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cherrybracelets · 4 years

Text

Freefall

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

word count: 15.3k | warnings: smut!!!! alcohol mention, murder mention, rape mention, lots of typical cm violence!

inspired by: its called freefall by rainbow kitten surprise (i highly recommend listening to this song before or during reading!)

Anyway, you say you’re too busy saving everybody else to save yourself / And you don’t want no help, oh well / That’s the story to tell

ok i have put my blood sweat and tears in this lamfkndksjfj this has been my wip for almost 3 weeks this is my entry for @veraiconcos fic challenge!! her prompt fit so perfectly with this fic so i am so excited to share it with you guys. this is by far my most challenging piece and the one i worked the longest on. i really hope you all love it, feedback is much appreciate. i am tagging some moots to signal boost this, i hope u dont mind

Aaron-

This woman killed my dad. They said you’d be able to help. Please find her.

Aaron ran his fingertips over the letter one more time, feeling the depth of the pen, the engravement of each letter into the crisp stationary. He reread the words for a thousandth time, wondering if this time he could discover who actually sent the letter. But unfortunately, just like the past times, there was nothing to indicate who the sender was. The only other thing in the picture was a photograph of a young woman, the person Aaron believed was the murderer. Her face was mostly covered, and he was almost certain the short black bob that sat on her head was a wig. There was nothing about the photo that would help identify her, but on the back of the photo was a date- May 7th 2020, and a city, Sante Fe, NM.

He continued to stare at it, hoping some new information would pop out at him this time. But there was nothing, and he knew if he wanted to find whoever was responsible for this crime, he would need to involve the team. Whoever sent this clearly only wanted Aaron involved, even addressing him personally as Aaron and not Agent Hotchner.. Who could this person be? And who sent him Aaron’s way?

“You’re here early,” JJ hesitated, walking through the doors of the BAU to begin her day.

“Yeah… I’ve got kind of a… thing?” Aaron stammered over his words, trying to decide how he should go about this.

“What’s going on, Hotch?”

“Come take a look at this. It was on my desk yesterday.” Hotch waved JJ over to him, holding the letter tightly in hands. He handed it to her hesitantly, still not feeling comfortable sharing with the rest of the team. It could be a prank, a practical joke, somebody just trying to waste his time. But how did it find it’s way onto his desk? Who would be messing with him like this?

“Was there an envelope?” JJ asked, staring at the words on the paper.

“Yes, addressed to me, but no return address. It seems like it was hand delivered.”

“The handwriting looks like a teenagers, how would he have made it all the way from New Mexico?”

“Maybe somebody else delivered it?”

Aaron and JJ’s attention was quickly taken away when Spencer and Derek walked through the doors, their loud voices cracking through the quiet air of the BAU. They were arguing about something pointless, as they usually did. Aaron felt his head throbbing as the day started to begin, unsure of how much longer he’d be able to make it without some strong coffee.

“JJ, keep this between us for now. I’ll bring it to Garcia, see if she can find anything worth investigating. I don’t want to bring it to the team unless I’m sure we have a case.”

“Understood.” JJ smiled kindly at him, a look he was all too familiar with. Ever since Haley died, it felt like everyone was constantly walking on eggshells around him. Everyone felt bad, and they did whatever he asked without complaint. From a boss standpoint, it was nice, not having to argue your decisions to your team. But, they were more than his team. They were his friends, and he felt he lost them the same day he lost Haley.

Aaron greeted Spencer and Derek quickly, not wanting to get pulled into whatever discussion they were having. He was holding onto the letter tightly, afraid of losing it. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he just had a feeling about it. Like he had stumbled onto something huge, and whatever Garcia could find out would lead them to something unbelievable.

“Hey, Garcia. Any chance I could have you work on something… private, for now?” Aaron stood in the doorway of her office, all of the bright screens making him wince. His headache was only getting worse as the day went on.

“Of course, sir. Is everything okay?” She looked worried, for sure hoping that whatever secret task she was performing for him had nothing to do with Haley. Although he knew she would never say anything, he could tell she was worried about him.

“I need you to check deaths in Santa Fe, NM from May 5th - May 9th. Specifically look for men with teenage sons.”

“Just homicides?”

“No, any deaths. And see if you find anything suspicious.”

“Alright…” Penelope said, furrowing her brows in confusion. “It might take a bit. Santa Fe’s a big city.”

“Just get back to me when you can, Garcia.” Aaron smiled slightly at the technical analyst, before leaving quietly. His head was begging him for caffeine, or Advil, or a drink, even though it was barely 9 in the morning.

He walked quietly back to his office, not talking to any of his team, closing the door behind him as he got inside. There was a sick feeling in his stomach, most likely caused by the cigarette he snuck this morning on an empty stomach. He paced uncomfortably, dry swallowing an Advil he found in the back of his desk drawer. He knew it would take Garcia a while

to get his information, but he was feeling exceptionally frustrated and impatient. He started to walk towards the door, feeling the need to to pester his analyst to work quicker, but as he opened it, JJ stood pleasantly in the door.

“We got a case, boss,” she smiled, waving an envelope in the air.

“Alright, let’s get to the conference room.” Aaron closed the door to office, following his Agent into the annex. He felt sick as he took his seat, not ready for whatever horror was about to be presented. Some days he felt like giving up, like throwing in the towel. He has given this job everything he had, and what did he get in return?

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Aaron and the team left an hour later for their newest destination, solving the case within 3 days. They were headed back to DC on the jet when he got a call from Garcia. It was rare she would call him personally if they were not working a case, so he knew it must’ve been about the letter. He waited a moment before answering, anxious about what her news could be. What if she found nothing, and this was the end of the line?

“Hello, sir. I wanted to call as soon as I could.” She sounded nervous, a tone of confusion in her voice.

“What’s going on, Garcia?”

“Well, it’s about the letter. I found something… interesting.”

“Do you think we could have a case?”

“It’s a high possibility, sir.”

“Alright. Can you patch into the computer and share with the team. I’d like to bring them in on this as well.”

“Sounds good, see you in a moment.”

Aaron hung the phone up, walking back to the main part of the jet and back to the rest of the team. They were spread out, all enjoying the calming feeling of a solved case. Spencer and JJ were sleeping, Emily and Derek both with headphones in and Rossi reading a book. He hated to bother them, hated to disturb their peace they all deserved. But that was the job- there was no peace. They all had to endure constant chaos so that innocent people didn’t have to.

Aaron turned on the lights of the jet, alarming his team and causing several groans of frustration.

“What’s going on, Hotch?” Emily asked in desperation, her eyes squinting as they adjusted to the light.

“I’m sorry to bother everyone, but I think we might have a new case.” Aaron looked around the room, slowly watching the faces of his friends change from their relaxed state to the intensity of a profiler.

“Is this about… the thing from a few days ago?” JJ asked quietly, not wanting to bring it up if it wasn’t the case.

“The letter, yes.”

“Hello, my sleepy friends. I am sorry to bother you, but I have stumbled across something interesting that I believe requires your attention. Uh, Hotch… would you like to…” she trailed off, looking around for her superior to explain how they ended up here.

“I received a letter a few days ago… someone asking us to look into the death of their father. It was anonymous, there was a picture along with it but it still wasn’t enough to do much on my own. So, I handed over what I had to Garcia and…” Aaron trailed off, realizing now he hadn’t even asked Penelope what she got before bringing the rest of the team in.

“I guess that’s where I come in. So, as per our humble leader, I searched for deaths of men on the given dates with teenage sons, and as I expected, that list was quite large.”

“Why teenage sons?” Derek asked, still trying to fill in the gaps of information.

“The letter was clearly written by a young boy, no older than 16 was my guess,” JJ added, explaining her conclusion to the team.

“Garcia, were you able to narrow down the list?” Aaron asked, desperately wanting to know what she found.

“Well, I got rid of anyone whose death was expected. People who were sick or in the hospital, with underlying medical conditions, et cetera et cetera. Once we narrowed it down to deaths that were true accidents, I had a list of three.”

“How do we know this isn’t just a prank?” Rossi asked. It was a fair question, a question he frequently asked himself as well.

“Ah, well, if it was a prank I wouldn’t have found out what I did…”

“That looks like the face of someone who’s about to tell me I’m not going home tonight,” Derek laughed, turning to Emily, who rolled her eyes.

“Unfortunately it does seem like there’s a case here. One of the men that I flagged as ‘Could Be A Murder Victim’ has a… bad past.” One thing that Aaron always admired about Penelope is how she always managed to speak with such lightness, no matter how heavy the content of her words. “42-year old Derek Hood was killed on May 7th, ruled as an accidental drug overdose. There was some chatter that it may have been suicide, but there was no note and the family insisted he wouldn’t have killed himself.”

“So what makes you think it was murder?” Spencer asked.

“Alright, get this. Our man Jason was on trial two years ago for the rape of three different 16 year old girls. It was declared a mistrial, unfortunately, after all three of the girls refused to testify at his trial.”

“Is it possible he threatened them? This could be a revenge killing, if that was the case,” Emily added.

“Ah, I thought that too, my friend. But all three of the girls are now in college and far, far away from Sante Fe. So, that was kind of a dead end.”

“What about the parents?” Aaron questioned.

“We think alike, sir. All three of their families still reside in Santa Fe, and three weeks before Jason’s death, all three couples withdrew $15,000 cash from their banks. One family stated it was for a pool, the other for a car, and the last family stated it was for bathroom renovations.”

“Were any of those projects completed, Garcia?”

“To the best of my knowledge, no.”

“So this is what I think it is, then,” Rossi asked, looking up towards Aaron for confirmation.

“It’s most likely a hitman, yes.” Aaron looked around at his team, a feeling of worry drowning him. Hitmen were exceptionally dangerous, and so were the routes to get to them. It was an extremely well protected underground business, and the chances of catching one successfully, with no one hurt, were very slim.

“Wait, but our unsub is a woman. The photo very clearly showed a female, and even in the letter, the boy addresses her as ‘This woman.’”

“Could we see the picture, Garcia?” Aaron asked, staring at the monitor as he awaited the photo.

“Maybe they’re dressing as a woman to distract any possible witnesses?” Rossi added. The photo then popped up on the monitor, the same hidden person that was ingrained in Aaron’s brain. He couldn’t forget her, her shielded face, cheap wig, perfect body…

“That is definitely a woman, guys. You can’t fake that body…” Derek laughed, causing a wave of eye rolls and a slight shove of disgust from Emily.

“A female hitman… that is exceptionally rare.”

“Maybe she’s killing for justice? I mean, Jason was a piece of shit. And he somehow got away with his crimes, maybe this is punishment,” Derek added, always the first to try to come up with some sort of explanation.

“Why would she charge the parents almost fifty grand, though? That clearly makes it about money,” Emily rebutted.

“Garcia, is there any way we can find out who they gave that money too?” Aaron asked, hoping for a quick and easy answer, but he knew nothing was easy at this job.

“Since they took it out in cash, there’s no way to trace it, sir.”

“We’ll need to talk to the parents.”

“They won’t say anything, you know how that goes,” JJ said.

“We’ll target one of them, whichever is the most unstable. Promise them immunity. That usually works in situations like this.” Aaron looked at the team, noticing how tired they were. He knew how bad they needed to go home, sleep in their own beds, wash their hair with something other than hotel shampoo. But this was big, he could feel it. And they probably did, as well. It was their life, they were all aware of how crazy this career path could be. But, just because he knew that, it didn't make it any easier on Aaron when he had to push them to their limit. “We need to turn the plane around to Santa Fe. If this person is local, it’s best that we’re on the scene.”

“Can we at least stop home so I can get some new clothes?” JJ groaned, looking at the team in desperation for support.

“Fine. Can we be back in the air in two hours?”

“We can make that work,” Spencer agreed.

“Alright. Thanks, guys.”

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Santa Fe was hot. The kind of hot that made it impossible to breathe, and your clothes felt like they had melted into your skin. Aaron could feel his skin on fire, burning hotter and hotter as he stood under the desert sun. Emily stood next to him, glistening in a thin layer of sweat. The two of them stared closely at a house across the street, taking in every detail.

“You ready?” Emily asked, her voice cracking through the quiet air like a whip.

“Uh… yeah,” Aaron stuttered, his brain feeling off. He had a feeling whoever this person was, she wasn’t in Sante Fe. This was a big operation that they had stumbled upon, and he had a bad feeling about the way it would end up.

Aaron followed Emily to the door, feeling exceptionally guilty as they entered the front yard of a family whose lives had been destroyed- and all they were there to do was destroy them further. He knew they only did what they did to avenge their daughter- and he understood. Sometimes he wondered if he should’ve done the same thing with Foyet.

“Are you alright, Hotch? I don’t mean to overstep, but you don’t seem like yourself,” Emily questioned, stopping in her tracks before they made their presence known to the family.

“Just have a bad feeling about this one, I guess,” he responded, rubbing his head with his thumb and forefinger. “Let’s get this over with…”

“Aye aye, sir.”

The two of them walked to the front door of the small house, knocking slightly quietly on the white painted wood of the door. An older man opened the door, immediately tensing up as he saw the two of them. They looked like Agents- or at the very least, local detectives, and the man was pretty quick to understand why they were there.

“Are you Bradley Mathis?” Emily asked, standing a few inches in front of Aaron, clearly trying to take the lead on this. It was probably for the best, since his head was not on right today. In all honesty, his head hadn’t been on right since Foyet.

“Who are you?” Bradley asked defensively, crossing his arms across his chest and backing away from the door.

“Mr. Mathis, I want to assure you that if you cooperate with us, there will be no trouble. We understand you did everything to protect your daughter, and we aren’t looking for trouble. We just want to find the person who did this for you.” As Aaron spoke, he realized how scary this must be for him. His daughter was brutally attacked, they found the man that hurt her, and then he threatened her into silence so he could walk free. If it had happened to Aaron’s kid, he would’ve killed the son of a bitch with his own bare hands.

“You promise me nothing will happen to me?” He asked defensively, his eyes darting nervously across the room.

“I never met her, okay. I swear,” he responded in relief, as if he’d been waiting for the moment he could finally tell somebody. It was exhausting caring around those kinds of secrets. “I got her info from a friend. You go to the website, submit your claim, and she’ll send an assistant out to decide if she’ll take you on as a client. If she decides to help you, you’ll give half the money up front, and half upon proof of… death,” he whispered, closing his eyes as he spoke the words.

“That’s pretty standard practice for what she is…” Emily added.

“How did you find her website?” Aaron asked, wanting to leave this man in peace as quickly as possible.

“There’s some… tricks to finding her. Give me one second,” he said, turning around quickly and darting to another room. Emily reached for her gun defensively, but Aaron put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head.

“He won’t run.”

“How do you know? He has every reason to dart.”

“I just know. He’ll be back. Trust me.” Aaron looked to his Agent, kindly suggesting but also ordering her to relax. She nodded, crossing her arms as the pair waited for Bradley. As Aaron suspected, he came back a few minutes later with a beat up piece of paper.

“Someone I know from the support group gave me this. It’s how to contact her.” He handed them a brochure that was in pretty bad shape, but still legible enough to understand where to go. From the outside, it looked like a brochure for a dental surgery. But there were certain words highlighted, most likely by whoever gave Bradley this in the first place. It mapped out clear instructions on how to contact this mystery vigilante.

“That’s all I know. I swear.”

“I believe you,” Aaron responded, noticining the calmness flooding over Bradley’s face as Aaron spoke. “You can never tell anybody this, do you understand?”

Bradley nodded, his mouth glued shut as the reality of the situation finally weighed on him. He noticed the guns holstered to Emily and Aaron’s hips, and quickly shut the door, no goodbye’s needed.

“If she’s sending people to meet potential clients before she meets them, she isn’t local,” Emily put together, shaking her head in shock as the pair walked back to their car.

“No, she’s not. Which means we need to get back on the plane ASAP. Send this over to Garcia, I’ll call the team and tell them to meet us back at the jet.”

“Sounds good.”

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“Hello, angels. Are you ready for all the answers to your prayers?” Garcia’s voice popped through the stiff air of the jet, breaking through the harsh waters like a ray of sunshine.

“Were you able to find her, Garcia?”

“Of course, sir. Our girl is fancy. You need five grand upfront just to meet with her. Her website looks like it was designed for a five star hotel. She is legit.”

“Can we actually find her, Penelope?” Aaron had raised his voice slightly, frustration starting to set in. He just wanted this to be over, he wanted to bring her in and end this.

“Yes, yes. Sorry. Our girl goes by the name Ananke.”

“That’s not very intimidating,” Derek laughed, shaking his head as he sat back in his chair.

“Well, kind of. Ananke is a greek goddess, specifically known as one of the most powerful deity’s to control fate and circumstance. It’s pretty fitting, giving what she does.”

“The only way to meet her is to submit an appointment request, which is easier said than done. She has a legit system, requires a birth certificate, social security number, and a license or passport.”

“And five G’s,” JJ added.

“Can we create fake documents and submit them? Maybe have someone undercover go meet her.”

“I’ll do it. This has been my case from the beginning, I’d like to end it as well,” Aaron said, assuring his team he would finish this.

“I can get everything made up and submitted before you land.”

“Is there any way to figure out where she’s located?”

“Unfortunately not at the moment. I am still digging though, it’s possible I missed something.”

“Thanks, Garcia. We’ll see you soon.”

The team made some more small talk after that, realizing there wasn’t much they could do unless they had a location. Aaron’s head was beginning to throb again, absolute exhaustion overcoming him as he sat down and let himself relax for the first time in days. He missed Jack, he missed the comfort of his own bed, the smell of his cheap laundry detergent. He realized he was digging his nails into his palms, his flesh barely intact as he released his tension.

The rest of his team had broken up into their own conversations, ignoring the crumbling mess that was Aaron Hotchner. He walked to the bathroom quietly, snooping through the cabinets and finding a small bottle of vodka. He downed it quickly, letting the liquor burn the back of his throat and take his mind off of everything else. Even if it was for a moment, the distraction was welcomed, and almost necessary for him to keep going.

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It was two full days- almost forty eight hours exactly- when they finally heard back from Ananke. She had agreed to meet with ‘Zachary Wilson’ who was looking for revenge against the drunk driver that killed his wife. And to the whole team’s surprise, it appeared that she was located in DC. Ananke herself said she would meet him, stating that she was ‘in the area’.

The address she gave them appeared to be a popular nightclub in college town, one that Aaron had unfortunately been dragged to on multiple occasions. The team agreed that Aaron should meet her alone, the team standing outside to come in if necessary. She wanted to meet him on a Friday night, which meant the place would be flooded with innocent civilians. It was safest if they stayed out of it, at first.

By the time Friday rolled around, Aaron had barely eaten in days. He was staying alive on coffee, tylenol, and mini bottles of vodka he could keep in his pockets. Oh, and the occasional cigarette was a necessity as well. He had waited anxiously for what felt like weeks to meet her. This case had been weighing on him since the moment he received that letter, and he wanted it to be over. He wanted the anxiety and the chaos to be over. But, once they solved this one, there would just be another after, and the cycle of chaos and anxiety begins all over again.

“I hope you know you can't dress like that,” JJ said, teasing Aaron with a light shove as she walked past him.

“Why?”

“It’s… a business suit, Hotch. And you're going to a nightclub. It screams Fed.”

Aaron looked down at himself, realizing JJ was right. His vibes screamed ‘Cop’, and that was exactly what he did not want.

“Don’t worry, sir. I have something you can borrow from my go bag,” Derek suggested.

“Hotch in Derek’s clothes? That’s something I’ll pay good money to see,” Emily laughed, JJ giggling alongside her as Derek rolled his eyes and threw clothes at the two of them.

“You think these will work?” Derek asked the girls, not bothering with Aaron’s opinion.

“Oh, it’s perfect. Hotch will love these,” they laughed, neatly folding the clothes and handing them to Aaron. He walked away in silence, heading towards his office so he could change. The clothes weren’t a perfect fit, but they were better than his suit. The shirt was way too tight, with a v-neck that was way too deep. His arms felt like they would rip right through the cheap cotton, and his ass felt like it was going to bust straight out of the denim.

He began to walk out of the office quietly, hoping that the rest of the team wouldn’t be waiting for his fashion show. But as he figured, they were standing by patiently for him to show off in Derek’s way too tight clothes. As soon as he opened the door, a riot of laughs and cat calls surrounded him. He felt himself blushing, which was something he hadn’t done in a long time.

“Damn, Hotch. Where have you been hiding those arms?” Derek laughed, his voice echoing through Aarons head.

“I think we need to start casual Friday,” Spencer added, staring in awe at his boss.

“Alright, enough guys. This is a serious case, and I need everyone to be on their best behavior.”

“I’m not sure I can act right with you walking around like that,” Rossi joked, causing the rest of the team to burst out with laughter. Aaron just rolled his eyes, secretly appreciating the light that they all brought to his life.

“Alright, you guys ready to go?”

“All set. Let’s go catch a killer, sir.”

The ride to the club was a bit of a hike, a little over thirty minutes by the time they parked. They were split in two cars, seperated to cover both entrances. The plan was for him to go in and assess the situation, hoping he can get her out without harming any bystanders. If he needed backup, he had an alarm he could trigger that would alert the rest of the team to come in. It was a simple plan, one they had executed a thousand times in the past. But despite that, he felt extremely anxious.

“Are you ready, Aaron?” Rossi asked, raising his eyebrows in concern.

“Yeah, let’s get this over with. Stay alert, guys.” Aaron walked out of the car and to the entrance of the club, staring directly at the large bouncer standing in front of the door. He was given very specific instructions on what to see when he approached the man, ones that would deliver him directly to Ananke and avoid having to deal with the actual club.

“You on the list?” The bouncer asked as Aaron approached, not even bothering to look up from his clipboard.

“I’m here to see… A,” he whispered, looking around frantically to see if anyone else heard.

“You got your ID and confirmation number?” He asked, setting his clipboard down and staring intensely at Aaron.

“Uh, yeah. It’s 73491. And here’s my drivers license,” he responded, handing him the forged Virginia license of one Zachary Wilson.

“Zachary Wilson…” the man whispered, making Aaron sick to his stomach as he awaited the man to deny him and send him away, ruining his chances of finding her forever. “You’re gonna go in this door, right here,” he said, pointing towards a hidden and seemingly locked door to his right. “Take the stairs all the way up, knock on the door twice. She’ll be right with you.”

“Thank you,” he responded, relieved as he began to walk past the guard and towards his end goal.

“Oh, and Zachary,” the man added, causing Aaron to turn around in confusion.

“Remember: lei è dalla nostra parte,” he said, a smile creeping on his face as he spoke. Aaron recognized the language as Italian, but he couldn’t translate what he was saying. The bouncer turned around before Aaron had the chance to ask what he meant, but he figured it would just be better to move on and go directly to her.

He slowly opened the door, unsure of what he would find on the other side. To his surprise, it was only an exceptionally narrow staircase in a small hallway, leading directly to another gray door. The sound of fluorescent lights buzzed in the air, making Aaron dizzy as he walked up the steep steps. He remembered what the man said- knock twice. He also remembered the phrase in Italian, lei è dalla nostra parte. And when he finally got to the door, he began to unravel the words in his head. He knocked twice, replaying the words over and over. And when he finally heard the door click open, he understood what the man had meant. She is on our side.

“Zachary?” A man asked, opening the door slightly, only enough to peak out at him.

“Yes. I’m here to see-”

“Ananke. Of course,” he interrupted, swinging the door open and revealing an exceptionally beautiful and ornate room. Aaron walked in slowly, in a daze, his eyes not sure where to look as every piece of the room exceptionally thought out. There was a beautiful chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the light reflecting rainbows from the crystals.

“She will be with you shortly. Feel free to have a seat somewhere. Can I get you anything to drink?”

Aaron felt like he was at a hotel, the service impeccable as he sat down on the incredibly comfortable and probably very expensive couch. Most hit men he had met with did not present themselves like this. Whoever she was, she had a lot of money. In that moment, he wondered how many lives she had taken- how many people finally got what they deserved. And for a brief and frightening moment, he wondered if she was doing things right?

His thoughts were interrupted when she walked out. Not only did he lose his train of thought, but his breath was literally ripped from his chest. She was no longer covering her face, or wearing a wig. She had finally revealed herself to him, and he was in awe. She was absolutely stunning- beautiful to a level that made his head spin and his heart cramp up. He stood up instinctively, feeling the need to stand and greet her face to face. As she walked closer, he felt his throat getting tighter and tighter.

“Hello,” she spoke, her words floating through the air like a flower in the spring wind. “I’m Ananke.”

“Mhmm, he,” he stuttered, sticking his hand out to shake hers. “I’m…” he choked, unable to get his words out.

“Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, right?” She smiled, and Aaron instinctively reached for his gun.

“Put your weapon away, Aaron. I’m no threat to you,” she instructed, and he complied. For some reason, he believed her. She had no intention of hurting him or anyone else in this building. He didn’t need his weapon.

“How do you know who I am?”

“The FBI has a list of Social Security numbers they regularly use for fake documents. It’s… a hard list to get your hands on. I’m lucky I have friends in high places.”

“So you knew who I was from the minute I submitted my application?” He was shocked, a sick feeling washing over him. Who was she? How was she consistently one step ahead of them?

“I’m sorry to break your sense of superiority, agent. It hurts when someone is smarter than you, doesn't it?” She tilted her head at him, a devilish grin pasted across her face. He wanted to hate her, he wanted to be angry, but all he could focus on was the fire burning inside of him and the hunger building itself, the craving overcoming her. Her skirt revealed a little too much of her thigh and her shirt was a little too low cut and the thought of her flesh on his rippled its way through his body.

“Well, we found you and I’m going to arrest you, so it doesn’t seem like you came out on top here,” he responded, avoiding eye contact as he tried to get his impure thoughts out of his head.

“Agent Hotchner, something you will quickly learn is that I only come on top.” She winked at him, pursuing her lips slightly and smiling. She held her wrists out to him, walking towards him until she was only inches away. “Are you going to arrest me, Agent?”

Aaron reached for the cuffs in his back pocket, pulling them out slowly and staring directly at her. She didn't take his eyes off of him, standing tall as he began to cuff her. Her hands were soft, almost comical as they brushed against his rough and untouched skin. He didn’t speak, and neither did she. He just closed the cuffs on her, her large eyes staring up at him like a doe. He felt dizzy again, the intoxicating smell of her perfume, the subtle hints of berries and vanilla surrounding him in a whirlwind.

He slowly grabbed his phone from his pocket, trying to dial Rossi’s number, feeling drunk as he pressed the button. What was wrong with him? And what was wrong with her? Why would she willingly let herself get arrested so easily? That was the problem. This was exceptionally easy. Nothing was ever this easy.

“Hey, Rossi. I got her. We’re coming down now.”

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Aaron wasn’t surprised that she remained silent the entire car ride back to Quantico. What he was surprised by is that she didn’t appear nervous or angry. She sat calmly, staring out the window, her body relaxed and her lips forming the slightest smile. It made him angry- he didn’t understand her nonchalance.

They tried to talk to her, ask her for her real name, about her crimes- but she would just look at them, tilting her head and smiling before bringing her gaze back outside. When they finally arrived back at the Bureau, she turned towards Aaron and Rossi, slowly speaking her first words in over thirty minutes.

“Am I allowed a phone call?” She asked, staring directly at Aaron, as if it was only the two of them in the car. For a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the entire world.

“Who exactly would you like to call?” Rossi smirked, rolling his eyes, trying to get Aaron to look at him. But he couldn’t take his eyes away from her. He was drawn to her like a sailor at sea, listening to the sweet song of the siren. He understood, now, why the sailors always swam to their death. It was because it was so damn beautiful.

“I’d like to speak with the Director,” she insisted, her eyes finally releasing Aaron from his hypnosis as she looked in disgust at Rossi. He could sense the shift in her tone as she looked at the agent- she had built up a terrifying exterior that she had on display for most people. But when she looked at Aaron, the wall somehow didn’t exist. Why would she show her true self to a stranger? What was it about him that she was drawn too? Could she sense his pain? Did she know that he understood why she did what she did? That he, too, had felt the rush of ending evil with his own two hands?

“The Director? Of the FBI?” Rossi asked, shocked at her absurd request. “What exactly would you like to speak to him about?”

“I just think he’d be interested to know I’m here,” she spoke, calmly, sitting back in the seat of the car and looking out the window again.

“This girl is nuts…” Rossi whispered to Aaron before getting out of the car and grabbing ‘Ananke’ from the back seat. Aaron followed closely behind, his eyes locked on Rossi’s tight grip around her flesh. He could see the marks his agent was leaving behind, his fingertips dug into her arm. It made him sick. The thought of anyone harming her made him sick. But she was the bad guy- he was supposed to hate her, to send her away and avenge all of the lives she took. Why did he want to save her so bad? Grab her from Rossi, hop in the car and take her away from all of this. It didn’t make sense, the way he felt. And Aaron hated it- he hated feeling out of control of his own thoughts- his own desires.

As they brought her into the BAU, the rest of the team following behind, he immediately noticed something was off when he walked through the doors. The rest of the team must have noticed as well, because they all kind of stopped in their tracks as they walked in.

Derek noticed her first, pacing back and forth in Aaron’s office.

“Strauss,” he groaned, rolling his eyes at the sight of her.

“What is she doing here?” JJ asked, crossing her arms and tensing up.

“I’m not sure. I’ll go find out. Rossi, can you bring her into the interrogation room? Spencer, try and get something out of her,” Aaron instructed his team, watching them seperate and do their assigned tasks as he walked up to his office. When he got closer, he noticed the Director was also there as well. He got a sick feeling in his stomach, remembering his immediate thoughts when he first arrested Ananke. It’s never this easy.

He opened his office door with shaking hands, immediately slapped in the face with tension clinging to the air. The Director stood up as he entered, and Strauss stopped pacing.

“Aaron,” she whispered, her eyes darting nervously around the room.

“Erin,” he smirked, not sure why his brain was choosing this moment to crack jokes.

“It’s good to see you, Agent Hotchner. It’s been a while,” the Director said.

“Chris. It’s good to see you as well. Can I ask what you’re doing in my office?”

The two of them looked nervously at each other, as if deciding who had to tell him the unspoken secret. The first thought in his brain was that Foyet was back. He killed him, though. He remembered the life draining out of him. He couldn’t be back. He felt his body get hot, his breathing picking up as he remembered Foyet’s face…

“Aaron… unfortunately, we’re going to need you to let (Y/N) go.”

“Who?” He asked bluntly, confused at the name he was sure he had never heard before. Although his brain was still spinning, he was feeling calmer knowing whatever this was, it wasn’t about Foyet.

“Ananke. You need to release her,” Strauss clarified, her voice equally annoyed and apologetic.

“I’m sorry… I’m confused.” Aaron was realizing now how much easier it was to hate Ananke - or (Y/N) - when she wasn't right in front of him. He couldn’t see her, she couldn’t lure him in. Her spell had broken. “I know for a fact she killed at least one person. I’m not releasing her.”

“Aaron, this goes beyond you. She is no longer a person of interest.” Chris had raised his voice, clearly frustrated at whatever was happening.

“You can’t just take away my unsub and not tell me why. Do you think my team will be okay with that? Do you think I’ll be okay with that?” Aaron was angry, the thought of them taking her away with no reason making him crazy.

“Agent Hotchner, there are some secrets within the Bureau that even you don’t know about.”

“I don’t accept that.”

Chris and Strauss looked defeated, both accepting that they won’t win this battle. Chris shook his head slightly and closed his eyes, contemplating his words.

“What is going on, Strauss?” Aaron begged, the room beginning to spin again, his body craving the sweet release of nicotine and the bitter taste of vodka.

“Your unsubs real name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). She is a government protected assassin.”

“What?” Aaron’s head was spinning, the room around him dancing in circles as the words floated through his mind. That couldn’t be real. There was no way the place he worked, that he believed upheld justice, would do something so… unjust. So immoral. They had to be lying. “It’s not possible. We met the man that paid her to kill someone. She was paid by a civilian to kill a civilian.”

“She sometimes takes on… side projects,” Chris muttered, clearly knowing his words would upset Aaron.

“And you allow that?” He yelled, his body fuming with anger as he paced around his office. It didn't make sense. Everything he had ever believed in was crumbling right before his eyes- all because of her.

“With the things she has done for us, Aaron, there is a little bit of lenience. Besides, Jason was a bad person, anyways.”

“That doesn’t make it okay. We have a justice system in place for a reason.” He felt sick, the realization that a system he protected for so long was seeping with corruption.

“Did Foyet get his chance for trial? Or did the justice system not count for him?” Strauss looked at him sternly, frustration written on her face. Aaron realized she was right. He took justice into his own hands with Foyet, and he didn’t regret it. How was she doing anything different? For a moment, nothing made sense to Aaron. His entire belief system had shattered right in front of him. He was speechless, his brain splashing around trying to find the right words to express his disbelief. But he was coming up empty, drawing blanks. There was truly nothing he could say that could capture how he felt. He just thought of her, the sweet smell of berries that lingered in her hair, the softness of her skin, the enticing aura that surrounded her when she looked at him.

“What am I supposed to tell my team?” He thought out loud.

“We’ll handle it. Let’s go out and talk to them now,” Chris instructed, walking out of the office and down towards the annex. Rossi noticed the three of them and quickly walked up to Chris, greeting him.

“Could you gather your team for me?” The director asked, Aaron still unsure of how he would explain this to them. Rossi grabbed everyone pretty quickly, dragging Spencer from the interrogation room, which Aaron could only imagine was going very poorly.

“Hello everyone, I’m sorry to bother you all, but the unsub you brought in today is a person of interest in several international crimes. She’s been on our watch list for a while, now, and we’re going to have to hand her over to interpol.” The Directors words were quick and precise, leaving no room for anyone to second guess him. Even Aaron was convinced they weren’t going to release her the minute they were alone.

“What has she done?” JJ questioned, intrigued at the mystery international criminal they brought in.

“It’s classified, Agent. And if you don’t mind, we’d like to get out of here rather quickly. If someone could grab her, please,” he ordered, causing Spencer to quickly walk to the room she was in and bring her back out to them.

She was smirking widely as she walked out, clearly knowing her freedom was inevitable. He had so many questions for her, so much he needed to know, but he had to keep his mouth shut. She was slipping right through his fingers, and he had only just begun to know her.

“I’m so sorry, Aaron. I know how much you enjoyed seeing me in handcuffs,” she whispered to him as she passed by, winking seductively before being taken away by the Director and Strauss.

Aaron felt miserable as she walked away, the three of them heading into the elevator and away from him forever. She now felt only like a ghost, a distant memory fading away as more time went by without her. The team moved on from the loss in a matter of minutes, but Aaron stood there, frozen in place, waiting desperately for her to come back.

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Five days. He was able to wait five days before he went to see her. He tried so desperately to forget about her- it seemed everyone else had. But she seeped into his dreams, tossing and turning as he tried to sleep, her voice, her face, her body, calling to him. He needed to see her again, just to ask her why. He wouldn’t sleep ever again if he didn’t.

So, five days after she walked away, he waited until Jack was asleep, explained to Jessica that he had some paperwork to take care of, and headed to see her. His brain continuously tried to tell him it was a bad idea. He should turn around, go home, and forget her. But he knew it was easier said than done. This was the only way.

When he got to the club, he noticed the same bouncer from before was sitting outside the door. Aaron felt a bit relieved, hoping the man would recognize him and he could lie his way up to (Y/N)’ door.

“Hey, man,” he said casually, trying to sound as calm and not suspicious as possible.

“Can I help you?” The man grunted, clearly not amused by Aaron’s attempt to be friendly.

“I’m here to see A. We met a few days ago, I need to drop my money off,” he whispered, praying to whatever God was listening that this guy would believe his story.

“A isn’t supposed to be meeting anyone tonight,” he groaned, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Aaron could tell it was a long shot, but he had to do whatever he could to see her.

“Call her. She’ll tell you,” he stuttered, looking anxiously at the large man standing between him and (Y/N). It was possible he could take him down if he had to, Aaron thought. It would be a hell of a fight, but he’d brought down bigger men. He shifted instinctively, trying to casually feel his hip and make sure he was still armed.

The man pulled out a small phone that appeared to be very old- most likely a burner they used to communicate. He dialed a number quickly and stared at Aaron, as if hoping his boss would give him the go ahead to kick Aaron’s ass.

“Hey, it’s me. Some guy is here to see you. Said you talked earlier today. Can you check the cams,” he asked, trying to speak quietly, but Aaron was still able to hear every word. He waited patiently for her response, trying to keep his face calm.

“Alright, thanks A.” He hung the call up and placed the phone in his pocket, taking as long as possible to give Aaron his answer. It felt like hours, excruciating pain as he waited for his fate.

“You’re clear to go.”

Aaron was almost positive she would send him away. If she had cameras, she knew it was him. Why would she allow him to come up? Did she want to see him, too?

He knew if he stood there any longer contemplating the situation, he would look suspicious. So despite all of his common sense warning him that something was wrong, he walked through the secret door and up the narrow staircase, knocking twice at her door and awaiting to enter her world.

He was greeted by the same man from earlier, who was smiling brightly as he opened the door and let him in. He offered him another drink, which Aaron politely declined, finding a seat on one of the couches and unable to sit still as he waited for her.

She left him waiting for quite a while. Although it felt like hours of agony for Aaron, his watch assured him he had only been waiting around twenty minutes by the time she finally greeted him. She was wearing a short red dress, golden heels wrapped around her feet as she floated towards him, smiling devilishly as she poured herself a drink.

“It’s nice to see you again, Agent,” she teased, taking a sip of her liquor of choice and taking a seat across from him.

“I needed to talk to you.”

“About what?” She tilted her head, soft lips creating a pout of confusion as she stared at him.

“You knew I was going to arrest you the minute you got my application to meet… if you knew you couldn’t get in trouble, why would you let all of that happen? You could’ve called the Director the minute you knew who I was. Why didn’t you?” Aaron needed to know why she went through the trouble of setting up a meeting with him, allowing herself to be arrested and brought to the Bureau. It didn’t make sense, allowing herself to take such a big risk.

“It seemed… fun. Sometimes my life can be quite boring.” She smiled at him, her flirtatious grin that she seemed to save just for Aaron.

“Wasting my time, my team's time… that's fun to you?” Aaron was getting angry again, his body fuming as he looked at her.

“Well, maybe a part of me wanted to meet you. I mean, we’re not so different, Aaron.”

“Hah,” he laughed, rolling his eyes at her. “You think you and I have anything in common?”

“Oh, are you not the same SSA Aaron Hotchner who killed George Foyet with his own hands?”

“How the hell do you know that?” Aaron had stood up at this point, his anger and frustration causing his body to become restless.

“It’s on your record, Agent. It’s not too hard to find…” She took another sip of her drink, finishing the last of the cups content and standing up to face him. For a moment, they were inches apart, the air between them stock full of tension, anger and attraction swimming around the two. But as he prayed he could control his compulsion to touch her, she walked away, over to another corner of the room, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it.

The smell of smoke intoxicated him, making his knees shake as he craved the burn of nicotine in his throat. She floated back towards him, taking her place back on the couch and burning quickly through her cigarette.

“You seem so angry, Aaron.”

“Because you’re killing people, and somehow the people I look up to to maintain law and order don’t care.”

“Have you ever thought that you’re more angry at yourself than at me? I mean, a part of you gets it, right? You understand what I do, why I do it… and that makes you sick, doesn’t it?”

“I would never justify what you do.”

“Mm,” she hummed, standing up and walking towards him again. She placed a soft hand on his face, Aaron realizing her touch was the first he’d felt since Haley died. The feel of his flesh being caressed by someone, being held by someone- it made him melt.

“Maybe it’s not that, though. Maybe you really do hate me, hate what I do. But a part of you can’t stop thinking about touching me, feeling me… fucking me.” She moved her hand down his body, trailing her fingers down his chest and stopping at the base of his groin. He felt chills down his body, blood rushing to his cock at the slightest touch.

“That’s not- it’s not that,” he stuttered, trying to back away, knowing how dangerous it would be for him to get roped into something like this.

“Right, of course,” she whispered, taking her hand away from him and turning around, walking away. He watched her body as she floated across the room, his eyes glued to her ass that was begging to be touched by him.

“(Y/N)...” Aaron whispered, calling for her, unable to stand the feeling of her being away from him. She turned towards him, walking back slowly, taking her time and letting him simmer in anticipation as she made her way back to the center of the room. When she made her way back to him, he grabbed her chin with his hand, tilting her face up towards him, her lips inches from his.

“I would never want somebody like you. You are a bad person, no matter what you try to say to me.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Agent,” she smirked, her lips almost brushing against his as she formed them into a smile.

At that moment, it felt like any self control Aaron had flew directly out the window. He wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her body into his and kissing her. It was a kiss that was draped in desperation, anger, lust. His tongue made no attempt to be gentle, selfishly exploring her small mouth and he picked her up and sat her on a table. He tore his shirt off, his desire to be touched, to touch her, overcoming any restraint he had before.

He picked her up, her small frame easy for his trained body to carry swifty to the couch. He threw her down on her back, her body writhing under his, moaning his name so loud that he was sure the club goers downstairs could hear. He wrapped his hands around her neck, gripping gently, listening to her gasp for air as he slid up her dress to reveal nothing underneath.

“You’re just begging for me, aren’t you,” he teased, pulling his hard cock out from his boxers and teasing her entrance with his tip. She nodded slowly at him, unable to speak as he still had his hand gripped around her throat. He was aching to hear her voice again, so he released his hand, getting turned on at the mark he left on her.

He slipped into her slowly, no time to waste on foreplay. He knew he needed her now, that their time was limited and it was only a matter of time before his common sense kicked in and he got out of there. But for the moment, he was sloppily pounding into her, not caring who saw or heard, desperately needing to be as close to her as possible.

He came quickly, the euphoria of feeling another woman for the first time in months too much for him to control. She came too, though. He could tell she wasn’t faking- he could feel it. After they finished, he quickly put his clothes back on, (Y/N) continuing to lay breathlessly on the couch. He watched her for a moment, waiting for her to say something- ask him to stay, kiss him goodbye. But she just pulled herself up and walked towards the other side of the room, grabbing and lighting another cigarette.

“You should go.” (Y/N) instructed, not even bothering to look up at the man who just came inside her moments ago.

“You shouldn’t smoke those, you know. They’ll kill you.” Aaron’s mouth was dry, watching the trail of smoke that followed her as she floated around the room, refusing to give him even a second of her time.

“What do I have to live for?” She asked, finally dragging her tired eyes to his and smiling, one of the first real, and saddest, smiles he had seen from her.

Aaron tried to think of something else to say, racking his brain for the correct words to say. But he continuously came up empty, and he realized he was starting to look more and more suspicious the longer he stood there. He decided to walk away, ignore the part of him that refused to tear away from her.

He walked soberly down the stairs, out onto the street and to his car. As he sat in his drivers seat and started the engine, feeling his face get hot, the rare feeling of wet eyes as he began to cry. And then he started to laugh. An uncontrollable cackle that spilled out of him like a waterfall. It was comical, to look back over the past few months and relive all of the bullshit he had been through. He didn’t even recognize the person in the mirror anymore. And maybe that was a good thing, because the person he used to be was the same person that let Haley die.

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Aaron tried to pretend he didn’t spend every day over the next week thinking about her. The way her soft skin felt when he touched her, the way her lips tasted like bubblegum and her hair smelled like cherries. When he imagined her in his head, everything felt so distant, like he was barely holding on to a dream of her. He could feel her memory slipping away every second, and he couldn’t let that happen.

He had to see her again, and soon. He wondered if she was thinking about him as well, if she remembered the mint chapstick he was wearing, or the Dolce cologne he was wearing. It made him sick, thinking that she forgot him. (Y/N) had slowly become everything to him, what if he was just a passing thought for her?

The team had landed back in DC an hour ago, solving a case in Miami that was one of the easier ones they had had this year. Aaron was grateful for the slight break, his brain not completely in the right headspace.

He rushed to finish up the closing paperwork, scribbling his words sloppily and without much care for grammar. He knew as soon as Strauss read his, she would call him and question his mental state. But he didn’t care. He just needed to get the hell out of here tonight, and if that meant sitting through another of Strauss’s evaluations, it was worth it.

As he was signing the last of the documents, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He grabbed it with caution, not sure who would be calling him this late at night. The call was coming from an unknown number, and Aaron immediately worried something had happened to Jack. He was away at his grandparents this week, planning on staying a few more days. He answered the phone nervously, preparing for whatever horror was to come.

“Hello, Agent,” a female voice said, a voice he instantly recognized as (Y/N)’s. Her voice flowed smoothly like silk even over the phone. It was truly hard to believe how she had managed to perfect every aspect of herself.

“Why- how are you calling me?” He looked around cautiously, making sure no one could secretly hear any part of the phone call.

“I’m flying to Paris this weekend, a little well deserved vacation. I was calling to see if you’d like to join me.”

“I… Paris? I can’t just fly to Paris.” Aaron chuckled into the phone, the idea of someone just getting up and deciding to fly halfway across the world with no plan truly comical to him.

“Oh, I didn’t realize I’d called the Fun Police. I thought this was Aaron Hotchner,” she teased. He could feel her smiling through the phone, a warmth that somehow seemed to wrap him even though he could only see her in his thoughts.

“I can have fun…” he argued, biting his lip awkwardly, not wanting to seem inferior to her.

“When was the last time you did something for yourself, Agent? Have you ever just… been spontaneous?”

“(Y/N), you don’t understand-”

“Call me A on the phone. It’s safer,” she instructed, her voice losing its soft luster as her professional side kicked in.

“A… my job, my life… it doesn't leave room for spontaneity.”

“No, Agent. That’s your choice. I’ll be at the jet runway at Dulles in two hours. Think about it. I’ll wait for you.” She hung the phone up, not giving him room to protest. He set the phone down on his desk, instantly missing her even more than he did before. Jack was going to be with his grandparents for three more days, and he did have some saved up vacation time. But what would he tell the team? What would he tell Strauss?

His phone vibrated again, this time only a single buzz to indicate a text message. He flipped his phone over and saw a new message from an Unknown number.

Life doesn’t have to be so complicated, Agent. It is much too short to spend this much time suffering. Learn to enjoy your days.

He reread the message a thousand times, knowing the words would still reign true no matter how much he tried to convince himself she was in the wrong. He had spent his whole life serving others, and he was okay with it, until now. Maybe if he had lived without complication, and enjoyed his days, his life would be completely different…

He ran home and quickly packed a bag, letting Strauss and Rossi know he needed some ‘alone time’ for a few days. They didn’t question it- one nice thing about having a recent trauma, he thought. He took an Uber to the airport, praying that (Y/N) kept her promise and waited for him.

When he finally arrived on the runway, he noticed her immediately. It was as if even being near her set an alarm off inside of him, like every part of his brain was awake, feeling her energy from a hundred feet away.

He thanked the Uber driver and ran to her, bag in hand. As he got to her, he noticed her face. She wasn’t surprised or shocked in the slightest- she knew he’d come. She somehow knew every move he would make. Was he that predictable… or was it something special between them?

“I have to be home in three days,” he said, breathlessly, overjoyed at the sight of his girl.

“We can do a lot in three days,” she responded, smiling wickedly. She walked towards him, wrapping her arms around his torso and embracing him. It was such a nice feeling to be held, comforted. He felt like he could stay there in her arms for years. But she broke the hug pretty quickly, motioning for one of her men to take care of the bags and began walking towards the jet.

As he followed her up the stairs and into their own private world, he started to remember everything he was leaving behind. The realization of just how impulsive this was dawned on him as he looked back at the city behind him. He felt dizzy, leaning on the railing for support as he shakily walked up.

“You alright?” (Y/N) asked, placing a hand on his arm to steady him.

“This is crazy, (Y/N). I just can’t believe I’m doing this.”

They continued to walk into the jet, her hand intertwined in his as they sat down and the door closed behind them. A man came out from behind the curtain, who Aaron immediately recognized as the same man who greeted him both times he met her.

“Aaron, this is my… well, assistant, I guess. Jay, this is my new friend, Aaron.” She waved to Jay slightly, instructing him to come closer.

“It’s good to meet you sir. Can I get the two of you anything to drink?” Jay was a short boy, couldn't have been more than 25. He clearly worshipped the ground she walked on, which seemed to be par for the course with men she knew.

“Oh, hmm,” she thought, closing her eyes for a moment as she racked her brain for a decision. “Whiskey sour. What would you like?” She turned towards Aaron, the subtle tilt of her head reminding him of how pretty her neck looked with his hands around it.

“I’ll do a Scotch, neat,” he ordered, something so enticing about ordering a drink on a private jet to Paris.

“I’ll grab those for you now. Matt is ready to take off, A, are you all set?” Jay turned back towards his boss, his eyes widening like a puppy as he waited for her words.

“I’m ready to go Jay, thank you,” she smiled, looking at him quickly before bringing her attention back to Aaron. Jay took her disinterest as a sign to leave and make their drinks, so he shuffled away quickly after she looked away.

He came back with their drinks a moment later, leaving quickly after and closing himself in the cockpit. The jet began to take off shortly after, and Aaron took a long sip of his drink, hoping the alcohol would calm any nerves he had left. He started at (Y/N) dreamily, as she shuffled through her phone and a pile on various paperwork on her lap.

“Sorry, Agent, just finishing up some work,” she whispered, her eyes still staring down.

“Mmm, it’s okay,” he responded, just happy to be in the same place as her again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” she smiled, setting her work aside and bringing her attention to Aaron.

“Why did you kick me out the other night? After…” His voice trailed off, shifting awkwardly in his seat.

“I figured it be best for you. I didn’t want to wrap you up with my life… with me. But in all honesty, I can’t stop thinking about you. I called you tonight, and told myself if you didn’t show, I’d move on. But… you’re here.”

“I’m here,” he whispered back, his eyes tracing down her body, craving her once again.

“I feel like we have something special, Agent,” she whispered seductively, climbing out of her seat and walking towards him.

“I missed you… I couldn’t stop thinking about you…” he moaned as she bent towards him, her lips kissing down his neck and playing with the collar of his shirt. She unbuttoned the top buttons, kissing his chest and moving her hand to his inner thigh. She trailed her fingers up his thigh, teasing his cock with the slightest touch. His hips bucked uncontrollably, blood flowing down to him as his desire took over his body.

She got down on her knees, toying with his belt buckle. She was clearly trying to make him wait, the suffering and craving all a part of her game. But he was impatient, so he ripped his belt off himself, undoing his pants and pulling his erect penis out.

(Y/N) licked her lips in anticipation, wanting to pleasure him as much as he wanted to be pleasured. She played with his tip slowly, toying her tongue around him as he moved underneath her. He wrapped his fingers in her hair, slowly pushing her mouth down around him. He wanted her to take all of him, to feel the back of her throat as he shoved his length in her mouth. She moaned quietly as she took him, bobbing her head up and down quickly and sloppily.

Aaron couldn’t remember the last time he got a blow job- let alone the last time someone enjoyed giving him one. (Y/N) was toying with him, clearly enjoying the pleasure she was able to give him just with her tongue. She looked up at him as he was about to cum, winking as she dragged her tongue up his shaft. The eye contact sent him over the edge, causing him to release himself in her mouth. She swallowed his cum happily, kissing him on the cheek and sitting back down on her chair.

He wanted to go to her, give her what she needed now. But he was exhausted, the exhilaration of her taking away all of his energy. He took another hefty sip of his drink, leaning back in his chair and wiping the sweat off his forehead. He buckled his pants back up and readjusted himself in the seat.

“Don’t hate me, handsome, but I do have to get some work done. Feel free to sleep on the couch, or watch a movie. I’ll let you know when we get there.” She blew him a kiss, teasing him with a wink before losing herself in her work. He wondered what part of her job she could possibly be doing from the seat of a plane. There was truly so much he didn’t know about her, which made it so much more exciting.

He finished his drink, watching her work in awe as the plane soared over the Atlantic. He felt himself drifting off and didn’t try to stop it, wanting to be fully rested so he could make the most of his time with her.

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Paris was unarguably Aaron’s favorite place on Earth. Whenever he told people that, they always kind of chuckled. It was kind of a feminine city, at least that’s what everyone told him. But god, he loved it here. The food, the architecture, the people… but most importantly, it was her.

She had made every second of his life magical. When they landed, she brought him to a small bakery near the Louvre, where they sipped wine and ate the sweetest fruit he’d ever tasted. It was only 10 AM when they got there, but nobody seemed to pay them any attention as they drunkenly strolled down the Parisian streets, giggling and kissing and living.

When they finally sobered up, they made their way to a gorgeous hotel, where (Y/N) got the nicest suite available. They ordered a few bottles of champagne, popping them open as soon as they got inside and helping themselves to many glasses. They drank out on the balcony, overlooking the whole city as they downed more alcohol.

The suite came equipped with a jacuzzi tub in the bathroom, which (Y/N) was begging him to take advantage of. She stripped down in front of him, lighting candles and drawing a tub of steaming water. She took a bottle of champagne into the bathroom and soaked herself in the tub, lavender scented bubbles surrounding her. Aaron couldn’t resist the temptation of her body, so he quickly followed after her, stripping down and slipping in the bubbles with her.

She sat on his lap, he kissed down the back of her neck and nibbled on her flesh. She moved her butt into him, the softness of her flesh pushing into his cock.

“I told you, sometimes it’s fun to be adventurous.”

“I never doubted that. I just think this is all… crazy…”

“Are you not enjoying yourself?” She giggled, pushing bubbles towards him and splashing around the water.

“Oh do not play games with me,” he laughed, splashing water towards her. She squealed when the water hit her face, scrunching her nose as she wiped the bubbles from her cheeks.

“Let’s go,” she smirked, standing up and carefully stepping out of the bath. Her skin was glistening from the water, bubbles dripping down her flesh. He stared in awe at her, obsessed with every curve, every inch of her more perfect than the last. She walked slowly out of the bathroom, her butt wiggling with every step. She was clearly calling for him, begging for him to follow her wherever she went. And he would. He did.

He ran after her carefully, finding her naked body wrapped in the fluffy comforter of the bed. She smiled when she saw him, sitting up and wrapping her hands around his neck. She brought his face towards her, kissing him slowly, allowing their lips to enjoy every second they had with each other.

Aaron’s hands were gripped on her hips, his naked body grinding into hers. He hadn’t known this feeling for a long time- the feeling of complete and total calm. For the first time in an absurd amount of time, he wasn’t worried. He wasn’t thinking of every terrible thing that was happening around him. He was only thinking about her- the way her lips felt on his, the way her body moved… his whole life had so suddenly become wrapped up in her.

But, the trouble was, nothing good in his life stayed. And it was only a matter of time before the universe took her away, too.

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The rest of their time in Paris went by in a daze. Most of their time they were either drinking or fucking, taking breaks to walk aimlessly around the Louvre and stroll down the Seine. He was heartbroken when he had to go back, but he did miss his son, and was sure the team was falling apart without him. When they landed back in DC, (Y/N) had a car ready to take Aaron home.

He had a good hour before Jack would be back, so he used his time to take a long shower and brew a strong pot of coffee. It was almost 7 at night, but his body was still messed up from the change in time zones, and he knew he wouldn’t get much sleep that night. He was already missing her, checking his phone every five minutes to see if she would whisk him away on another adventure.

But, as he quickly learned, she was the type of person to disappear for a while. Aaron didn’t hear from her for seven full days after Paris. Seven full agonizing days of wondering where she was, who she was with, and most importantly- what she was doing.

Being away from her made it easier for him to realize the reality of their situation. She was a killer; and yeah, maybe she only killed ‘bad’ people, but did that really make it any better? At least, that was the question he was asking himself. Surprisingly, as more time went on, the harder time he had convincing himself she was a villain. Maybe it was because he was falling in love with her, maybe it was because he understood the anger of watching guilty people walk away from things completely unscathed.

They didn’t speak about work once during their time together, although it was clear Aaron had a lot of questions. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend what she could be doing for Strauss and the Director. Who was she killing that they couldn’t get to the normal way? He wanted to know her life, understand the secrets she spent her existence protecting- but it wasn't for him. And maybe that was for the best. The mystery of it all made it… hotter.

So when he finally heard from her, seven full days later, he felt like a kid on Christmas. He recognized the ‘unknown’ number as it popped up on the screen, stepping into his office so he could speak with her privately.

“Hi, Agent,” (Y/N) spoke, her voice singing to him. He loved the way she called him Agent. He loved everything about her.

“I’ve missed you. Where have you been?”

“Oh, working. You know.” He could tell she didn’t want to speak any more about work, so he changed the subject.

“Are you back in DC?”

“For a bit.”

“Can I see you? Let’s get dinner somewhere. Anywhere.”

“I… we probably shouldn’t be out together like that… if we saw anyone we knew… your team…” She spoke her words carefully, not sure how to tell him that their relationship wasn’t exactly approved of. Aaron had never really thought about it, but the reality made him sick. Would he never be able to love her publicly? Hold her hand at the park, take her to eat at his favorite restaurant, introduce her to his friends?

But the adrenaline, the euphoria of being with her- it was worth any negatives. He would eat in the dark with her, hide her in his house, runaway with her…

“Come over to my place, then. We’ll order pizza, watch a movie.”

“Hah,” she giggled, her laugh airy and full of light just as he remembered. Hearing it made him smile. “I can’t remember the last time I ordered pizza and watched movies with a boy…”

“Well, given the circumstances, I have to get creative A.”

“What about Jack?”

“Oh,” Aaron responded, forgetting for a moment that she had yet to meet his son. He didn’t think twice about it, wanting his son to know the woman that was bringing him so much joy. But was it safe? And did she want to know him?

“I don’t want to put you in an awkward situation.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What is happening between us? Are we just messing around… Is there feelings?” He hated to ask her such a loaded question over the phone, but he needed to know the answer- he had to know if she was just as head over heels as she was.

“Agent, no man I’ve ever ‘messed around’ with has this number.”

Aaron chuckled, the nervousness in his chest subsiding.

“Come over tonight, please,” he begged, craving the way her lips felt on his.

“Okay, I’ll see you tonight, Agent.”

“I’ll see you tonight, A.”

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Aaron didn’t expect just how wonderful (Y/N) would be with Jack. He had never really seen a maternal side to her before, but she was incredible. Jack took a liking to her as well, even falling asleep between the both of them as they watched Finding Nemo. After they were sure he was asleep, Aaron carried his son to his room and put him to bed, (Y/N) following close behind, in awe of the way Aaron cared for his son.

“You want a glass of wine?” Aaron whispered to her, the two of them hand in hand as they walked back to the living room.

“Please!”

He poured the two of them overly generous glasses of Riesling, snuggling up on the couch next to her and kissing her on the forehead. They tried to find a movie for a bit, scrolling through endless channels before giving up.

“Can you stay the night?”

“I wish, but I have to catch an early flight tomorrow,” she frowned, her pout showcasing her perfect lips that he couldn’t get out of his head.

“Where are you going?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. Her face turned pale and emotionless as she thought of a response, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” she responded.

“I’m sorry.” He felt uncomfortable, not sure exactly what to say to her. They had never had an awkward silence before, and it made him sick as he waited in the quiet for her to respond.

“I probably should get going,” she finally said, setting her almost empty glass of wine down on the coffee table.

“Oh, c’mon, we just got some time alone…” he pleaded, but he could tell by the look on her face he had already lost her.

“I’m sorry, love. I just have a lot to prepare for this case.”

“I understand. Will I see you soon?”

“I’ll do my best, Agent.”

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California was a popular hot spot for serial killers. It seemed like Aaron and the team were there every other week. This time, San Francisco was the lucky city. He had already been there for two days, stuck on an incredibly weird case, when he got the call.

“Good morning, Agent,” (Y/N) spoke.

“A… it’s good to hear from you.” He was relieved at the sound of her voice, the dark energy of this specific case seeping into him, choking any optimism out of him.

“How are things?”

“I’m working on a tough case, to be honest. It’s taking a lot out of me.”

“Would it be better if I was there?”

“How is that possible?”

“I was… in the area. Set some time aside to stop by.”

“I’m going to be really busy…” he frowned, realizing now how difficult it would be to actually see her.

“Oh, Agent, I sure hope you can make time to see me,” she teased, giggling through the phone, her laugh wrapping him in warmth and shielding him from the darkness of reality for a moment.

“Well, I have to sleep at some point,” he responded, laughing himself.

“Call me when you get back to your hotel. I’ll be waiting.”

Aaron hung the phone up quickly, peeking around the corner of the SFPD office they were currently set up in. Luckily, everyone was too busy to listen in on his personal conversations. He wondered what his team would think if they knew what was going on behind closed doors. Would they still stand around and trust the system they were working so hard to uphold? Because Aaron could barely stomach it.

“Hey, we’ve got a problem,” Derek said, coming around the corner lookingfor his superior.

“What’s going on?”

“C’mon into the conference room. Garcia will explain everything.”

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He didn’t make it back to his hotel for another 12 hours. It was nearing 11 PM by the time he finally closed the door and could be done for the day. Although with his job, he was never really off the clock.

He called (Y/N), pushing aside any exhaustion he had for a moment with her. She was there within twenty minutes, sneaking through the door, giggling and kissing quietly, trying to be secretive. It was risky, extremely risky for them to be together with his team just on the other side of a thin hotel wall. But he couldn’t help himself. A part of him wanted to get caught, be exposed, so they could stop sneaking around. He wanted to love her in front of everyone.

He forgot about the case briefly as he lost himself in her flesh, kissing her soft skin and making love to her - twice. When the exhaustion finally overcame him, he crawled into her arms and let the horrors of his job overcome him.

“It’s a bad one, this case,” he divulged, knowing he shouldn’t be telling her the details, but needed a release. He needed to scream, and she was the only one around to hear.

“What’s going on?”

“Some CEO’s kid has been going all around the country killing teenage girls. Eevrytime the police get close to him, he just runs. Five different cities, and he’s escaped them all. Thirty six bodies that we can find. Probably more. And he’s going to get away, here, too. Garcia found out he sold his house a few days ago and bought one in Miami.”

“Well if you know it’s him, why aren’t you arresting him?” (Y/N) had a confused look on her face, her eyes wide and her lips forming a slight pout as she waited for him to respond.

“We don’t have enough physical evidence. He fits the profile perfectly, and we are able to trace bodies to him in every city he’s lived in. But that’s not good enough for the courts. He’s just going to keep getting away…” Aaron felt his heart pounding, the face of Foyet flashing over and over in his head.

“Sometimes… the system doesn’t help everybody.” She wasn’t looking at him, her eyes darting nervously around the room.

“That’s why people like you exist, right? To serve justice to those who escape it.”

“That’s one way of looking at it.”

Aaron looked at her, her cheeks flushed and her breathing sporadic. They were thinking the same thing, it was only a guessing game on who would break the silence first. He didn’t think it would be here, she was too nervous.

“(Y/N)...” he whispered, placing a hand on hers.

“What are you asking me to do, Agent?” She finally looked up at him, her face flat and emotionless, a side of her she had never shown him before. It was her work face, her business face.

“I want you to do your job, A.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“It’s the only way to stop him.”

“Okay. I’ll take care of it.” She got up out of the bed and started putting her clothes back on, slowly redressing herself as she prepared to go back to work. She grabbed one of the three phones she carried, hastily dialing a number and putting the old cell to her ear.

“Hey, it’s me. I need the car here ASAP, and the bag... Yeah, it’s a change of plans. … I’ll tell you in the car.” She hung the call up and put the phone back in her bag, refusing the look at Aaron the entire time she was preparing herself.

“You’re doing this now?” He laughed, getting up and trying to stop her from leaving. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her towards him, her body struggling to get away. She felt tense, tired. Her body was no longer surrounded by it’s usual warm glow. She was cold, and dark. She wasn’t her.

“Agent, if this is what you want, I need to handle it my way. Please let me go.”

“Will you… can I see you after?”

“I need to leave the city immediately after it’s done. And it’s best we don't talk for a bit. I can call you when I think things are safe.”

“How long is a bit? I mean, I don’t want to give you up.”

“You can’t have both, Aaron. Either I’m (Y/N) or I’m Ananke. Do you want more girls to die? Or do you want a girlfriend?” She was yelling, her voice a loud and intense version of itself that he was unfamiliar with. It made him dizzy. He sat down clumsily on the bed and put his face in his hands.

“Kill him,” he mumbled. She was quiet for a few seconds, and so was he. And awkward silence. Something they had never had. He felt like she was staring at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

“I’ll call you when I can, Agent. It’s been wonderful working with you.”

Aaron swore as she walked out the door he could hear her cry. Maybe he was making it up to make himself feel better. There was no way she could walk away that easily and not … hurt. He hurt, so terribly bad. How long was a bit? A few weeks, months? Would he ever see her again?

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Aaron awoke to a loud banging on his door and his phone buzzing like crazy. The ringer was on, but not loud enough to awaken him from his alcohol assisted slumber. He shouldn’t be drinking on the job, he knew that rule better than anyone. But he had to shut his mind up.

He opened the door to a rattled Derek Morgan, his forehead sweating and hands shaking.

“You are not going to believe this,” Derek said, chuckling slightly.

“What’s going on, Morgan?” Aaron knew what he was going to say, but he had to pretend to be surprised. Would Derek know? He was by far the best profiler on the team. How long could Aaron keep up a lie before Derek figured something out?

“Our unsub died last night. Car accident. He hit a railing and his car just… exploded.” Derek held his tablet out to Hotch, showing him various photos from the scene. His car was completely crushed and torched. You could see his body, but there was absolutely no way to tell what was happening at the time of the accident. The damage of the car was far too elaborate to find any remnants of explosives- if that’s what she used. But whatever she did, it was brilliant. There was no way anyone would think twice about this. She was brilliant.

He could feel himself smiling, being impressed with her work- but he remembered Derek was still standing there, unknowing of the secrets Aaron held.

“Well, I guess we can finally get the hell out of San Francisco,” Aaron laughed.

“You think this is the end? He just dies in a freak accident and it's over? Are we that lucky, Hotch?” Derek’s eyebrows were furrowed in the classic way his face always looked when he was suspicious.

“He’s not around to hurt anyone else, and that’s the end of it. Our jobs are done here. I want wheels up in an hour.”

Derek just nodded in agreement with his supervisor, realizing it wasn’t worth the argument. Aaron was right, the bad guy was gone and that was good enough for him.

Aaron closed the door to his hotel, grabbing his phone and dialing her number. He had assumed she’d already disconnected the line, severing their connection for the time. But it rang, and somebody answered.

“A…?” he whispered, waiting for her voice.

“You shouldn’t be calling this number,” a man responded, a voice he recognized as Jays.

“I know, I know, but please. Please just tell her something for me.” Jay was silent for a moment, deciding what to do.

“... What?” He asked, quietly.

“Please just tell her I said thank you. For everything.”

And then the phone disconnected. The call was over. She was gone. For who knows how long?

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One week later, SSA Aaron Hotchner was sitting in his office when Erin Strauss walked through his door. She didn’t knock, which made him jump. She walked right in and sat down on his couch, taking a deep breath. A disappointed sigh.

“Hello, Erin.”

“Agent Hotcher.” She looked at him angrily, her lips pursed and eyes tight as she thought of her words.

“What can I do for you?”

“In all honesty, Aaron… did you think we wouldn’t find out? You are a federal agent. Your passport is flagged any time you enter a foreign country. You were in Paris at the same time as her. And then San Francisco? She was there on assignment and your uncatchable unsub just happens to turn up dead?”

“Am I fired?” He asked, his only thought on what they were doing to her.

“Aaron… what are you doing? You are losing yourself! If this is about Haley…”

“Just tell me something. What are you going to do to her?” He bit his lip nervously, Erin avoiding his eye contact.

“Right now she’s being relocated, on a six month assignment. We’ll see what happens after that.”

“Where?”

“You know I can’t tell you that!”

Aaron sat for a moment, completely unsure of what to say next. Maybe Erin was right, he had lost himself. He would’ve never imagined himself in this situation.

“What do I do now?”

“You move on. And you do your job, the right way. I’ll cut you some slack this time, Aaron. But if this happens again… there will be consequences. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Erin walked out of his office quietly, closing the door as she left. He waited a moment, a long moment, before pulling out his phone. He had to at least try to talk to her. Even if the number didn’t work. He had to try.

But it rang. And this time he knew it was her who answered.

“Agent.” She answered sharply.

“Where are you?”

“I’m still in DC, as of now.”

“If I asked you to stay, would you?”

“You know it doesn’t work like that. Either I go, or they send me to prison. I’m sorry, Aaron. But this… was destined to fail from the beginning.”

“No, (Y/N). I don’t accept that. I love you.”

“You can’t. I’m sorry, Agent. This is goodbye.”

#vicficwriterchallenge #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fanfiction

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septicstories · 3 years

Text

Big Life in a Small Town (Part 1)

A/N: This is based on the song "Santa Fe (Prologue)" from the Newsies musical! It's not based on the plot of the musical. The song will be altered a tad, but not too much! In the next part though, I'll have to do some edits. But for now, you've got this... mess? I dunno, I'm writing this before it's done. This is post-X-men Apocalypse, so Peter is in his late 20's.

Genre: Bittersweet fluff

Warnings: alcohol, drinking, mentions of broken limbs, daddy issues, no beta reader, minimal editing

Word count: 1.3k (1,385 words)

The X-mansion was quiet, the cool midnight air only changing currents occasionally when a silver blur sprinted around.

Pietro had his younger brother in his arms, running around. Peter injured his leg a while ago, stuck on crutches. ANd it was killing the young speedster.

And Pietro noticed.

So he scooped his younger brother up out of his room, running him around the mansion's vast yard until he smiled. That's when he brought him up to one of the rooftop balconies of the mansion.

The two siblings weren't the only ones in their family who lived in the mansion. Pietro's twin, Wanda, was fast asleep, her room near the balcony.

Pietro, as immature as he may seem, was wise beyond his years. He'd seen more things than he ever would have wanted to for a 35-year-old man. Hell, anyone would be unsettled when you find your mother died of sickness, and your father was out of the picture when your younger brother was born a few years after.

Pietro and Peter sat on the balcony, a case of beer between the two, a sudden scoff came from the older speedster.

"What's up, you alright?" Peter asked, looking at his brother.

Pietro's eyes were glued to the ground below them, a sour expression on his face.

"Those streets down there," Pietro began, a dry laugh leaving his lips. "They sucked the life right out of our old man. Well, they aren't doing that to me."

Peter pursed his lips, watching as his older brother took a swig of his beer.

Pietro has always hated staying in one place for too long. The mansion hadn't really ever been his favorite place. Staying at their aunt's house in D.C. was something he looked forward to every summer. But, even then, he could only stay there for a few days before needing to go somewhere else. Not just from his need to move, but the U.S. government still wasn't absolutely fond of mutants.

"But everyone wants to come to New York," Peter let out a small chuckle. To an outsider, it'd sound like he was in disbelief, but he understood how Pietro felt.

Staying in one place was hard. But Peter also managed to make himself a family here at the mansion as he grew up. He met the ever-sweet Jean Grey when he was 20 years old. The poor girl had some trauma that no one but Chuck knew about. He got to meet Hank, and Raven, and all of the other younger kids. He thought of them all as his younger siblings.

He couldn't leave.

"You keep your small life in the big city. Give me a big life in a small town."

Pietro's words snapped Peter out of his thoughts, looking to his older brother. Pietro's eyes had lifted from the ground, looking up to the sky.

"They say folks are dying to get here."

"What about you, Piet?"

"Me? I'm dying to get away... to a little town out west that's spankin' new," Pietro said with a grin. "And while I've never been there, I can see it clear as day! If you want, I bet you, you could see it, too.

Peter has always had a particular question on his mind, that he always knew the answer to.

Then why haven't you gone? What's stopping you?

But, as always, Peter kept his mouth shut. He didn't want Wanda and Pietro to leave, as dumb as it may be. They were the only family he had left. Well, that he knew of and that knew of him.

Erik was another person he'd address when he had the courage.

But not...

Not now.

"Close your eyes."

Peter looked at his brother again, who was staring back at him. Honestly, he was waiting for his brother to snap in his face and use what became his favorite phrase after a few movie nights: "Hello, McFly?"

"Come with me, where it's clean and green and pretty, and they went and made a city out of clay."

Clay? A city out of clay? That sounds... odd. Peter hasn't stayed too long in other parts of the world, opting to stick to the Northeast area of the U.S. Occasionally, he'll go further South or a little bit further West. But never past Kansas.

"Why, the minute that you get there, folks will walk right up and say, 'Welcome home, son. Welcome home to Santa Fe!'"

Being called son was something the Maximoff boys wanted more than they would ever elude to. Their father? Out of the picture for the most part, up until they realized he was a terrorist. And he didn't even know about Peter.

Of course, the townsfolk of Santa Fe may not call you "son" as soon as you land on the premise. But, two bastard sons can dream, can't they?

"Planting crops. Splitting rails. Swapping tales around the fire," Pietro's grin grew as he spoke. He really thought about this a lot, didn't he? "Except for Sunday when you lie around all day."

Peter didn't know how much Pietro truly thought about leaving. Pietro's mind was full of places to go and see, places where he could take his family and live without having to deal with attacks from the U.S. government.

Santa Fe was where they'd go next in the U.S., but Sokovia was certainly the next best option. The U.S. government wouldn't come looking for them in Sokovia.

Right?

"Soon your friends are more like family, and they're begging you to stay! Isn't that neat?" Pietro asked as Peter took a large sip from his beer. "Living sweet in Santa Fe."

Pietro trailed off, almost in a dream-like state, making Peter flinch. He really fucking wanted out, huh?

"Hey, no one worries about a bad leg in Santa Fe. You just hop on a palomino, you'll ride in style!" Pietro joked, knocking his shoulder into his brother's.

"Feature me, ridin' in style," Peter giggled, taking a swig of his beer again.

"Hey, I bet a few months of clean air, you could toss that crutch for good!"

"Santa Fe," Peter and Pietro mumbled in unison, one happy and the other more tired. "You can bet, we won't let those bastards beat us. We won't beg anyone to treat us fair and square. There's a life that's worth the living, and I'm gonna do my share."

"Work the land, chase the sun." Pietro ran his hands through his hair, standing up.

"Swim the whole Rio Grande just for fun!" Pietro and Peter shouted together. The two had massive grins spreading across their faces, just happy to see the other smiling.

"Watch me stand!" Peter stood up quickly, only to feel a sharp pain jolt through his bad leg. His hands flew to the balcony railing, gripping it tightly as he let out a choked noise of pain.

"Watch me run..."

Pietro frowned when he saw his brother's grimace, watching Peter set himself down into a sitting position. The poor kid was gritting his teeth and sucking in harsh breaths as he set himself down.

"Hey, hey..." Pietro began softly, sitting down beside his brother before slapping a hand on his shoulder. "Don't you know that we're a family?"

Peter's eyes met Pietro's, painting over his grimace with a weak grin. "Yeah, b--"

"Would I let you down?" Pietro asked.

Peter let out a weak laugh as his brother continued.

"No way. Just hold on, kid, until that train makes Santa Fe."

The younger speedster let out a yawn, leaning his head on his brother's shoulder.

"Let's get you to bed, okay?" Pietro said, only getting a nod from Peter.

Pietro scooped his younger brother up in his arms, speeding through the mansion into Peter's room before setting him down.

"Good night, Peter."

"Good night, Pietro."

Pietro sped out of Peter's room, only to be stopped when he passed Wanda's room. His sleepy twin gave him a look, one that he didn't see often, and it concerned him.

"Pietro, we're being called to Sokovia," Wanda whispered sleepily.

"What? Why? All three of us?"

"No. Peter needs to stay here. He's got a broken leg, Pietro. Just you and I."

Pietro took in a quick breath before nodding.

"When do we leave?"

"... you didn't see that coming..."

A/N: Haha, cliffhangers are fun, ain't they? Okay, but, here's what you have for now! The other one is already in my drafts, and I've got plans for that! So, I'll get all that shit out, and we'll be good! I've got so much shit in my drafts, holy shit. Okay, uh... I don't have much to say, so thank you for reading! I don't necessarily have a tag list for this sort of stuff, so if you want to be on a tag list, let me know! And please let me know if you find a typo or something that doesn't make sense. Like I said, there's minimal editing.

#septic's stories #quicksilver #pietro maximoff #peter maximoff #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #marvel fanfiction #x-men fanfiction #marvel #x-men

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lucas-koh · 4 years

Text

Stitches - Bryce Lahela x MC XVI

Choices: Open Heart; Part 1-15 in bio.

Rating: M, implied sex, swearing

Song: My Own - Whitaker

Word Count: 3380

Taglist: @lahellacute @lahamseiroshoe @choicesficwriterscreations @anotherbeingsworld @fuseboxmusebox @bubblelaureno @eleanorbloom @bryceslahela @thegreentwin @kelseaaa @kingkassam || please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from this list

Chapter Sixteen: Scarred

Suki didn’t need to hear any more. There was no explaining away this one. She’d asked the question and his answer was simple. So I am just a body to you? Yes.

Her gaze fell to the floor and her feet felt cemented there even though all she wanted to do was run away. She kept trying and trying but they wouldn’t budge. Noise was all one big long beep fizzling around her ears and her vision was a big blurry mess, despite the tears clinging on for dear life at the bottom of her lashes.

But she didn’t need to move. Bryce already had. She saw as the blurred shapes of his legs removed themselves from her peripheral and she could picture each step in her mind, each one another stab to her chest.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, swaying in the growing dark, the tears still gripping on obstinately to her lash line.

And it seemed she made it home on autopilot, because the next thing she knew she was unlocking her front door and gliding through to her bedroom. If anyone was around in the communal areas, she wouldn’t have been able to tell because nothing was registering.

She also seemed to manage to undress and slide into pyjamas in smooth movements, eyes barely blinking and mouth set slightly parted. She hadn’t bothered to turn the light on, just a small window of grey sky illuminating the room ever so slightly.

She washed her face and brushed her teeth, trying not to think too much about the time Bryce had done this for her. She didn’t even look in the mirror as she did so.

It wasn’t until Suki cradled herself into bed and laid to one side, the space Bryce often occupied empty in front of her, that she finally began to cry.

She felt out to the space, the smooth cotton kind of stinging beneath her still-cold hands, like that would somehow let him know she was thinking of him. That she was sorry. Sorry that she went and fucked up and caught feelings. Sorry that she acted on impulse. The empty space never usually felt like a problem, probably because she knew it would be occupied at some point or another. And now it wouldn’t be. She slowly turned her hand over, looking at her scars in the dim light. And she just cried more. Because it was a reminder of Bryce seared into her skin forever. The puckered skin a neat example of Bryce’s careful and thoughtful stitches. The red disappearing scabs a beacon of how she’d messed it all up.

His stitches hadn’t scarred just her hand, but her heart, too.

She wasn’t even meant to feel anything for him, but mistakes were made. She wasn’t even sure she ever felt like it was a good idea, even from the start, just that she wanted him. She had been helpless to stop the unforgiving want.

But as she grew to want him in the other way, he’d stayed the same.

This was nothing like the time Bryce had been funny about the surgery, or when she’d been worried about what she’d heard him say to Ben. This was different. This was real and definite and final. No chance of miscommunication. She’d worried—knew to some extent—that how she felt was one sided, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

She was embarrassed. Because even if she’d been right about him not feeling the same, she’d still believed he at least cared for her as a friend. Just like the rest of the group. Clearly, that wasn’t the case.

There was definitely a sense of frustration that he’d been pissed at her for lying, but in admitting that she was only a fuck to him and not a friend, he’d revealed he’d been lying since she asked him about it.

Her throat hurt as she tried to cry silently. She couldn’t believe how badly everything had got fucked up. She found herself wishing that the space next to her was occupied. She didn’t even want the sex. She wanted the intimacy. Just Bryce next to her. His stupid fucking grin and his eyes like chasms she’d trip and fall down with just a word—just the thought of hearing her name on his lips triggered a chorus of ‘Why, Suki?’ and she was in even more desperate tears. No ‘Sukes’, no ‘Santa Fe’, and her full name normally sounded like heaven—but.

She wasn’t sure how long she lay there wallowing. She hadn’t even remembered falling asleep until she woke up with the sore, crusty eyes and a wet pillow. Pathetic. He wasn’t even anything to me. I hate that I made myself feel this way.

—-

The next few days were a big blend of work, coming home to stare at a wall, and eventually needing to eat.

This shouldn’t have fucked her up as much as it was, but it had. She’d lost a friend above anything else. Or, who she thought was a friend.

And she wished that maybe this had happened sooner, before she got too sucked in. But then she realised. She’d always been screwed. The entire time.

She hadn’t even considered previously that they’d had an emotional bond before they even had a good chance at being only fuck buddies. When they’d kissed in the supply closet all those months ago, it was sealed. Her tears had been drying on her cheeks as he’d kissed her desperately, tasting them and consuming her misery. For her, anyway. She should’ve read the signs, let herself stay away from the inevitable heartbreak.

And yes, Suki got sick. So she was sick and heartbroken all at once. She had to take a couple of days off, and all she did was hole up in her room and pop out occasionally to cook up a meal from the freezer. Thank god she was always prepared.

One day she was unfortunate enough to enter the kitchen while Jackie was already there, eating a sandwich at the table.

“Hey,” she smiled, she knew Suki was sick so Suki assumed that was what the sympathetic look on her face was about.

“Hi,” Suki replied meekly, before pulling out some cold pizza from the fridge and digging in to a slice.

“Aren’t those sweatpants a bit big for you?” Jackie asked. Suki forgot she’d been living in Bryce’s hoodie and sweatpants she’d stolen at Christmas. She was currently in an old t shirt of her own and said sweatpants which definitely were a tad big.

“No,” Suki groaned through her mouthful of pizza.

“Okay, what is up? Any time you’re at the apartment you’ve been moping and barely taking care of yourself, you haven’t even noticed me when I’ve said hi to you at the hospital. I know you’re sick but... I don’t know. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine, Jackie. I guess I just hate February.”

“No… there’s something wrong. Is this a bad time of year for you?”

She looked at Jackie properly for the first time in the conversation, concern laced in her typically brusque face. It was a bit of an impasse. Telling Jackie would probably screw things up further, especially given how close she was with Bryce. If she was being honest, Suki had no idea if Bryce had confronted Jackie about the whole thing. If she was being honest, she didn’t want to know. If Bryce hadn’t chastised Jackie, then Suki knew the whole thing had been about her, and he really had meant that the fact they were sleeping together changed things. Of course if he had, that would mean that Suki wasn’t special at all. She couldn’t win.

Was indifference worse than resentment?

“Something like that,” she gave a small sad smile. Jackie nodded understandingly, and Suki knew she wouldn’t press.

“Here,” Jackie patted the chair beside her, clearing off the last of her sandwich in the other hand. Suki didn’t really want to sit down and chat—she’d been hoping to hole up in her room all day again—but at this point that would be rude. So she reluctantly slid into the chair. “So, I need to ask you a question.”

Suddenly Suki’s head whirred with all the possible things Jackie could be curious about, but all they landed on was Bryce. Had she somehow found out they’d been sleeping together? Or, did she know those sweatpants were his? What if Bryce had confronted her about the whole thing and that was this? All questions lead to him. And that made her seriously nervous. She didn’t want to talk about him, she didn’t want to think about him. Even though that seemed all she could do these days.

“Okay…”

“So after the whole I-stopped-you-from-hitting-a-surgical-intern thing, did you maybe… go back and do it?”

Suki balked, she wasn’t expecting this. “No? What do you mean?”

“I saw the two of them sporting matching black eyes, I wondered if—”

“No.” Suki was surprised by the revelation, because it certainly hadn’t been her.

“Oh. Alright. I suppose he’s probably just a dick generally, then. I’m glad, I’m still shocked they didn’t report us.”

Although Jackie might’ve been right—he might’ve just been an ass in some other situation—Suki couldn’t help but feel there was some connection. Maybe Landry was pissed they’d given him away? No, he didn’t seem the type. She didn’t really feel like asking the guy, but the situation was curious to her. Hopefully there’d be enough gossip once she was back at work to figure it out.

“Fred’s nose is fine, by the way. I don’t want you to beat yourself up over this,” Jackie said as she looked at the table; affection was something she was still getting her head around.

Suki nodded, she was glad she hadn’t broken anyone. Because she had been feeling a little guilty, even if he had deserved it. That feeling paled in comparison to how it had affected things with Bryce, though.

—-

The following days, months, indeterminate amount of time were hell for Bryce too.

He’d taken it too far. He could’ve let her down more gently. But she was too forgiving, too loyal, and she would’ve still been there for him—he couldn’t have that. Fucking hell, she would’ve probably bought him soup about the fact he’d rejected her if he’d been soft about it. And shit, he adored her for it.

He felt so incredibly guilty because he could see he’d hurt her. Those words cut like a knife for so many reasons. First, he looked like he only cared about getting in her pants and it hurt him that that meant every meaningful moment they shared became just another way to fuck her. Second, it had been a direct contradiction to what he’d told her before when she’d asked him the same question—and he’d insisted they were friends. Third, he was sure he’d done it at the worst possible time. Just when he was starting to feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t alone in this. Like the way she looked at him meant what he wanted it to mean. And yes, that was why it had to happen, but it also meant he’d probably hurt her even more.

Shit, he wished he didn’t hurt her at all. Ever. He wished she could always be okay, he wished she could brush it off. But he knew she couldn’t. Even if he meant nothing to her—something he didn’t know the answer to—the way Suki was as a person would mean she’d be upset no matter what. She was thoughtful, loving, and empathetic. He’d seen that time and time again. Even if she didn’t like him the way he liked her, the fact of losing a friend was enough for her. And he was beating himself up nonstop for letting things get to the point where he would hurt her. Had hurt her.

Part of Bryce had wanted those idiots to report him for hitting Ben, some sort of sadistic payback for what he’d done to Suki. He wasn’t sure why they hadn’t, but at least he still had work to pour himself into. That was his only solace. The thing he loved the most. Or, historically had.

Although he truly fell for Suki at Halloween, he was also of the belief that there’d been some odd emotional bond from the very start. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t seen it before. All the flirting, the desire to be near her, the way she made him feel. It was clinging to the familiar, the concentrated girl from college who he’d shared a moment with, whom he’d felt compelled to comfort that day. They were fucked before they even tried.

—-

If Suki had any hope of things fixing themselves after some time, that was gone when the months dragged on by with no word. It was easier than she expected to avoid friend outings:

I’m so tired.

I’m working really early tomorrow.

I’m actually working.

I’m trying to drink less.

And that seemed enough for the moment. She had picked up enough extra shifts that most of the time she really was working her ass off. Aurora knew what had happened, being Suki’s one confidant, and helped along with the excuses and avoiding. Aurora was… less than happy with Bryce but never said anything at Suki’s request. She did, however, disapprove of the way Suki was handling things.

“You can’t let this mean you avoid all your friends,” she’d said one day after trying to drag Suki out of her bedroom to Donahue’s. Suki had been grateful that Aurora hadn’t said ‘I told you so’. Even if she had been right.

“I live with you guys. It’s only him who’s extra, anyway.”

“Don’t you think it might be nice to clear the air, though? Yeah, he was a dick, but you shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable around him for the rest of the time we’re all at Edenbrook.”

“I’m just not ready yet.”

Was Suki putting off the inevitable? Almost definitely.

—-

Around Easter, Suki had a couple of days off and was still feeling totally awful. It didn’t help this gave her a chance to think about it. She’d just been so engrossed in work and then so exhausted she’d fall straight asleep. There wasn’t as much time to focus on it properly, even if it did come into her mind at every opportunity. Every time she had to schedule a surgery she dreaded it would be Bryce walking through those doors—but by a stroke of luck it never was. Fate striking again. She did have Ben once, which was as awkward as it could’ve been.

That day around Easter the group had made a big meal and spent some nice quality time together. So in the next instalment of a long line of mistakes, Suki drank too much wine and found herself on Bryce’s doorstep. Which kind of made her cry all over again remembering the last time she was drunk and how Bryce cared for her. How he’d held her and kept her hair back and brushed her teeth and put her in his pyjamas. How he’d cuddled her as she fell asleep. And how apparently that was just a courtesy, not because he really gave a shit.

She thought about what he’d said: if only you knew what a screw up I was, and how ominous that felt now. I’m not sure what you meant, but I feel like the screw up now. No—I am the screw up.

She stared at his door from a distance, before nearing it. Then backing away. Then pacing back and forth. It probably should’ve been a warning that even in her drunk state she couldn’t make up her mind, but clearly it wasn’t.

She neared it, and knocked. Footsteps began to sound out and then when she felt the knob begin to twist she blockaded it on her side.

“Don’t open the door,” she muttered loud enough for him to hear, lolling her forehead onto it. “I can’t do this properly if I have to look at you.” Because even just imagining his face was painful right now. He probably looked so pretty. Unaltered. Just the thought was making her sobs hitch in her throat; but she didn’t want him to hear her crying.

There was a pause from the other side. “Suki…” the tone of his voice was indecipherable.

“I just need to say it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Unawares to Suki, Bryce was directly on the other side of the door, his ear pressed up against it and his eyes shut. It was her voice—he hadn’t heard it in what felt like way too long. He just wanted to rip open the door and see her face. Hug her. Kiss her. Say sorry. But she was right, that wouldn’t be a good idea. So he clambered his hands against the wood beside his head, reaching for the unreachable.

Bryce wasn’t sure how to respond, either.

“I fucked up. Bad. I-” she swallowed down the lump in her throat, “I fell for you,” she tried to control her voice but the tears were relentless, her hand shaking on the wooden door. This wasn’t the ideal situation to be confessing her feelings but it honestly just sort of came out. And there was no taking it back now.

It wasn’t something she was particularly used to… wearing her heart on her sleeve like this. Usually she’d sort of just… fallen into a relationship and that was that. But here she was admitting to Bryce—who’d told her in no uncertain terms he didn’t feel the same—that she’d fallen for him.

Drunk, no less.

“You…” Bryce started, but Suki cut him off.

“And I don’t… wanna see you again. I can’t ever see you again. It hurts too damn much. I know I don’t mean that to you, but I just...”

“But Suki you—”

“Please don’t. I’m going to move on. I’m giving up Bryce for lent,” Suki, drunk, didn’t care that Easter was the end of lent. “I just had to say it first.”

Before she broke too much she rushed away from the apartment and didn’t look back.

Didn’t hear Bryce’s whisper from the other side of the door: “I fell for you too. Long ago.”

—-

All the way home she questioned whether she’d made the right decision. Whether she should’ve just left it.

If admitting her feelings was perhaps entirely idiotic. Sober Suki would probably think so. But there was a slight sense of pressure lifted. She didn’t have to pretend anymore. He knew.

She’d feel embarrassed tomorrow, but that was a problem for sober Suki.

When she got home to see everyone still sitting around the table laughing with their wine glasses she wasn’t entirely sure she was in the mood for it (the whole heartbreak thing probably had something to do with that), but couldn’t object when she was beckoned over.

“Did you get more wine?”

Oh yeah. Her excuse. Oops.

“They were out…”

Jackie shot her an uncertain glance, but everyone was too drunk and jolly to care.

Eventually Suki was able to retreat to bed and follow her usual pattern. But she found herself staring at her phone. Specifically Bryce’s contact.

She’d meant it. She was giving him up. That meant taking certain measures.

She deliberated for what felt like hours, but eventually sent the text.

Suki Moore: Bryce & Suki’s Fuck Buddy Agreement: TERMINATED

Almost immediately her heart was in her throat and again knew sober Suki would regret this. It hurt. Knowing she’d put the final nail in the coffin.

Bryce’s dots popped up. Then down again. Then up, down. Then they never returned. The word read looking more and more like dread. He was probably glad to be free of her.

She found herself wondering how things had changed so drastically. Bryce had gone from being a stranger at a frat party to a colleague with undeniable chemistry to a fuck to… so much more. And now he was worse than a stranger. Her relationship with him was well and truly terminated.

What’s a break-up when the two were never really together?

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we-are-inevitable · 4 years

Note

Javid, Fear, #14 “just stay on the phone with me, please?”

A/N: OKAY SO I COMPLETELY FORGOT THAT THIS WAS A FEAR PROMPT BUT,, hh,, i wanted to write some fluff !!

thank you for the prompt!!

Read On AO3!

“Davey! Hi!”

As soon as he hears Jack’s voice on the other end of the line, David lets out a deep breath. It’s weird, almost, how something so simple could comfort him so quickly, but Jack’s voice had always had that power over him. This wasn’t anything new.

David lets out a soft, amused little huff, and wraps his arms around himself as best he can while holding the phone to his ear. “Hey, Jack. I… Okay, this is gonna sound stupid, but can you just… Talk to me? I left the library kind of late, and it’s dark, and--”

“Is everything alright? Hang on, Dave, you should call Spot and have ‘im walk ya home--”

“No, no, Jackie, I’m fine,” David says with a soft chuckle. He doesn’t really feel fine, though- he’s been on campus for, what, a week? He doesn’t exactly know his way around yet, and everything is a little darker than he expected. He’s not necessarily worried for his safety or anything- if need be, David can hold his own in a fight, but he’s not expecting that to happen. This is a good school. “Just… stay on the phone with me, please?”

There’s some rustling on the other side- David thinks he hears a textbook close- but then he can hear pretty much everything as Jack turns speakerphone on. A TV turns down in the background, and David hears a bed creaking, which makes him grin. “Ah- Fuck, okay, sorry ‘bout all’a that racket, I got stuck in the blankets,” Jack says matter-of-factly from, well, somewhere in his dorm room; he doesn’t sound like he’s close to the phone, but then David hears a bedroom door shut. “Okay! Uh, I can talk now. My roommates are bein’ idiots, sorry.”

“No, you’re good,” David says with a sad grin on his face. “How is it so far? They aren’t giving you any trouble, right?”

“Aside from bein’ kinda loud while I’m on the phone,” Jack yells pointedly, probably in the direction of his bedroom door, “Nah. One of ‘em- he’s majoring in, like, vocal arts or somethin’, so he’s a really loud shower singer, but for the most part? They’re chill, I guess. Fun.”

“I’m glad,” David murmurs. He opens his mouth to speak, before he hears Jack chuckle softly. “What’s so funny?”

“I dunno, I was just… Thinkin’ ‘bout their reactions to you.”

“You told them about me?”

“Well, yeah? I mean… c’mon, you’re my boyfriend. ‘Course I told ‘em about you. I showed ‘em pictures, too- they said you’re way outta my league, by the way. Can’t say I disagree.”

“Oh, shut up,” David laughs, and shakes his head as he looks back down at the sidewalk. “I hate you.”

“Nooo, you love me,” Jack replies in a sing-song voice, and David can’t help but giggle.

“Yeah, I… I really do,” He murmurs, letting out a deep sigh a few moments later. “I miss you, Kelly.”

“Hey, now, don’t get all sad on me,” Jack whispers. “I miss you too, baby. A lot… But, hey, fall break ain’t that far away, and I’ll be back in New York for a whole week, okay?”

“Oh, are you coming here?” David asks, and grins. “If you want to, then that’s fine, but… I don’t know. Maybe I could come visit you in Albuquerque.”

“Well, I mean, I don’t wa-- actually, hold up, that could work,” Jack huffs, and he takes a few seconds to think, before continuing, “If you wanna come here for fall break, then… Oh! Then we can, um, take turns! And I can come home for the holidays, and we’ll have more time in New York, and we can see everyone! Oh, Dave, you’re gonna love it here, it’s gorgeous. And Santa Fe ain’t too far, so we can hit the museums and all that nerdy shit you like, and I can show you around…”

“That sounds amazing, Jackie,” David says, genuinely, and he can feel the butterflies in his stomach at the thought of seeing Jack again, seeing him somewhere different, somewhere where he feels happy, and comfortable, and free.

Up ahead, David can see the shadowy silhouette of his dorm building. He grins to himself, and bites his lip. “I’m almost home. Are you free to FaceTime when I get back to my building?”

“I’m always free for you, mi cielito.”

“I love you, ahúv shelí,” David breathes out with a soft laugh, then bites his lip. “Tell me more about New Mexico.”

And that’s all it takes before Jack begins his excited rambling, which makes David smile wider than he’s done in days. It’s hard being away from Jack- they’ve been dating for nearly two years now, ever since their fall homecoming dance during junior year- but… but it works. They’re making it work.

David knows they can work, and that’s all that matters.

#newsies #jack kelly #david jacobs #davey jacobs #javid #javey #jack newsies #david newsies #livesies #toursies #92sies #newsies musical #newsies fic #newsies broadway #jac txt.#jac writes

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starboystation · 3 years

Note

Heard you were upset and was wondering [since I haven't seen it] if you could explain the plot of newsies to me [as a distraction type thing]. Go into a little or as much detail as you'd like <3

[For reference, I'm ok with spoilers, idk anythin about the characters except what you've already told me, and I hope you feel better /gen]

Okok okkkokokkokk. Ok so I'm literally just gonna explain the whole thing because I can't summarize at all

OK SO we start w the prologue which is literally just Jack and Crutchie being cute qpps that's LICHERALLY it. Jack's just like "oh ya we should run away to Santa Fe together and we can be gay cowboys doesn't that sound great! B]" THAT IS LITERALLY THE ENTIRE SONG and it's really sweet. But then OOPS mornin bell goes off and they haveta Sell Papers cause That's What Newsies Do !

Insert song and dance number (only thing I want to mention about this is in the background Jack is tying Crutchie's shoe n when he's done he kisses it??? And Crutchie's just "????????" AND I THINK IT'S REALLY FUNNY SKDGSKHFKSGFJDGD . Also Jack flirts with some pretty girl, she'll come back later trust me

Anyway they're going to buy their papers for the day and this new kid shows up (TWO actually)! That's Davey n his lil brother Les ! Jack decides him and Davey should be selling partners because Davey has no clue what he's doing and Jack is. Well. The Famous Jack Kelly and If You Learn From Him, You Learn From The Best ! So yeah Jack and Davey become selling partners!

End of the selling day and they're splitting up the money and stuff and BDHSHFBDBFDHFB then someone's chasing Jack down so AAA they run away to the theater ! Davey is so confused and he's just like "WHO THE FUCK WAS THAT" and Jack explains that the guy chasing him was Snyder and he runs an abusive prison for children so that's. 😶 He also comes back later unfortunately. Anyway then Medda (Jack's friend/mother figure and owner of the theater) comes to talk to them and then sings a song about how cool and pretty and awesome she is. As she should.

And then Jack sees that pretty girl in a lil box at the top and he's just like 👀👀👀 and goes to talk to her ! Turns out she's writing an article about the show and Jack finds her very charming ! He draws a picture of her and leaves it there and Katherine is just o///o over it ykyk.

MEANWHILE ON THE SIDE WHILE ALL THIS IS HAPPENING Pulitzer (the guy who runs The World, the newspaper company the newsies work for) is pissed they're not making enough money and sings some song with way too many ridiculous metaphors . Anyway they decide to raise the price of papers and Hannah is a gem as always (she's VERY MUCH a side character but she's really funny and sassy I love her)

NEXT DAY NEXT DAY the boys go to buy their papers to sell for the day ! And so they read the headlines and NEW NEWSIE PRICE??? 60 CENTS PER HUNDRED??? (My favorite comments being the "I'll be sleepin on the street !" ".. you already sleep on the street" "in a worse neighborhood") And they are PISSED. And so when Jack shows up everyone's like "JACK ARE YOU SEEING THIS SHIT?" and he's like "lol no they're joking cmon let's just get our papers". They Were Not Joking.

So Jack's like "WE'LL JUST. GET OUR PAPERS SOMEWHERE ELSE >:(" but noo prices are up everywhere! So they group up to try and work this out . Davey jokingly suggests a union and Jack's like "HELL YEAH REVOLUTION LET'S START A UNION" which Davey . Doesn't Like! Because they're like. Dumb kids ! They Can't Start A Union! But Jack convinces him to go along with it and BOOM! THEYS GOT A UNION BABEY! They sing a song abt it yeahyeah everyone's Thrilled.

Then they all head over to a lil restaurant to chill out and get some water and decide to have a rally with support from the other boroughs ! And everyone gets assigned to a borough to go and talk to blahblah

Then GASP! PRETTY GIRL'S BACK! She wants to write an article about the boys n their strike and GASP (AGAIN)! THEY'D MAKE THE FRONT PAGE! So everyone gets all excited and stuff . Davey and Crutchie like. Reach for eachothers hands WHICH IS KINDA. SUS. 👁👁 Davey/Crutchie qpr real!!! ANYWAY yeah she talks to Jack about the rally and stuff .. mild flirting and Jack being .... REALLY horny for a Disney musical ensues.

Then Katherine goes to write the article! She's a mess about it but she tries her best and sings actually a really nice song! She also makes a few comments about how Jack is Pretty and Charming and stuff because of course she does . So YEAH she writes up the article wahoo!!!

NEXT DAY NEXT DAY! The boys all group up for the rally ! Buuuut there's absolutely no support from the other boroughs . At all . So they're all bummed out and everyone just kinda wants to go home but JACK DOESN'T! But they don't listen to Jack so he just kinda gets Davey to convince them which. Works really well. Insert song! They do a silly dance number THAT ISN'T THAT SILLY ITS ACTUALLY SUPER COOL!!!! Anyway yeah dancey dance convince kids to join the strike with your silly gay dancey dance! Everyone's SUPER EXCITED and they get their picture taken for the papers !!!!!!!!!!

But then there's this bit that I actually really love where they're all singing really loud together cause WAHOO REVOLUTION!!! but then it starts fading out like almost Unevenly cause everyone realizes Shit Is About To Go Down. The cops n ppl from the Refuge (that abusive prison from before) show up and everyone's freakin out and big fight scene happens ! ALSO I WANNA MENTION. The cops show up. And Romeo says "IT'S ABOUT TIME YA SHOWED UP! THEY'RE SLAUGHTERIN US!" AND THEN GETS HIT BY A COP SO HARD HE FALLS OVER AND PRESUMABLY PASSES OUT. SO. WHAT THE FUCK

Anyway more fight scene and right at the end Crutchie gets Beat Up! I won't go into detail because that. Mmm it's really triggering for me but HHHHHHHH Snyder beats him w his Own Crutch and he gets dragged to the Refuge while screaming for Jack's help and it is. IT'S A LOT. /neg

So now Jack is really upset and basically having a panic attack/breakdown on the rooftop and screaming about how much he hates himself . Insert another song! He sings about again how much he hates himself and how he wants to run away to Santa Fe and just forget about all of this and stuff . END OF ACT ONE !

(I'll stop here and dm you the rest for the sake of everyone's dashboards cause this is getting UNREASONABLY long ,,)

#THIS WAS RLLY FUN THO THANKS FOR LETTING ME TALK ABOUT IT #asks #that dense idiot #long post

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offspring-of-calliope · 4 years

Note

I really like your writing, so if you're still taking drabble requests: how about some hurt/comfort for Ralbert? Maybe canon era? Sorry, I'm really bad at specific requests, but maybe this gives you an idea

Guess who only now realised that she still has to work through 15 pages of text in preparation for the lecture she has tomorrow morning and still prioritized finally writing this drabble? But hey, I really liked how this turned out, so maybe I'll regret it only half as much as I normally would.

I hope this fits your expectations and thanks for liking my writing :)

And don't be shy, you can still write me your wishes, I love writing something that others would like to see and enjoy.

So, for now I hope you'll enjoy this little drabble,

Sincerely, me,

Lélodie

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The sinking sun was painting the sky in a beautiful red colour - the same colour that had been used in the picture he held in his hands. Tightly, as if the memory of the boy who had drawn it would fade if he let go.

"There you is."

The sudden voice made him turn his head to see who was coming up to the rooftop. Jack und Crutchie's rooftop. "Hey, Albert," Racetrack Higgins greeted the newcomer, nodded slightly and then proceeded to stare at the picture in his hands.

"Oh, come on, Racer. Lighten up, you's lookin' as if someone's died." Albert said softly, sitting down next to the other boy and looking at him with worry in his eyes.

Race forced out a laugh. "Kinda feels like it. I mean, he's gone for six months. How's we gonna manage without Jack? And we ain't even having Davey who's lookin' after us like a mother hen!"

He was happy for Jack, he really was. Going to Santa Fe had always been the biggest dream of the oldest of the newsies, who'd also always been like a father figure to every one of them. And now, he was sitting in a train, on his way to visit Santa Fe for six months. It had been a surprise for everyone when Jack had suddenly told them all that he'd made enough money with his cartoon-drawing job - enough money to follow his dreams.

In addition to that, David's father had found a new job and since David hadn't stopped selling papers, he'd also saved a little money to be able to accompany Jack to Santa Fe. Katherine had become quite the famous reporter and therefore had had enough money as well.

The three of them were only going to stay in Santa Fe for presumably six months but in these six months, Race had to play their part that was leading Manhattan. Being the father figure to all the Newsies of Lower Manhattan. The problem was - how could he watch over all these boys when he wasn't even able to look properly after himself most of the time?

"Hey." Seemingly out of nowhere, a hand was touching his bare arm and he shivered in surprise. "I's basically able ta hear ya thinkin'. Relax for a moment, Racer. Take a deep breath."

"Did ya even listen ta me, Albie? Jack's gone! I can't look after the other boys without-", Race protested.

"Shush, Racer! Breathe. Trust me. In. Out," Albert tried again, now stroking both of Race's arms in a soothing manner.

"I don't think ya understand the situation I's -"

"Breathe."

"But -"

"Breathe."

"Al, I -"

"Jesus Christ, Racer!" Albert eventually exclaimed, grabbed Race's face and smashed their lips together.

Race revelled in the familiar feeling of Albert's lips on his, Albert's hands on his skin, Albert's presence in his heart. For just a tiny moment, his brain was empty. Not the bad kind of empty but a nice empty that made him feel free and careless, as if he could conquer the world.

After a while, Albert pulled back. "Sometimes I wonder if ya do it on purpose," he mumbled, stroking Race's hair, staring at him with a mixture of awe and amusement.

"Do what?" Race asked, finding himself grabbing Albert's shoulder, only subconsciously realising that the picture he'd been holding before had slipped out of his grasp.

"I don't know. Just. What I don't want ya to do, ya know?"

A smug smile graced Race's lips. "If I'd do what ya want me ta do, ya wouldn't kiss me ta convince me."

"So ya do it on purpose!" Albert laughed, leaning into Race's touch. "But honestly, Racer. The Newsies love ya. How could they not? You's wonderful. So what, you's irritated mosta the time, maybe not the most mature? It doesn't matter. They don't need someone who's mature. They need someone they can trust. Who they can rely on, as Davey would say. And that someone is you, ya know? And if ya need help, remember, you's not alone. You got me, Crutchie, Blink, all of the others. We can look after each other together."

Silence. For a long while, Race only stared at Albert, drawing patterns on his skin with his fingers. Then: "I love you." He held his breath. Never before had he said these words to Albert.

Albert smiled. "I love ya, too."

"You's the best." Race added, suddenly being able to breath more freely than before. He remembered the station, seeing Jack and the people he held most dear in this world entering a train, taking the first big step of their relationship. Jack deserved it. Race could let him go. Him and Albert would have their own big step to take the next few months.

Once again, Albert stroked his hair and gently kissed his forehead. "I know." Both of them laughed at that.

And the sun had set behind the rooftops of Manhattan but these two boys where as awake and as aware of each other as they'd never been before.

#newsies #newsies fanfic #drabble #ralbert #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #jack kelly #canon era #writing #writer #newsies musical #musical theatre #musicals #newsies broadway #davey jacobs #katherine plumber pulitzer

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two-wheeled-therapy · 3 years

Text

This is it. This post, this day, the day I finally reach 100,000 miles on my 2011 Kawasaki Voyager 1700 ABS. We left Prescott with a plan to ride to avoid the interstates until that magic moment. I set up a route on the computer and downloaded itt o my GPS. Unfortunately, I didn't drop enough pins because it took us north first rather than east like we had planned. Fortunately, this meant that we would get to ride 89A through the mountain village of Jerome again. This time through, there was less traffic, but we still managed to get whoaed up by some cages. But we were fresh and ready and it was a good ride. We turned east on 260 and rode that a bit before turning north on 87. We were at the Clints Well store when I told the guys I had 11 miles to go. So it was suggested that I ride back 5.5 miles and ride past so it could be videoed (See previous post). The Quest was over, I made it. My bike and I have been joined for 100,000 miles. Hell yeah! Following our celebration, we continued north on 87 and picked up I-40 in Winslow. We would be humping the interstate for a while. Traffic was light but it was getting hot. While passing through Apache County, I saw what I thought was Dust Devil spinning by just ahead of us, so I grabbed my camera and tried to take a picture. But traffic ahead started slowing fast, braking hard actually. Vehicles were going to the shoulders and I noticed the West Bound lanes were behaving the same way. Looking over int he west bound lanes we saw the car that had just come to rest after tumbling over a couple of times. Without much thought, all three of us knew what the others were doing. There was a cut through just ahead, I activated the strobes I use while providing escorts for triathlons and marathons and Bob and John hit their hazards. Surprisingly, the traffic in the west bound lanes saw us and stopped to let us through the crossover and across all lane to run down the shoulder. We were all surprised with how fast we all dismounted and ran to the occupants of the car. With our trauma kits in hand we tried our best to keep them both still, though the young girl was too excited to sit still. The driver, a young 21 year old guy looked worse than he was. He was covered with blood, and likely had a bad concussion, but nothing more serious than that. Looking at what was left of the car, it was nothing short of a miracle. We helped the young man stop the bleeding and clean his wounds until the rescue squad there. We briefly talked to the responding deputy, packed up our kits, and rode off. As we rode off, I remembered the first time I became aware of what a Blue Knight was. I remember I was riding with my dad down the Merrit Parkway in Connecticut when a couple of Gold Wings went by us and they were wearing the Blue Knights Colors. I asked my dad what that meant and he said they were the good guys. If you're ever in trouble, my dad said, you want one of them around. They know what to do and will hep you through. Its funny, I've been a Blue Knight for over 10 years and never really thought of that conversation with my dad until we were pulling away from the scene of that wreck. As I type this the day after, it is 30 years to the day that my dad passed on. I'm not sure if that has something to with sparking that memory or not, but I hope he is proud of who I am, what I stand for and what I have become. I know I am proud to be associated with my brother and sister Blue Knights. OK, so we have a huge motorcycle milestone, a major crash, and the day isnt even half over. What else can we cram into this day? The rest of the day we spent dogging rain. Somehow we missed the hail storm that blew through. At one stop a guy said there were golf ball sized hail. I'm really glad we missed that. We finally turned off 40 and headed north on 14 towards the town of Madrid. Yes, that Madrid. For those of you not following, Madrid is the little town that has the little Diner in the move Wild Hogs. While Maggie's Diner isn't really a Diner, it's just the name of the

souvenir store in Madrid, that's why they call it Maggie's Diner, it is where they filmed the Diner scenes in the movie. By the time we got there, it was closed, but that didn't stop us from taking pictures there. Not only did that save us money because we didn't buy anything, there also was no one else there, so we were free to take whatever pictures we wanted. After our photo shoot, we backtracked a couple of blocks and had a fantastic dinner at the Mine Shaft Tavern. I had the Green Chile Burger and it and the fries were outstanding. Definitely Best Dinner of Trip, but the Cowboy Cafe still holds best Food of Trip honors. After diner we finished the ride in the growing darkness and checked into our hotel in Santa Fe. The internet there really sucked, like dial up slow, so I couldn't post. But today we have a little better, so I will end the day by catching up with yesterday's post and worry about today's tomorrow. Confused? Good . . . Me too! RIDE ON!

#kawasaki motorcycles #kawasaki voyager 1700 #kawasaki vulcan #kawasaki vulcan 1700 #kawasaki voyager #kawasaki #vulcan 1700 #vulcan voyager #vulcan motorcycles #blue knights motorcycle club #blue knights law enforcement motorcycle club #blue knights #harley #harleydavidson #questfor100k #bucket list ride

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thekadster · 4 years

Text

santa fe (prologue) (a newsies songfic)

Fandom: Newsies (All Media Types)

Word Count: 1,975

Trigger Warnings: None!

❝He yelped as his foot slipped off the ladder, one of his hands luckily grabbing hold of a metal rail. Jack quickly rushed to him and pulled up his arms. “You wanna bust your other leg too?!”

“No, I wanna go down!” cried Crutchie.

“You’ll be down there soon enough! Take a moment!” replied Jack. “Drink in my “penthouse”, high above the stinkin’ streets of New York.”❞

also read it on ao3!

Crutchie didn’t know what time it was when he woke up. Was it two, three, four in the morning? He didn't know, and it didn't matter. Even if the sky was definitely still dark, he stood up from his blanket, shaking away the heavy weight of sleep. He put on his vest and his cap.

“Hey- where you goin’?” a voice softly called. “The mornin’ bell ain’t rung yet; go back to sleep.”

Crutchie looked down and found familiar eyes sleepily squinting up at him. “I wanna beat the other fellas to the street,” he replied, straightening his collar. He glanced at his crutch that stood in the corner. “I don’t want anyone should see I, uh, ain’t been walkin’ so good.”

“Oh, quit gripin’,” the voice groaned, gathering a few papers scattered around the floor. “You know how many fellas fake a limp for sympathy, right? That bum leg a’ yours is a goldmine.”

Crutchie sat down at the entrance of the fire escape, legs dangling off the edge. “Well, if someone gets the idea I can’t make it on my own, they’ll lock me up in the Refuge, for good,” he said. “Be a pal, Jack; help me down-”

He yelped as his foot slipped off the ladder, one of his hands luckily grabbing hold of a metal rail. Jack quickly rushed to him and pulled up his arms. “You wanna bust your other leg too?!”

“No, I wanna go down!” cried Crutchie.

“You’ll be down there soon enough! Take a moment!” replied Jack. “Drink in my “penthouse”, high above the stinkin’ streets of New York.”

Crutchie chuckled as he stood up. “You’re crazy.”

“What, ‘cause I like a breath a’ fresh air? ‘Cause I like seein’ the sky and the stars?”

“You’re seein’ stars, alright.”

Jack leaned on the railing and looked out into the early-morning city. There were hundreds of buildings, probably thousands, if he counted. It was a magnificent skyline he knew well, and yet it was one that he was getting rather tired of.

“Them streets down there sucked the life outta my old man,” he sighed. “Years of rotten jobs, stomped on by bosses…And when they finally broke him, they tossed him to the curb just like yesterday’s paper. But’cha know what? They ain’t doin’ that to me.”

Crutchie paused, watching his best friend’s downcast eyes. Jack never talked much about his folks, and when he did, it was only between the two of them. “And yet everyone wants to come here.”

“New York’s fine for those who got a big, strong door to lock it out,” he responded, shaking his head. “But I tell ya, Crutchie - there’s a whole other way out there, somewhere that ain’t like this.”

His eyes were distant for a brief moment. “Y’know, my old man always wanted to go to Santa Fe."

“Your dad?” asked Crutchie.

Jack nodded. “He wanted to take us there, me and my Ma; wanted us to start new out west.”

“You been there before?”

“Nah,” replied Jack. “He probably heard about it in the papes or somethin’, but he always said it was real sweet.”

He pulled out a folded postcard from his pocket. The edges were slightly worn away with time, but the picture in the middle was still clear. Crutchie leaned over his shoulder to get a better look at it, but Jack quickly pulled it away.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

Crutchie gave him a look. “What?”

Jack repeated the phrase. “Why?” Crutchie tried snatching the postcard from his hands, but Jack already shoved it into his pocket.

“Just do it!”

“Why?”

“I want you to see it,” replied Jack.

“Then gimme the postcard!” exclaimed Crutchie.

“It’s just a piece a’ paper!” he explained. “I wantcha to see it. Really see it.”

Crutchie stared at him strangely. He still didn’t understand what the other boy meant, but he figured that the conversation wasn’t going to get any further if he didn’t comply. He rolled his eyes and smirked. “Fine, fine.”

“No peekin’,” Jack added.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

When Crutchie didn’t flinch when Jack waved a hand in front of his face, he knew that his eyes were shut tight. Jack put a hand on his shoulder.

“Okay so,” he began. “Imagine a place, somewhere that ain’t like New York. Imagine a city made of clay, but there ain’t no tall buildings like what we got. A place that’s clean and green and pretty, where there’s clean air and deserts and mountains. At night, you can see the stars, but it ain’t just a handful; there’s thousands of ‘em! Thousands! You don’t even have’ta go up high; you just walk out into town, and there they are.”

A smile began to creep on Crutchie’s face. Jack carried on.

“Nobody’s out hawkin’ papes,” continued Jack. “You can see people plantin’ crops, splittin’ rails, even swappin’ tales around a fire. Oh, ‘cept for Sunday, ‘cause nobody’s up workin’.”

“Nobody?” asked Crutchie. “Nobody works on Sundays?”

“Yeah!”

“Then what do ya do if you ain’t workin’?”

Jack paused. “Nothin’,” he said.

Crutchie raised his eyebrows. “Nothin’?”

“Yeah,” replied Jack, grinning. “You just lie around all day, I guess. Do whatever ya want.”

Crutchie’s smile began to grow. “And?”

“Oh, and the folks there are real great, too,” Jack added. “As soon as ya get there, everybody’s smilin’ and happy. It don’t matter who you are or where you came from; they’re gonna take you in like you’s one of them. Soon, your friends are more like family, and they’s gonna be beggin’ you to stay.”

They took a moment, drinking in visions of a place that was so different from where they were. For them, it sounded like a dream, like something straight out of a storybook. But as Jack spoke, his wonderful words soared on the chill breeze that rushed by. It was almost like Crutchie could walk through a door in his mind and step into that sunny desert town. It was almost like he was there.

Crutchie opened his eyes, noticing Jack’s long silence. His gaze was fixed somewhere far beyond the inky horizon. Amidst the silence that stretched between them, Crutchie could feel the deep, far-off longing that filled his best friend’s eyes, the aching for something greater than the life that he led. It was something that he rarely saw from him, let alone from anyone he’d ever met, but that didn’t make it any less real.

“You got folks there?” he asked, finding his voice.

“Pssh, ain’t got no folks nowhere,” answered Jack, pulled from his trance. “You?”

Crutchie stopped, then turned to the other boy. “I don’t need folks,” he said, gently punching his shoulder. “I got friends.”

Jack felt a warm smile creep on his face and a warmer feeling form in his chest. He turned to look at Crutchie. “Hey, how’s about you come with me? No one cares about no gimp leg in Santa Fe! You just hop a palomino, you’re ridin’ in style!” he excitedly spoke.

Crutchie giggled as Jack playfully galloped like a horse. “Pfff, yeah - feature me, ridin’ in style,” he remarked, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, I bet a few months of clean air, and you could toss that crutch for good!”

Crutchie’s face lit up at those words, words he never thought he’d ever hear. “Really?”

“Really, kid!” Jack exclaimed.

The grin on Jack’s face was almost enough to make Crutchie forget that he couldn’t walk on his own two feet. He exhaled, half-laughing in disbelief. “Imagine that…”

Those words, that promise - it echoed in Crutchie’s head for miles. He wasn’t sure if such a thing was possible, but the way Jack spoke about it was more than enough to prove that it was. Never had he smiled so wide when talking about anything else. Never had he talked about anything else with such joy, with such passion, with such hope.

Crutchie knew that people had dreams. Every single man, woman, and child on the street had them. But dreams don’t always come true, he realized. No matter how many pennies you’d throw into a well, no matter how many shooting stars you’d wish upon; no matter how optimistic Crutchie had always hoped to be, he knew that some things just aren’t meant to happen.

Jack looked at him, who leaned forward on the rails. There was no discernable emotion on his face and his eyes now had grown distant. “You okay, Crutch?” he whispered.

The other boy hummed in response, though it sounded like his mind was elsewhere. Jack followed his gaze, ending up at one tiny dot in the early morning sky. “You lookin’ at the stars?”

“Yeah,” mumbled Crutchie.

“Whaddaya see?”

He paused. “I’m wishin’.”

“For what?”

Crutchie took a few breaths, watching the small, flickering light. There were thousands of them out west. “Jack, if ya don’t mind me askin’,” he spoke, quickly changing the subject. “Whatcha said, is it true?”

Jack blinked. “What I said about what?”

“About Santa Fe, that it can fix my leg.”

He paused. “Well, yeah, it’s true,” he nodded. “Why?”

Crutchie looked down and shook his head. “I just wanna make sure that this is real.”

Jack silently stared at his best friend. As much as he always tried to look on the bright side of things, Crutchie wasn’t one to ignore the present. Neither of them were. In reality, they were just two kids living on the street; just specs of dust in the ever-changing world that was New York City. This town was the kind that can beat you to the ground and drain even the happiest people of their last ounce of light. There were even times when they saw it happen firsthand.

And so, Jack vowed to himself that, for as long as he could, he would never let that happen. Not to him, not to his newsies, and especially not to Crutchie.

“Hey,” he spoke, giving a gentle look. “When I leave, you’s comin’ with me, alright? You and me, we’re gonna get on that train and leave this town together. We’s a family, Crutch. We're brothers, and I ain’t never gonna letcha down. You know that, right, knucklehead?”

Crutchie chuckled as Jack ruffled his hair. "Ain't nothin' happenin' to you, as long as I'm around."

"Me too," added Crutchie. "I know I ain't much of a fighter like you or the fellas, but I's gonna watch your back as best I can."

Jack's heart softened. He smiled sincerely. "You's a strong kid, Crutch; as strong as me or anyone else. Probably more."

Crutchie grinned at his brother, his brother with whom he'd just made a lifelong promise. A new hope began gleaming in his eyes. “Who’s gonna take care of the newsies when you’re gone?”

“Probably Race,” replied Jack.

Crutchie smirked. “You’re givin’ Manhattan over to him?”

"He's my second; he’ll be fine." Jack cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders. "But if he don't square up, I'm gonna ‘ave to teach him a lesson or two."

Crutchie's eyes grew wide. After a few silent seconds, Jack couldn't hold his composure any longer and the two burst out into laughter. For a moment, they didn't have to worry about the world below or whether they'd make enough money to eat. For a moment, the two of them could just be kids.

Their laughter died down and they grinned at each other. Their conversation was interrupted by a distant, resounding chime that echoed off the city's brick walls. The morning bell.

“Time for dreamin’s done, eh?” Jack happily sighed, and Crutchie nodded. He grabbed his shirt and leaned over the railing of the fire escape, yelling to his boys down below. “Hey, Specs! Racer! Henry! Albert! Elmer! Get a move on - them papes don’t sell themselves!”

#newsies #newsies forever #newsies fanfiction #fanfiction #newsies drabble #drabble #jack kelly #jack kelly newsies #crutchie #crutchie morris #crutchie newsies #santa fe (prologue)#songfic #fluff #novelization #plootosart

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shotsbyshae · 5 years

Text

Monster

Warnings: Language, Murder, Bloody, Smutish

Words: 3k

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky and Sam show up unexpectedly to check on the two of you, but you’re on a case. How are you and Steve supposed to keep hunting a secret from them, if they get stuck in the middle of it?

Song: Monster by Striking Matches

I’m bad for you, bad for you,

But I’m good at it, good at it.

The flames dance – like lovers – orange and red curling around one another so beautifully, for a moment you almost forget about the corpse burning below.

Almost.

Abigail Thomas.

Her body had been found five years ago this month. Throat slit with the initials G.R. carved into her chest. She was engaged to a guy named Devin Mathers and he was a member of the The Annihilators, a local motorcycle club. Their biggest rival was another club, Grim Reapers. Retaliation had ensued over her death, and the two clubs have remained rivals.

The first murder had caught your attention and the second one had you and Steve on the road to investigate. Both were men, members of The Annihilators, killed within two days of each other. Found with their throats slit and the initials A.T. carved into their chest.

“What is it?” even in the glow of the small fire, Steve can see the uncertainty on your face.

“Why them?” you question. “Why not go after the Grim Reapers, if they’re the ones who killed her?”

“We can’t always get the answers,” he replies, glancing back to the open grave at the burning remains. “At least now she can move on.”

***

The waitress slides a plate with a large burger and fries in front of you, then a similar one in front of Steve with a warm smile before turning to walk away. The man across from you in the booth lays the tablet he was scrolling down on the table.

“Where to next?” you question him as you grab the bottle of ketchup, pouring some next to your fries.

“Yea Cap,” a familiar voice says, as a man slides into the booth next to you. “Where to next?”

Sam Wilson smirks at Steve before glancing to you, his arm stretching across the back of the booth. Bucky sits down next to his friend taking in his new appearance, “Hi pal.”

“What are you guys doing here?” Steve questions, surprise evident on his features.

“Just checking in on our friends,” Wilson responds, pulling a fry from your plate and taking a bite of it. “We are still friends, right?”

“Yea,” you state. “Of course.”

“When were you going to tell us?” Barnes questions, his tone serious.

Your heart drops as you glance at Steve, did they know?

The only person who knew about you was Tony and he had promised to keep it a secret.

No one knew about hunting.

“Tell you – what?” Steve challenges the question, not faltering.

“About the two of you,” Sam responds, and you can feel his eyes on you, but you don’t look at him, instead you busy yourself with grabbing a french fry. “According to the last check in. You’re supposed to be in Phoenix.”

“And you’re in Denver,” Bucky stares at Steve, waiting for a response.

You laugh nervously, “I thought I was in Denver.”

Steve looks across at you with a smile, “Well, I thought you were in Santa Fe.” He glances between Barnes and Wilson. “Busted.”

“So, this is a thing?” Wilson points his index finger between the two of you.

“No,” the response is simultaneous.

Sam looks across to Bucky, one eyebrow raised suspiciously, “Uh, huh.”

The TV in the corner captures your attention and you reach across to tap a finger against Steve’s hand, nodding your head toward the screen. Across the bottom of the news broadcast the scrolling headline reads.

Just in: Another man found dead tonight.

“Can you turn that up please?” you question the waitress, and she reaches for the remote.

“Police say the cause of death is similar to the other two murders. This happened around seven-thirty tonight near the Lawson repair shop. If anyone has any information that could help, police are asking for you to call the tip line listed at the bottom of the screen,” the blonde reporter on the screen states.

You glance at Steve in concern, knowing that the two of you were burning Abigail’s remains two hours before he was killed. Burning her remains hadn’t released her. Something was still holding her spirit here. Bucky notices the cryptic glances you and Steve share in response to the news report.

“We should go,” Steve says motioning for the waitress.

Once the bill is paid and the uneaten food is in Styrofoam boxes, the four of you make your way out of the diner.

Sam accidently bumps into a man clad in leather on his way out, apologizing instantly, “Sorry man.” The dark-haired guy only glares at him in annoyance and you notice The Annihilator insignia on the back of his vest. There are a few men in the diner wearing the same vest, their mood dark and depressed, having lost one of their own.

“Where are we going?” Bucky questions, once outside. “Steve, what’s going on?”

“Back to the motel,” his friend replies without turning around.

“Uh,” Sam’s voice is almost timid. “Guys.”

The three of you turn around and see Wilson with a knife to his throat, the woman holding it almost transparent. Her neck is slit open and you can see the initials carved in her chest, and the hatred on her face is unlike anything you’ve seen before with a spirit.

“Abigail,” you call to her. “Don’t. He didn’t hurt you.”

“I know,” she replies hoarsely. “Let me finish what I started.”

You shake your head in confusion, “But – you’re killing the wrong people.”

“No,” she responds, moving through Sam’s body towards you. “I’m not.”

“What the fuck?” Sam says quietly to himself, eyes wide as he feels his chest, having just saw the apparition come out of him.

Abigail places her hand against the side of your head and your eyes roll back as you collapse to the ground, before the woman dissipates into a grey mist.

“Steve,” Bucky tries to sound calm as his friend moves to pick you up from the pavement. “What the hell was that?”

“Ghost,” Sam says loudly. “What that a fucking ghost?”

Cradling you against his chest, he gives a quick nod, “Yea it was. Can we go? I’ll explain on the way.”

***

“Shouldn’t we take her to a hospital?” you hear Bucky ask quietly.

“No.”

“Fucking ghosts man,” Sam’s voice is louder and frantic. “A ghost was going to kill me, and you act like it’s just another Tuesday.”

“She wasn’t going to kill you,” Steve’s calm, as always.

“Really? Because that knife to my throat says otherwise.”

“She wanted to send a message,” Barnes comments hesitantly.

“Yea, she did,” Steve agrees.

You slowly open your eyes, head pounding as you move to sit up on the motel bed, “And I got that message.” The men look over to you as you gingerly tough the side of your head that Abigail had touched. “Loud and clear.”

“You okay,” the softness in Steve’s voice – his eyes – is more than you deserve.

You give him a nod before you look at Barnes and Wilson cautiously, “Did you give them the talk?”

“Ghosts are real,” Bucky responds.

“Yea,” Sam folds his arms across his chest. “Ghostbusters. Great. I liked it better when we were just busting you two for hooking up.”

“Next time, call first,” you smirk. “I’ll arrange less ghosts and more sex that day.” Wilson gives you an unimpressed look as Bucky stifles a laugh.

“What did Abigail show you?” Steve’s tone is serious as he changes the subject.

“Gunner Matthews,” you say. “He was a Grim Reaper. She was leaving Devin for him. They were in love. When Devin found out he sent his buddies after her, to bring her back.”

“The three men she’s killed already?” Steve questions and you nod.

“Devin killed her. He’s the final one,” you continue as a thought crosses your mind and stand, moving to the table beside Steve. “Let me see the article, the one about the retaliation.” Scrolling through the article you increase the size of the picture of Devin, and point to the chain around his neck. A small silver cross dangling at the end of it and you flip to the other screen of Abigail’s obituary. In the portrait she’s wearing the same necklace. “What do you bet he still wears her necklace?”

“That’s what’s keeping her here,” Steve states knowingly as Wilson and Barnes watch the two of you work in unison.

“What does that mean?” Bucky questions.

“We have to get that necklace,” his friend replies. “Before she kills him.”

***

Devin Mathers sits, looking ashamed and disgusted, in a dining room chair in the middle of his living room as Steve finishes pouring a ring a salt on the wood floor around him. You hadn’t told Mathers that you knew he was responsible for Abigail’s murder, only that she was targeting those closest to her and he might be next. Bucky stokes the fire in the fireplace he’s built as Sam holds the sawed-off shotgun loaded with rock salt in his hands.

“Yea,” Wilson remarks. “We hunt ghosts now. This is completely normal.”

“He’s not adjusting well,” you smirk to Steve. “Should I tell him?”

“Tell me what?”

“That’s up to you,” Rogers places the bag of salt on the table as he smiles.

“Sam,” you give him a serious look. “There’s something else you should know.” Wilson waits apprehensively for your next bombshell. “Santa Claus isn’t real.”

He huffs as Steve and Bucky laugh. “Shut up.”

“I’m glad you all can joke while we wait for my dead fiancé, who wants to kill me, to show up,” Devin says loudly from his seat.

You turn to look at him angrily, stepping over the salt circle to rip the necklace from around his neck, “You killed her. You did this to yourself asshole.”

Your statement shocks him, and he glares at you, “She deserved it.”

“Because she was in love with someone else,” you remark. “Or because you couldn’t control her anymore?”

“Women need to know their place,” Devin states maliciously. “She belonged to me.”

You clench your jaw and Steve can see the anger boiling up as you glare at the man in front of you. The sudden appearance of Abigail’s ghostly figure surprises everyone.

“Burn it,” Steve says, his voice low and authoritative.

The corners of your lips turn up slightly as you step back out of the salt circle, dragging the heel of your boot through the barrier as you toss the necklace to Barnes. He quickly tosses the silver cross into the flames, but not before Abigail is able to sweep across and slit Devin’s throat. She turns to give you a small appreciative smile before her figure is engulfed in flames.

“I –” Sam looks at the scene in disbelief. “I though we didn’t want her to kill him?”

You flick your eyes over to him and see Steve staring at you. The understanding in his eyes is a welcomed relief as he responds, “We can’t always save everyone.”

“Now what?” Bucky questions.

Placing a smile on your face you look back over to Barnes, “We celebrate.”

“Drinks, yes, best plan I’ve heard all afternoon,” Sam agrees.

***

Steve knew as soon as he saw the vests the men in the bar are wearing that there was only one way tonight would go – messy. The Annihilators wouldn’t get word until later that another one of their members had been murdered, but it would be the last one.

The four of you enjoy a few beers and a couple games of pool for about an hour, when the trouble finally starts. You’re making your way back to the table, having placed an order at the bar, when one of the bikers steps in front of you – blocking your path.

“Excuse me,” you state coldly.

“When you get done playing with those guys,” he begins, his tone dripping in malice, “how about you come play with a real man baby.”

You snort, trying to hold back a laugh, “Does that line actually work on women?” You look up at him incredulously as you side-step him. “Because if it does –” you shake your head, stepping backwards to the pool table slowly, “then they must be real desperate. You think that vest you’re wearing makes you cool. Doesn’t change the fact you look like shit.”

The few patrons who are listening to the exchange let out a collective ooohhhhh at the comment. You turn back to the pool table to see Steve shaking his head at you, a playful glint in his eyes.

You’re trouble.

An instigator.

He likes it – too much.

You grab your pool stick and as you stare at him, he wonders how obvious it would be if the two of you disappeared for a few moments. He wants to taste the beer on your lips, feel the rush he gets when you bite into his flesh, hear that smart-ass mouth of yours moaning his name as he fucks you against the bathroom stall. His thoughts are interrupted as the man moves closer towards you.

“You think you can talk to me like that?” he snarls. “Bitch.”

You slowly turn around at the remark and glare at the leather clad man. Barnes begins to move along the opposite side of the pool table, but Steve stops him, laying the end of his pool stick against his friend’s chest. Bucky glances at him and Steve gives a subtle shake of his head, indicating for Barnes to stand down.

“You need to learn your place,” the biker seethes, towering over you. His words sounding much like Devin’s.

“You going to teach me?” you tighten your grip on the pool stick in your hand. “Because I’d love to see you try.”

Sam mentally tallies up the number of guys wearing the same leather vest as the man you’re currently facing off with, before he leans closer to Steve, whispering, “You know this ends in a fight, right?” Steve shrugs his shoulders as he watches your interaction with the man closely and Sam notices the slight smile on his face. “You’re enjoying this. Is this like – foreplay? What the hell have the two of you been doing the last few months?”

The man grabs for your wrist and you side-step quicker than a normal person should, but not fast enough to raise any suspicion. You bring your knee up into his crotch forcefully and a low snarl escapes him as he doubles over in pain.

“Ah shit,” Wilson sighs, as you twirl the pool stick in your hand once before coming down with it.

The sound of the wood splintering as it breaks across the man’s back echoes through the bar, gaining the rest of the patron’s attention. “Get her, boys,” one of the men orders, as three of them begin to advance towards you.

Barnes looks back across to Steve expectantly, “Now?”

“Wait,” Steve replies calmly, watching as you reach behind you on the pool table, fingers clutching at the purple four ball.

You throw the ball at the tallest guy, it smashes into his nose, blood splattering everywhere as he drops to his knees. The next guy, not as tall, lunges for you and you back-hand him with what’s left of the pool stick, but he’s unaffected as he slams you against the pool table. He jerks you around and the third man is behind you trying to pin your arms behind your back, but you feel his face against your hair and you quickly slam your head back with a little more force than you should. The sound of your skulls cracking against each other is sickening, and the crowd watching is now urging the fight to continue.

The biker in front of you is pissed by this point and as a couple more of their men start to approach the situation, he grabs you roughly again, turning as he flings you back and across the pool table. You tumble across the felt and Barnes catches you to keep you from rolling off the table.

Flipping your hair from your face, you glance between him, Sam, and Steve, the smile on your face purely mischievous, “Hey guys.”

“Having fun?” Steve smirks, leaning against the pool table.

“Yea,” you inhale deeply, before your face lights up with playfulness. “You want in?”

Steve gives you a nod and a sly smile crosses Bucky’s face as he says, “Finally.”

“I’m gonna help kick some ass,” Sam begins matter-of-factly, waving his hand between you and Steve, “and then we’re gonna talk about whatever crazy shit this is.”

***

Back at the motel, you unwrap the bar rag from you hand, blood starts oozing from the slice along your index finger instantly and you stick your hand under the cool water pouring from the bathroom faucet. Watching as the blood mixes with the water, turning a pinkish color before running down the drain. The door to the small bathroom opens and you look up in the mirror to see Steve step inside before closing it behind him. There’s a bruise beginning to form under his left eye, but other than that, he looks unscathed from the fight.

There had been punches thrown, bottles broken, and a few bones, but none of The Annihilators were left standing. They should probably come up with a new name, you had thought to yourself on the car right back.

“You started a bar fight tonight,” he states walking over to lean against the sink beside you.

“Did I?” you look up at him innocently. “Are you mad?”

“Never,” his tone is quiet, eyes full of lust, before he glances to your injured hand. “You good?” There’s that tenderness again.

“Cut myself on a bottle,” you reply, twisting the knob with your uninjured hand to turn off the water, then you hold up the injury up for him to inspect. “I’ll live.”

He takes the edge of your hand in his, folding the rest of you fingers down against your palm with this thumb, “Good.” The way he looks at you as he pulls your finger into his mouth sends a chill through you. Feeling his tongue roll against the cut makes you shift uncomfortably. Him wanting to taste you like this, is whole different sensation. You can’t control yourself, mouth opening slightly as your fangs descend, a small moan following them.

This isn’t you.

Letting some guy have so much control over you.

But you had a hand in creating this monster.

And now Steve Rogers owns you.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #captain america #hunter steve #hunter steve series #HunterSteve #monster of the week #marvel #mcu #avengers fanfiction #fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #avengers #avengers fanfic #fanfiction #crossover

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penzyroamin · 4 years

Note

penzy first of all... i can’t wait for ch 2 u know more than anyone that i live and breath for flowers you’ve got me all excited now! second, talk to me abt ur country music recs! and thirdly give me that exr/javid character analysis RIGHT NOW because it is giving me Emotions!!

flowers ch 2 has everything.... banter, sweet sibling moments, artistic metaphors, and charlie

COUNTRY MUSIC RECS!!! ok so obviously we’ve got the classics. reba, the chicks, shania, taylor, dolly. these are obvious ones. once again to reiterate for those of you who havent caught up with the chicks: gaslighter saved 2020.

mickey guyton is really wonderful! her record has been WOEFULLY misusing her, but she has an ep called “bridges” that went out this year and she performed at the acm awards, so hopefully she’ll see some more attention and chance to build her career soon! she’s got a gorgeous voice, especially live, and she breaks perfectly out of the usual blueprint for radio country. each of her songs feels distinct and different from the others while still cohesive as all hers. she also makes really good use of some background choir moments if that’s a selling point like it is for me fhskjdhskhds. she’s also unabashedly political with her music! bridges has songs about facing inequality and getting through the division in the country, plus getting wasted and fake bitches fsjdhsjhds. this is country after all. i cannot comprehend the guts it took for her, as the first black woman to perform solo at the acm awards, to sing about how we fail to create a better world for our daughters. i’m excited to see where she goes now that she has more attention and an opportunity to build on it!!!

for some great gay country: jamie wyatt!!! she came out within the last year and has two albums out, the most recent being “neon cross”! she has a really classic country sound AND a gorgeous alto voice, which is always awesome to hear. she’s dedicated herself to making country a more inclusive genre. specific songs to check out: “rattlesnake girl” and “make something outta me”!! she also wins coolest album cover. it makes me gayer than i was before.

chely wright’s been making country for decades, she has eight? i think albums, but she pretty much got excommunicated after she came out in 2010 so she hasn’t gotten a bunch of buzz recently. her 2016 album, “i am the rain”, has sort of country “tapestry” energy, and i highly recommend it!

i also love yola-- she has a gorgeous deep voice, and her album “walk through fire” is fucking brilliant. she got nominated at the grammys for it, so i’m really really excited to see what she does going forward. her music just makes me feel very Warm and comforted but also melancholy and its just... hot damn walk through fire is good. her music has a soul feel to it in addition to the country roots!

anyways!! if youre new to country and looking for a good entry into the genre, go for the classics list i put up there, and if you like country and you aren’t familiar with any of the less ultra famous artists, check them out for some good tunes!

OK CHARACTER ANALYSIS TIME.

this ask is massive i regret nothing

i will probably go more into detail later but here’s what i have right now: jack is a naturally supportive person who’s been forced into leadership, and davey is a natural leader who’s been repressed into staying in the background.

on jack’s end-- i think he’s really in a situation where he doesn’t want to lead or be in charge, it’s just something he kind of fell/was forced into. in my head, since he goes out of his way to help and support people, he gradually became the person all the newsies went to for help, and eventually that formed into him being a leader for the unit. but it’s VERY obvious he isn’t entirely comfortable/okay with it-- at his worst moment, in santa fe, he is literally begging to be somewhere where people won’t depend on him but will still care about him. another thing that really points towards this would be that he only resolves to stay in new york when he realizes that he has people to help him and he doesn’t have to shoulder leadership alone anymore

on davey’s end-- this might be a Hot Take, but i think davey’s a much more natural leader than jack is. look at wwh reprise: his phrasing specifically takes on a lot of very classic leadership ideas in a way that almost makes him seem like a general planning strategies. he’s more capable of looking at the larger picture-- partially because jack cares so much about the newsies and can’t bear to see them getting hurt, but i think it also comes from davey being really good at structuring those large-scale, big-picture ideas. i think we often gloss over the rally because it goes to shit, but that’s his idea! in my eyes, he’s someone who’s been taught to always keep his head down and stay out of the spotlight-- considering that his family is poor, jewish, and possibly newer to america, and that he was still in school, which would have likely been a hostile environment for him, there’s plenty of reason for him to do just that. but i think it’s very telling what finally breaks him and gets him to join the strike-- jack’s speech wears him down, sure, but it’s jack ASKING HIM FOR ADVICE that finally wins him over.

anyways. i think the idea of jack as someone who doesn’t want to lead but kind of has to and davey as a natural leader who has forced himself into the background for safety is VASTLY more interesting than like. jack is a loudmouth and davey’s shy. but that’s just My Thoughts. i will polish them more later fsjdghsjgds thank you for asking me about them!!!

#this is so long fskdhskhdkshds #asks #mjs diner tag #<- that is your tag now congratulations.

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lucas-koh · 4 years

Text

Stitches - Bryce Lahela x MC XII

Parts 1-11 linked in bio!

Somewhat canon compliant.

Rating: M, mentions of medical misdemeanour, implied sex, language

Song: Do I Wanna Know (Live At The BBC) - Hozier

Word Count: 3367

Taglist: @lahellacute @lahamseiroshoe @anotherbeingsworld @fuseboxmusebox @choicesficwriterscreations @bubblelaureno @bratzlahela @eleanorbloom @bryceslahela @thegreentwin @kelseaaa || please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from this list

Chapter Twelve: An Inconvenient Truth

So. Denial hadn’t been working. At this point Suki had to admit to herself her crush on Bryce. She had no clue what to do. She should end it, right? It wouldn’t be fair on him. He hadn’t signed up for this and they’d made it pretty clear they didn’t want this to happen.

Suki hadn’t had feelings for anyone in such a long time that it had never seemed possible to her. She’d never dreamed she’d end up feeling some type of way for Bryce Lahela. The moment she felt that déjà vu she should’ve run for the hills. Maybe in hindsight the whole thing was a mistake, but it was too late now.

She was laying there in his bed, on his chest, wearing his pyjamas. She definitely wasn’t doing herself any favours right at that moment.

She wanted to stay there forever, enveloped in his smell and his warm skin and the light breeze of his breaths on her forehead; the soft cotton of his pyjamas, the dizzying sensation of his arm on her waist.

But god, Bryce really hadn’t bargained for this. She had to get out of there before she drove herself crazy or overstayed her welcome. Or worse, drove him away. Because although it might not have been what was best for her after the revelation, all Suki wanted was to keep Bryce in her life.

“Thank you so much. Again. But I oughta get out of your hair.” She started to lift herself off him, dreaming up reluctance as his arm fell away from her.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want. You said you had today off too, right? You must be feeling pretty rough,” he chuckled.

“Thank you for offering but really. I should go home.” Should more than you know. Should for my own sanity. Should because it’s the right thing to do when it was me who fucked up.

Bryce left her to it as she changed out of his pyjamas – slowly, she was hungover as hell – and back into the clothes that were strewn across Bryce’s kitchen.

“I’ll wash your underwear for you,” he offered, as they had been caught in the crossfire of her vomit. She could tell it was a serious offer despite the smug smirk painted on his face.

Stop it! Stop it stop it stop it! “No, you won’t. I have a washing machine at home.”

She collected them from him in a plastic bag, how embarrassing.

Imagine making such a state of yourself? I’m twenty-fucking-eight years old and I drank too much because I was afraid to admit I might have some stupid schoolgirl crush on my fuck buddy? Have you ever seen anything more tragic? And now he’s fucking handing me my sick-soaked underwear in a plastic fucking bag. Like a fucking child. A child who threw up at school and had to go home early and get picked up by their mom. And now I can’t stop fucking cursing myself for putting myself in this position. If there was ever any moment at all that he maybe saw me as more than a fuck, that moment was lost now.

So Suki left, her head spinning and not just because of an asshole of a hangover.

Maybe it was just a temporary baseless infatuation. Maybe Suki shouldn’t have been jumping to such drastic measures…

So that - Suki’s denial and clinging on to the hope that she could find a way to continue this – was how Suki and Bryce ended up continuing to sleep together throughout the month of February. But the longer it went on, the more sure Suki was that this addicting feeling when she thought of him was sticking around. And it wasn’t fair on him.

She kept thinking about it, considering her options, making the excuse that she didn’t want to jump into the wrong decision. So yeah, she kept sleeping with him. And no, there was no way in hell Suki was admitting to Bryce that she was into him.

She’d been afraid to contact him after everything that had happened, the amount of embarrassment she’d caused for herself, but he was the one to reach out first. It surprised Suki that he even wanted anything to do with her after all that.

“How’s your hand?” He’d asked the first time since the incident, picking up her wrist and investigating the healing.

“It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt much any more.” The wound was scarring to scab and itch.

“It’s looking good.”

“I guess I have your skills to thank.”

“How many times have I told you?” He grinned, “I’m a talented guy.”

They’d become comfortable with one another, really comfortable, and the friend part of friend with benefits could no longer be ignored.

Suki’s problem? Bryce was impossible to get a read on. She had absolutely no idea to tell if her newfound feelings were reciprocated, because he was a huge flirt to everyone. And Suki wasn’t one to take risks. So she didn’t say anything, assumed Bryce felt the same as he ever had for her.

She was right, of course, but not in the way she expected.

A few nights into the month Bryce texted:

Scalpel Jockey: *sigh* i should call her😉

Bryce’s text was accompanied by a selfie taken in front of his toilet, wide grin and thumb up. So embarrassing. He’d been right about the blackmail thing, then. He wasn’t going to let the mess I was go.

Santa Fe: you’re not even using the meme right

Scalpel Jockey: well my toilet misses your mouth so be sure to come visit it tomorrow

Santa Fe: you think you’re going to get laid after reminding me of the most embarrassing night of my life?

Over-exaggeration. But it honestly sort of felt that way.

Scalpel Jockey: of course I will😏

Santa Fe: nope

Scalpel Jockey:👀😌🤨

The next day,

Santa Fe: fine. see u soon.

—-

“Owwww somethings digging into my back!” Bryce yelped as he’d rolled away from Suki. He did some odd contortions to reach underneath himself and grab whatever was causing the grievance. “Suki, why the hell is your id badge in my bed?”

“Uh, maybe because you chucked it into the abyss a minute ago.”

He gave her a look with pursed lips. He rolled to his side facing away from Suki.

“Aww, you look so cute in this. All innocent and shit.”

“Give it back.”

“I mean it! Look at that little face,” he cooed, brushing the image with his thumb.

“It’s really not my best picture at all,” she groaned. What was it about ID card images which made them always turn out terrible? And then one is left with said image for potentially years to come.

“Suki, this says your birthday is January 18th? You didn’t say anything?” He turned to face her.

“January was so busy, I wasn’t that fussed.”

“You should’ve said. I would’ve celebrated with you.”

“Birthday sex?” She laughed.

“No, like proper birthday stuff. Whatever you like doing on them. And then maybe some birthday sex,” he added with a smirk.

“Eh. It was fine, I just got takeout.”

Bryce tutted.

“When’s your birthday, then?”

Suddenly he looked bashful and uneasy. “Um. November 27th.”

“Oh my god. You’re an idiot.”

“Nah. I’m a Sagittarius,” he winked.

“I can’t believe you were trying to make me feel guilty for not mentioning my birthday when you didn’t either.”

“We actually spent it together. That day I looked after Tommy. I had a great time.”

“Oh.” He had to stop saying things like that. It was terrible for her heart. “I can’t believe you let me set a random kid on you for your birthday.”

“I said I had a great time didn’t I?”

And god Suki’s stomach was having a party, an anxiety-ridden, nerves-on-fire, doubt-clad, smitten-as-shit party.

—-

In no time at all It was Valentine’s Day. Not that Suki was paying any attention… or that she wanted to spend it with a certain god-like surgeon. She didn’t even need to mention it, the plan was just act like this was any other hookup. February 14th was just a day – the way we ascribe time only exists because of us; and therefore it’s just a normal hookup. Using existentialism to cure crush nerves? Surprisingly works.

Santa Fe: 👃

Scalpel Jockey: sorry sukes i’m sick🤒

Well. That was not what she was expecting.

But wait. What if he was faking? What if he knew it was Valentine’s Day and was worried Suki was trying to make a gesture and had to let her down easy?

Worse, what if he was spending Valentine’s with someone else? After all, they had agreed not to be exclusive. Shit. What if Bryce liked someone else?? She didn’t even think about it before and now she felt a bit sick. He was an insanely attractive guy – chances were even without time to meet people there would be plenty at the hospital falling at his feet. There was no way he hadn’t been asked out for Valentine’s.

Those worries were quelled by another text, a picture of Bryce’s legs in his bed and the TV at the end playing something. There was a small bag full of used tissues.

Bless him, he really is sick.

Suki knew what she had to do.

Clanging about in the kitchen she muscled up some veg-packed soup, a vegetable lasagne, and a vegetable stir-fry. She also blended a fruit smoothie. Then she packed everything into Tupperware and fit a couple of portions of each into an insulated container.

Suki marched over to Bryce’s with the insulated container full of her cooked meals and determination. God, I’m a simp.

When she arrived she knocked hard so that he could hear. It was a couple of minutes before Suki heard footsteps, then they stopped (presumably for Bryce to look through the fish-eye) before Bryce creaked the door open.

“Suki. Didn’t you get my text, I’m sick I can’t-“ his voice was weak and croaky, slightly nasal – and he definitely sounded ill.

“I know. I’m not here for that. I bought you these,” she held up the insulated bag.

“What is it?”

“Food. Meals. Because you’re sick and you can’t cook. It’s just simple immune-boosting stuff,” she held out the bag for him to take.

He sniffed loudly and opened the door wider. “Come in.”

She was going to protest, but for some reason she didn’t. The plan was just to drop the food off, not to come in. But when faced with the opportunity Suki’s legs carried her subconsciously. When Bryce opened the door up for her she could see him closer. Dark bags under his eyes, greasy hair, chapped lips. He was wearing sweatpants (similar to the pair Suki had tucked away in her drawer at home from Christmas), and a cotton t shirt. He looked rough. Somehow, he was still the most beautiful man she’d ever met. And seeing him like this wasn’t off-putting at all, it just made her want to look after him. Be there for him. Why am I willing to do so much for him? Liking people is a bit like giving away your soul, isn’t it?

“You get back into bed and I’ll heat one of these up for you. They should still be mostly warm, anyway.”

“Sukes, I’ll be fine,” he said nasally. The nickname sent Suki’s organs into overdrive. Because here he was at his lowest, referring to Suki with an affectionate moniker and sounding like a melancholic song.

“I kind of owe you, remember?”

Bryce hummed a nod, too tired for much else, and slunk back into his bedroom.

Suki busied herself checking all the Tupperware’s – they were cool enough to go in the freezer by then so she put all bar one away. She heated that one for a few moments and transferred it into a bowl with cutlery, planted that on a tray, and brought it through to Bryce.

He was in bed as Suki had instructed, old reruns of Criminal Minds playing on his TV. He smiled weakly when he saw her enter with the tray of soup.

“Thank you,” he said as she placed the tray on his lap.

“No problem.”

He took a spoon of soup and gulped it down gently. Then he turned to Suki, who was now perched lightly on the edge of his bed facing him.

“I’m not good with… seeming weak,” he said, looking at Suki intensely.

“You don’t need to worry about that. It’s only me. I vomited in your toilet.”

“Exactly,” he muttered, and when Suki was about ask what he meant he carried on, “this soup is amazing.”

They sat in silence with only the sounds of the TV as Bryce worked his way through the bowl of soup. Suki was too nervous to ask what he’d meant.

“Thank you,” he said as he finished the bowl. She took the tray from him and took it back through to the kitchen, washing everything up for him. She returned to Bryce’s room, noting beads of sweat on his forehead. Going into Bryce’s en-suite, Suki found a washcloth and soaked it with some cold water before giving it a squeeze.

When she returned to Bryce’s side she gently dabbed the washcloth over his hot forehead. He looked up at her, vulnerable, exhausted – very un-Bryce. She was ever so gentle as she dabbed the cool cloth over his skin. Then Bryce reached up and held onto her wrist weakly with his hand.

“Why are you doing all this?”

“Like I said, I owe you. I was hard work that night at yours.”

He seemed to accept this answer, and gulped a little as he let go of her wrist. She pulled the cloth from his forehead for a moment.

“I’m still nervous,” he croaked.

“About?”

“You seeing me like this. It’s not exactly sexy.”

Suki’s nosiness was getting the better of her, and she knew now would be a good time to strike since there’d been an opening.

“The whole… weakness thing – that’s why you were weird about the surgery?”

“Yeah. Yeah it is,” he sighed, looking at Suki as though weighing up his options. He seemed to come to a decision and continued: “I already went through struggles with self doubt. My parents fucked up my whole belief in myself - it’s why I overcompensate now. It’s why I took the surgery thing so hard, I felt myself doubting my abilities. Well it was more like – less that I was actually doubting myself, because I know I’m good, and more that I was worried I would start doubting myself.”

“Yeah, that totally makes sense.” Suki was surprised he was opening up to her like this. She noticed how he mentioned his parents, but she’d let him get there when he was was ready.

“I’m sorry for not telling you at the time.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t owed the story. So what really happened? You got kicked off because of karaoke?”

“Uh, the other surgical interns kind of have it out for me.”

“What?”

“Well… everyone liked me at first. You know, I’m a likeable guy,” he flashed a grin, a ghost of his normal megawatt smile, “but I think once they saw how competent and determined I was that changed fast.”

“Jealousy,” she scoffed, “So that’s why you don’t hang out with them any more?” Suki remembered how he’d avoided them at Halloween.

“Yeah. And there was a group of them spreading shit from the start about me, dangerous rumours that could get me fired. Saying I drink on the job, I have *ahem* sexual relationships with my patients, that I’m a terrible surgeon and only made it here because of my parents money which is...”

“Your parents are well off?”

Bryce’s jaw tightened. “Yeah, uh, people found out about who my parents are too.”

“Who are they?”

“Another time,” he bit his lip as though unsure, concern as he looked into Suki’s face.

“Okay- drinking at work, sex with patients? Where the hell did those come from?”

“Well I keep a few condoms in my locker, for you, that can’t have looked great after the accusations. I don’t know shit about the drinking. I guess it just sounded bad and anyone who has had out it for me just wants me to look incompetent.”

“Those fucking dicks.”

Bryce shrugged. “It shows I’m a major threat,” he gave her a smug grin but his heart wasn’t quite in it. “So all that stuff got relayed back to Dr Emery and the karaoke the night before was apparently the last straw. She didn’t want to take the risk in case it was true and gave my surgery to Ben.”

“Ben, huh?” She asked, a sudden iciness in her tone. Like, Ben ‘you like her?’ Ben? Digging into Bryce’s private life Ben?

“Yeah, he’s another intern - you probably don’t know him.”

Maybe not. But I’m about to.

“I know some Ben’s… what’s his last name?”

“White.”

“Oh no, I don’t know him,” Suki smiled sweetly, dabbing Bryce’s head with the flannel again. She’d gotten the information she needed.

Bryce chuckled weakly. “I told you.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah so, obviously Dr Emery investigated it all after that and realised that none of it was true. But by then I’d lost it anyway. The damage was done, you know? Sorry, I know I sound a bit ‘woe is me’.”

“Not at all. You can talk to me, seriously. Friends – remember? I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” And angrier than I’m letting on.

“I suppose I owe you an apology too. For shutting you down and running away when you tried to ask me about it. I’m just- it’s- I like being That Guy, you know? The one who’s got his shit together. The one who’s the expert surgeon. Who doesn’t let things phase him. Laughs everything off. The one who’s amazing in bed,” he looked at her with a look that was, if Suki didn’t know any better, nervous. God, it’s so weird seeing him like this. But my heart is completely breaking for him.

“If I’m-“ he continued, then seemed to change his mind, “what you need from me wasn’t that, so I didn’t want to mess things up.”

“By being human? You could never,” she smiled as she bought the flannel back to his face, but it was more an excuse to stroke her finger over his cheek comfortingly. Bryce’s eyes seemed to shut involuntarily and he moved into her touch, just letting it be for a while. He was still hot, but had a bit more colour to his face, so Suki felt she had helped at least a little.

Fuck. I like you so much.

This definitely wasn’t helping her whole predicament, because each word he’d said to her, each touch, each look on his face – and she was a puddle on the floor. Overwhelmed with the ache she felt in her chest at the whole situation. That something as ridiculous as jealousy – between people who’s job it was to help others for gods sake – had put Bryce in such a spin. And it seemed to her that losing the surgery was bad for him, but the way that affected his confidence and how he felt he had to be around her – that seemed to have affected him more.

He was too proud.

And she cared for him too much to be okay with seeing him like this.

Suki must’ve been cradling Bryce’s face longer than she’d realised, because he eventually started snoring quietly. His eyebrows now flattened on his face and looking more at peace than he had since she’d arrived. She was careful when removing her hand and placing a pillow up under his head. She placed a gentle kiss to his forehead, brushing against the cool damp area she’d been dabbing. Then she snuck into his bathroom to fill up a glass of water and collect some aspirin, leaving them on his bedside table for him before escaping his apartment.

Suki was on a mission, fuelled by affection and anger.

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