up a hand. When Kaveh begrudgingly went quiet, Alhaitham took a step closer, positioning himself at the foot of Kaveh’s bed. He clicked his tongue and, with only the slightest amount of hesitation, you broke away from Kaveh and crawled to your keeper, head bowed and hands pawed. You came to kneel in front of him, your gaze never rising higher than Kaveh’s sheets. “I’m sorry, I tried to…” You trailed off, clenched your eyes shut. A flower, so meek and so delicate, it couldn’t help but close its petals for fear of being burnt by the sun. “I’m sorry.”

Alhaitham took on a look of pleased exasperation. “That won’t be necessary. You remember what I told you before I left, right?”

You nodded. “That it wouldn’t be my fault.”

“Close, but not quite.” He smiled, resting his hand on top of your head. You melted into his palm, although the sigh that slipped past your lips betrayed more relief than solace. “I said he wouldn’t be able to control himself. That’s the thing about Kaveh – no matter what I put in front of him, he’d be able to justify taking it for himself.”

Again, Kaveh tried to protest, to reiterate that he hadn’t ‘taken’ anything, but Alhaitham already going on, his hand drifting to your cheek, then your chin, tilting your head back to better take in the hickey bruised into the corner of your jaw, the evidence of Kaveh’s teeth still embedded in your shoulder. “You should’ve seen what I had to deal with a few months ago. Fighting, scratching, and such a mouth – I’m glad we found a better use for it.” A pause, a glance toward Kaveh. “I’m sure even you can admit that this is an improvement. A little training goes a far way, when you’ve got the right handler.”

He felt something sharp and heavy fall into the pit of his stomach. “It sounds like you’re talking about an animal.”

Kaveh didn’t want to be strict with you. He didn’t want to be like Alhaitham; endlessly cruel, endlessly demanding, a void where all emotions more sentimental than lukewarm indifference were eradicated with the utmost efficiency. He wanted to be soft with you, a reprieve you could run to when Alhaitham proved unyielding. He wanted to love you, if only because of how much it hurt him to see Alhaitham failing to do the same.

“It’s not completely different. Give a subject the right incentive, and it doesn’t matter whether you’re trying to tame a student or a sumpter beast. This subject just happens to do well with direct instruction. I found that out early on, after a softer approach proved ineffective.” He snapped his fingers, and as if guided by a string, you straightened your back, your formerly divided attention now focused solely on Alhaitham. “I could teach you a few of their commands, if you think you could be strict enough not to undo all of my hard work.”

But, seeing you kneel in front of Alhaitham, staring up at him like he’d hung the stars in the sky – he couldn’t help but feel his heart ache at the memory of the state you’d been in only a few minutes ago, of the trembling doll who needed to be posed by hand. At least, under the weight of Alhaitham’s commands, you were more of a house pet than a toy, more of a flower than a block of crumbling stone.

The thought alone should’ve made him feel sick.

Should’ve.

He straightened, swung his legs over the side of his mattress. He looked at you as he spoke, only letting Alhaitham take up a fraction of his peripheral. “What do you mean by ‘commands’?”

Kaveh wasn’t looking at him, but he didn’t have to be.

He could hear Alhaitham’s grin in his voice. “Come here.”

He took long seconds to push himself onto his feet, to find his way to Alhaitham’s side. With a soft hum, Alhaitham stepped back and brought a hand to Kaveh’s waist, another to his shoulder, drawing him forward until he was standing in front of you. He could see something spark in your eyes – not quite distress, but confusion. There’d been a change in the routine that you and Alhaitham had perfected, and you clearly weren’t sure how to react. To his credit, he wasn’t either.

“You already saw how to get their attention,” Alhaitham started, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “Names haven’t had much affect since our time with the cellar, but most verbal commands are fairly straightforward. Kneel, sit, and stand all do exactly what you’d assume, and while they usually ask for approval to speak, they’re good at responding to direct questions. Aren’t you, love?”

Kaveh watched you perk up, looking towards Alhaitham for approval. He offered a curt nod, and with a few seconds of deliberation, you managed a small “…I am.”

“See? There’s still a brain in there after all.” Alhaitham flashed that awful smile toward Kaveh. Kaveh didn’t return the gesture. “We’re making progress, but due to prior incidents—” Alhaitham’s tone didn’t change, but you flinched. “—our outdoor privileges are still restricted. Kitchen access is limited, too, until someone proves that they know how to handle knives responsibly.”

You bowed your head, a scolded dog who knew better than to pretend it hadn’t learned its lesson. Kaveh interjected before Alhaitham could forget the point of his lecture. “That’s not what I care about.”

He could practically taste the smugness radiating off of Alhaitham. “And what do you care about, Kaveh?”

“I can’t believe you’d hold this over my—”

“Answer the question,” Alhaitham cut in. “If you want to use something that belongs to me, you’re going to have to tell me what you plan to do with it.”

It felt like something was attempting to crawl up his throat, one spiny leg at a time. It felt like his chest was about to split open. “I want to be…”

His eyes met yours. For a moment, he thought he saw something other than the dull acknowledgment of an unpleasant reality, other than the fear of punishment and the anticipation of reward. Something more visceral, more conscious than what could be ingrained into you by someone else’s hands.

“I’d like to be loving with them.” He saw it for a moment and then, that visceral something fell apart and disappeared. “I’d like for them to love me. Or, to act like they do, at least.”

Alhaitham let out a breath of a laugh. It sounded like nails against porcelain. You seemed to think so too. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Your voice sounded so painstakingly delicate. If he had a little less self-control, he might’ve taken you in his arms and whisked you away, taken you somewhere Alhaitham couldn’t follow. If he was a little less selfish, he would’ve. “It wasn’t.”

If Alhaitham heard you speak out of turn, he was willing to overlook the infraction. “Use the collar. Just make sure not to pull too hard – you won’t like what that means.”

It was Kaveh’s turn to shake, now. He tried to keep his hands steady, to touch you as carefully as he had when you were alone together, but his limbs felt disconnected from his body, his mind buzzing numbly with a static haze. The material was softer than he thought it would – not quite the silk he’d taken it for, but rather, a fine velvet, soft to the touch and bound by a small, metallic ring that rested over your throat. Two fingers slipped under the thin fabric, and as if you’d only just noticed what was happening, you looked toward Alhaitham, your lips parting and—

There was a blur of movement in the corner of his eye, a resounding crack that seemed to ring in Kaveh’s ears for seconds. It took him a moment to piece together what had happened, to associate your reddened cheek with Alhaitham’s raised hand, and another to realize Alhaitham was talking, to hear something other than the sound of his own heart racing in his chest. “Do not question the orders you’re given,” he said, his tone flat, unaffected. “If you act out again, there will be consequences. Do you understand?”

There was no hesitation, no trepidation. Just a deep breath, a new slackness to your posture, and a smile terrible enough to match Alhaitham’s own. “I do. Thank you for correcting me.”

Kaveh couldn’t take it. He didn’t think, didn’t wait, didn’t give himself time to think better of being so rough with you – just took your collar in his fist and dragged you upward, forcing his mouth against yours. It was messy, clumsy, near violent. His teeth cut into your lips, your blood spreading over his tongue, but you didn’t pull away. Rather, you leaned into him, resting hands on his chest and doing your best not to jolt when he hauled you closer. He’d be gentle with you later on. He’d treat you like the delicate, precious thing you were later on.

For now, he just wanted to pretend he was telling himself the truth, when he said that.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #alhaitham x reader #yandere alhaitham #yandere kaveh #kaveh x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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wangxianficfinder · 5 months

Text

In the mood for...

Jan 22nd

~*~

1. Hiiii!!!!!

This is for ITMF,

Like de aged tropes with little lan zhan or little Wei Ying being cuteeee with each other <3

Thanks a lot for all the hard work 💯

Hope you have a great new year ahead filled with love and happiness☺️☺️☺️ @ffaddictsrn

❤️ grow by cafecliche (T, 14k, WangXian, Age Regression/De-Aging, Character Study, Post-Canon)

no time for crying by Narci (T, 10k, WangXian, Wwx protection squad, Age Regression/De-Aging, Kid!WWX, kid!lsz, night hunt gone absolutely right, (lowkey golden core fix it), Fluff, Angst and Feels, Humor, Juniors)

i carry your heart with me by lulu_kitty (G, 12k, WangXian, Age Regression/De-Aging, Established Relationship, Post-Canon, Fluff and Angst, some knives but honestly this is mostly fluff, possessive littol a-zhan, wei ying may ONLY give attention to a-zhan, no one else it's the rule)

A Little Happiness by Suspicious_Popsicle (M, 20k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Age Regression/De-Aging, if you're looking at that last tag + the rating don't worry, the rating is only for the very end)

~*~

2. Hi, do you have any fics that include or are entirety lan zhan pov? @chellsky

wide enough and wild by impossibletruths (E, 64k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Getting Together, Canonical Accidental Baby Acquisition, Families of Choice, References to Depression, Happy Ending, I Swear To God I’m Giving Them A Happy Ending, Overzealous Use Of Imagery, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Well Except WN But He Was Already Dead So, Fix-It of Sorts)

Obedient and Bellicose by thunderwear (T, 20k, Wangxian, Ella Enchanted AU, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, cursed LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good brother LXC, LQR loves his nephews you cant change my mind, LWJ crying, Protective LXC, Pining, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Brief Depictions of Violence, meaning at least one of the people you really want to get stabbed does in fact get stabbed)

A Matter of Time by mrcformoso (E, 41k, wangxian, Time Travel Fix-It, POV LWJ, POV JC, Dark LWJ, LWJ goes crazy, Manipulation, Grooming, Except LWJ & WWX are physically the same age, but LWJ kept his 30 year old mind, Wangxian Get a Happy Ending, Consensual Underage Sex, Except problematic please read warning in first chapter, Blood and Violence, Insane LWJ, Manic LWJ, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Conditioning, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Anal Fingering, WWX is a Lán, Minor Character Death, Golden Core Reveal, Good Friend NHS, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiāngs, Abusive Jiang Family, Not Jiāng Family Friendly, POV NHS, Dark NHS, Anal Sex, Marathon Sex, Dual Cultivation, Horny Wangxian, QHJ Lives, LWJ Has a Big Dick, Self-Lubrication, WWX Self-Lubricates, Qíshān Wēn Indoctrination, Plot Twists, Porn With Plot, Sunshot Campaign, Not Lánlíng Jīn Sect Friendly, Scheming NHS, Manipulative NHS, BAMF LWJ, BAMF WWX, BAMF NHS, Burial Mounds Lore, Sentient Burial Mounds, Married Wangxian, Implied Mpreg, Adopted LSZ, Breathplay, Dark WWX, Yandere LWJ)

🔒 The Price of Old Wishes by SoManyJacks (E, 67k, WangXian, Minor canon divergence, Angst, POV LWJ, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, semi-verbal!LWJ, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide)

🔒 no new age by everythingispoetry (M, 146k, wangxian, LSZ & LWJ, LXC/JGY, LXC/NMJ, Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Permanent Injury, Recovery, Disability, Parenthood, Character Study, Thirteen Years of WWX’s Death, Growing Up, Family Dynamics, Self-Discovery, Mental Health Issues, Grief/Mourning, Families of Choice, Developing Relationship)

the cycle of regret by KouriArashi (T, 14k, WangXian, Groundhog Day, Fix-It, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Alternate Canon)

A Narrow Bridge by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 700k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Getting Together, First Time, Pining while fucking, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Angst with a Happy Ending, CQL Verse, almost everybody lives/almost nobody dies, epistolary-ish, canon-ish side pairings, radishes)

body and soul by TooSel (E, 41k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Marriage Proposal, Everyone Lives AU, Cultivation Sect Politics, Yílíng Wèi Sect AU, Adoption, Smut, Friends to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending)

🧡🔒Truth Will Out (when caught on video) - End_OTW_Racism! by KizuKatana (E, 151k, wangxian, WN & WWX & WQ, graphic depictions of violence, modern cultivation, canon divergence, YZY abuses WWX , caught on camera, partial core removal, WWX kicked out of Jiang sect, livestreamer WWX, meet ugly, dual cultivation, smut, no war, WIP) It includes large sections of Lan Wangji's perspective and POV. But the story is mostly from WWX's POV.

🧡🔒 rain falls and soaks into the earth series by RoseThorne (T, 53k, WangXian, WIP, Near Death Experience, Attempt Drowning, Madam Yu Bashing, Recovery, No war AU)

🔒 the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break by RoseThorne (E, 91k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Self-Esteem Issues, Fix-It, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, PTSD, Handfasting, Panic Attacks, Getting Together, First Time, Aftercare, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Scars, Chronic Pain, Golden Core Reveal, First Time, Switching, sex-related injury, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, LSZ is a Wèi, Good Sibling JC, Dissociation, Burial Mounds Settlement Days)

🔒 Under the Fireworks by handwritten (onefromanotherworld) (G, 1k, wangxian, Fluff, Supportive WWX, Near Future)

In Imitation of Life by travelingneuritis (E, 70k, wangxian, modern cultivation, scifi au, android WWX, tone: neon seedy, rich people are bored and terrible, post-apocalyptoc landscape, happy ending, smut, severe major characger injury, time loss)

~*~

3. i just saw a meme where it went;

MDZS: 📚

MDZS if LWJ cried when WWX refused to come to Gusu with him: 📘

(if that makes sense)

sooo, is there any fics where LWJ starts crying and WWX just panics and yknow, canon divergence thing happens 🥺🫠

~*~

4. IITMF some smut where the POV character tops. bonus points for bottomji and minimal kink, but I'm up for basically whatever.

~*~

5. fics that highlight how everyone is enamoured by wwx's beauty/ yllz wwx's beauty+ wwx protection squad. @sonomaying

~*~

6. Hello hello hello! In the mood for fics where Wei Ying or Lan Zhan have unusual professions? Or rather, professions which don’t commonly crop up in fic? Things like jewelers, mechanics, janitors, landscapers, authors, air host, etc. Avoiding more common fic jobs like police, coffee shop, florist, teacher, generic office worker, etc. Thanks!

Family Pictures (Or: “Mark Rothko is very, very dead, Wei Ying.”) by belleweather (M, 37k, wangxian, modern, Kid Fic, Post Mpreg, Cindarella Story, Mistaken Identity, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, art conservator lwj, fake/mistaken cheating, no actual infidelity)

in the arms of the angel by ScarlettStorm (E, 37k, WangXian, Modern AU with Magic, Fox WWX, animal rescuer LWJ, Comedy, Smut, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Adhd WWX, the mortifying ordeal of getting your head stuck in a peanut butter jar)

🔒paired wings soaring by typefortydeductions (E, 33k, WangXian, Modern, slice of life, domestic bliss, angst, fluff, smut, hurt/Comfort, kissing, bdsm, artist WWX, poetry translator LWJ, slight somnophilia) artist wwx, poetry translator lwj

Themes and Variations in F# Major by defractum (nyargles) (E, 18k, WangXian, Modern AU, Classical Music, Getting Together, POV Alternating, Long-Distance Friendship) lwj and wwx are both professional musicians

Covered in Bees by ScarlettStorm (T, 8k, WangXian, Modern AU, Beekeeping AU, For reasons, Meet-Cute, Comedy, Fluff, Bees, come for the flirting, stay for the bee facts, and the bee puns, kinkmeme fill, no actual kink) featuring beekeeper LWJ!

he gets under your skin by Skadiseven (M, 87k, WangXian, Inspired By While You Were Sleeping (1995), Modern AU, Accidental Engagement, Chicago (City), wangxian's tendency to self-sacrifice, Christmas, Mutual Pining, There's A LOT of Musical References, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending) Wei Ying works in ticket booth for Chicago's L but is a former writer while Lan Zhan is a doctor.

hurry down my chimney tonight by gusuvibes (G, 20k, WangXian, Modern AU, dad!lwj, WWX and JC are Santa's Elves, Holiday Setting, A-Yuan is too smart for his own good, Fluff and Humor, NHS is a pimp, but not literally, Happy Ending, Surprise Santas, Christmas) features jeweller Lan Zhan while Wei Ying is a photographer working as an elf for the holidays.

Falling to the Rhythm by Selenay (E, 128k, WangXian, Modern: No Powers, Dance, Strictly Come Dancing Fusion, Ballroom Dancing, Dancer!WWX, Violinist LWJ, Pining While Dancing, Oblivious WWX, Gratuitous Costume Descriptions, Gratuitous dancing descriptions, Slow Burn, [Podfic] Falling to the Rhythm by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona)) features Wei Ying as a professional dancer on the show Strictly Come Dancing while Lan Zhan is a professional violinist.

Waiting for Spring by thievinghippo (E, 130k, WangXian, Modern AU, MLB AU, Baseball AU, Mutual Pining, Pining while fucking, slight angst, Happy Ending) has both Wei Ying and Lan Zhan as professional baseball players (WY is pitcher while LZ is catcher)

The Quiet Room by trickybonmot (M, 39k, WangXian, Modern AU, 1990s, Goth LWJ, Cellist LWJ, College Student WWX, House Hunting, Dating, Clubbing, San Francisco, Implied/Referenced Past Child Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Academic Disaster Aftermath, Getting Together, Repressed Teen Crushes to Strangers to Lovers, Homelessness, in the form of couch surfing, background NieLan) features DJ Lan Zhan!

Heat It Up! with Wei Ying by justpeace (T, 10k, WangXian, Modern AU, coworkers to dating, Getting Together, Chinese Food, racism that largely happens offscreen, workplace racism, toxic workplace environment, Workplace Relationship, food as a metaphor for racism, Humor, Happy Ending, Angst and Humor, food as a metaphor for flirting, References to Drugs, Alcohol, Asian-American Character) chef wei ying / has Wangxian as test kitchen chefs (cooks?)

grave goods by luckymarrow (E, 28k, wangxian, Grief/Mourning, Minor Character Death, Modern AU, mortician!wwx, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Marriage Proposal, abrupt tonal shifts, Tragicomedy, Comedy, Romance, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Adoption, Implied/Referenced Abuse, for lan parents, it's not described and is all backstory, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Married WangXian, brief daddy kink, the barest hint of consensual non-consent, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, BDSM) has WWX as a mortician, LWJ as an attorney (mind the tags)

🧡 Night of the Living History (an edutainment special!) by Aerlalaith (T, 51k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Workplace Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Museums, living history, Some Plot, Slice of Life, Injury, a minor haunting) has them as employees at a living history cultivation museum

live from new york by varnes (E, 87k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, This is a SNL AU, however the juniors are featured and there are lots of shenanigans!, slow burn, friends to lovers, pining, getting together, happy ending)

💖 Pentimento. by orange_crushed (E, 73k, wangxian, modern, college/university au, art conservation, museums, pining, not actually unrequited love, angst w/ happy ending, misunderstandings, smut, major character injury, hospitalization, hurt/comfort, past incarceration, forgery)

Somewhere I Belong by athena_crikey (E, 20k, WangXian, Modern AU, Getting Together, First Time, Environmentalism, Nature, pilot WWX, scientist LWJ, ode to canadian north) Wei ying is a bush pilot and lan zhan is a chemical tester

Let the streetlights guide you homeby tellthemstories (M, 37k, wangxian, modern, UST, car racing, Mojo’s bookmark) and associated podfic. The boys are illegal street racers

~*~

7. Itmf: Hello all! Does anyone know of any fics where Sizhui is angry with the cultivation world for killing his birth family? Especially if he points out to the Lans, his adopted family, how they took part in the siege that killed his birth family.

Symmetry by Vir_Abelasan (M, 13k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, One-Sided ChengXian, One-Sided ChengZhui, Canon Divergence, LSZ is raised by wwx, Wwx still dies sorry, Revenge, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Dark LSZ, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Torture, Not JC Friendly, JC’s Canonical 13 Years Murder Spree, BAMF LSZ, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, LSZ Gets to Go Apeshit)

Finding Balance series by Zombubble (T, 117k, JL & LSZ, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, JL & LSZ & LJY, LXC & LSZ, LSZ & LJY, wangxian, Character Study, Canon Compliant, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Death, Grief, LSZ goes home to yiling and has emotions about it, Nightmares, angst with a hopeful but still kind of painful ending, Canon-Typical Violence, within a nightmare, injuries, Blood, LSZ has so much shit to work through, he'll be okay he's just riding the struggle bus, Yelling, argument, Conflict, Underage Drinking, slightly uncomfortable dinners, lets be real, they're in yunmeng, JC is there, LSZ is very aware of who he is, WWX is also there, this is not a formula for fluff, Light Angst, Happy Ending, JJC Being an Asshole, but not too bad, Anxiety, Grief/Mourning, Self-Reflection, Conflict Resolution, Internal Conflict, lots of talking, Lots of Thinking, LSZ-centric, Soft LQR, Collective Bargaining, LSZ accidentally incites a mini off-screen rebellion, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Canon, mild panic attack)

💖 When has silence saved anyone? by Vrishchika (T, 6k, wangxian, LSZ & WWX & LWJ, post-canon, LXC critical, family feels, angry LWJ & LSZ, LXC gets scolded)

history by tongzhi (T, 15k, Background WangXian, LSZ-Centric, Post-Canon, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, Character Study)

this blood in my mouth by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 3k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX & LWJ, Post-Canon, POV LXC)

~*~

8. Hello! I was scrolling on ur page and saw the latest fic finder 7. its sounds interesting, it already has 2 fics under that ask so i came here for the next ITMF, is there any fic similar to that? wwx or lwj being teacher and married to eo, juniors being their students. Thank you in advance!

Due Process by Kytrin, Mslead (E, 279k, WangXian, XiChengSang, Poly Junior Quartet, Modern AU, Foxxian, dragonji, Genderfluid WWX, WWX identifies as male, Organized Crime, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, mentions of child abuse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Found Family, Reincarnation) kinda? WX get together pretty quickly in the fic, and the Juniors are WWX's students

~*~

9. Hello! For the next ITMF i was wondering if there’s any wlw wangxian where LWJ is characterized as a butch lesbian, thank you!!

an inch away from more (than just friends) by occultings (microcomets) (E, 15k, Female WangXian, Modern AU, Rule 63, Femslash, Lesbian Sex, Genderbending, Pining while fucking, sexuality exploration, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Friends to Lovers, Masturbation, Kissing, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Getting Together, Swim Team, Diving, Pool Sex, Outdoor Sex, Jealousy)

Are you gonna be my girl by 74243 (E, 14k, Female WangXian, Modern AU, Established Relationship, Forced Feminization, Sadism, Dom/sub, Slut Shaming, Internalized Misogyny.... but like.... Make It Sexy, Humiliation, Semi-Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Painplay, Cock Warming, Genderplay, Vague sugardaddy LWJ vibes) this author actually writes a lot of butch lab zhan actually

sideways by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 20k, wangxian, F/F, Modern, Cisswap, butch dyke LWJ, Casual Sex, not so casual sex, many many orgasms, Fingerfucking, Cunnilingus, strap-on sex, So much kissing, WWX gets rekt, straight girl WWX, except for how she isn't)

here is the tag for butch lan zhan

~*~

10. For the next itmf I’m looking for wangxian centric heavy angst preferably with happy ending but it’s not a requirement. I will take canon, au, arranged marriages, anything that brings sweet suffering @kanrax-blog

Common love isn't for us by feyburner (M, 7k, WangXian, Modern AU, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Making Out, Misunderstandings, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending) this is a short modern AU but it almost always makes me tear up

🔒Salt to the Sea by Starmins (M, 31k, wangxian, JYL & WWX, modern, grief/mourning, roadtrips, canonical character death, love & loss)

134340 by silverclaw (M, 18k, WangXian, Space, Space Opera, Heavy Angst, Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Closure, Parallel Universes, Coco the robot, LWJ accidentally adopting creatures as he goes, LWJ also has a nose ring, The following are SPOILER tags, there are two lwjs and one of them dies, wwx mourning lwj, Hopeful Ending, in terms of closure and healing, parallel!lwj and wwx form a bond, mentions of captivity, dystopian themes)

Orchid Teeth by FairyGardenCorgis (E, 97k, WangXian, Fluff and Angst, Romance, dragon lwj, fox wwx, Chinese lore, Hurt/Comfort, Dark elements, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sexual Abuse, Starvation, Torture, Sexual Humiliation, Lesbian Sex, Sounding, kinda omorashi in chapter 16, proceed with caution guys, Gang Rape)

here comes your ghost again by yuer (vintageblueskies) (T, 4k, wangxian, WQ & WWX, post-canon, nightmares, embroidery, angst)

to remember names of plants series by detention_notes (T, 8k, wangxian, diary/journal, character study, angst, parenthood, pining, anger & fear, found family, grief/mourning, reminiscing, yearning, canonical character death)

Holding onto what remains of my life (it's slipping through my fingers) by Indrel (M, 3k, WangXian, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Child Death, Miscarriage, Mpreg, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Hurt WWX, POV LWJ, Protective LWJ, First Siege of the Burial Mounds, Blood) very heavy angst with an open ending, mind the tags

Concord by Deastar (T, 41k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, Depression, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending)

~*~

11. Ok folks! I'm in the mood for: your favorite NEWER (as is posted within the last year or so) fics where one or both of Wangxian say fuck gender. Any other details don't particularly matter, I just want some good ol' gender shenanigans

Keeping secrets by Winxhelina (T, 8k, wangxian, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Curses, Angst and Humor, CrossdressingLove Confessions, Kissing)

~*~

12. Hi! For ITMF, is there a time travel fic where WWX raised young him or become young WWX's brother? Or WWX become Wei Cangze's brother/cousin/parent? Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

In Another Life by SingingInTheRaiin (M, 21k, wangxian, time travel)

so when you go wherever it is you will go, take the moon with you by comforting_monachopsis (T, 121k, WWX & WWX, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, wangxian, JC & WWX & JYL, past WWX/SS, past WWX/XY, canon divergence, time travel, dimension travel, modern, private investigator WWX, professor LWJ, trauma, serial killers, strangers to lovers, BAMF WWX, hurt WWX, WIP) this is a very liberal interpretation of what you asked for

MingYu by Fino_Al_Cielo (T, 89k, WWX & LWJ, YL WWX, yunmeng siblings, Fix-It of Sorts, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, PTSD, References to Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Trauma)

~*~

13. Hello! I am here with another ask.

I would like to read fics in which Lan Wangji straight up takes wwx to Gusu after his denial.

The scene goes like " Come back to Gusu with me"

" I refuse"

*straight up carries and takes back to Gusu*

Thank you @lostsoul234

~*~

14. hello long time no request! im itmf a-yuan inheriting suibian. thank you for your hard work always ♥️

it's a long road but we're not alone by Stratisphyre (M, 61k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Canon-Typical Violence, Parenthood, Grief/Mourning, Family Feels, Reunions, Golden Core Reveal, Background SL/XXC, Getting Together)

❤️ kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Kid Fic, teen shenanigans, two a-yuans, Fluff and Angst, [Podfic] kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight by contributor-sky (deepestbluesky), esbielle was also here (esbielle), glittercracker, GodOfLaundryBaskets, jellyfishfire, kisahawklin, Koontyme, Rionaa, semperfiona))

Just as the Snow Melts by draechaeli (T, 66k, WangXian, XuanLi, SongXiao, Everybody Lives, Canon Divergence) Its only mentioned not the focus of the story

hereditary series by yutro (G, 1k, LSZ & WWX, JC & WWX, JC & LSZ, wangxian, Found Family, WWX adopting LSZ, Or the other way around, childproofing a sword, JL is there but it's not about him, WWX is still dead, LWJ is not here but his presence is felt, no i don't know why suibian has not sealed itself don't ask me)

~*~

15. ITMF WangXian fuck or die and/or sex pollen fics? Particularly ones where they are in a tense situation, like on a night hunt or maybe during the SSC. Oh! And prior to them confessing. So like, they are forced to woohoo before they know the other likes them too. Thank you!

Give You What You Like by Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle)(E, 11k, WangXian, Fuck Or Die, Bad Guys Made Them Do It, Canon Divergence, angst with an eventual happy ending, First Time, Episode Related)

~*~

16. Hi!! This is my first time sending a ITMF...Sorry if I do it wrong...

I just read fic 'All was well when you were still with me' by KoHITTSujiChan and the situation where Wangji was the one who punch Zixuan at CR is so hot..

Are they any fic where Wangji punch Zixuan because a)he want to protect Yanli or b)the idea of Wei Ying married anyone else make him angry

Thank you in advance... @chibiizzy

~*~

17. ITMF a fic where the swords turn into Humans for some reason or maybe they just have a human form? Maybe some musing on wwx and the golden core but it’s not a must @zerokogane

🔒We’ll Build This House on Stone (Altars) by FluffyHippogriff (E, 264k, wangxian, angst w happy ending, romance, supernatural elements, friendship, old god LWJ, YLLZ WWX, hijinks & shenanigans, canonical character death, nonbinary character, nonbinary bichen, WIP) contains Bichen who can take human form.

🔒Intervention of Spirits by Vrishchika (T, 4k, WangXian, Pre-Relationship, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Reveal, WWX Has a New Golden Core) several of the swords have human(like) forms

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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ao3commentoftheday · 9 days

Note

if there is a scene where child abuse is shown but not a lot and not in detail should the fic be mature or is rated teen okay

It's impossible to say without the actual text of the fic, but generally I'd say that a mention without details is fine for a T rated fic. Once you start getting into specifics though, you might want to consider upping the rating, depending on the details being shared.

There are also additional tags that you can use so that readers know going in what they might be in for. Some examples of canonicals:

Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Child Abuse

Past Child Abuse

You might want to also specify what type of abuse you're referring to - physical, emotional, or sexual. Someone might be okay with reading one type and not at all okay reading another.

After you know what tags you want to apply, you can always dip into other works that use those tags and see how your work compares, then rate and warn yours similarly.

#asks and answers #tw abuse mention

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process-pending · 2 years

Link

Chapters: 33/64 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel/Triss Merigold, Lambert/Macee (Original Character), past jaskier/valdo marx Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel (The Witcher), Lambert (The Witcher), Triss Merigold, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Vesemir (The Witcher), Macee (Original Character), Aiden (The Witcher) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Biker AU, Geraskier, Triskel, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, family by choice, Found Family, dnd, Fiber Arts, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Major Character Injury, Disabled Character, Jaskier Has a Physical Disability, Physical Disability, Chronic Pain, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Aftermath of Violence, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Getting Together, Financial Issues, Financially Poor Jaskier | Dandelion, Food Insecurities, Musician Jaskier | Dandelion, Poverty, Angst with a Happy Ending Series: Part 1 of Take Me Back (To the Night We Met) Summary:

"Witcher business?” Eskel asks, recognizing the fury burning in Geralt's eyes, the one that stemmed from innocents being hurt by monsters who deemed themselves men. Technically it is in that Valdo will be blacklisted but the rage, the want to show him how monsters are dealt with isn’t. It would never be sanctioned, should never be. “Valdo Marx is blacklisted. Every chapter to be notified. He’s not welcome here, better for him if he doesn’t make it through the doors,” Geralt’s words are calm, but it’s the danger that lurks in the spaces between. Lambert looks over his shoulder at Eskel as he shifts to the side, keeping an eye on Geralt. This was broad strokes measures, actions with repercussions that couldn’t be easily undone. We all know the story of how the White Wolf saved the Songbird, but this, dear reader, isn't that story. This is the tale of how it would have gone should the White Wolf find out long after blood has been spilled that someone else ensured the Songbird lived to sing another day. This is how the Songbird gains an army of Wolves to bring the monster to justice all while learning he's just as strong with a damaged wing.

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artemismoorea03 · 11 months

Text

DP x DC: WHAT THE FUCK, FENTON

I think I've seen something like this somewhere before but I'm also not sure so if there is already something like this, I'm sorry.

WARNINGS: Mentions of Character Death and Grief, Implied/Referenced/Suspected Child Abuse, Depression and Self-Harm? (only implied, but non-graphic) IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING, I PROMISE.

Danny Fenton was dead.

At least, that's what everybody in Amity Park was told after something happened in Fenton Works. Maddie and Jack Fenton insisted that Danny was dead and that a ghost was responsible. Danny's friends and Sister were weirdly quiet though, but not grieving.

No.

Grief was never an emotion that Dash Baxter saw on any of their faces. Instead rage took it's place. A rage that seemed to be shared by Mayor Masters who sudddenly started cracking down on housing laws, regulations, and other issues. He changed is mind of 'Ghosts are the enemy' to 'Ghost Hunting is no longer permitted' much to the annoyance of his "friends".

Dash didn't understand what was happening, what happened to Fentur-Fenton, or why the all the sudden changes but what confused him most was how he felt about it. When he had gotten the news he felt physically sick. He missed two full days of school just because he felt sick. When he went to school and heard some wanna-be A-Listers spreading rumors about how Fenton was in a bad place and had just taken himself out.

Before any of Fenton's friends could even think about shutting them down Dash shut them down by breaking one of their noses.

A few days later he sat with Foley, Manson, and Valerie at lunch. They were surprised and asked him what he was doing there while his friends acted appalled but Dash didn't reply and just put his head down on the table. It wasn't until near the end of lunch that Dash finally spoke.

"I'm sorry... I'll try to be better... for Fenton."

This surprised all of them. Even Dash but what surprised everybody even more was when he started to cry. In the end it was Foley who came over and put his hand on Dash's shoulder.

Nothing was said, but it was enough to comfort Dash and leave him with more questions.

Why weren't they the one's crying? Their best friend had died and they were comforting him? This was bullshit! He didn't even like Fenton!

Right?

It was later that year when Casper High went to Gotham City for a football game against Gotham University. The game was going well until half-time when Star approached them while they were on time out.

"Um... hey guys not to totally like throw off the groove or anything but... isn't that Danny?"

Every member of the gootball team and the cheerleading squad turned to where Star pointed and Dash's eyes locked onto a familiar black haired, blue eyed kid in an expensive uniform. Dash had a split second thought of 'There's no fuckin way that's Fenton. Maybe a look alike?'

But then the kid shrank down slightly between two other teens one with curtained black hair and one with darker skin and Dash knew.

Dash threw himself towards the fence, climbing over the fence and onto the bleachers as Danny held up his hands and stood up quickly. He was pale and anxious, the two teens with him looking ready to fight as Dash grabbed him by teh front of the shirt in front of his whole school.

"WHAT THE FUCK, FENTON?!"

"D-Dash! I can explain, I-"

Danny started rambling out a frantic and bullshit excuse but Dash was just hearing static, ignoring the two teens next to them telling him to put Danny down. Dash then hugged him with a pissed off growl while Danny went stiff.

"We thought you fuckin' died, Man. What the hell..." He whimpered, tears burning his eyes as Danny relaxed and after a moment hugged Dash back.

"Sorry, Dash."

Dash was about to yell at him more when he heard Mr. Lancer shout out.

"TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD, WHAT IS HAPPENING, BAXTER?!" Dash let Danny go and gestured for the teacher to see which was when Dash heard his teacher actually swear for the first time ever. "What the fuck?"

"H-Hi, Mr. Lancer..." Was all Danny could say as an awkward reply.

#dp x dc prompt #Not technically meant to be Swagger Bishie but you do you #Dash is a softie whether he likes it or not #Let Mr. Lancer say fuck #out of everybody he deserves to say it at least once #my prompts

298 notes · View notes

aftgficrec · 2 months

Text

Anonymous said: Hi! Thank you so much for your work. I'm looking for long finished fics, it can be canon or not AND I'm also looking for fics focused on Kevin and Neil friendship

From Ravens angst to food wars there’s a lot of Kevin and Neil here for you to enjoy. Readers, find the long complete fics portion of this ask here. -A

previous recs

Kevin & Neil here

Kevin & Neil friendship here

BFFs Neil & Kevin, physically affectionate here

Neil & Kevin as bffs/brothers + Kev/Neil here

‘To All my friends’ here

‘on thin ice’ here

‘Exit Wound’ here

‘Necessary Losses,’ ‘Remember! Proplifting is Shoplifting!,’ and ‘CVS’ (completed) here

‘don't be suspicious, don't be suspicious’ here

‘I have a Prom-Posal’ here (updated)

‘The Manga is Way Better (Save me from the Fangirls)’ here

‘Homecoming King’ here

‘The One Where Everyone Finds Out’ here

‘How to outrun the mafia, an essay by Neil Josten’ here

‘my friends and I, we got a lot of problems’ and ‘please, carry me, carry me, carry me home’ here

‘I can see the stars though the tears in my skin’ here

‘Odd Eye’ here

‘Carrots’ here

‘You Can't Take the Sky from Me’ here

‘Something Crazy About It’ and ‘The one where Andriel get Cats’ here

‘Dear Advice Guy,’ ‘a little bit special,’ and ‘quicksand’ here

‘Slow Parade’ and ‘Bad Habits’ here

‘Technique is Important’ here

‘venus as a boy’ here (completed)

‘Light a Match’ and ‘stupid, normal teenagers’ here

‘"There's blood on my/your hands."’ here

‘Neil Josten Is a Lucky Man’ here

‘Two worlds collide’ and ‘Fear & Loathing’ here

‘Father’s Day, ‘08’ here

‘Point Nemo’ here

‘Extra thermador on the side’ ch 14 & 15 here

‘Gimme a Kiss and I'll Kiss You Right Back’ here

‘North Star’ and ‘it's my first and perhaps last time (aka the Exy World Cup Fic)’ here

‘my one, my dear’ here

‘I’m too young to feel numb…’ here

‘The Sickness Was Forever,’ ‘Whatever it takes,’ and ‘It's Just You and Me, Just Us, and Y(our) Friend Kevin’ here

‘Different Roads’ and ‘I Was Ruined From The Start’ here

‘Spun Sugar Truths’ here

‘But man, I can hate you sometimes’ here

‘Remember Me, Love, When I'm Reborn…’ and ‘The Suit Universe’ series (updated) here

‘Through our memories, we live’ here (completed)

‘Die Free or Die a Failure’ here (completed)

‘A Falling Star’ series here

you may also like

andreil & Kevin here

more kevineil here

Andrew & Kevin here

to whom it may aggravate by knoxout [Rated G, 1931 Words, Complete, 2022]

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID????? Kindest regards, Kevin Day

Strike That (from the record) by Mercey [Rated M, 1393 Words, Complete, 2023]

Kevin and Neil decide to read fanfiction about themselves on their podcast. Shenanigans ensue.

Medicated rabbits don't run as fast by AllTheSpadesAndAces [Not Rated, 8690 Words, Incomplete, Updated Nov 2023]

Neil Josten has his mother to thank for an addiction to painkillers, but he won't speak (that) ill of the dead. He's stayed on the run after her death. He never hits the same AA or NA meeting more than once. Usually only going once in every city he passes though. Maybe he should have remembered not to stray too close to Raven territory. After all, he knows what that place can drive people to do. OR Neil meets Kevin at an AA meeting.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: drug addiction, tw: alcohol abuse/alcoholism

Your eyes can’t fool me by maia_m03 [Rate G, 3533 Words, Complete, 2022]

There’s something familiar about this kid and Kevin can’t quite place it. Until he does. (A ‘Kevin recognises Neil at Millport’ AU)

neil josten vs vegetables (aka kevin) by orangejuice9 [Rated T, 3138 Words, Complete, 2023]

Three times Kevin tries to put vegetables in Neil's food, and one time Neil gets his revenge.

this is [home], this is hell by straycrow [Rated M, 1402 Words, Complete, 2022]

The day Kevin left the Nest and Neil behind.

tw: violence, tw: abuse

What the fuck did I do in the end? (Just to not be yours) by allfortheBoyds [Rated M, 2305 Words, Incomplete, Updated April 2023]

Kevin goes back to the nest so that Neil can run

no rest for the mischievous by tropicalblend [Rated G, 1681 Words, Complete, 2023]

Kevin forgets an essential piece of Neil's food order so Neil must enact revenge, he must.

frying pans by aknosde [Rated G, 1078 Words, Complete, 2023]

When Kevin trudges down the stairs and into the kitchen Saturday morning it's to the smell of frying sausage and a headache the likes of which he hasn’t seen in years. The fact that the former makes him want to throw up considerably more than the latter lets him know what kind of day it’s going to be. (Or: Neil cooks Kevin breakfast)

tw: implied disordered eating

i want to hold your hand by gay_irl [Rated T, 3481 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil starts to notice that Andrew occasionally exchanges casual touches with Kevin. He feels something about it but he's not sure what. He talks to Andrew and starts to realize the value of non-sexual intimacy. He decides to try it out.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

why am I like this? by chronically_peach [Rated G, 1744 Words, Complete, 2023]

Kevin doesn’t believe in loneliness. He doesn’t believe in friendship or the need for people around. He spent his entire life never being alone but never having a friend. Loneliness didn’t affect Kevin. Or so he thought. One night Kevin breaks down during late night practice while alone at the court. When he doesn’t come home Andrew and Neil go looking for him

In the Blooms by KaijuusAndKryptids [Rated G, 1273 Words, Complete, Aftg Spring Exchange 2022, Locked]

Kevin works on sobriety, and needs something to fill the time to distract him from needing a drink. He falls into gardening incidentally, but more and more often he finds that he wants to garden for gardening's sake and not to complete another objective.

Proof of Life by mostly_maudlin [Rated T, 2132 Words, Complete, 2022]

Realistically, Kevin knows he is safe now. No one is after him anymore. No one is plotting to drag him down into the hole he's clawed out of. He has people who will fight to keep it this way.

Kevin? Aaron? Together? My life can't get any worse than this by Artificiosus [Rated T, 2129 Words, Complete, 2022]

He takes a deep breath in. "Where?" "Where what- oh," Kevin replies. "Where?" Neil repeats, his heart rate is speeding up, he feels frozen to the spot. Dread? Fear? Whatever it is, it's locked him down. Kevin gulps. ~~~~~ Kevin tells Neil that he and Aaron slept together.

Hey Look Neil, You Made It! by alexis_needs_sleep [Not Rated, 2224 Words, Complete, 2022]

7 years after Kevin agreed to teach Neil how to play Exy, Kevin shows up on Neil's doorstep with a long overdue gift.

Sticking with our Losers by Webaqoof [Rated T, 1647 Words, Complete, 2022, Locked]

Kevin dragged his ass from the front porch steps where he was laying down, ready to enter the house. He furrowed his eyebrows to find it still closed, because he clearly heard Neil ringing the doorbell. “Why is the door not open?” Neil brought his hand to his chin in a thinking posture. Which was funny because he never really thought anything. “I think it’s because one of the people in the house doesn’t like me much.”

Could Have Been Me by thornilee013 [Rated T, 1843 Words, Complete, AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2024]

Kevin finally voices a question that's been bothering him.

i should hate you, i feel stupid. by hynjinnnniee [Rated T, 3391 Words, Complete, 2024]

kevin experiences some complicated feelings after riko dies, and the monsters help him through it.

Naked-Fruit Chiffon Cake, one box by riri_a [Rated T, 2579 Words, Complete, 2023]

Kevin Day was having a very boring morning. Some might say his life was boring in general. Everything changes when a homeless guy with blue eyes decides to rob his workplace. Kevin thinks he's incompetent.

Tell Me the Truth by birthdaycandles774 [Rated T, 1948 Words, Complete, 2023]

The Foxes were staying at the winter banquet for both days, how boring. Andrew had gone to get ice for his drunk brother and cousin when he noticed two Ravens. So far from their nest, strange. He never expected to make a deal with the unannounced member of the 'Perfect Court' who only wanted him to protect Kevin Day. He definitely didn't expect to want the mysterious Raven to stay. The one where Neil was caught by the Moriyamas and is the one to get Kevin out of the Nest.

Kevin Day is keeping Celeste series by Twolipsliterature [Rated G/T, Collection, Incomplete, Updated Feb 2023]

Part 1: What never belonged to angels, Had never belonged to men [T, 1837 Words, Complete] Neil, Andrew, and Kevin are in Columbia for the summer following Riko's death. Needless to say, Kevin is not handling it well. When a breakup leads to a breakdown, Neil and Andrew must learn what it is to be a friend and how to help peice someone back together instead of being the one to break them apart

tw: alcohol abuse/alcoholism

Part 2: If I let you perceive me, do you promise to love me? [T, 11037 Words, Incomplete, Updated Feb 2023] The last thing Kevin expected to do after a messy breakup was immediately fall for someone. Yet, here he is, smitten and cursing himself for it. With more baggage and trauma than he can hide under his bed, Kevin is hesitant to open up to someone. How can anyone get to know him when he barely knows himself? Lucky for him, Celeste is very good at piecing things together. OR: Despite his best efforts, Kevin falls in love.

Part 3: A Lesson In Loving You, A Lesson In Being Loved [G, 4966 Words, Complete]

After months of sneaking around, Neil decides its high time Kevin introduce the foxes to his not-so-secret girlfriend. When it finally happens, he can't shake the feeling that there's something more to her that Kevin is missing...

A Collection of my varying AFTG short stories… by BasiliskCrane [Rated M, Collection, Updated July 2021]

Chapter 6: "your an idiot... " (G, 438 Words)

You Gave Me A Key And Called It Home by vinesse [Collection, Rated T, Complete, 2019]

Chapter 31: Scared, Me? (466 Words)

A Series of H/C One-Shots For All For The Game by carefulren [Rated T, Collection, Updated 2018]

Chapter 1: Neil Downplays How Sick He's Feeling, and the Foxes Step In Chapter 4: sick and problematic kevin trying to keep the team away from him, but the team ignores him

Art

kevneil arguing dynamic comic by @wuzeio

quality bonding time animation by @broresteia

weekly call comic by @bleepbloops

tramp stamps instead of face tattoos art by @koihoi

AU where Kevin meets Neil on the run art by @lucky-slice

65 notes · View notes

moonbaby26 · 3 months

Text

Title: The Nest

(Chapter 7 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader, Aokiji/Kuzan x Reader (referenced), Smoker x Reader (referenced)

Chapter Warnings: non con elements, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, possessive/controlling relationship, hint of exhibitionism, implied past physical and/or sexual abuse to reader

Chapter Synopsis: You must now fulfill your previous promise to Doflamingo, beginning your stay on the island of Scylla with him. Alone with the warlord again at last, he’s further becoming everything you’d feared and needed all at once.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

——————————

The days back at sea came and went one after another. Thankfully, Vice Admiral Momonga was someone you got along with well. He was a bit serious, but clear in any expectations for his crew, which made life easy for you. Because there was then more doing than thinking, regardless of the twisting emotions still inside of you.

And with Momonga being your interim commanding officer, you had also put in your request for shore leave direct with him. He’d told you that even HQ was having trouble reaching Tsuru except for the shortest status reports now. So you had no chance for contact with her anyway.

On orders of the world government, Tsuru and your normal crew had pushed the rebels on Lyra even higher into the mountains there. Unfortunately, it’d also become more of a waiting game of starving those remaining freedom fighters out as the marine blockade had cut off all other supplies to the island.

But the extreme terrain of peaks and valleys there also made it difficult to get out proper transmissions, save for the briefest bursts with weather permitting.

Though you weren’t worried. Because someone like Tsuru wouldn’t be outsmarted by the rebels’ untrained forces. It was only a matter of time before the world government accepted the enemy’s surrender to reinstate the previous royal family there instead.

And nobility like that was actually the only reason Momonga’s ship would be stopping at the island of Scylla as well. Once you’d been aboard, you’d found out those additional details that that part of the voyage would be an escort mission.

Some high blooded man and his two sons were all heading to Scylla for a few days of rubbing elbows with their fellow upper crust. All of them wealthy and connected enough to have a vice admiral like Momonga at their beck and call as a bodyguard at least.

The vice admiral had given you no trouble with your own request either though. Three days and nights of shore leave had all been approved. After safely delivering the escorted nobles, Momonga would be docking at the nearby marine port on one of Scylla’s satellite islands. And you would get to stay on the mainland and then reconvene with his crew when they came to recollect that same royal family a few days later.

But the closer the start date drew, the more anxiety gripped you. Until the night finally came where you found yourself still unable to properly sleep, standing on deck again just before sunrise to the lower ranks’ surprise.

The wind was somewhat cold, bringing up an ocean spray along with it as you’d stepped against the ship’s railing to view those distant lights of Scylla becoming sharper and sharper on the horizon at last.

You could hear the skeleton crew of the night watch calling out their standard protocols. Announcing land in sight, and determining the headings for the helmsman to begin turning the ship towards harbor.

But something in your stomach had tightened even further as the port did begin to become visible. Because from even there you could recognize the docks already full of other ships in the dim moonlight. Ones clearly from all makes and nationalities.

You were wondering if one of them was discreetly Doflamingo’s. Even though he’d given you his supposedly private, most direct number what was now almost three weeks ago, you had not used it yet for any late night “check in” as he’d called it.

Because Momonga had approved the exact dates you’d first told the warlord. Nothing had changed on your side.

And you’d been correct in your assumption too that there’d be no private quarters for you on this ship. You’d hardly been alone the entire time, and never felt comfortable enough to try and force the chance to be.

You’d wanted to do more than just talk with Doflamingo as well. A call alone would not have satisfied you even if you’d had the time.

Yet what if the pirate wasn’t even here yet? Or what if he was just jerking you along the entire time? You knew you would have to call him today to confirm a meeting time at the church regardless.

———————————

And later that morning you finally had made an excuse about needing to call the mainland to verify arrival with a place you would have rented a room at. But in reality, there was no such reservation. Your intent had always been to stay with the warlord only, just as you’d promised him.

Yet if Doflamingo ditched you, you would have then changed the story to say that the imaginary room had been double booked and given away already. A believable notion for as high traffic as this island was currently.

As it was then though, you’d somewhat hid away in an armory room. Rifles were racked up behind you while you’d dialed the number Doflamingo had given you, standing with your shoulder pressed to the wooden wall as the marine snail rang and rang.

The level of anxiety that returned to you as that phone continued to ring for far too many times was embarrassing too. Almost enough to make you hang up and just assume you were on your own before the click of a connection made you stand up straighter within the dark room.

“What?” Came the familiar male voice, albeit still sounding as if he’d just been woken up and wasn’t at all pleased about it. He didn’t even say his name either. But he must not need to if this was really such a direct line.

“Our ship has docked.” You said instead of any greeting either. “If you still want to meet me, I have an escort assignment I have to finish first for some duke and his kids. And then I’ll be free to go into town off duty. I should be able to get to the church by eleven hundred.” The shorter you could keep this conversation, the better as you’d just dumped all that information immediately onto him.

There was an uncomfortably long pause as well. And then, “Well good morning to you too.” Finally came as a rather snide retort. Followed by, “So in other words…you’re waiting for some other man to wake up just so you can play servant girl to him?”

You frowned immediately at his fresh attitude. What was he so pissy about already? “Sounds like you were still sleeping yourself” You countered.

But there was an additional irritated grunt at that as Doflamingo’s voice got even sharper. “I was awake until just three hours ago making every call possible so that I could clear my schedule for you today, brat.”

“So you’re here already?” You asked for that confirmation anyway, choosing just to disregard the rest to keep this conversation moving.

“Of course I am.” And he did sound somewhat more awake there before continuing. “So you said eleven? Fine. I’ll meet you in the church by then.” It was the easiest landmark you’d both agreed to before.

“Alright. I’ll be there. The upper level.” You still suggested more specifically next. That gallery would hopefully be less crowded than the main floor today. And a better view for you truthfully, who had still never seen any of it.

“Yes. Don’t keep me waiting.” Was his only additional reply though. Terse really before the connection ended in another loud click.

————————————

For the nobles you were with, they had indeed slept until the very last moment. Only by almost ten did they suddenly have more sense of urgency to disembark. They wanted off the “dirty” marine vessel and to get to whatever higher end accommodations they’d made on the island.

You’d had to listen to them berate one another as well as you’d still waited while they gathered their things. The father was insistent with his sons, telling them to put their masks on as per carnival traditions. And all other kinds of comments as he urged them to look presentable and in fashion for the holiday.

Because they would not shut up about it, you knew they were attending some ball tomorrow night and the duke was expecting his boys to find equally high born dates today to invite there. All with the goal of said dates becoming political wives of significant dowry apparently.

But the boys were young and too busy whining about the cold, about the dampness of the fine mist still coming off of the sea, and any other matter of trivial things.

One of the other sailors made eye contact with you amidst it all and you saw him roll his eyes dramatically at their persistent complaining.

And you’d finally smirked a little at that, just before another heavy bag was thrown on top of the other two you were already balancing for the nobles.

“Do not drop that! The contents are fragile.” One of the boys scolded you.

Then why had they thrown it at you? “Yes, my lord.” You answered in feigned respect, though they couldn’t even be bothered to glance at your face to notice the insincerity of your expression.

More than one marine was trying not to laugh by then too though. But the naive royals, cousins to some king or something, still didn’t pick up on any of that mockery before they finally exited the gangplank.

Though still complaining all the while as the fancy heels on their boots then tried to catch on the seams between the wooden slats. Especially with the ship still bobbing up and down slightly as the waters shifted against the dock.

The fools had no sea legs at all. You would have taken them by the arm like children to assist them, but you didn’t want to be yelled at either for daring to ever touch them with your filthy peasant hands.

So you just had to watch as they stumbled and bitched while you and the rest of your marines walked down smoothly even with balancing the ridiculous amount of bags and boxes they’d saddled you all with.

A horse drawn carriage awaited your guests once on land though. And it was a blessing as soon as they were in it with the door shut to not have to hear them any longer.

That was when one of those other sailors looked back to you. A lieutenant just below your own rank. “Captain, we can take it from here. We’ll play as bell hops the rest of the way to their villa. The Vice Admiral said you had shore leave starting today. So get out of here and go enjoy it.”

“You sure?” You asked anyway as you’d handed off the bags you’d been carrying. They were now being loaded, some on top and some below the carriage.

“Positive. This is a waste of time enough already.” He answered, then somewhat purposefully throwing the bag they’d specifically said was fragile roughly to the carriage’s bottom storage.

“Alright then. See you all in a few days.” You certainly weren’t going to argue with him if escape was finally offered of course.

So as the other marines followed that carriage, still acting as security for it, you had backtracked to board Momonga’s ship again instead. You quickly changed out of uniform and gathered your single small duffel bag before heading alone back down the gangplank and towards town.

———————————

It did feel a little surreal just walking on your own once you got further into the city however. Everyone ignoring you as you had to turn this way or that not to strike shoulders when the crowds of tourists bottlenecked in some areas.

You were far more accustomed to being in formation with your crew, and always all in uniform whenever you moved through places on patrol. People tended to give marines a wider berth. Either from respect or fear depending on which side of the law they found themselves on.

So to be disregarded so fully was still strange as you kept moving through the narrow streets trying to take in everything while you passed one new thing after another.

You could smell the different street foods being cooked and sold. And the fresh flowers and decorative garlands as well that many were purchasing to wear in addition to their masks.

Carnival had begun in full force on the island. But you were just an observer here, not a participant. You were only appreciating the elaborate spectacle and decorations that you doubted you’d ever get the chance to see again.

Because so many stars had had to line up just to make this visit happen. And as you rounded another corner, walking along one of those clear canals and the gondolas ferrying people up and down them, you had at last found the main square.

Lights were hung up on strings between the many lamp posts. Leaving you to imagine what it must look like up close at night as you’d passed additional booth after booth of food and other carnival vendors.

But this town square was massive, large enough for all of it and more as you realized some people were already dancing even this early in the day. Musicians were playing as you watched couples enjoying themselves, moving together to the music.

Others sat at the outdoor tables, drinking and laughing. What you assumed was likely sparkling wine was in bottles already open, sitting in buckets of ice even in the cool air as they snacked on antipasti plates of all kinds of foods.

You saw some sort of stuffed pasta that looked amazing too when you’d yet to eat a thing today, but you had to remember the mission at hand.

Which was still rather impossible to forget as you now stared up to the towers of the old church at the center of it all. Just like the photos in your book from years ago, those spires and the flying buttresses supporting them seemed to scrape the sky.

And even from here, the stained glass took up so much of the remaining surface area, as you wondered if it’d really be the rainbow of colors inside that you’d always envisioned.

——————————

Once within those walls, it was crowded there too. But far quieter as people milled about, taking in the intricate stonework, tapestries, and marble statues of the saints. Yet those statues were only newer additions of course. Works commissioned by the world government within just the last five hundred years or so. Each statue honoring one of the founding families of Mariejois.

The legends were that this building had once been used to worship something far older than even those Celestial Dragons though. But you didn’t care about any of that today as you finally got to look up at all the still original stained glass above you.

The largest main window was a representation of the sun, with hues of yellows, oranges, and reds mixing with the light from all the other windows. But races from all over the world were represented in those many secondary windows too, like weaving a story long forgotten. Fishmen and merpeople, giants, minks, and more. Even those humans with wings that you had been told by Tsuru really existed on islands somewhere in the sky.

Candles were lit here and there too, though not really needed for all the light still being cast across the limestone floors in the daylight.

And as you looked further up, the vaulted ceilings were painted blue like the sky, with gold leaf stars peppering throughout to reflect that sunlight from the windows even further.

But while you walked beneath so much history, you were also already heading towards one of the spiral staircases that lead up to the gallery. This was a large balcony that was thought to accommodate even more worshippers in the extremely distant past.

Your watch said it was a quarter until eleven when you’d climbed the stairs. You knew your feet had slowed while you’d been taking in all the sights. But you weren’t late. And as you’d sat on the closest pew to the railing, you left your bag beside you while you still looked out over everything in a bit of disbelief.

Clouds must have been shifting in the real skies outside as the sun danced through the windows now. You were not religious by any means, but sitting alone here as you watched those colors moving across the floors, you finally had some of that moment you’d been seeking.

You were seeing something you didn’t think you’d ever deserve or be able to. Because as you’d been told so very many times, you were no one, nothing. And this place and its beauty was not for your kind. But somehow you’d finally made it here regardless.

Even if it wasn’t with Kuzan, or Smoker, or anyone else who could have shared this with you and actually understood the significance.

You’d swallowed at that lonely thought too, just watching the people wandering below who now looked so much smaller to you. No connection really felt with them as you used the back of your hand to wipe that faintest hint of new moisture from your eyes.

If the warlord did come, he’d surely think you an idiot if you were emotional before him yet again. He’d caught you crying in Mariejois. And he’d made you cry in Sabaody. Here in Scylla, it didn’t need to become three times to make it a habit.

But it was turning into one, wasn’t it? Despite your best efforts. A dangerous cycle too, as if this growing weakness alone was what truly summoned and fed that man. The way you kept feeling more detached and unsated from any thought that wasn’t about him.

And your breath did still catch when this game suddenly began again, that instinct of fight or flight becoming just another familiarity to you too as long fingers wrapped around your throat.

Doflamingo had arrived early.

But you could feel the warmth in his grip as well. Even with his nails pushing against your pulse point. Your heartbeat literally in his hands as he stood behind you then.

It wasn’t the same as Mariejois or Sabaody though. If he wanted to fight you here, he already would have.

You were only being tested now as the words finally came.

“You never called me in all these weeks, woman…not until this morning. Have you really been so busy?” Was the very first thing he asked. That tone of insult as clear as the sunlight all around you.

And only then did you finally understand his earlier attitude.

This goddamn fragile man.

“They would have been suspicious if I’d segregated myself. I was never alone.” You spoke with quiet purpose, even with your throat still pressed by his hand.

“You found time this morning,” he reminded you.

“Barely a few minutes. That wouldn’t have satisfied either of us.” You contended sincerely next. You knew he had to notice your escalating heart rate against his hand though.

Maybe even the growing heat too. Some might be your haki just under the surface, readying to defend your throat by reflex alone. But there was definitely more to it. You felt it in your chest as those same fingers of his loosened enough to briefly stroke your jaw instead.

“I missed you.” He said.

And your lips parted in a little surprise as his fingertips ghosted across them. Just before he released you entirely, then walking around the end of that pew to slide in to sit beside you.

Like this was just the most natural thing in the world when Doflamingo’s hip pressed against yours and his arm hooked around your shoulders.

The warlord pulled you against him in one fluid movement, the two of you then sitting tightly together while he looked past the balcony railing as well, taking in the view of everything now below you both.

But you were only looking at him. He was in an all black suit for once, the fabric perfectly tight and tailored to his long frame. No feather coat to speak of either.

The only two pops of color were a crimson red tie tucked into the vest beneath his suit jacket. And the matching blood red carnival mask which covered his eyes and the bridge of his nose in replacement of his usual glasses.

The mask had built in lenses though, still hiding him regardless even as he finally smiled darkly down at you, realizing your obvious stare.

“You’re looking a bit smitten, woman,” He taunted, taking your chin again with one hand. “I clean up well. Don’t I?”

But he didn’t care if you actually answered that. It was clear what kind of greeting Doflamingo really wanted as he leaned further down to capture your mouth with his already.

And you didn’t resist him. Not this time. Neither of you caring that this was still a church either as his tongue had quickly slid inside your mouth.

Though you did pull back again as soon as the demon’s surprisingly sharp teeth had nipped your bottom lip next. Hard enough to hurt, but not enough to bleed this time.

“Once bitten, twice shy?” He mocked through a chuckle regardless. And his arm that had still been around your shoulders shifted enough for him to bring a hand over one of your breasts to squeeze it harshly.

Painfully in fact, right through your shirt as you made a noise of discomfort.

He straightened back up as you did, but still looking down at you. Those white teeth glinting as he smirked. “I’m just hungry is all. Can’t I have a bite?”

“There’s plenty of food outside.” You finally spoke in a huff then, but continuing to look at him with an odd fascination. It was just so different seeing him dressed this way, no matter how brutish he was already behaving.

It did remind you of the suits he used to wear in the North Blue. But you hadn’t thought of him as anything but a thug then. Though he was far more dangerous and much stronger today.

“It’s rude to stare without following through, lover.” He broke that new silence though, simultaneously moving his hand lower to slip it beneath the bottom edge of your shirt as he said so.

And before you could even protest, he’d forced that same hand past the waistband of your pants as you felt his fingers dig in over the top of your underwear.

He squeezed your mound possessively as he still smiled at you. “This treasure is getting all of me later, healed or not. I hope you understand that. I’ve been celibate for fucking weeks now, woman. It has not been fun.”

And in that single moment his words were somehow more shocking than the literal handful of you that he was now molesting for any onlooker who may walk by on the balcony.

“There’s no way that’s true.” You still managed to say as his fingers started to push aside the thin strip of fabric between your legs and touch flesh next. In your mind, there was no way in heaven or hell that a man like this would willfully abstain.

But his head tilted as his smile faded at that. “You really do have a lot of nerve…first brushing me off, because you’re just so ‘busy’ on your new ship. And then calling me a liar as well?” His fingers hooked a little harder at those words, already edging your entrance.

And as you tried reflexively to close your legs at the additional aggression, you still didn’t back down from him.

“Well what reason would you have? That doesn’t make sense.”

But he just pulled you even closer then, forcing your legs further open with his other arm as he brought you into his lap.

“Because I wanted to fast before my next feast. So quit being such a bitch. This is what you wanted isn’t it? Me all to yourself?”

And you tensed as one of his fingers did slide inside of you. He wasn’t being gentle now at all as he started thrusting it in and out of your resisting channel soon after.

“Yes. I want it…” you finally relented though. Realizing some other people were starting to come up the staircase to the balcony. You would let him do this if he would just take it somewhere more private. “But not here.” You purposefully let your tone go more into that pleading range at that. Trying to appeal to his ego then if it meant being spared this public exhibition. “Please.”

And that ploy actually worked. “Then clean this off.” Was the command that came next as he growled slightly, hand pulling out of your pants just as abruptly at your change in tone. But he brought those now wet digits in front of your face for you to follow through with his new order.

The logical side of your mind knew that saliva would be no cleaner than the slick of you already on his fingers. But it was clearly the demeaning act itself that he wanted from you.

You knew too that in moments you’d be in view of those strangers still rounding the staircase. So you could either comply, or you were sure he’d make you do it in front of them instead.

There were mere seconds to decide as you opened your mouth and he immediately slid his fingers inside. The taste was strange while you sucked them just long enough to appease him. And just before those other tourists reached the top of the steps to walk past you.

He withdrew his hand with a chuckle before being seen, as if it really all was so fun. “See? Now that wasn’t so bad was it?” He was still grinning too, even as you felt him wipe his hand dry of your spit against your clothed thigh afterward.

Regardless of your non answer though, he did seem more relaxed after this display of submission, looking back out to the church again as his arm went around your waist.

“So are you going to tell me why you wanted this place so badly? You don’t exactly strike me as the pious type.”

The pirate’s tone may finally be more neutral now as well. Yet you still knew that if he thought you were hiding anything from him, it was just going to put him into a terrible mood all over again. And that version of Doflamingo was not the one you wanted to spend your shore leave with.

So you had no choice but to answer. And truthfully at that.

“It’s not important. There was just this book I had when I was a kid. It had so many pictures of this island and the church. So I’d always look at it whenever I needed to be somewhere else for a while. That’s all.”

And you waited afterward, just for some snide or cruel comment in response to that childish admission. Ready for his next barb as your eyes went back to those radiant windows.

But the warlord’s hand had moved up, rubbing your back almost gently instead as he simply responded.

“Then this was your escape.”

“Yeah.” You just agreed. And you could feel his stare on you. That way you were already getting used to when he was truly analyzing you. “What else do you want to know?” You still asked next under that scrutiny.

You saw the slight upturn of his mouth in the corner of your eye as well. A smirk that didn’t fully form. Maybe you had surprised him a little there. But it wasn’t an offer he was going to pass up either.

“Tell me what you did before Tsuru then. Before you were a marine.”

And his hand was under your chin again, capturing it and turning your face so that you couldn’t look away from him either as he awaited your answer.

Why he should give a damn about your past was as nonsensical as anything else to you though. You knew there was nothing unique in the things you’d suffered.

“The same as anyone from my town…I stole to eat. I hid to live.”

“Hid from who?” He insisted regardless. His grip on your jaw tightening a little again.

“My mom’s bosses. And her customers.” You just replied plainly. The emotion to those memories a lot more numb after this many years. “But she’s dead.” You were still quick to clarify though. You had no living family if he was thinking there was anyone else to exploit. “She worked in a brothel.”

You saw Doflamingo’s expression change, if ever so slightly. And as insane as it was, you swore it was that flicker of jealousy again. Even if he did ask more carefully then. “Did they make you work there too?”

“No.” You were also quick to confirm. Though trying not to show your discomfort in the idea that he may still care more that someone else had hypothetically had you, than the immorality of an underaged girl being a victim there at all.

“But they tried to….didn’t they?” He was definitely making the right assumptions none the less though. It took an evil man to understand another one you supposed.

“Sometimes.” You admitted. Yet you’d always managed to slip away before clothes could come off or anything could truly happen. And if not, you’d go to plan B with those men. “I’d make them so mad that they would rather hit me instead. That worked if I couldn’t get away otherwise.”

Doflamingo shifted on the pew, and you couldn’t tell if he was actually finally bothered by this as he smiled. The smile was definitely not a happy one.

“You’ve always been clever, haven’t you?” He told you.

No, you’d just done what you had to.

But he rubbed your back one more time before sliding you out of his lap so that he could stand up again.

You watched him straighten his suit jacket and tie too, a clear vanity still evident there before he slid one hand into his pants pocket.

His other hand then stretched out for you to take it and stand up beside him as well. But he didn’t let go of it afterward either, wanting you to follow him as he held your hand in his own. “Let’s go get you decent, and then we’ll go eat some fucking food already. I’m starved.”

You’d put the strap of your bag over your shoulder to go with him. And of course you were already wondering what he had in mind for making you “decent”. Yet your concerns on that did fade a little as you’d noticed him hesitate once back on the first level of the church.

Doflamingo was still walking with you. But his gait had slowed when something to the right caught his eye.

And you tried to follow his gaze as he pulled you along really, but the only thing there were the statues of the saints which everyone had to pass back through in order to exit. Nineteen of them in fact for each of the original families.

You heard a low chuckle emit from him just as you thought he’d been looking at one statue in particular. But another tourist had stepped in front of it before you could read the dedication plaque as you passed.

And then you were both outside again in the sun.

———————————

Doflamingo had had you leave your bag with some lackey of his that’d been waiting out there. They would take your things back to wherever it was that he was staying on the island.

But you didn’t really focus on any of that in this moment, still feeling like you’d fallen into some bizarre alternate reality as the warlord continued to lead you so personally by the hand.

In truth, there was still a power dynamic you could feel in that gesture even now. Not the simple affection it may be for any other couple. But on the outside at least, it was a convincing facsimile to that more innocent kind of attention.

A kind of care you couldn’t remember really experiencing before. Because Smoker was far too gruff to ever do such a silly thing as hold your hand. And Kuzan hadn’t liked public displays of affection either. Even as casual as the now admiral could be in uniform, he didn’t feel comfortable showing too much with you back then. At least not in front of the other enlisted. It was only a private thing for him, not something to be lauded over others.

But Doflamingo’s hand was tight around yours without hesitation in front of everyone as you kept up, walking side by side together through the cobblestone streets.

The first place he brought you to was some fancy store too. Evidently what he had meant by that earlier comment of making you more presentable as you’d crossed the threshold with him and realized just how out of your depth you immediately were here.

Because this was the kind of place those idiots you’d been escorting earlier would have shopped. Only for those people who had inherited far more money than sense as you immediately stared at some of the dresses and the intricate jewelry sparkling from locked cases.

You even moved closer to Doflamingo, feeling like you were only in the way as some women who you were certain were princesses from one country or another moved past with their servants in close heel behind them.

But the pirate let go of your hand, sliding his arm around your waist instead when that had happened. Not paying any mind to the twittering of those girls as you did notice them look back at him.

They looked him over just as you had in the church actually before giggling back at each other. You were far from the only one thinking him distressingly attractive in that dark suit today.

But you realized he was only waiting for an attendant as one of the store employees quickly walked up to offer their assistance.

“My girlfriend here needs enough outfits for the rest of this week.” Doflamingo’s voice was a little different then, and you realized this must be his ‘talking to the help’ tone. Which as quickly as he shifted to that made you also wonder how a pirate, even a disgustingly rich one, would have learned to fit in so well in this type of place.

Though of course that heat immediately warmed your chest too at what he’d called you. Said as if it were actually true, not even a mocking smile as he’d called you his in front of these strangers.

And before you could fully accept any of that, he’d continued with even more, instructing the attendant.

“I want to pick the colors. And at least one dress needs to be good enough for the ball tomorrow.”

The what? Oh hell no.

You looked up at him, ready to argue then. But he just eased you forward, towards that shop worker as they’d pulled out a tailor’s tape to quickly begin taking your measurements.

You didn’t have time to fight back then as you felt more like a damned show dog instead for as rapidly as the process went after that.

They’d had you in and out of the changing rooms as they pulled one dress after another. This necklace or that, these shoes or those.

And each time you were dressed again, you were being stood in front of Doflamingo. The man now sitting in his typical fashion, leaned back on an equally expensive looking couch as he’d judged each new ensemble.

You had no idea what he was truly looking for. But you could tell when some of the dresses met his approval more than others. His knees had spread open more from his place on the couch for a few of them. Likely no coincidence that they were usually the much tighter fitted ones on your body.

It was still hard to keep track of which dresses he’d asked them to box and which he’d asked them to put back. But you knew there was no way this wasn’t costing thousands of beri when it was all said and done.

You heard him tell the staff to have the accepted ones all delivered to where he was staying too. Save for the outfit and accessories which he wanted you to wear out of the store.

That one to wear now was a shorter dress than some of the others, but still high class you guessed. But then again, what did you know as you were already trying to get used to the heavy necklace and bracelet, plus the skimpy heels they’d paired with it. Everything else you’d came here with would also be sent back to his place.

You did see him pull out a large wad of paper beri from one pocket by the end, putting it on a silver tray they had brought with his receipt.

Of course your mind instantly wondered how many illicit dealings had it taken to acquire that cash as he’d only stood and rejoined you, taking you by the hand again.

As always, you couldn’t see his eyes, but you felt them moving over you as he finally smirked again when the attendants weren’t hovering as closely anymore.

He leaned down to speak lowly in your ear as well. “I’m tempted to just bring you home right now and fuck each other until tomorrow morning, woman.”

And that smirk of his grew into a grin as he actually nipped that same ear of yours before whispering further into it.

“But as nice as your pussy is…” He’d moved the hand that was holding yours so that they both brushed low across your front then. “Eating this cunt alone won’t give me calories to burn. And I’ll need that energy for us tonight, won’t I?”

The renewed heat in your face to these lewd promises didn’t help anything of course. But, “I haven’t eaten anything today either,” was all you did agree with out loud at least, though leaning your head away a little for concern of him biting your ear harder the next time.

————————————

Once back outside again, there was one more detour that he wanted to take before finally looking for food. He’d walked you up to one of those large booths selling all variations imaginable of the carnival masks.

“There were still marines here earlier. It couldn’t hurt to cover you up a bit more.” He mused, starting to look at the different ones. “…What kind of animal are you anyway, woman?”

Getting your own mask wasn’t a terrible idea given the circumstances. But you didn’t know how long you could tolerate something stuck to your face either as you looked back up at his crimson one.

“What is yours supposed to be then?” You asked him.

“Why the red death of course.” And the dark smile he gave in accompaniment to those words did give you pause.

But that unease swiftly dissolved again as he’d grabbed a black mask with a few feathers next and abruptly shoved it in front of you. “Here. The black swan.”

“You’re the bird, not me.” You immediately protested, even as he pressed the thing right over your eyes anyway.

It didn’t have the built in lenses like his mask though, your eyes still able to be seen as you glowered up at him a little.

But he didn’t care about that as he spoke, something about that mask seeming to trigger these new words. “Have you ever actually pissed off a swan, darling? They’re mean as sin once provoked. Especially if you come between them and their nest. Hissing beasts bit the shit out of me once.”

And he was just talking as he unstuck and restuck your mask to make it perfectly straight across the bridge of your nose. Some kind of light adhesive already lining the backing of all of them.

But you were listening of course. Because what a random thing for him to admit. “You had swans? Wouldn’t it make more sense to have flamingos?” You asked somewhat rudely, that bit of irritation in you needing an outlet anyway with the stupid thing now pressed on your face.

He’d paused at your question too, as if he really were considering how much to divulge in answer. But he only frowned a little, before still responding with an even deeper tidbit. “The swans were a long time ago. They were only my mother’s. And yes, I know. Some pirates get all into the animal theming, but I don’t have the time anymore. If we kept flamingos at the palace, one of my crew would forget to feed the fucking things and I’m sure they’d end up dead.”

“Which would end up dead, your crew or the birds?” You dared to quip right back. And maybe it was because you didn’t know what else to do as you realized Doflamingo actually had a mother who he remembered.

He hadn’t just spawned from a pit somewhere after all. But if she’d kept swans, was it some sort of a farm he’d come from then? Or could she actually afford them as just pets?

You had so many questions you knew were not yet time to ask. But your boldness about his potential punishments for his crew’s mistakes only made him smile again. Even as he reached in his pocket to pull out some more beri to pay the booth worker for your mask.

“Very funny, you brat. But I don’t harm my actual officers just for failure. If I put them on a task above their ability, then that fault is mine.” Which was a rather level headed notion actually. Though he did finish with something far more what you would have expected. “In my inner circle, only betrayal is an instant execution. As I’ve warned you before I’m sure.”

And his hand squeezed yours a little tighter there as the two of you still walked on together.

But this was not a subject you wanted to put him back on. Too much of a risk when you still had days potentially alone together.

“There was some kind of pasta thing I saw someone with earlier. It looked really good.” You offered, trying to redirect the conversation to safer waters as you glanced around towards the food booths again. He’d already said how hungry he was more than once.

“An oversized ravioli wasn’t it? It looked like lobster inside.” He did answer you too, clearly having noticed that same dish at some point. But adding. “Lobster’s my favorite food if it is.”

This was good. He hadn’t put back up his full walls then. Though at the same time, him offering even these smallest details might only be a ploy to make you lower some more of your own defenses. One never knew with him.

But despite all the overthinking you still had to do, you did like the feel of his hand still around yours. And the sometimes jealous stares of the strangers looking at you both as you’d passed them. They didn’t know he was actually a monster of course. Just as they didn’t know the two of you were supposed to be natural enemies instead of lovers.

To any outsider, you must look like just another couple enjoying the day. Especially when Doflamingo did smile again at the revelation that it really was generous portions of lobster tail meat stuffed into those ravioli.

He’d ordered a large basket of it, or rather almost a bucket of the things to share. You had carried the basket while he and you both speared the individual pasta shells one after another with the forks they’d given you. Eating gladly at last as you’d walked and talked more together of unimportant things. Commenting about the city around you mostly, no more of those personal details just yet.

“You want a beer?” He’d asked you though once the ravioli was gone through later. Him even licking the remainder of that rich cream sauce from his fork before leaving it with the rest of the dirty plates and utensils that bus boys were continually clearing from the outdoor tables.

“I thought you were more the champagne, top shelf kind of guy.” You contended, referencing back to his previous teasing of you from that call weeks ago when these plans had first been laid.

“I am. Though I prefer the Cava from Dressrosa if we’re being specific.” He smirked, of course remembering that previous conversation as well. “But they have their own brewery here. It’s not that piss in a can shit you drink in Marineford I assure you.”

And so before you knew it, you were also sharing high dollar beers with the Heavenly Demon on this outdoor date together.

Adding alcohol to any fire was not the safest choice. But part of you really wanted to know what a buzzed Doflamingo could be like too. He’d already heard you plastered before. So there was no mystery there, though you swore you would not get that bad again anytime soon.

But the alcohol certainly helped maintain this growing comfort level as you’d seen him even perk up when one of the bands had started another song. One he apparently knew well as he started pulling you towards it.

“Oh, no. I am not going to dance right now. No way!” And not in heels like this surely as you tried to pull the opposite direction just as quickly.

“It’s a waltz, you idiot. There couldn’t be anything simpler.” He answered, one vice like hand still on yours as he drug you regardless. His other hand tilting up the rest of yet another bottle of their specialty beer as he downed it.

He chunked the bottle after, which landed so perfectly in a far off trashcan that you were certain it’d had some string assistance.

Which that was the first time he’d used his powers since meeting you today that you’d noticed. And maybe it made him remember how easy cheating with them would be as well.

“Don’t make me puppet you.” He’d threatened when you’d still resisted. “I’ll lead, all you have to do is move your feet. If you can fight me and fuck me, then you can dance with me too. It’s just in the timing, woman.”

But again…how did a pirate even know how to waltz? This, plus the swans, and the way he’d talked down to the people in that fancy clothing store, like it was just as natural as breathing to him. The puzzle pieces just weren’t fitting.

Because he could be so vulgar and unhinged in one moment, and yet moving with more authority and class than you’d seen from most royals in the next. Even though you did keep forgetting that he was also a king himself.

That title was just so hard to label him with in your own mind, when you’d all known him as only a pirate for far longer than the couple of years he’d now ruled Dressrosa.

But as he did take you into the area where the other couples were already dancing to that waltz, there was no denying that a real king likely would dance just this way as you felt his arm slip around your waist again.

You tried to copy him as he did lead with your hand raised in his other hand. But when you realized he was looking down at you as he easily went through the footsteps, you looked away in renewed awkwardness.

It was not like fighting him despite his suggestions. Because you were confident when fighting, even if losing. Here you just felt like a child trying not to step on his comparatively graceful feet.

You heard him sigh at your non commitment though, before he jerked his fingers up even without letting go of you and abruptly your feet did begin moving on their own.

“Stop it!” You fussed, trying not to let anyone else hear. Being controlled now was just as disconcerting as it’d been in Sabaody, even if the stakes felt lower here.

“Then quit half-assing this. I’ve seen you move those legs plenty of times. You’re far more coordinated than most. You’re just being stubborn.” But even with him chiding you and doing that work for you both then, he still had time to lean down and steal yet another kiss as you’d tried to bitch at him further.

Your additional protest was then muffled of course. But he didn’t stop there as that lewd tongue filled your mouth yet again. And even that wasn’t enough for him as he’d then withdrew it just to nip your own tongue sharply in his next movement.

Yet this time you did bite right back, enough to make a point at least. It was about all you could do after all, unable to move much otherwise below the neck with his parasite ability still in control.

Oh, but your returned aggression only backfired. Because he absolutely liked it, escalating things that much more as you felt your hand which had been on his back get pulled down and around against your will next. You were just a marionette again as your hand slid between the two of you instead and right over his crotch.

“Doflamingo.” You warned lowly, unable to stop your fingers from then cradling him just as he wanted.

“Doffy,” He corrected you this time though. “That’s what my family calls me.”

“I’m not your crew.” You reminded.

“I didn’t say that you were,” he agreed, even as he made your hand tighten on what was clearly the bulge of him beneath that fabric.

But he was smirking hungrily yet again as he purposefully twitched his cock within his pants just enough for you to feel it too. Your hold on him still concealed from the others the way he now had your bodies pressed together.

“Are you ready to head back to my villa now, woman? I think I’ve had enough of this restrictive suit for today.”

“Take off your strings and we’ll go.” You replied.

“Well, are you going to be a good girl and call me Doffy like I’ve asked while you take all of this?” He purred back, twitching his still mostly soft length against your hand again.

Your eyebrows raised. It felt weird to say, but you were sure it would be far from the worst thing he’d ever ask you to repeat.

“Yes, Doffy.” You submitted again on this at least, letting him have another win as you looked up at him expectantly.

His lips pulled back in a decidedly wicked response at that too before he’d kissed you roughly again and the strings fell back away.

“Come on then. I’ll show you the way home,” He breathed against your ear before yanking you back from the band and the other still dancing couples.

And as the two of you started to walk again, you were just realizing how dark it was already getting. Vaguely you remembered now about Scylla having shorter daylight hours than most islands.

Yet as you were still thinking that, a sudden boom and a flash of colors had you looking further up. And Doflamingo did as well as the next firework went off and then another and another.

They were pretty, but he’d already made up his mind of the only thing he wanted now as he pulled you along again.

You could watch it all though as he lead. You now looking up at him and the Scyllian architecture passing to the left and right under the continued pops and hisses of the multicolored fireworks.

More people were walking on every street, some pausing to watch the show above as music and scents came and went as you still passed different musicians and vendors even now. The scope of carnival here extending well beyond just the center of the city.

You realized how many days it really would have taken to see it all, more than you had time for before he finally brought you to the high gate of a villa which faced one of the canals.

He fished in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a key to unlock the gate which was nearly flush to a stone archway above, then guiding you through it beside him before shutting and locking it again.

Gas lanterns burned to light another cobblestone path beyond as you realized the villa was far deeper than it was wide. The entryway going back into a private courtyard with a fountain and what looked to be olive trees and even grape vines in planters. But you barely had time to appreciate any of it before he was pulling you up an outdoor staircase that went to the upper levels of the home from the outside.

“It’s beautiful.” You couldn’t help but say anyway as he’d opened a double set of glass doors into a long hallway.

“I thought you’d like it,” he did answer you though.

It even smelled good you realized. There was probably a kitchen downstairs. But then he’d opened another door after he’d lead you down the hall and you realized you were already standing in what had to be the master bedroom as he shut the door back behind you both.

The room was gently lit with a couple of oil lanterns already burning. And you very briefly recognized your own duffel bag on the floor near a dresser. There was another large set of glass doors already opened onto a different balcony as well, the curtains on those doors shifting in the cool breeze coming in.

The scent of the ocean carried on the wind, and the sounds of the city as well. There was a table and chairs on that new balcony. It looked both elegant and cozy all at once.

But that was the last attention you were able to give the outside for now as you felt Doflamingo’s arms close around your waist soon after.

You took a breath, knowing he was done waiting. Yet as much you wanted this too, your body still remembered the pain of him. You couldn’t help but be nervous as you felt his mouth bear down on your neck all over again.

And his teeth too, but he didn’t bite hard. Not yet anyway before his hands were already deftly undoing his tie. The red fabric hit the floor, his black suit jacket not far behind it.

At about this point you finally began helping. And when he’d realized your fingers were now working on his vest buttons, he went to his pants instead.

He was wearing a real belt this time through the black slacks as he unhooked it. But he didn’t bother to slip the belt from the loops as he was already unbuttoning his pants soon after.

You had gotten his vest out of the way as he slid it off. His lips were back over yours too as he started moving you both towards the bed.

He was bent over enough to kiss you all the while as you were reaching up to undo the buttons of his shirt one by one. And yes, you finally had to admit that he wasn’t entirely wrong when he’d said how much easier his normal attire was to get past.

All dressed up like this, he looked ridiculously good. But it was so many more layers to deal with. And yet it did make the payoff all the more gratifying as you finally freed the last button and your hands immediately ran under his then open shirt.

He made a pleasured sound against your mouth as you mapped out his abdominal muscles and then his chest while he remained in your reach. You bid him to slide the entire shirt off next. Which he did.

And finally it was then your turn to push him. Even if you were smaller than him, you were strong relative to your size. And you knew how to move larger opponents around, now leading Doflamingo by the mouth, and turning him so his back was to the bed instead. Just before you shoved him down onto the mattress in on one fluid movement. It was actually made easier by his height, for the leverage that created for you. Like felling a tree really.

Of course he was allowing it, but you highly doubted his other female playthings ever moved him around roughly this way at all.

But you needed him laying down as soon as he could be. Because once his back hit the bed, it was much easier to reach everything that way. Even as you pulled away to get a good look at him laying below you afterward.

At last you could see him fully shirtless. Something that shouldn’t have been as big a deal to you as it was.

Tight, lightly tanned skin, lean and muscular all the way through as you moved back in. You pushed your high heels off, crawling forward onto the bed to kiss down his flat stomach while you felt his muscles tensing beneath your lips.

As you’d thought, there was not a scar to be seen on this man. He wasn’t a coward, but he knew which fights were worth it and which were not. You’d heard he could repair and stitch himself back together to a degree as well with his strings.

That likely accounted for the lack of even smaller scars as you felt him raise his hips for you.

He was sliding off his pants too now. You backed off a little, giving him the room to toss them. No underwear as usual. But he pulled off his socks too, throwing them wherever his shoes now were.

And with that the king of Dressrosa was now fully nude beneath you on these silk sheets. Already fully hard and bared to you except for that red mask still covering his eyes.

You took in this alluring sight as his lips remained parted, breath coming in shorter pants for you.

He wanted so badly to be fucked by you. Somehow that thought pulsed deep into your brain, as strange as it felt to think this when you knew that in pure physical strength alone, he was absolutely the better of you two.

You’d argue that in a prolonged fight, you’d still be creative and fast enough to give him real grief and pain. But that wasn’t the point right now.

“Doffy,” you tried that nickname he’d requested earlier, lowering yourself to begin kissing down to his waist once more. You knew what you wanted to do for him now. You just didn’t know if he could behave enough not to hurt you.

He groaned softly at each new touch, clearly enjoying the attention as your mouth kept getting lower and lower.

His thighs he spread so easily too as you massaged them with your hands. “Can you control yourself for me, Doffy? I’ll use my mouth if you can do that for me, baby.” You promised him, trying to work in both the nicknames he’d seemed to like the most. “But you can’t choke me. I can’t finish you if you just choke me...you realize how big you are compared to me, don’t you?”

You had no idea if this would work. But you were willing to try. You did want to try.

You wanted it badly.

“I know.” He panted a little more, chest moving up and down as you saw that precum already forming on his tip as you took his shaft into your hand.

You could see his thigh muscles tensing too, as you now stroked him before blowing just the slightest bit of air across his tip as he took in another sharp breath.

But you weren’t much for teasing, kissing the head of that terribly large cock right after as he shifted almost desperately. Your tongue followed behind as you licked the sensitive underside at the bottom edge of the head. Flicking it with your tongue really the same way as he had once done to your clit that day in Mariejois.

And oh, he definitely liked that as you heard a quiet curse escape him and felt one of his hands moving down into your hair.

Yet you still knew the danger. If he tried to deep throat you, you’d probably puke honestly. His length would be far beyond the threshold of your gag reflex.

“Easy…please,” you reminded him. You did keep one fist around the base of his shaft, almost like a stop to keep from taking him too deep. But stroking his base with that hand as you did take the rest of him past your lips then.

You wouldn’t say you were an expert by any means. But you’d done this before. You knew what Kuzan and Smoker had both liked. You had to imagine it was universal to a degree as you tried to suck Doflamingo now while bobbing up and down enough to be somewhat satisfying without choking yourself.

A fine line as you did gag once or twice, trying to find that edge as his hips did start to move, reflexively pressing further into your sucking.

You reached under to take a hold of his sack too. He was just inviting to be touched anywhere you chose as he kept his legs wide open for you.

When you massaged that heavy sack as well, then giving them a light squeeze, he full out moaned for you at the bit of over stimulation.

That was a surprise for how much it made you react too, his sounds making you so very wet. No outlet for you yet, still trapped in the tight dress he’d bought you as you just kept sucking him as intensely as you could.

His hand had tightened almost painfully too in your hair by then, in tandem with the harder and harder his hips were trying to move against your mouth.

“(Y/N)…” he groaned again as he thrust raggedly. “…I want you to swallow me. Go ahead…I’ll get hard over and over for you. We aren’t even close to done...”

His back was even arching a little as you did comply to try and force him over the edge already. Kinder than you had to be when he obviously wanted this first release as soon as possible.

So you started licking that sensitive spot at the base of the head once more, giving his balls another light squeeze too for good measure.

The pirate’s breath shuddered with the additional flicks of your tongue and he groaned again as you plunged your mouth down onto his shaft once more after.

Your one hand stayed around his sack, but the other now gripped against his hip. Which he responded to that too, liking the bit of pain as your fingernails dug in for purchase.

He was humping upward, his dick riding in your mouth as he made sounds of even further desperation.

“I wanted this…suck me harder…” He was still panting as you saw his other hand fisting tightly into the bed sheets.

And you did use your mouth even rougher at that, your eyes flitting up to see what you could of him. He was biting his bottom lip again. His jaw clenched as you saw his adam’s apple jump when he swallowed.

A tremble ran through Doflamingo’s legs as he pulled them up, his thighs flexing before his back arched again and you knew what was imminent before he finally let go within your mouth.

Even if you hadn’t been touched between your own thighs yet, you actually felt your channel briefly contracting too, almost like a contact high for how much pleasure he was clearly experiencing.

And you did swallow as much of that salty heat as you could. Of course some of his seed couldn’t help but escape you too though as it ran back out along the length of him, and you coughed a couple times while pulling back to regather yourself. He’d thrust up deeper right as he’d cum, just as you’d expected, finally jabbing you hard as you’d had to fight that instinct to gag his ejaculate right back out of your throat.

And even in the resulting haze of his orgasm, he still noticed when you’d pulled away from him even that much. His arm reaching out to grab you just as quickly, pulling you down against his still heaving chest as he grinned up at your cum stained lips.

Doflamingo was absolutely his own type of man, always reminding you of this too as he kissed you without hesitation then, the remnants of his own arousal not bothering him in the slightest.

“You’re such a good girl,” he purred in that special tone of his as well, kissing you again in even further approval before his long tongue ran out to clean your lips and chin for you in just two quick licks.

The gesture was weird, but truly affectionate in a way you would have never been able to explain to a normal person.

And he laid his head back afterward, steadying his breathing for another long moment as he stroked your back and down to your still clothed ass.

The sun had fully set now, darkening the bedroom even more save for the firelight of those oil lanterns while the two of you lay there quietly for several more minutes.

You thought he was just wanting that brief recovery period, if he’d been serious at least about getting hard for you again soon enough to continue. Even a man like him was somewhat restrained by the basic rules of biology after all. It’d take a bit for his weapon to reload so to speak.

But you realized he was actually laying there thinking too in the new dark before he started something that was not at all what you would have expected right now.

“(Y/N)…I want to see you.” Doflamingo said abruptly, sitting up in the bed then as he grabbed you by your wrists to pull you up with him. You were now sitting in front of the warlord on the bed, his legs around you as he looked down at you.

You still didn’t understand what he meant at first of course, making him have to clarify as his hands tightened more against your wrists. “Take off my mask, (Y/N).” He tried ordering next instead. “It’s too dark for it now…I want to see you all the way. And if you’re staying with me, then you’re going to sleep beside me too. I want this off tonight.”

Your own eyes had long since adjusted to the lantern light, you watching him with a little disbelief.

But despite his words sounding confident, you could see his mouth was now tense. No mocking grin at all as your fingertips did touch the sides of his mask, albeit cautiously when he pulled your hands closer.

Of course you had wondered many times what he hid beneath his usual glasses. Being intimate with a man without ever seeing his entire face was a bit of a mindfuck in it’s own right. And yet, that secrecy was also just part of who he was. Behind a mask of one kind or another was the only way you’d ever known him.

The sudden request had you very nervous too. Because it felt like what seeing a new partner nude for the very first time was like in a normal relationship. But for Doflamingo, this was actually a more vulnerable situation than even his long cock just resting soft against you in this moment.

And what would happen if you somehow didn’t react how he wanted you to when finally seeing him?

“Are you sure?” You heard yourself asking, even as he was the one that still held your fingers against the edges of that mask.

“Yes. I’m sure.” And even as he answered that, it did sound like just the smallest hint of uncharacteristic stress had finally entered his tone.

He wasn’t going to tell you again though, not without getting angry you knew. So you did your best to keep your hands steady as you slipped your fingertips beneath the mask to begin peeling it gently away from his skin.

And as it did come off, you felt you weren’t allowed to look away. But the first you saw of that new skin was both his eyes shut defensively as the mask pulled fully away.

He did have eyelashes was the first mundane detail you noticed. Like an actual human…and thin blond eyebrows that were tightly lowered then just before his right eye did open to make true eye contact with you for the very first time.

And even in the lantern light, you could tell the iris there was a deep shade of red. Cautious, maybe even concerned in its focus now as he tried to determine your reaction.

But he was still hiding the left eye, keeping it closed as you dared to let your fingers stroke down his temple and cheek in what you hoped was a soothing gesture.

Because there on the other eyelid was finally the flaw he’d been concealing. Something that marred what would have otherwise been an entire body’s worth of perfection. You could see the thick scar tissue over that closed eye.

The strike through the smiling face and one eye of his jolly roger now made all the more sense in the world too as you finally put two and two together.

“Doffy.” You called gently up to him. And you got to see his right eye react just to that softness of his name from your lips.

He wanted to be comforted. This was obviously something he almost never showed anyone. Was it that difficult for him?

And gods, if that thought didn’t do something to you as well as you ran your fingertips across his lips next.

“Look at me, Doffy…it’s okay.” You still kept this going as your heart moved into your throat. It shouldn’t feel this different already.

But he did respond positively, kissing your fingertips just as that left eye finally opened.

And to your surprise, that eye wasn’t missing at all. You’d expected the worst, based on the damage to the eyelid. But his left eye was actually intact, even tracking you in tandem with the right. He could move it.

But could he see from it?

The iris of the left eye was different. Slightly larger than the right. Possibly once red too, but too difficult to tell now in the cloudy white that mostly obscured it.

Who would have ever been so brazen or lucky enough to get that precise of a debilitating hit on the Heavenly Demon?

And did they live to tell the tale?

But that story wasn’t really what you cared about in this moment either as you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at him now. That strange warmth just building and building as your mind tried to understand that this truly was still the same person in front of you.

He was starting to suck your fingers slightly now too, already tired of just kissing them alone as they remained near his mouth.

Yet you couldn’t contain what you finally said after seeing his true face for just this long.

“You really are gorgeous.” You breathed even as his teeth had now started to nip your fingertips.

And you’d gotten to see both his eyes widen slightly at that sincere declaration. His mouth pausing its toying with your fingers as he looked down into your own eyes again.

He looked confused if just for that moment, unsure even before he finally pulled your wrists enough to take your hands back away from his face.

But for once the warlord couldn’t find the matching words. He just looked at you, something new and unidentifiable briefly in those eyes before he let his body do the talking for him.

His mouth was back over yours so quickly. So entirely needful as the taste of him filled you again.

He was unzipping your dress too, but with such a fervor that you thought it might rip before he’d slid it from off your shoulders.

Your own mask he reached up to pull away too. But not near as gently as you’d done for him. It stung a little as he’d yanked it off.

The same was done with your bra. His nimble fingers unhooking it with ease. The mask, and the dress, and the bra joining your shoes on the floor then.

He left your jewelry on, either liking the aesthetic, or just too impatient to deal with it as he’d now been the one forcing you onto your back on the mattress.

His fingers hooked into the sides of your underwear, yanking it roughly from your hips and off of your legs too before he was then leaned back in to start licking a wet trail straight down your chest.

You were essentially along for the ride at this point. But you were able to grip into that short blonde hair along his scalp as his head came back up to bite one of your breasts.

The sound you made in response simply encouraged him of course as he did it again even harder to the other one.

But just when you thought you were going to have to engage some armament coating for self preservation’s sake, he started sucking your chest instead.

You couldn’t stop your resulting gasp at that new sensation when he worked one of your nipples far more carefully in his mouth while it hardened at the attention.

And now you could see the intensity as his eyes glanced up at you while he squeezed your other breast beneath his hand.

Making true eye contact while being ravaged by him put things on a whole new level. And he still didn’t give you time to accept this at all before you felt his other hand move between your legs almost simultaneously.

He went back to sucking and biting your breasts as he thumbed your clit hard, making your thighs try to slam closed as you writhed beneath him.

Of course, closing anything to him was no longer allowed. So both his hands were below your waist then as he grabbed your knees to force your legs back open before you felt him release one hand again to push his fingers right inside you once more.

He was finger fucking you immediately too, continuing what he had started at the church as you whined desperately.

“I’m going to take this. Again and again, you understand? I’ve waited too long.” You heard him growl as he’d risen back up to straddle you. Your hands were then forced back above you as he grabbed your wrists again next. “But if you’re good, we’ll keep using lube each time.”

And as he said this, he’d let go of you again just enough for his strings to pull open the drawer of the nearby nightstand. Another string lifted a small bottle out of that drawer and into his hand.

He was already fully hard again as he’d poured some of that bottle’s contents into one of his palms. Then spreading that liquid entirely over his waiting cock before the bottle dropped back onto the nightstand.

Even if you’d said no, it wouldn’t have mattered to him. You could only brace yourself, yet fighting to relax all the same before Doflamingo had forced his then freshly slick cock past your entrance once again.

He was already panting, his eyes absolutely full of that yearning for you as he immediately started to thrust.

Even all the lube in the world couldn’t let you stretch fast enough though as you cried out in return.

“That’s it…come on, scream for me. Scream for your man.” He breathed out regardless, that suction already starting as you could hear the additional wetness of the lube making those god awful sounds through the room as his hips pumped in and out against you.

“Bastard!” You arched and cried out again as you fought the pain of that pressure, the bed protesting as well as his weight shook it.

But every time your legs tried to close around his hips, he’d just grab you by the thighs and force you open again though.

After about the third time, he dug his fingers into that flesh of your legs, enough to pierce it slightly.

“I want to watch this wet cunt while I fuck it. So keep these goddamned thighs open.” He briefly scolded.

You glared up at him, but that only drew out an additional nasty smile from the pirate as he angled his hips further at that, changing the pressure to scrape more against that special, sensitive spot inside of you.

As you moaned immediately too, he was looking so smug again. “Are you going to cum for me this time, love?”

And in the pain of it all, you still caught that slight difference in his wording.

Love.

But he didn’t stop there. “I want you to. Cum for me, (Y/N).”

And as he said this, he was still pounding in and out of you, sometimes hitting against your cervix, sometimes not. He knew the farthest depth he could fit by now, but that didn’t mean he never overshot that point in the haze of his own pleasure.

You felt like you were burning up too. Even if he was doing all the work right now by his own volition. The bedroom smelled like sex and sweat. That change so fast as you did feel your muscles trying to contract again.

“Then rub me. If you want me to cum…” you suddenly had found your voice again.

You saw his eyes go back to your face at those words, he really had been watching you stretch around him down there just as he’d said he would.

“Rub what?” He asked darkly though, wanting to hear you say it.

“Rub my clit,” you replied a little more irritably.

“Beg for it.” He just countered right back.

You flinched when he hit your cervix again and you thought that time had really been on purpose.

But clearly your pride still exceeded your discomfort as you did refuse to beg for your own release. Not yet.

And he was fine with that too.

Abruptly Doflamingo had pulled all the way out of you before roughly flipping you onto your stomach as he got on his knees behind you and pulled your ass back up to him.

“I guess you’re declining another shot of the lube then.” He taunted, just before plunging his cock into your aching channel all over again.

It was still plenty wet naturally, but the lube absolutely would have helped as he started thrusting desperately into you all over again.

And now it did feel wholly animalistic, you on all fours momentarily before he’d reached forward to shove you back down into the bed by the back of your neck.

Just your ass still up as his pelvis humped it like a bitch being bred by her mate then.

And the sounds he made as he did so. He was fully consumed in that moment as his hand tightened even further on your neck from behind.

Either the spine or the throat was always what he went for when he sought to better control you.

But the worst thing was that you still felt yourself contracting anyway around him. Body trying to coax his second release from him whether or not you had even had your first.

You were as sweaty as him too from just the intensity of the body heat and the peak of arousal that made you feel like you were burning from the inside out.

Even when it hurt, you were still keeping up on your knees for him too, letting this man continue to ride you even as he kept you gasping with your chest and neck pinned into the mattress.

“That’s right…you love this don’t you?” His voice almost sounded close to breaking then in response to your own sounds.

He slammed in even harder again for emphasis. “This is all for you….I did wait for you. I haven’t fucked anyone. So take what you’ve earned.”

Your expression still showed surprise at this confession, even while it was difficult to look back at him as he finally orgasmed again and you felt his body shudder harshly before his seed filled you to the brim.

You could feel him still trembling, not hiding that weakness at all either as he kept himself sheathed inside you to survive what seemed like even more than one additional orgasm afterward for him.

That sticky overflow did drip from your folds and down onto the bed too as he pumped his hips slowly a few extra times just for good measure.

It was as if he absolutely didn’t want you to miss a single drop of him.

And you mostly didn’t even as he stayed inside, just letting go of your neck in favor of your waist as he pulled you all the way down into the bed, laying on your sides then with him still breathing rather raggedly behind you.

You felt him hugging you to him. That grip still wholly possessive as he rested a few minutes again.

And you didn’t mind the new silence, fully appreciating that cool night air still coming through the open balcony doors as it ghosted across you both.

But after a while, he must have wanted to look at you. Because he at last slid his softening length back out before again forcing you to turn. This time the two of you facing one another as his arm went tight right back around you.

The Heavenly Demon actually nuzzled you then, before you felt him chuckle.

“I’m still burning up, woman. What poison are you made of anyway?”

And you could see that look of almost exhausted contentment in his eyes as he looked you over.

He was actually sated. If only for this moment as you couldn’t resist reaching back up to touch his uncovered face. He’d allow you almost anything right now, you knew that instinctively too.

And he did turn his face further into your renewed touch, letting you pet him as his eyes softened with that rare comfort.

He really was beautiful like this. Though you knew no one else would ever believe it.

But you didn’t care about anyone else right now. Not at all as you brought your lips together again to kiss him gently.

The type of kiss you wondered if he even understood the meaning of.

Whether he did or not though, he still liked it. And he returned that softness before a loud pop from outside had you both looking towards the open balcony doors again.

You stared as suddenly the bedroom was awash with color. More fireworks beginning again outside as you realized you were truly smiling.

“What?” You heard Doflamingo ask, voice still tired as he put his head back against you. “It’s just noise.”

But it was far more than just that as you still watched the multiple hues flaring across the room one after another.

It was such a similar effect actually to that sunlight coming through the stained glass in the church earlier today. It made you realize that you’d always thought your fantasy of sanctuary would only ever look a certain way.

But that wasn’t true. Because this place was becoming a sanctuary too. Somehow, someway, you did feel needed as this man gripped you harder when you hadn’t yet answered him.

“It’s just pretty.” You finally offered, unable to really put this to words of course. Your eyes met his again as you finished though. “It’s what I wanted.”

He made a sound at that, putting one long leg over your hip as if to wrap you up even further against him in this makeshift nest.

“Agreed.” Was all Doflamingo said as his attention never left you then. And that spoke volumes.

Because neither of you were talking about the fireworks any longer. It was all about this new feeling. Something that you feared not being able to carry on without again.

———————————

T⨂ BE

CONTINUED

———————————

Thanks for reading!

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