#and then either fumbled or ditched it at the last second

[heyclickadee]

Okay, but all of this.

I ran out of room in the tags 😅, so I’m putting this here: One thing I wanted to touch on is the Ahsoka thing. The treatment of Ahsoka’s “death” at the end of season two of Rebels didn’t strike me as odd when I was watching through the first time as that show was coming out, because I wasn’t super attached to Ahsoka at the time, but, looking back, it’s weird. Ahsoka goes out in this huge self-sacrifice, we don’t see her die but they sure imply she dies off screen, there’s a little thing you see at the end that may or may not be her or her ghost, Ezra’s devastated, we get sad looks from Rex, a sort of funeral march version of her theme, the season ends, and then…nothing.

Ahsoka doesn’t get a funeral. The only person who gets close to saying she died is Tarkin (“Now that Vader has eliminated the Rebel’s Jedi leadership”). She hardly ever comes up, and when she does it’s usually in a, “We could have asked Ahsoka about this Jedi thing,” capacity. Rex, her oldest friend, doesn’t talk about her. Her death doesn’t motivate anyone—in fact, almost all of the conflict in the front half of the season is driven by the other things that happened in the season two finale, Kanan’s blinding and Ezra falling in with Maul—except maybe as subtext. We don’t even know for sure that everyone believes Ahsoka is dead; there’s even one moment that kind of indicates Ezra’s holding out hope that she’s not.

The show basically ignores the big Ahsoka-death shaped elephant in the room until two seconds before Ezra is pulling a very alive Ahsoka into the world between worlds. And contrasting that with the other important deaths in the series, mainly Kanan, and then Mira and Ephraim Bridger, where they actually go out of their way to hammer home how dead they are, make the deaths integral pieces of the plot, include entire episodes of processing, and do the work necessary to allow the audience and the characters to move on, it ends up being obvious that Ahsoka was never actually meant to be dead at all. She’s MIA until she comes back and the show treats her like she’s MIA, not like she’s dead.

And the reason I keep coming back to Ahsoka on this is that despite being the implausible resurrection franchise, the list of main Star Wars characters with planned fake out deaths which fake out the audience in addition to the characters is pretty short, and they all kind of fit this pattern. (For a truncated example, check out KB in Skeleton Crew. We get Captain Wrong dead certain she’s going to die before she even crashes, KB doing her best to fix things and find a way out while her moms and her friends say she can do it, horrified reactions when she crashes, aaaaand then twenty seconds later the story completely forgets about KB and how she just “died” until about ten minutes later when the kids are like, “Oh! KB!” and they rush off to find her alive).

To me one of the biggest pieces of evidence that Tech is alive and planned to come back in a future installment is that, were I to be trying to write a fake out death, I cannot think of anything else I could add short of literally showing him alive (at which point it's no longer a fake out.)

Give extensive development to his ability to rapidly think his way out of anything and stay calm in stressful situations? Check, we have Faster showing that he can make these plans in seconds while in the middle of driving and he actually says outright that the second one is a skill of his.

Give survival foreshadowing? Check, just check out the extremely blatant hold on him after Romar's "I'm a survivor" line. And again in Faster - it'd actually be an excellent place to put some foreshadowing of his possible death, have him win but in a way that causes a crash or something of that nature, making it so that his gamble worked but was a close call, rather than an easy survival for him. Instead we get others doubting Tech could survive but he not only does, but he does it easily. We have lines from Phee implying that there's more to come - her first line, better late than dead, is one that is an odd intro to her as a character but works perfectly if taken as foreshadowing for later. And her oddly specific 'don't go running off with any pirates or smugglers' in their last scene together is another one where it just feels primed for a comeback later on. His final conversation with Saw also is an interesting aspect here - Saw is the one that is leaning hard on 'sacrifice is necessary for the greater good' while Tech tells him to work smarter and take your enemy down from within. If you're going to have a character sacrifice himself, why put him at odds with the concept of sacrifice immediately before? There are just a lot of pieces that make the most sense if they're foreshadowing something to come with him.

Open plots that aren't yet resolved? Check on multiple angles. He has Phee of course - and they could have resolved that by either giving more closure in their last talk together or by having more of Phee in season 3, allowing her even one scene to talk with Omega about moving past something that she will never get closure on. This leaves their dynamic hanging wide open, but not in a way that uses the lack of closure for plot development. They also introduce a theme of culture and memory with him, which isn't allowed to go anywhere prior to him dropping into the mists and isn't developed in season 3 in his absence, where nothing is done in his memory and his goggles being placed in the Archium isn't even about remembering him it's about Omega not wanting to leave Pabu behind. AND, going back to Faster yet again, Cid drops that she owes him one, which hasn't come back. Cid is still out there, and that favor could still be called in if Tech comes back, otherwise it's an empty line that doesn't connect to anything. All of these were opened in season 2, so they're not just leftovers from changed plots.

Ambiguous method of death? VERY Check. Falls are one of the classic fakeout death methods because as long as we don't see the results anything could have happened between the moment we lose sight of Tech and when he would have impacted the ground. Did he manage to get on top of the rail car and use it to break his fall? Did he manage to find an alternate landing place and use wind resistance to angle himself towards a softer landing? Is the armor protecting his head and torso shock resistant enough to allow for survival? Could be any of those or more, we don't know because we don't see it. TBB also puts a lot of effort into making sure you know falls aren't that fatal. Here's a great post from @heyclickadee going into the WIDE variety of falls that would have logically been fatal but that are wriggled out of through the series. They could have given him some kind of injury that makes it less likely he'd survive, but nope despite being blown off the railing he's totally fine and able to maneuver out of it. He even flips into the skydiver's position before we lose track of him, which is the first thing you're supposed to do if you find yourself in freefall.

No body? VERY check. They picked a method of death that lets them not show a body, and then they go out of their way to make sure no one can look for a body. Omega's hurt so they can't go back and look for him. She passes out in front of a body but it's not his. Hemlock claims all he found is goggles in a moment where he has every reason to lie to them. They could have had Hemlock recover the body and show it under a sheet in his lab. Omega passes out in front of a body, that could easily have been made to be Tech to drive home that he's gone. There's a lot of options there! They took none of them.

Nobody ever gives him a funeral or has a mourning scene outside of the initial shock moment? Check. And, in fact, the only time he's even referred to as dead by anyone it comes from the mouth of Crosshair, the guy that's in this show primarily to be wrong about things. Every other time he's brought up, it's a moment of sadness and moving on. This is an easy fake out trope, because it allows the grief to linger without taking up a ton of screentime for something you're ultimately going to reverse. (See: Ahsoka in Rebels)

If I wanted to add to this, if I wanted to make it MORE clear that he was coming back without just saying so in words or literally showing him alive, I don't know what could be added. Front to back it's fully loaded with everything that goes into a fake death. And nothing that typically signals a real death. You can't rely on real life statistics for long falls because it's not real life, it's fiction. And by all fictional standards, Tech never died and it's just a matter of when and where they'll reveal him. (I'm still putting tentative money on it being sometime between the ending shot of the tree and the epilogue, to justify why they pulled his goggles out of the Archium rather than leaving them there as a memorial.)

[harryslittlefreakk]

favourite crime 3

summary: harry disappears and leaves y/n in the dark. when he finally resurfaces, they struggle to heal hurt and broken hearts.

warnings: angst, brief mentions of cheating, fluff, age gap relationship, teacher/student relationship

wordcount: 5.2k

a/n: strap in its angsty!!!!! but we’re almost at the end of the back and forth now, i want my babies to be happy 😭

thank you so much for reading & supporting 🤍 masterlist | favourite crime masterlist

“You really haven’t seen him?”

You nibbled on your lower lip as you waited for Courtney to reply, rubbing two fingers over your temple.

“No, and Josh still hasn’t heard from him either. Last I knew, he was coming to find you,” Courtney murmured, smoothing a hand over your hair.

“There’s rumours everywhere,” you told her. “He quit, he got fired. You don’t think someone found out and he had to leave?”

Courtney shook her head, leaning back in her seat. “He would’ve told you. Even if it was the last time you ever spoke, I think he would’ve told you.”

You pulled your knees to your chest, staring up at the ceiling. It had been over a week since you’d seen or heard from Harry. You’d checked with Courtney every day, hoping by some miracle that he’d gone home or spoken to Josh, but he hadn’t. He’d pushed you away in his office and then fallen off the face of the Earth.

You’d typed out and deleted texts almost every hour, rushing to check your messages and missed calls as soon as you woke up every morning. Your finger had hovered over Harry’s phone number, never hitting call.

You made sure to walk by his office everyday, hoping for some sign of life, but nothing ever came. Your mind was running wild. You couldn’t help but imagine him lying in a ditch somewhere, hurt and alone. Or on the run, dramatically changing his appearance to escape law enforcement after his relationship with you had been revealed. Or worse, he simply felt he had to disappear to save himself from you.

It wasn’t until you saw a flash of brunette curls disappearing into his door that your worry turned into white-hot rage.

Your heart rate quickened with your feet, your shaking hand fumbling with the doorknob as you barged in behind him.

The blood was pounding in your ears, every muscle in your body tense as he turned around and looked at you.

“What the fuck, Harry?”

Your voice was a whisper with all the anger of a shout, the words catching in your dry throat. Your hands balled into fists inside your sleeves as Harry looked over you, barely a speck of emotion on his face.

He was no different to the last time you saw him, his outfit one you’d seen before, each line and crease on his face no different than before. But the way he was looking at you was new. He was indifferent, arms resting at his sides as he waited for words that you couldn’t form. His eyes held nothing. You felt like a stranger to him, and you willed your feet to carry you away, back to the comfort of not knowing where he was but knowing who you were to him.

But as you turned away, he finally spoke. “How long does it take you to get home?”

“Thirty minutes,” you answered, tears resting on your eyelashes as you stared at your feet.

“Then I’ll see you in thirty minutes,” Harry replied, watching you leave his office as quickly as you burst in.

—

Harry sat in his car outside your house, his hands gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. His eyes were locked on the mirror, watching the corner of your street with a clenched jaw.

His anger simmered just beneath the surface, a volatile mix of frustration and betrayal. The minutes felt like hours as he replayed the last time he was here, stoking the fire of his anger. He was determined to hear the truth, even if it meant he would never see you again.

The second you turned the corner, his heart near stopped. You didn’t seem to notice him or his car as you approached, your eyes weary and heavy-lidded as you stared straight ahead.

Harry hadn’t paid much attention to you in his office, trying to ignore the pained furrow of your brows, the red tint of sleepless nights beneath your eyelashes, the way you looked almost exactly the same and yet so different to him. But as he looked at you then, dulled and burnt out even as the afternoon sun illuminated everything around you, his anger fell away and shame rolled through his body in a nauseating wave.

He was a grown man. With a job, a home, a life that shouldn’t involve someone in their early twenties, someone who’s education he was responsible for. You may have approached him first, but he barely thought twice before pursuing you, fisting his cock that night with only thoughts of you in his mind.

And worse than that, he’d run away. He’d backed you into a corner, fucking you, making you his, while making it clear to you that you’d never be more than a fun weekend. He’d kissed you, set up boundaries so weak that you had no choice but to push through them, making you believe that you were setting the pace and dictating what relationship you would or wouldn’t have. Then he’d backed off.

He deserved every inch of the hell he’d found himself in. Harry ran a hand through his hair, suddenly wanting to be anywhere else. He still wanted answers, but he found himself totally unfazed towards whatever the truth was. You had every right to want him to hurt.

At the sound of keys jangling in a door, he turned his head, watching you let yourself in. With a deep sigh, he followed, his legs wooden as he trudged towards the door you’d left ajar.

“Hi,” Harry murmured, slipping into your apartment behind you. He hadn’t seen it before, and it was absolutely no different than he’d expected. You had fresh flowers and house plants on almost every surface, lilies and roses in soft pinks and whites, posters and pictures dotted around the walls.

You turned to face him, dropping your bag on the kitchen counter. “Where have you been?” you asked him, your voice sharper than you intended.

You heard his breath hitch in the silence, the sound of his shoes banging as he pushed them off, his socks soft against the floor as he edged towards you. The air between you was thick, charged with everything unsaid, everything he’d been avoiding.

“I saw him,” Harry said quietly, an edge to his voice, a tightness that betrayed his restraint. “I came here.”

He’d paused a few paces away, his expression unreadable in the sunlight seeping through the window. But you could read the tension in the way his jaw was clenched, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides.

“Saw who?” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to keep the hurt at bay. “You kissed me, Harry. And then you disappeared. You didn’t say a word, didn’t even let anyone know if you were okay.”

He exhaled harshly, running a hand through curls that looked like they’d been toyed with all day long. “I didn’t know what to say! What do you want me to say? I came here to apologise, but you were clearly already busy.”

“You came here after I left your office?” you questioned, your voice rising. “I was tutoring, Harry. I told you I was fucking tutoring.”

He leaned the wall, steadying himself as you knocked the wind out of him. In the entire week he’d been gone, racking his brains every day for some kind of innocent explanation, he hadn’t even remembered that.

He knew he was jealous, overly possessive, even over people he couldn’t claim, but this was a new low.

“I was tutoring Tommy, who’s in your fucking class and has a girlfriend. I needed to get my notes from my room. Which is where I’m assuming you saw us?” you paused for him to confirm, feeling rage wash over you like a tidal wave.

“He followed me into my room, and then we studied, Harry. At the dining table. On opposite sides.”

You ran a hand over your face, eyes screwed shut as you tried to make sense of it all.

“You don’t know how it looked,” Harry whispered, the colour drained from his face, his jaw clenched.

“You disappeared for a week. No communication, no word to even Josh. I was going out of my mind, Harry! There were rumours everywhere. You were hurt, you got fired, you got caught with a student - how do you think that felt? How that looked?”

His silence said more than his words ever could, and it made your blood boil. You took a step toward him, closing the distance between you, your heart pounding against your ribs.

“Why do you keep doing this?” you asked, your voice starting to tremble. “You took me to the lake, you suggested the weekend away. You thought sleeping with me and then dropping me was the best plan. You kissed me, you pushed me away. And now you seriously think that I’d do this?”

When he still kept quiet, eyes flitting across your face, your anger reached boiling point. You were being mean, you knew that. You’d had just as much of a hand in anything that happened, but blaming Harry felt easier.

“Do you think I wanted any of this? You pull me close, like you want me, like you feel something, and then the second it gets too much, you push me away. Do you even know what that does to me?”

That struck a nerve. You could see it in the way his face twisted, his body recoiling slightly as if your words struck him deeper than you intended. He looked at you, and for a moment, there was something raw in his gaze.

Harry stepped closer, his body tense as if he was barely holding himself upright. He pushed his head back, inhaling a deep, deep breath before looking back at you. “You didn’t want any of that?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s not what I meant, Harry, and you know that. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more than I want this. But I wanted more,” you explained, turning your back on him as you tried to keep a hold of yourself.

“It wasn’t meant to be like this,” Harry confessed, pinching the top of his nose. “I don’t know how it all got so complicated.”

“You pulled the strings, Harry. You made it this way,” you replied, letting your chin fall to your chest. Nothing made sense to you. It had been two weeks with Harry, and you’d barely even spent any time with him during those weeks. Yet you were practically falling apart, sagging under the weight of the heartbreak.

You turned back to face Harry, needing him to see the hurt he’d caused written over your face.

His eyes dropped to the floor, and for a moment, he looked as though he would say something - finally actually admit what he’d been feeling. But instead, he just shook his head, his voice barely a whisper when he spoke.

“I didn’t want it to be this way.”

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to believe that this had all just been some misunderstanding, that he wasn’t as scared of his own feelings as you thought. But you were exhausted. Tired of the back and forth, of the emotional whiplash that had been defining whatever it was the two of you had.

“So what now?” you asked, your voice quiet but steady. “What do we do now, Harry?”

He looked up at you then, and the way he was staring, it almost felt like a plea. Like he was hoping you’d have the answer, that you’d know how to fix the mess you’d both found yourself in.

But you didn’t. And if your heart hadn’t already shattered, it would have broken at the realisation that neither did he.

The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken things. You stared at each other, neither of you knowing what to say, both of you too scared to admit how badly you needed each other.

It felt like you were standing on opposite sides of a chasm, each too wounded and too stubborn to reach across.

“I just want there to be a reality in which we can be happy.”

You turned back to face him, willing your heart not to shatter as Harry’s whisper cut through you. It was a thought you’d rejected countless times since seeing Harry in the bar that night. Happiness in a relationship, especially at the start, shouldn’t have been so hard to find and hold on to. But for some reason, there had been trouble at every turn.

You could feel the sting of tears in your eyes, the image of Harry in front of you blurring. Your hands trembled as you reached up to wipe your eye, the dam finally breaking.

Tears streamed down your face, unbidden and unstoppable. You had fought so hard to keep it together, convincing yourself that things would get better, that they could still fix what was clearly broken. But standing there in the silence in the wake of Harry’s words, you felt completely destroyed.

Harry looked away, his gaze falling to the floor as if he couldn’t bear to meet your eyes anymore. His shoulders slumped, and for a moment, he looked as if the fight had drained all the energy out of him. “I don’t want to fight with you, y/n,” he said quietly, his voice filled with exhaustion. “I hate this.”

You let his words hang in the air, unsure of anything you can say or do to make the situation better. “I need to change,” you told him eventually, padding past him towards your bedroom.

Harry watched you leave, your arms hanging limply by your sides, your steps light despite the darkness weighing on you.

He followed after a minute, holding up his fist to knock on the door, before it falls to his side. He picked it up again, reaching out for the doorknob with tentative fingers, before completely abandoning any attempt to get you to let him in. His heart broke with how badly he wanted to be there, to ease you out of the day’s clothes and help you into new ones, to wipe your tears with the soft knit of his jumper and to make it all better. But he didn’t know how to be in your space, how to comfort you when he was the very source of your tears.

When you eventually opened the door, you tried to walk straight past him, but he reached out to gently catch your arm. For a brief moment, your eyes met, and in that instant, he couldn’t hold back anymore. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as your body trembled. He cradled you, his hand smoothing over your hair, the other placed firmly your back, and you stood there, enveloped in him, his scent and his touch filling the space around you, until your breathing slowed.

Once you were steady, no longer wrapped tightly around him as though he was the only thing keeping you up straight, he lead you to the sofa, his hand never leaving your lower back. You lay your head in his lap, staring straight out of the window at the setting sun.

Harry softly ran his fingers through your hair, his fingertips scratching at the roots in just the way he knew you loved. A soft smile tugged at his mouth, remembering how you’d fallen asleep in seconds after his hands found your hair. His eyes never left your face, trained on every detail as though he was worried this was the last time he’d ever see them. He watched the way your eyelashes fluttered as you blinked, noticing the faint furrow of your brows starting to smooth out after a while. The pink tint at the tip of your nose, the soft freckles dotted over your cheeks, the shine on your lower lip. You were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

After some time, you shifted onto your back, turning to face him. Reaching up with a gentle hand, you l pushed a stray curl from his forehead. "I’m so sorry, Harry. I never thought things would get like this,” you whispered, a single stray tear slipping down your cheek, coming to rest on the fabric of his slacks in a tiny damp spot.

"You don’t have anything to apologise for," he replied, his voice tender, laced with emotion.

He hesitated for a moment before asking, "Are you hungry? Do you want to shower?"

You nodded at that, feeling the weight of the past week clinging to you, suddenly desperate to wash it all away.

You sat up, your head pounding after so many tears and such twisting emotions, and dragged yourself to the bathroom.

You sat on the edge of the bath, staring at yourself in the mirror. You looked exhausted, both emotionally and physically drained in the wake of a week that had nearly broken you.

Harry followed you after a few minutes, watching from the doorway as you gathered your strength. He couldn’t bear the thought of a life without you, without the colours you’d brought into his world. He kneeled in front of you, gently taking your hand in his. His touch was soft, tentative, as if he was afraid he might break you further.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered, his voice soft. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, his gaze pleading for forgiveness, for the chance to make things right.

You nodded, too tired to protest, and that was all Harry needed. He tugged on your hands to make you stand, his hands soft and steady as he undressed you. There was a tenderness in the way he moved, a quiet determination to show you that he was still there, and that he wasn’t going to let go. Not then, not ever.

He turned on the water, making sure it was the right temperature, then adjusting the radiator so it would warm your towel as you showered. As he was about to walk away, you pulled on his arm, directing his attention back to you.

“Stay with me,” you whispered, thumbing the hem of his jumper, waiting for permission to strip him of his clothes. When he didn’t protest, you undressed him in the same way he’d done for you, then finally stepped under the water.

His fingers gently brushed your hair back, away from your face, and you closed your eyes, letting the warmth of the water and Harry’s presence soothe you. He reached behind you, running your soap between his hands before gently massaging them over your skin.

His touch was featherlight, as if he was trying to wash away not just the exhaustion, but the hurt that had built up between you. He was careful, attentive, his actions filled with unspoken words of love and regret. As he moved, his lips brushed against your shoulder, a silent apology, a promise that he would do better. The intimacy of it made you weak, your body turning to jelly as he cared for you in a way you knew no other man was capable of.

“I don’t want you to ever think I was using you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the sound of the running water. “You’re so much more than what you can give me.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, as he stepped a little closer to you. The warm water cascaded over both of you, its steady rhythm filling the quiet space between you and Harry. His eyes searching yours as the droplets slid down his face, his breath slightly ragged.

Your hand lifted slowly, fingers coming up to caress his cheek as you stared at each other through the steam, your fingertips lingering as if you were scared to let go.

“You’re so beautiful. I don’t think I’ve told you that enough,” Harry murmured, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

You swallowed hard, your throat closing around any words you could come up with. “Harry,” you whispered eventually, your voice raw from all the emotions of the day. “At times like this, I can really picture a life with you,” you finished, shy as the words finally came out.

You weren’t even sure what the fate of your relationship was, whether you even had another shot at happiness with him. But you knew, as much as it pained you to realise it, that things had only gotten so fucked up because both you and Harry had felt so much more intensely for one another than you’d ever expected. It wasn’t just sex, or a weird fling. There was something real between the two of you, you were certain of that.

His fingers traced along your jawline, his eyes glistening as he took in what you’d said. And then, without hesitation, Harry leaned in, closing the space between you, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was soft, yet full of urgency. It wasn’t at all like the other times, it was deeper, filled with apology, with longing, with the need to prove that neither of you were willing to let go.

The water poured over your entwined bodies, but all you could feel was him. His kiss was tender at first, but as the seconds passed, it grew more passionate, more desperate, as if he was trying to pour everything he felt into that one moment. His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks as his lips moved against yours, seeking not just forgiveness, but something solid to hold onto as you both tried to find your way back.

Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. You kissed him back, matching his intensity, your fingers curling into his damp skin as if afraid that if you let go, you’d lose him all over again. The warmth of the water mixed with the heat of his body against yours, and finally anything outside of that moment faded away.

When you finally pulled back, gasping for air, your foreheads pressed together, Harry’s chest was heaving, his eyes still closed as if he was trying to hold onto the feeling of your lips on his. His hands didn’t leave your face, and you could feel the slight tremble in them as he pulled you into his chest, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

“You’re everything. Everything,” Harry muttered, his voice muffled by your hair, one arm wrapping around your back, holding you tight to him.

He shut the water off after a while, letting you melt into him for as long as you needed to. The air in the bathroom was thick, warm steam curling in the corners of the room.

“Come here,” Harry murmured, holding your towel out for you, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

You hesitated for a moment, but then you moved closer, letting him gently wrap the towel around your body. His touch was careful, tender as he pulled the fabric tight around you, tucking it securely. His fingers lingered for a second longer, grazing your bare skin as they brushed over your arms. His eyes met yours, filled with that familiar warmth, but there was something else, something quieter. Maybe regret, maybe something unsaid.

“Go on, princess,” he whispered, his voice soothing, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be taking care of you. “I’ll bring you a cuppa.”

You nodded, offering an exhausted but grateful smile before heading toward the bedroom. The weight of the day had left your body heavy, but Harry’s presence, his care, made everything seem softer, lighter somehow.

Harry stood in front of the kettle, his hands gripping the edge of the counter as he waited for the water to boil. The kitchen was quiet, except for the low hum of the kettle, but his mind was anything but.

He tried to focus on the task at hand - two cups of tea, something simple. Something he could control. But his thoughts kept drifting back, slipping through the cracks he was trying to seal up. The mistakes he'd made, the moments when he’d let you down, they all crowded his mind, a slow, sinking weight in his chest.

He thought about the hurt, the missed chances to say the right thing, the times he’d let his guard down only to retreat again out of fear. He’d always been good at getting in his own way, letting his own doubts cloud the way forward. It was no different now that he had been risking his career for you. He’d wanted so badly to protect you, to keep you close without smothering you, but somewhere along the way, he’d gotten lost in his own head. And now, standing in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil, those moments felt like stones in his chest.

You deserved better. He knew that. And he wasn’t always sure he could be that person for you. You needed someone who didn’t hurt you, who didn’t let their own insecurities and mistakes get in the way.

He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to push the thoughts down, but they kept rising, unbidden. What if he wasn’t enough? What if he made another mistake, and it was one you couldn’t forgive?

The kettle clicked off, its billowing steam piercing through his thoughts, grounding him again. He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus. He was there, caring for you, showing you how badly he wanted to fix what he’d broken. He poured the water over the tea bags, watching the liquid swirl, darkening as it steeped.

As he waited, he thought about the look in your eyes when he wrapped the towel around you. The way you trusted him, the way you let him take care of you without question even after such a shit show of a day - a week - because of his immature insecurities.

Teas in hand, he took a deep breath, steadying himself before heading back to the bedroom. You were perched on the edge of the bed, the beginnings of a cloud of sleep hovering over you.

“Here you go,” he whispered, placing the mugs down before brushing a strand of hair from your face.

As soon as he straightened up, the towel wrapped precariously around his toned hips threatened to come loose. His hands flew to it, protecting his modesty with a sheepish grin.

A laugh bubbled out of you for the first time that day, shaking your shoulders softly as the giggles exploded out of you.

“I should have considered this scenario before getting into the shower with you,” Harry smirked, covering the soft blush of his cheeks with his free hand.

“I still have your t-shirt,” you offered, nudging your head towards your top drawer. “But I can’t help with pants.”

“Somehow a t-shirt with a loose cock feels worse than this,” Harry murmured, frowning as he glanced down at the tiny towel barely covering any of him.

You let your eyes linger on his body for a second, knowing that absolutely none of your clothes would fit his big frame. Your gaze dropped to your own t-shirt, thinking for a beat before pulling it back over your head and dropping it by your feet. “Solidarity,” you told him, not failing to notice how his breath caught at the sight of you, as if he hadn’t just run his hands over every part of your naked body.

Harry reached over you to grab your towel, turning away before pulling his own from his body, heading towards the bathroom with a little sway in his hips, as if he knew you’d be watching.

And you were. You leaned around the door frame, eyes locked on his tight ass until he was out of sight.

The weight in your chest lightened as you smiled, the domesticity healing a part of you that you didn’t know was broken.

-

You lay back against your pillows, cradling your mug in your hands. The room was dimly lit by the faint glow of the moon outside, casting soft shadows across the walls. It was quiet, save for the sound of gentle breathing, yet the silence between you and Harry felt heavy.

You shifted slightly, resting your head against Harry’s shoulder, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. You had been here before, so close, so intimate, but it felt different. There was a weight in the air, a lingering sense of uncertainty. You were clearly over the worst, both hearts mending slowly and carefully, but it still felt too raw and too heavy to be fixed so fast.

"Do you think we still have a chance?" your voice was faint, your words timid as if you didn’t actually want an answer, but the question pierced through the stillness with raw vulnerability. You screwed your eyes shut, afraid of what Harry’s answer might be, but you knew that it needed to be heard. The uncertainty was what had been hanging over your heads, both of your minds drifting to that very question in every quiet moment.

Harry’s arms slipped around your waist, pulling you closer ever so slightly, but he didn’t respond immediately. His gaze fixed on the ceiling, his jaw tightening as he thought. He had been hurt, and so had you. But the risks were far greater for him, and anything between you both, whether it was love of heartbreak, needed to be worthy of that danger.

"I don’t know," he admitted finally, his voice hoarse. "I want to believe we do. I don’t think we would be here now if there wasn’t a chance." He sighed, the sound heavy with frustration. "I don’t want to lose you. I never wanted to hurt you."

You swallowed hard, turning to face him with leftover tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

"I don’t want to lose you either," you said, your fingers tracing small patterns over his bare chest. "But I don’t know if things can go right back to how they were.”

Harry’s breath hitched, and he gently tipped your chin up so that your eyes met. There was something soft yet intense in his gaze, a quiet determination lurking beneath. "I don’t think either of us want them back to the way they were,” he muttered, his lips curling into a smirk.

You bit your lip, trying to contain the laugh that wanted to slip out. “Maybe better than before. But I don’t know if that can happen straight away,” you confessed.

Harry took your mug from your hand, reaching behind you to place it on your nightstand, before pulling you closer to his chest. Snuggled up to his side, with his arms right around you, you suddenly felt more secure in yourself and Harry’s future than you ever had.

“All we can do is try,” he whispered against your skin, his nose nudging at your cheek.

Slowly, you turned to meet his gaze, finding a softness in his face that you weren’t sure you’d ever seen before. His brows were slightly furrowed, as if even he was uncertain about his every move, but the tenderness in his expression made your breath catch. You leaned further into him, your lips ghosting across his.

Then his lips brushed yours, a sweetness in the gesture that made your heart stutter. Your eyes were locked on each others, seeking permission and acceptance, neither of you sure about how the other would react. But when neither of you made the effort to move away, or to protest, the space between you disappeared in the smallest of breaths.

Harry’s mouth moved with hesitance, as if he wasn’t sure he really had the right to be there with you, wrapping himself around you. But you kissed him back, of course you kissed him back, praying that any movements you made showed him just how much you wanted him there.

Your hand found his, your fingers lacing together as if to make your connection deeper. Neither of you pulled away, savoring the tentative closeness, letting the quiet stretch between kisses, as if testing the waters of something new and unknown.

When you finally broke apart, your foreheads rested against each others, breaths mingling in the soft light. Harry’s thumb brushed across the back of your hand, his touch grounding and real.

“We’ll figure it out,” he whispered, his voice low and reassuring.

You nodded, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as your eyes trailed over his face. “Tomorrow is a new day,” you murmured, nudging your head into the space between his shoulder and his neck, breathing him in with a content smile brewing your lips.

“Tomorrow is a new day,” Harry repeated, breathing out a deep sigh of relief.

oop thank you so much for reading!!!!

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[arcadia-smith]

Tw: toxic Bucky, toxic reader, mention of drugs, sex.

Summary: You need something and he's the only one who can give it to you. But taken your history, it's not easy to return.

Word count: about 2,3k

Notes: it's messy, I had the idea, it was going fine, then I thought it's getting too long and I might have rushed the ending, idk. Sorry.

It was one of those days that felt like the universe had flipped you the bird. The streets were as barren as a ghost town, and the cold bit at you like a pack of wolves, gnawing through your fake fur coat and into your bones.

Your fingers fumbled in your pocket, fishing out a sad handful of bills and coins. Just great—still a few hundred short for the daily escape.

You wandered the empty streets, hoping for a client to materialize out of thin air. But the night held its silence, offering nothing but the whistle of the wind.

Pulling your coat tighter, you hugged yourself as if your own arms might keep the cold and the despair at bay.

The thought lingered like a devil on your shoulder—you could always crawl back to The White Wolf club. There, in its dim corners, you could patch together some kind of fix, enough to float away for a little while longer.

Yet the mere thought of stepping foot near The White Wolf club, where the ghost of Bucky Barnes seemed to linger in every shadow, churned your stomach. His presence clung to that place like smoke—thick, suffocating, and impossible to escape.

The last time you crossed paths with him, he made sure you understood the depths of his power, the lengths he’d go to ruin you further than you’d already managed yourself. Maybe that was why your usual clients had vanished into thin air, why your dealer wouldn’t even take a quickie at the motel as payment anymore.

Bucky was the kind of man everyone loved to hate but scrambled to stay on the right side of. His wrath wasn’t something people whispered about—it was something they feared. Those who crossed him ended up in ditches or dumpsters, forgotten by the city and ignored by the world.

In your mind, you hadn’t done anything unforgivable. You broke a few rules, sure, but not enough to deserve the full weight of his fury. As Bucky’s girl, rules came with the territory. Play by them, and he’d give you everything you ever wanted. But defy them? That’s when you learned just how cold his world could be.

The blinding white flash of the neon sign dragged you from your thoughts. The White Wolf. The name itself felt like a brand against your pride. You hated yourself for being here. You could already hear Bucky’s voice in your head, dripping with smugness: Knew you’d come crawling back. And then, he'd either throw you out or have one of his men handle you like a problem that needed solving.

The club was as suffocating as you remembered—thick air reeking of booze, cigarettes, and desperate lust. The music thumped so loudly it drowned out your own thoughts. You shoved your way through the throng of bodies, ignoring their glares and drunken laughter, your eyes locked on the stairs leading to the second floor. That’s where he’d be. Where he always was.

One of his men outside the office door greeted you with a slight nod. His expression betrayed nothing—no hint of whether Bucky was in a mood to destroy you or just watch you squirm.

You didn’t bother knocking. Your hand hesitated on the door for the briefest second before you pushed it open and stepped inside, letting it click shut behind you.

The air in the room was heavier than the club’s, laced with a tension that only Bucky could create. He didn’t even look up, his eyes fixed on something far more important than you. Time slowed as you stood there, your pulse hammering in your ears.

“I didn’t think you’d be back anytime soon,” he said at last, his voice sharp enough to cut. He still didn’t look your way.

Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

He finally moved, pulling open the top drawer of his desk. “This what you came here for?” he asked, his tone as careless as the packet of white powder he tossed onto the table. It landed with a soft thud, its presence more oppressive than the silence that followed.

You stared at the packet, your body frozen in place. It might as well have been a ticking bomb. The weight of his indifference crushed you more than any outburst could have.

Your voice finally found you, though it was quiet, almost a whisper. "I didn’t have a choice."

Bucky let out a low chuckle, but it held no warmth. He leaned back in his chair, his piercing blue eyes finally lifting to meet yours. “There’s always a choice, snowflake. You just happen to make all the wrong ones.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the burn of humiliation crawl up your throat. “I just need—”

“I know what you need,” he cut you off, his voice cold and flat. He gestured toward the packet with a flick of his wrist. “Go on. Take it. It’s what you came for, isn’t it? Or maybe,” he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk, “you came for something else? Maybe you missed me, huh?”

His smirk twisted something deep inside you—anger, shame, and a flicker of something else you hated to admit.

“I didn’t come here for you,” you shot back, your voice sharper this time.

“Sure you didn’t,” he said, leaning back again, the smirk never faltering. “You think I don’t know you by now? You think I don’t see right through you?”

You stepped forward, ignoring the way your hands trembled. “I didn’t come here to grovel.”

“No, you came here because you’re desperate,” he said, his tone dropping lower, more dangerous. “And desperate people are predictable. But don’t worry, snowflake—I like predictable. Makes my job easier.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. The packet of powder sat between you like a silent witness to the war in the room.

“You gonna take it or not?” he finally asked, his eyes narrowing.

You hesitated, the weight of your pride battling the ache in your veins. This wasn’t about the powder anymore. It never really was.

Your hand hovered over the packet, fingers trembling as if it weighed more than the shame sitting heavy on your chest. You didn’t look at him—you couldn’t. The pull was there, though, the need clawing at your insides, louder than your pride, louder than the anger you felt toward him.

But you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break completely. Not yet.

“What’s the catch, Bucky?” you asked, your voice brittle but steady enough to carry across the room.

He leaned forward again, resting his chin in one hand, the other drumming casually on the desk. His gaze pierced through you, as sharp and calculating as ever. “The catch is... there isn’t one.”

You blinked at him, skeptical. “Bullshit.”

He laughed, low and gravelly, a sound that was equal parts amusement and menace. “See? That’s the problem with you. Always suspicious. Always assuming I’ve got some game going.” He tilted his head, smirk widening. “But maybe you’re right to. Maybe I do enjoy watching you squirm.”

“Just say what you want,” you snapped, your composure cracking just enough to make his smile widen.

“What I want,” he said slowly, savoring the words, “is to see how far you’ll go. To see if you’ll prove me right—that you’ll always come crawling back when things get tough.”

You clenched your fists, “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Oh, I know you better than you think,” he replied, his voice dropping into a dangerous whisper. “And I know you’ll take it. Because it’s not about what you want, it’s about what you need.”

The room seemed to close in around you, his words wrapping tight like a noose. You hated him for being right. Hated him for holding all the power, for knowing exactly how to play you.

Your hand finally dropped, fingers brushing the packet. You hesitated again, looking up at him one last time, searching his face for something—anything—that might make this easier.

But his expression was unreadable now, his smirk replaced with a cold detachment that made your stomach churn.

“Go on,” he murmured, leaning back in his chair as if to say he’d already won. “Don’t keep me waiting, snowflake.”

Your fingers tightened around the packet, but before you could lift it from the desk, Bucky’s hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist like a steel trap. His grip was unyielding, sending a jolt through your arm as your body froze on instinct.

“Not so fast,” he said, his voice low, dripping with mockery. That smug smirk was back on his lips, sharper than a blade. “I think I just changed my mind.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears as he leaned closer, his piercing gaze pinning you in place. “I’m done giving you freebies.”

Your throat went dry, and you could barely find your voice. “Bucky... come on,” you managed, and even you could hear the desperation threading through your words.

He chuckled, a dark, humorless sound that only made you feel smaller. “Come on?” he echoed, tilting his head slightly. “That’s all you’ve got? No excuses? No sweet little lies to soften me up?”

You tried to yank your hand away, but his grip tightened just enough to make it clear you weren’t going anywhere until he decided so.

With a bit too much force Bucky yanked you to the side as he stood up, now you were face to face.

"You don’t get to waltz back in here and take from me like I owe you anything. That’s not how this works.”

Your anger flared, but it was doused quickly by the weight of his stare, the unspoken threat lurking behind his words. “What do you want, then?” you asked through clenched teeth.

His eyes gleamed with satisfaction, like he’d been waiting for that question. “What I want,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur, “is for you to remember who you belong to. You think you can break my rules and still come crawling back when it suits you?”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” you shot back, but your words rang hollow in the face of his power.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he said, finally releasing your wrist but not the weight of his gaze. “You’ll learn eventually.”

Bucky’s grip on your wrist loosened, but before you could step back, his hand moved to your hair. At first, his touch was deceptively gentle, his fingers brushing through your locks in a way that made your breath hitch.

But just as quickly, his hand tightened, gripping a fistful of hair and yanking your head back. The motion was sudden, sharp, and commanding, forcing you to meet his icy gaze.

You gasped, your hands instinctively shooting up to grasp his arm, but his hold was unrelenting. The smirk on his lips had vanished, replaced by something colder, more dangerous.

“I’m not one of your little marks,” he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. “I’m not some pushover you can charm or beg your way out of.”

You swallowed hard, your defiance faltering under the weight of his presence. “Bucky, I—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, his free hand moving to cup your chin, holding you steady. His grip on your hair didn’t waver, the tension keeping you locked in place. “Don’t waste your breath trying to explain. I don’t need your excuses.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. His hand slowly released your hair, but the ghost of his grip lingered, just as suffocating as his gaze.

“Now,” he said, his tone dropping back into a chilling calm, “are you going to stand here and argue? Or are you going to remember your place?”

He studied you for a moment longer, his gaze piercing and unwavering. His hand slid down from your chin to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to remind you of his strength, his dominance.

And that's when you knew what your payment for that white powder your body ached for would be.

With slightly trembling hands you reached out, your fingers starting to work on his belt. Once it was open you slid your hand into his pants and into his boxers, your palm pressing against his shaft.

As soon as your fingers wrapped around his cock, Bucky's other hand moved to guide yours, showing you how to stroke him. The rough texture of his skin was so familiar, a feeling no drug could erease from your memory.

Bucky backed you up against the desk, your hand still tightly wrapped around his growing cock, his hand slid down from your throat, over your breasts and stomach and then he grabbed your thigh. With a swift motion he planted you up on the desk.

He shoved your hand out of his pants and yanked his cock free, giving it a few swift pumps with his fist before positioning himself at your entrance. Pulling your skirt up, the head of his dick pressed against your already wet panties.

Bucky leaned closer to your ear, his fingers sliding down your panties as he whispered "You're gonna earn every last gram of that stuff," and then without waiting for an answer he thrusted forward.

Your legs wrapped around his midsection, pulling him even closer.

Each deliberate thrust made you whimper, arousal mixing with the pain until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

Your hands slid down Bucky's back, gripping his ass as you tried to meet his thrusts, to take him even deeper.

He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a brutal kiss, his tongue forcing its way past your lips to claim your mouth. Breaking the kiss, he snarled "You're going to cum on my cock, and then you're going to thank me for it. Do you understand?" Before you could respond, he slammed into you one final time, hitting a spot deep inside that made stars explode behind your eyelids.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your pussy clamping down on him like a vice as you screamed his name.

[newtthetranswriter]

Hi! I saw you were wanting some requests, and I was wondering if I could request some fluffy headcannons for Gajeel, Bickslow, Freed, and Gray?? The idea I have is for a female reader who's either as physically strong or a little stronger than them, really well built from training to get to that point. Like a lot of people, sometimes she gets insecure about how she looks, and sometimes she feels like she has too much of a more stereotypical masculine build. So I was wondering if you could do some headcannons about what the guys would do to make sure she knows she's perfect the way she is in their eyes? You don't have to if you don't want to, of course. Either way, I appreciate you even looking at the request!

A/n: Hi! Thank you so much for the request. I hope I captured what you were hoping for. Anyways enjoy and remember to hydrate or diedrate.

Gajeel:

Gajeel does not care how strong you are or how muscular you look, as long as you are happy he’s happy.

He’s not the best with words so if you’re having a bad day he will first offer to do things with you

“Do you want to spar?” or “We could go out?” His goal is to try and get you out of your head by shifting your focus elsewhere.

If going to do something doesn’t work, be ready for physical affection

He will hug you like his life depends on it and if the hug doesn’t work he’s got back up plans

Back up plan number one, placing kisses to every part of your body that makes you feel insecure

Every kiss holds so much love that he hopes you understand just how much you mean to him

Back up plan number two, this is really his last ditch effort because again this man sucks at expressing things verbally

He will stumble over his words as he explains that he loves every single thing about you and how proud he is that you chose to work so hard to be exactly who you want to be

Gajeel over all is just a super caring guy, he’s just not the best at verbally explaining things so bare with him

Bickslow:

Bickslow definitely has his moments

He comes off as someone who can’t take anything seriously and so at first he may not realize when you’re having a hard time

His go to is making jokes and trying to lighten the mood, when that doesn’t work he’ll take moment to think

Once he realizes why you aren’t feeling the best he goes into straight comfort mode

Expect hugs and compliments, some compliments may be on the more suggestive side but he’s trying

Also expect his dolls to try and comfort you as well, mostly just floating closer to you and repeating Bickslow’s words of affirmation

Bickslow definitely takes a more silly approach at first, but be patient he’ll figure it out

Freed:

Freed is probably the most direct of the men on this list

He’s super observant so he would easily pick up on the fact that you aren’t feeling great

Instead of trying to reassure you through physical affection or sweet compliments, he’s more straight forward

He’ll tell you straight up that you are perfect the you are and being strong is nothing to feel bad about

He will also express how no matter what anyone else may say about your appearance  you will always be perfect in his opinion

Again Freed is very direct and straightforward, but if his direct approach doesn’t work well he will fold and dish out kisses and hugs to help you feel better

Gray:

I think we can all agree Gray is also not great with his words

He would fumble over ways to make you feel better before settling on one of three plans

First plan, offer to spar and express how great it is to be on equal footing with you

Second plan, physical affection. Kisses and hugs that express his love for you

Third plan, words of encouragement. Directly complimenting you and how strong you are.

If he’s going with plan three he is definitely going to use Erza as an example, afterall she is the perfect example of a strong beautiful women

He’s not doing it to compare you to her but just to show you that you aren’t the only one and you don’t need to feel bad about being more muscular than others.

[cannebady]

It's the future. How far into it, really, is of no matter here. The important bit is that they've finally reached some degree of an understanding.

There's an angel back in a bookshop in Soho, enthusiastic in his separation from the holy host and distinct lack of separation from the original tempter.

Well, he supposes lack of separation is a relative term.

Right before, well, before. Not Before of course, no, not that far back, but before their second, second chance he and Crowley were as close as they'd ever been. There were talks and walks and good lord the touching. They were so close then, right on the precipice before the Metatron and Aziraphale's most shameful cowardice yet.

Crowley had tried, of course he had. Brilliant, brave, honest Crowley throwing his heart into the ring in the final hour, a pleading hail Mary met only by an angel's repitious distance and foolish devotion to the wrong entity entirely.

Crowley does have reason to be vexed with him.

But that's behind them too, because they've always been stronger together and now, after all that's transpired (which shall be discussed at a later date), they've begun to establish a new normal.

And Aziraphale is grateful, well and truly, deeply grateful for the wellspring of forgiveness, or possibly acceptance, that proliferates in his dear demon. His best friend, the love of his life, a pure anomaly that Aziraphale had coveted since before he knew it was sinful to.

He certainly doesn't give a toss about the concept of sin now. Not now that his apology (a rather garish, lengthy spin on their apology dance that included no fewer than eleven doves, four streamers, twenty-seven individual steps, and one heartfelt apology made while holding the hand of a shell-shocked demon who looked nearly as relieved as he was conflicted) has been cautiously accepted.

They started small. Coffee once a week at Nina's shop to hash out their thoughts and catch up under the watchful eye of someone far wiser than them.

It was after the fifth coffee date (they're not dates, he keeps reminding himself, to little effect) is the first time it happens.

It, in this instance, is a moment of tension as one of them almost breaks the silence on the one piece of the Debacle they haven't bled out yet. They talked about the difference in their "exactlies" and how Aziraphale had always needed to fix things to feel worthy and how Crowley's loneliness had been nearly crushing, and that's really saying something for a demon.

But they hadn't talked about the kiss. About Crowley's desperate, last-ditch-attempt kiss meant to show Aziraphale what he could offer.

They hadn't talked about how it was almost enough to rip Aziraphale from his self-imposed duty. Or how he hadn't gone one day, not ever one hour, since without thinking about how wrong it was that he didn't kiss Crowley back with everything he was.

So upon the steps of the bookshop, after the fifth coffee not-date of the rest of their lives (part two), they prepare to say goodbye as the angel frets about whether it's too soon to invite his favorite demon inside (or to spend the rest of their lives together, either would be lovely). While preoccupied with invitations and proposals, he fumbles with the key to the shop door, enough so that Crowley reaches around him with a, "Let me get that for you, angel," in just enough time for Aziraphale to turn around and look him in his ochre eyes.

Time feels paused. Considering Crowley's abilities, it may have actually stopped. But Aziraphale can't think about that because they're so close, closer than they've been since before, and all he can think of is dragging those red lips down to his own and showing Crowley the depth of his devotion.

Crowley seems similarly caught in the liminal space of the moment, frozen on an event horizon that is as terrifying for him as it is exciting.

Aziraphale almost leans in, he's so close to it that it's almost an inevitability, but then he sees a trace of panic cross Crowley's features and time starts again instantly.

It's too soon. They haven't talked about it. Once they have, perhaps he'll be permitted a second go at tasting his demon, but he won't force Crowley across any more lines. It's his turn to match speed.

So he pulls back slowly, with a smile he hopes conveys his understanding and acceptance. Crowley looks uneasy for a moment, stuck in where they almost landed, before he too, pulls back.

They say a warm, if stilted, goodbye and Aziraphale locks himself in the shop for the rest of the day. They're working through it, but sometimes he can't believe his own stupidity. He left this behind and he can't even fathom why at this point.

---

It happens again because of course it does.

The next time they're coming back from Aziraphale's favorite sushi place, because they've graduated to a coffee not-date once a week and one dinner not-date in the same week and he's tickled about it.

Crowley has been his sparkling self all evening, funny and sharp and silly and Aziraphale's so ridiculously charmed by him he feels like there's glitter in his performative veins.

The Bentley stops outside of the bookshop and Aziraphale's heart aches for a time in the not-so-distant past when it would've been natural to ask Crowley in for a nightcap.

For now, he turns to thank him for a lovely meal, but when he shifts he sees that Crowley's staring at him in a way that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His gaze is locked on Aziraphale's mouth and he seems completely caught in his own mind. Aziraphale can only imagine he's remembering, because he's also remembering and good lord his self control is waning.

Suddenly, Crowley snaps out of it, turning his head sharply and grinding out, "Night angel, see you Wednesday," as Aziraphale takes his cue to get out of the car and head inside the shop. It's longing and abrupt, but they don't look at one another. Something in that breaks Aziraphale's chipped heart just a bit more.

It hurts, but he's brought it on himself for being a fool. He allows himself a cocoa, then a stiff glass of whiskey before he settles in with a copy of Persuasion and pointedly thinks of nothing.

---

Three months or so in, and it's happened so often that Aziraphale wonders if it's a cosmic joke or some kind of karmic backlash for his hallmark poor decision-making.

They've had so many almosts it's doing his head in.

There was the one at the drive in where they saw Casablanca and Crowley had looked so handsome limned by the screen light that Aziraphale almost lost his better judgment.

There was the pub where Aziraphale won a game of pool with a move so complicated and borderline impossible that Crowley looked like he may just swing him around and plant one on him in pride. Aziraphale wishes he would've. But that same shuttered (shattered) look crossed Crowley's features and Aziraphale found himself challenging Crowley to a second match to pull him out of his spiral.

Then there was the farmers market, and the duck pond, and the beach, and every other bloody place they went to and if the tension didn't break soon Aziraphale was concerned his patience just might.

But he doesn't complain because Crowley comes to the shop at his leisure now, walking in like he has a claim to it (he does, he does, he does) and that makes Aziraphale so happy he could almost lose consciousness.

But he's starting to wonder after his own ability to keep letting things go as, presently, they're both on the sofa in the room above the shop, in front of a roaring fireplace that came loaded with a divine miracle to keep it from burning or even singeing a single page, (a condition of Crowley's that Aziraphale was happy to acquiesce) and the exact right amount of wine in their systems to know better but not necessarily do better.

It's a dangerous combination because good lord does the firelight make Crowley incandescently beautiful (or possibly, it's Crowley doing so to the fire, as he's always beautiful) and Aziraphale is weak.

He realizes, after a moment, that it's quiet save for the crackling of the fire and last he'd remembered before getting lost in his head Crowley was talking but now, the air is thick with familiar tension and he can feel those serpent eyes on him.

He looks over and is caught in the softest, hungriest gaze he's ever seen directed his way. He can feel his own cheeks flush in sympathy and he watches Crowley notice, watches Crowley take in the click of his throat as he tries to swallow his want lest he tarnish this delicate balance of theirs, and watches as Crowley's hand comes to his own and trails upward, feels heat and goose flesh break out on his arm (his sleeve is rolled up, there's no barrier, oh fuck) in the wake of those elegant fingers as they travel higher, and loses his measured breathing as it traverses his bicep, his shoulder, dear lord his neck, then settles holding his cheek.

There is no mistaking it this time. No broken glances, no rage, just heat and static and love.

Oh, Aziraphale can feel the love pouring off of them both and it's like his thirst being slaked for the first time in ages.

"Crowley," he starts, and before he can continue he hears a rough, "Yes, angel. Just yes," and that's all he needs.

He grabs Crowley's lapels, a gentle mirror to before, and brings his lips to his beloved's and a moan rings out that both will blame on the other and both will be right to.

Crowley's lips are syrup sweet on his, his hands grasping with a whole different kind of desperation, the kind the screams "I love you, and I've loved you, and I'm going to continue to until the Sun burns out and then I'll find a way to love you some more", and Aziraphale is torn asunder by the heat building in his chest.

Crowley's breathing is a mess of gasps and low growls and Aziraphale answers with moans, and hums, and his arms wrapping around his perfect, brave serpent until the demon is in his lap, right where he belongs.

Ever the egalitarian, Crowley gives as good as he gets, cleverly licking into Aziraphale's mouth, biting his lip just to soothe it with his forked tongue, and Aziraphale has his hands lost in blood red hair and his mind lost in Crowley's blood hot embrace and he's crying but Crowley's crying too so it's alright.

They kiss for ages, allowing the second one to make up for the millions of times they should've done it before, until Aziraphale rests his forehead against Crowley's, stroking a thumb down his cheek to his jaw. Letting them catch their unneeded breath.

"I am terribly, irrevocably in love with you", Aziraphale whispers between them. It's about time he took the leap first.

Crowley's breath hitches and his eyes snap up to Aziraphale's. He looks into his blue eyes and Aziraphale lets him find what he needs reflected there.

"Angel," he starts before losing his breath again, "I never thought-" and fresh tears well on his lovely face.

"My dearest, you needn't say anything. Say what you will in your own time. I'll love you regardless," he jumps to reassure. Now is not the time for him to demand reciprocity. It will hurt and he will wait. It's alright.

The demon almost scoffs, but it's stopped by a small, sincere smile. "Of course I love you," Crowley replies, voice low and earnest, and impossibly steady. He says it as if it's an undeniable truth. It is.

Aziraphale makes his own desperate noise as he hears his devoted love returned to him and he's kissing Crowley again before he knows it.

They're finally here, in this world they've protected together. Finally on the same side and the same page.

As Crowley drifts off some time later, with his head on Aziraphale's shoulder and Aziraphale's lips to his temple, the angel allows himself to let their future take shape in his mind.

There will be peaks and valleys, he imagines, but it'll be perfect anyway.

[scathingsniper]

Interview

“Huh? Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

”Yeah? What’s this look like to you?”

”Like you’re going to wind up in a ditch before the night’s through, is what.”

Shinon raised his head to look the barkeep in the eye, and to prove that the glass he’d knocked off the counter a second ago wasn’t because he was feeling the effects of the drinks yet. Indeed, his eyes were still as sharp and hard as emeralds, but a pink flush had spread across his narrow face. With a few more, maybe he wouldn’t make it back to his new accommodations, but Gatrie wasn’t here to foot the bill and he didn’t like the place that much. He batted one stray chunk of glass toward the barkeep’s broom with the toe of his boot.

“No wonder you never have any customers. How can anyone enjoy themselves when the barkeep’s a judgmental bastard!”

The other man laughed and knelt down to sweep the rest of the glass into a box.

”All I’m saying is that it looks like you got something heavier on your mind.”

”I don’t.”

He shrugged, rose back up to his feet, and circled around the counter to dispose of the glass.

”Congratulations on your new position then. The folks at Garreg Mach monastery treat their people right, so I’ve heard. No more running around looking for mercenary work now, huh?”

”Yeah, who knows. A stuffy monastery’s going to get boring quick.”

Shinon crossed his arms over the counter and traced the tributaries of color in the polished grain. It was hickory, and a beautiful plank of it - one solid strip from end to end and carved into a wave. It would have made a fine bow, too, in any skilled bowyer’s hands but especially his, nimble and calloused without the privilege of comfort. An economical life had taught him early on about the value of weapons that could last when money didn’t, and how to wring any resource dry.

All of a sudden, he remembered the pair of wannabe-archers he’d watched in the training hall that afternoon and let out a snort that turned the barkeep’s attention away from picking shards of glass out of an old rag. 

”None of those spoiled brats look like they’ve ever held a weapon before.”

For every five arrows, only one ever made its mark, and barely. They had to have been sixteen, maybe seventeen, but far too old to be fumbling like that with no one around to crack the whip. By that age, Shinon was already making a name for himself as a mercenary. It was the only choice he had. That, or death.

Agitated, he reached for his mug and finished off the rest of it, thudded it back down to the counter and challenged the barkeep with his eyes to judge him again for the drink.

“Either their families don’t know that the instructors are training them to get killed, or they’re hardly more than sheltered babies themselves! You’d think those self-important fops would be storming the place if they found out their money was buying these half-rate lessons.”

Or maybe that was just his upbringing talking now. People who had more than pennies in their pockets could burn it if they wanted and hardly be any worse off for it. Kids though? Who’d throw their own kid into the fire?

“I asked them what they thought they were doing, shooting duds like that, and they said they were better at it with real bows. Idiots…”

Practice like it’s the real thing, otherwise what’s the point? He’d picked that up from his commander. Those training bows were doing those kids a disservice, too, so he’d loosened the strings, and as it turned out, that was all they really needed. Three shots out of every five hit their mark after. The rest of it was up to them to figure out.

”Why’d you take the job?” the barkeep asked, sliding another froth-topped mug toward Shinon, but he pushed it aside, instead leaning forward a little to study the man’s grizzled face like he couldn’t understand what he was asking.

”Money! Why else? I’m still part of a mercenary band back in Crimea, but the picking’s slim when there’s not a war going on.”

No thanks to Ike. And no thanks to the sub-humans that’d been leaving their countries more frequently lately. The next time he had to see one of their ugly, whiskered faces, it would be too soon. It was better that he found work on a different continent entirely, and someone had to make sure the Greil Mercenaries got the money they needed to stay fed and keep their weapons in working order anyway. Little Ikie was too busy playing with his new half-breed buddies.

“You don’t look too happy about it.”

“Happy?” Shinon scoffed. “What’s bein’ happy have to do with it? Are you happy working day-in and day-out?”

The barkeep shrugged. “I don’t mind it.”

Shinon tasted the new beer, made a face at it - like all the rest had been, it was lukewarm and not that great, but he kept coming back to this tavern anyway, for the whole week or so that he’d been in Fódlan.

“We’re just doing what we gotta do to live. That’s all.”

The barkeep hummed noncommittally, but left it at that. Shinon eyed him over the rim of his mug, downing half of it in two incensed gulps, then slammed it down like he had something more to say. Like how the only people who could afford to be happy were the ones who got everything handed to them on a silver plate. Or that you had to be an immature, idealistic fool to think life was anything more than a day-to-day grind. But he realized, too, that circumstance had finally swung in his favor and he benefited from being in the right place at the right time. It had landed him this cushy position at the Officers Academy. And it chafed.

He was a top-rate marksman, of course. The best Tellius had to offer. But he’d taken a bribe from a desperate priestess and left his last contract instead of killing her. It could have been anyone.

“Pah…”

He sunk his head down onto the counter and shut his eyes against his swimming vision.

“... The ditches around here aren’t all that comfortable, just so you know,” the barkeep pointed out lightheartedly. Shinon grumbled something, turned his head to shoot a glare up at the other man who’d come back with a glass and a rag in hand, and then raised back up onto his arms.

“I’m never coming back here, just so you know.”

“It’s a trek from here to Garreg Mach.”

Shinon sneered. “What are you gonna do without your only customer to keep you in business?”

The barkeep shrugged. “Who knows. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

“Hmph.” Shinon was unconvinced, but he rocked to one side to pull a purse from his pocket, counted out one coin per drink, and an extra for the broken glass. “Just like a cog in a wheel.”

“That makes two of us.”

Shinon smirked. “From one cog to another, you better start selling something other than lukewarm piss.” He slapped his hand down on the counter hard enough to make the coins jump and then staggered off the stool. “Good night.”

The barkeep chuckled. “Thanks for the advice.” He swept the coin into one palm. “Oh, and good–” He glanced up to see the door swing shut. “--luck.”

[aplacetosharemyfics]

Mary Poppins: Open Home

WARNING: Contains mention of attempted rape

Grace tucked her hands into her coat pockets and stepped out onto the street. She was just leaving work. The lamplighters had already come and gone, the lights shining dimly in the foggy night air. Every evening the path seemed to get longer. She’d trudge through the streets, stomach growling for the dinner she would still need to prepare when she got home.

This street was quieter, the only movement an abandoned newspaper tumbling along the street. The wind whistled as it brushed past the houses. Grace picked up her pace a little. As she passed a small alleyway, a man appeared from the darkness. She didn’t think much of it then, merely sidestepping to get around him. But he stepped back into her path.

“Excuse me,” Grace muttered.

He didn’t move. And when she tried to step around him again, he lurched forward, wrapping his clammy hand around her wrist.

“You’re pretty.”

He leaned in, his breath overwhelming Grace with the strong smell of alcohol. He was obviously drunk. Grace tried to pull free but the man, swaying on his feet, was surprisingly strong. With a leer, he pushed her backwards into the alleyway, pressing his body against her so she was trapped between him and the rough stone wall. With both hands free, he was becoming more curious, his hands roving freely all over her body sending horrified shivers up and down her spine. As his thick fingers dug into the collar of her dress, she screamed. It was a last-ditch attempt, a desperate plea for someone to hear her. But the scream was cut off quickly, his large hand closing over her face to mute the noise, and making her lightheaded as her airways were covered. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the other hand had started travelling further down her body, eventually finding its way under her skirts.

“Seriously, have you never learnt any manners?”

The trim voice along with the indignant tone made the man look up just in time for a parrot-headed umbrella to hit him squarely in the middle of his forehead. He stumbled backwards, ending up lying flat on the ground, little birds flying circles around his head. Grace stared at her attacker, breathing shakily. She couldn’t move. Then a gloved hand grabbed hers.

“Run.”

Perhaps, in her panicked daze, her subconscious had recognised her saviour. Either way, with her hand held protectively, she ran. Her legs felt like jelly, and she wanted to collapse, but she ran. Her lungs were burning, and tears were blinding her, but she ran. It was only when they eventually paused at the front steps of her house did she realise that the woman holding her hand, flushed from the mad sprint, was Mary Poppins. Fumbling in her pocket, Grace found the key, and they were inside.

The house was quiet and dark. It seemed to loom above her, a sinister feeling she had never felt before emanating from the walls. But then Mary Poppins bustled past, lighting up the room and Grace saw that it was simply the same house she’d fallen in love with. Numbly, she followed her into the kitchen, collapsing at the table to watch Mary Poppins calmly preparing tea.

“Here.”

A warm cup of tea was pushed into her hands. Grace closed her hands around it, watching as they shook. She would realise later, that Mary Poppins’ hands were also shaking as she sat down opposite her.

“Drink.”

With a little encouragement, Grace slowly started to sip the tea. Warmth flooded through her.

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

Grace awoke the next day in her bed. For a few wonderful seconds, she lay peacefully, staring at the ceiling, until the memories of last night came crashing back into her mind. Leaping from the bed and tossing the bedsheets aside, she searched for her attacker. But the room was simply her familiar bedroom, completely empty. She swallowed. Her heart was still racing. In the corner, a chair sat with her dress draped over it. Which was weird because she tended to leave the worn outfit in a pile on the floor. She didn’t remember changing last night. In fact, she didn’t remember even climbing the stairs.

Once dressed and headed down the stairs, Grace nervously checked the front door. It was locked and bolted. A clatter from the kitchen sent her cowering against the wall. Had the man somehow followed her all the way home? Thankfully, after a night of sleep, she was in a slightly better mindset than yesterday and could realise that, if the man had broken into her house, he wouldn’t be wandering around her kitchen. It should be safe. Right? She tentatively approached the kitchen.

Mary Poppins placed a plate of toast on the table, raising her eyebrows at Grace’s unbrushed hair. While Grace stood dumbfounded in the doorway, a pot of tea and jar of jam joined the toast at the table before Mary Poppins seated herself down, looking expectantly at Grace. On cue, Grace’s stomach rumbled. Awkwardly, she sat down opposite Mary Poppins and took a slice of toast from the offered plate. It was good.

“Feeling better?”

Mary Poppins smiled, watching fondly as Grace quickly swallowed her mouthful while nodding.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

If Mary Poppins hadn’t appeared last night, she couldn’t dare to imagine what would have happened. And now, just her presence in the house made her feel safe. The simple words didn’t seem big enough. But Mary Poppins didn’t wait for more, turning back to her own breakfast. Grace took another bite.

“Why were you there?” she eventually asked.

Mary Poppins twitched, her cheeks becoming a little pinker under the rouge as she turned her attention to her cup of tea. The expression was quickly replaced by her normal calm demeanour as she stirred in another lump of sugar. This would be her fourth.

“I keep a look out for all my children.”

There was more to it, Grace decided, watching Mary Poppins concentrate on moving the spoon slowly around the cup.

“So, who are your current wards?” she asked to change the subject.

“I am currently between jobs.”

Grace blinked. It had never occurred to her that Mary Poppins would take breaks between families. In her imagination, she moved between households, never stopping, to spread her magic to the needy children of London town.

“Where are you staying?”

Mary Poppins had stayed in the little room next to her back when she was young, and she remembered the bed always appeared impeccable like it had never been slept in. Did she maybe have a flat somewhere?

As she’d been wondering, Mary Poppins had fixed her with a stern look to scold her for her impudence. But she did answer.

“I’m staying with a relative.”

Quickly, she stood up and started to clear her dishes from the table.

“I should get going.”

She turned to put the dishes in the sink.

“If you ever need a place …”

Mary Poppins paused in the doorway, her hat already fixed on her head, to look back. For once, the expression on her perfect features was shock. Grace found her face heating up.

“I mean, if you wanted to get away from relatives for a while, or something,” she mumbled. “My house is always open to you.”

It took a few seconds for her to collect herself enough that she wouldn’t blush when she looked Mary Poppins in the eye. All that time, she would feel Mary Poppins’ eyes observing her. When she did look up, she was met with raised eyebrows.

“And if any of your children need a place, of course.”

She was stumbling over her words now, trying to backpedal. But a warm smile grew on Mary Poppins’ face, and she nodded, wished Grace a goodbye, and left.

Prev - Chapter List - Next

[korasonata]

Actually no, I am not over Cleo and Martyn. The fact that amidst everything, all of their bickering and bellyaching, through all of the pain they inflicted on each other, no matter how often they said they hated each other, no matter how often they tried to deny that they were soulmates, they were together for every single one of their deaths.

And another thing I’m not over?

Aside from the first death, which was a horrible accident on the part of Martyn, for the rest of their deaths they both die simultaneously of completely different causes.

When they lose their second life, they die running together. Cleo, being chased up the water pipe, in a last ditch effort to try to escape but getting trapped in the shoot underwater. At the same time, Martyn is being chased through that same tunnel by the full army of reds only to now find a dead end because Cleo’s blocked it off. They are literally 2 feet from each other, can hear each other dying in the walls. Cleo drowns at the same time that Martyn is shot by Scar. Cleo’s death appears first, but it wouldn’t have mattered, they would have died regardless.

And then their final death. Martyn is struggling with his fireworks and falls in a hole while pursuing Pearl, who is pursuing Cleo. Cleo is being chased by Pearls entire pack of dogs. Cleo who’s not good at PVP on a good day, who TOLD Martyn she’s not good at PVP. Cleo on the last of her health screaming Martyn’s name, begging him to come and save her but he can’t because he’s stuck and still struggling with his fireworks trapped in a pit. And after all of the fighting, it’s the fall that kills Cleo. She’s so low on health that she can’t even take a simple drop. And at the same time Martyn fumbles a firework, accidentally setting it off inside his hole and blowing himself up. Once again it’s Cleo’s death that appears first, but once again it wouldn’t have mattered either way.

Just the fact that their deaths were different and yet still together. Almost like the universe saying the two of them were inevitable. No matter how much they tried to deny, they were always destined to be linked together. Even if Cleo wouldn’t have drowned. Even if she wouldn’t have fell. Martyn still would have been shot and he still would have blown himself up. Like it didn’t matter how much they denied it, they were always going to die together, because that’s what soulmates did. One of them was always going to be the death of the other, and they were always going to die together just like the world had always intended.

[adonis-koo]

Star Struck

| 1 |

↳ Summary: You’re a creature of habit, you plan everything from each hour to each day, so you can imagine the chaos which ensues after you discover a random guy leaking black goo in a ditch- who just so happens to be an alien.

↳ Pairing: Jungkook/Reader

↳ Genre: lowkey strangers to lovers, alien!jungkook, fluff, smut,

Word Count: 12k

Tags: before anyone asks, yes tentacles are involved because I’m a proud monster fucker, jungkook has separation anxiety from Mc :(, he’s immediately whipped, and he can’t speak any human language at first oops, he like,,,tries it for a second before MC goes 🏃‍♀️ this is unedited and for that im sorry bc yikes

___ | Next

In many cases, you could recall how you got into situations. For instance, when you were late to your mid morning lecture, you had zero excuses- not that the professor cared at all when you walked in with a bag of mcdonalds and a venti latte from starbucks. But the principle of the situation remained the same, you knew your actions would cause you to be late. You understood the consequences of your actions. 

The same could not be said for when you took in the curious male who didn’t understand a word you said.

“What do you mean you just- picked him up off the side of a fucking ditch!” Jimin flailed his hands as you twisted around to face you, the male was examining his hands as if he had never seen them before, not paying either of you any mind. 

You held up your hands as you replied, “I did!” You shouted back, immediately gaining the males attention as his eyes flashed between you and Jimin, “He was just…! Laying there! I don’t fucking know! What was I supposed to do? Leave him, look he’s hurt.” You pointed out the obvious wounds he sported. 

“...He’s bleeding black goo Y/n! Have you never seen a horror movie before oh my god!” Jimin grabbed his head as his voice became dramatic and peril, “You’re practically number one on his kill list! He’s probably here to abduct us and- and butt probe us or some shit!” 

You raised your brows defensively as you crossed your arms, “Look at him!” You pointed a finger at the male making him flinch a little, leaning a little away from you where he sat as his expression shifted, looking as if he was a kicked puppy at your tone, “Does that look like a butt probing alien to you shit face?” 

“Maybe!” Jimin snapped back, “He ain’t human that’s for fucking sure! Just…!” Jimin flailed his hands, “Just look at him!” 

You groaned as you rubbed your face, you knew it looked bad! You hadn’t meant to stumble across a body when you went out for your morning walk which you had been trying to do in an effort to be more mindful and healthy, but it seemed to only lead you to stressing the fuck out. 

You turned to look at the male, he looked anything but alien, well- for the most part. His eyes looked up at you almost glossy like, they were big and doe like, his lips plush and his hair dusted his eyes yet almost looked like a raven blue. 

He looked human, mostly. The part that threw you off was, for one the black goo that trickled down his skin- maybe if you were a photography major you’d scream how aesthetic it was and just take a picture before leaving him to die, but unfortunately this wasn’t the case and here you were. 

The other part of him was, well....the bits that glowed. You would’ve honestly mistook him for a horrible Avatar cosplayer that had a little too much last night had it not been for the black goo, the strip of glow emitted from his body all the way from his hands up his arms, and you assumed back to his shoulders as well. 

Most might have considered it tattoo’s and maybe you could pass it off as such if it weren’t for the constant soft hue purple, it shifted between blue occasionally but remained purple for most of the duration you had spent with him. 

“What the hell are you even gonna tell Seokjin!” Jimin grabbed his head as he began to pace, “He totally won’t let this- this thing stay with us!” 

You glared as you stomped over to the male who straightened a little, the marks on his skin suddenly tinging red as you turned to face Jimin, “Seokjin can shut the fuck up! And so can you! For all we know he’s just into special effects and can’t speak English you xenophobic fuck!” 

“I’m Korean you whore!” Jimin dramatically shouted as he walked across the apartment, for what reason? You weren’t sure other than to make a point and raise his voice, “I know Asian when I see it and that’s not it! I’m headed for class and when I get back he better be back in his fucking UFO.” 

You rolled your eyes as you kneeled down to look at the male, the marks had flared back to it’s constant state of purple once more as he blinked, “I’m sorry about him,” You apologized sheepishly, “He ah...he’s an asshole,” The male only tilted his head a little, “I’m...Y/n.” You felt a bit dumb talking to him. 

You didn’t want to assume he couldn’t understand you but...well...He just seemed so, curious, innocent even. His eyes peered around at his surroundings as if he had never seen them before. Not as if he hadn’t been in your home but, as if he had never sat on a bed, his body would bounce a little as if testing the springs only to find out they’d bounce and his eyes would light up. 

He had been playing with the light switch on the wall of the apartment when you first got home, he didn’t seem to understand you necessarily but he responded well to the tone of voice because when you told him to stop he seemed to understand. 

He had tried to speak a few times, but...Well, Jimin may have had a point, it didn’t sound like any Asian dialect, at all. It didn’t even sound like any language you had even heard of...Even if he looked like some sort of Asian ethnicity, which you supposed was the strangest part about this. He looked human, but he didn’t sound human. 

He spoke in a sort of throaty tongue that seemed frantic at first, but he must have quickly realized you couldn’t understand him and had opted to mute ever since, “What’s your name?” You asked, only to sigh in response as he blinked unsuspecting of whatever you had said. 

Sitting down in front of him you sighed, “Okay nevermind, we’ll figure out a name to give you meanwhile- hmmm, let’s get those fixed up yeah?” You stood up, noticing he wasn’t doing the same, leaning down you went to grab his hand. 

The marks on his arms suddenly lit in a deep maroon red as he jumped back making you screech- whatever thought of you assuming he was human went out the window at the sudden burst of...of....tentacles pushing out of his back and pulling in front of him like some sort of shield. 

“Woah! Woah holy shit, oh my god!” You flailed at the sight of his narrowed eyes and his defensive stance as you held out your hands in sign of peace, “I’m not going to hurt you! I- I just want to fix your wounds okay!” You fumbled out the words, “I’m your friend, yeah?” 

His eyes squinted a little further as he glanced between your hands and your hand, tentacles like you had seen- no you weren’t gonna go there- they looked almost- No. You weren’t gonna say it, you weren’t even gonna think it. They were almost glass like, but looked as soft as silk, probably deadly and something you shouldn’t touch. 

They restricted a little and much to your surprise he parted his lips as he slowly spoke, “...Friend…” As if testing the word on his lips. You raised your brows in surprise, if this man was an alien then...he was a really quick learner. 

You nodded rapidly as you spoke,” Yes! Yes! I’m a friend! Friend’s don’t hurt each other. Just...let me…” You slowly approached him, trying not to watch the four tentacles that emerged from his back keep your attention away from his face, the markings on his arms glowed a dimmer red, as if his initial reaction calmed down, slowly it melted back into a soft purple hue as his eyes carefully watched you grab his hand as you repeated, “Friend.” You gave it a little squeeze, his brows furrowing as he looked at his much larger hand encasing yours, to your face before back to your hand which held his. 

“Friend.” He echoed back tilting his head a little before his eyes suddenly lit up in understanding, nodding frantically he replied, “Friend!” His expression of anger was like the night to the day of his smile, which was bright and almost childlike, as if he suddenly realized what the term friend meant, “Friend!” He squeezed your hand back causing you to squeak at the immense strength he had, the symbol that curved on his hand suddenly shifted to a dark grey as his eyes quickly became worried.

“Friend?” His voice gentler this time as he stood up, practically towering over you as he peered down as if you were a little puppy, concerned he had hurt you. 

“I’m okay!” You nodded, feeling your voice a pitch higher and your face felt hot despite knowing full and damn well you were not going to fuck this alien, yet you had definitely watched too much hentai in your life to at least not let the thought cross your mind once. He was good looking, by human definition anyways, “Lets um...let’s just get you into the living room.” 

Curiously he followed you before you had him sit on the couch, he gave a little bounce to the cushion as his brows furrowed before his lower lip jutted into a pout- obviously realizing this surface wasn’t bouncy….How could an alien be in your house, who nearly killed you with the tentacles from his back….look like this...

You briefly wondered this question as you frowned, grabbing the first aid kit before sitting back down beside him, his marks suddenly glowing purple as his eyes curiously watched you pull out a rubbing alcohol wipe, you paused as you looked at his big doe eyes that looked at you so innocently...If he reacted violently to his hand being held you knew damn well this was going to be a bitch to convince him you weren’t trying to kill him…

“Look…” Your voice drew his eyes to yours as he focused on your words, “This is gonna...hurt...a lot okay…?” You offered a semi awkward half smile, gesturing to your own bicep where it was bleeding on him before gesturing to him, “Pain…” You nodded a little, making him nod, his eyes darting to his own before back to you but you could tell by the look in his eyes he had no idea what you meant.

“Pain.” You pinched his skin making him jolt, his eyes darting between your small fingers and you as he frowned, marks mixing with purple and red, “Pain…?” He mumbled, rubbing a hand on his head, suddenly he began speaking in his tongue, his voice deeper and throater then when he repeated anything in english. 

Maybe talking to himself, he wasn’t looking at you as he sighed, “Pain.” He spoke more firmly as he looked at you, seemingly a little lost, you held up the wipe as you gave a defeated smile, “Pain.” You nodded, knowing he would definitely understand what the word meant once you got this over with. 

To say he reacted violently, was a very poor understatement. 

His marks were lit up a bright red and his tentacles had emerged from his back once and he practically flew to the other end of the couch in defense as he howled in pain as he examined the large wound on his bicep, “Friend!” He cried out in anger, eyes glaring at you and tentacles covering his body as if he was a wounded animal. 

He had ended up destroying a few knick knacks around the house, a chair and a few photo frames while you attempted to chase after him in effort to clean his wound while he ran away like a puppy avoiding a bath. Obviously he knew you weren’t dangerous enough to try and hurt but...it seemed his pain tolerance was...extremely low. 

Eventually you had gotten him to behave and sit down, as he glared at the floor, marks glowing yellow as you felt him wince and jolt with every dab of the wipe, “Friend.” he mumbled with gritted teeth before he spoke in his native tongue, something you assumed was probably not so nice at you. 

“The feeling is mutual pal.” You muttered, not knowing what he said but knowing, deep in your heart, your feelings were most definitely the same to one another. He did little to resist your touch afterwards, eyes furrowing as he watched you carefully bandage his wound, occasionally he’d poke- not at the wound but the bandage, his fingers would pinch the material and he’d cock his head as if examining it. 

“Have…” You frowned a little as you tilted your head, gaining his attention, “Have you never been to Earth?” You were going to be extremely upset if you woke up in twelve hours and Jimin told you that you were on an extreme LSD trip and you just imagined a really hot alien in your head. 

His eyes lit up in the same way they had earlier, “Earth?” He raised his brows, lips parting before he suddenly looked around again, “Earth!?” He suddenly cried out as he stood up, looking around before going to the window and peaking out of the blinds, “Earth…” He suddenly spoke in his native tongue once more as he ran a hand through his hair before turning to face you, “....Human…?” He had said something else you couldn’t understand besides the singular word. 

“Yes…?” You nodded making him almost whine as he grabbed his head, as if in disappointment, you offered a weak smile. You supposed if you were an alien that had seen galaxies beyond imagination you’d be pretty disappointed at seeing Earth too. 

He sighed as he frowned, looking around the apartment before straightening back up as he looked at you, pointing to himself as he spoke, “JK.” 

You blinked a few times, unresponsive as you frowned, “What…?” Your face scrunched as he bounced a little, repeating the two letters once more as he pointed to himself somewhat harsher, your brows raising before your lips parted, “Oh…! You’re JK! That’s your name?” You gave a smile as you nodded.

His smile was like a child as his fists curled up as he nodded rapidly, not understanding a word you said but it looked as if you understood, “Y/n.” You slowly prounicated your name as you pointed at yourself. 

JK had attempted to say your name, multiple times actually, but his brows pinched in frustration, having a hard time with it, but oddly enough it was quite endearing to watch him repeatedly try and say your name, even after you have found yourself on your phone, typing in the nearest place to eat while trying to figure out how to break it to Seokjin that an alien would be boarding with you guys for awhile.

What else were you supposed to do…? Call the police? You looked at JK with a frown, he seemed oddly innocent and you’d feel guilty doing that to him, his brows pinched as he fumbled over your name once again as he puffed a breath in frustration, the marks on his arms glowing a deep hue of light orange. 

“JK.” His gaze snapped to yours as he tilted his head, you offered a dull smile as you spoke carefully, “Eat?” You pointed to your mouth before stomach, JK rubbed his head briefly mirroring you as he rubbed his stomach a little confused. You hummed as you searched around before finding a leftover candybar on the coffee table, “Eat.” You pointed at it before taking a bite. 

“Eat.” JK had an easy time saying that word with a nod before he suddenly seemed excited, bouncing his spot as he nodded wildly, “Eat! Y/n…!” His nose suddenly scrunched at messing up your name again. 

His attention was brought back to you at the sound of you giggling at how cute he really was for someone that nearly killed you twice within the last hour, “Yeah, it’s almost dinner time, we should get something to eat, I’m starved and Seokjin banned me from the kitchen.” You gestured to him to follow you as he cocked his head, not understanding a word you were saying. 

You pulled one of Seokjin’s hoodies from his laundry basket as he handed it to JK who frowned, looking at his own clothes before back at you, as if silently asking why he needed to change. No nevermind the fact he glowed like a fucking lava lamp, “Hide.” You pointed at his arms as he frowned, looking down at them. 

“Hide!” You emphasized as you pointed towards your own arm then to his before it suddenly clicked as he nodded, sighing as he spoke in his own tongue the throat sound of something like mild disappointment and you could understand, but it was necessary. 

JK all of a sudden pulled the shirt over his head nearly making you scream, the sight of compact muscles and tan skin that almost had an iridescent sheen glowed, your body suddenly feeling extremely warm as JK fumbled a little confused. 

He frowned as he tilted his head, why were you covering your eyes? He looked down at himself before back at you, was....was he not supposed to change right here? He pulled the sweatshirt over his head, saying something that made you pick up in relief to see he was changed. 

You grabbed your chest as you groaned, “Don’t do that again.” You were in too much a dry patch and desperation to be alone with an alien that had tentacles and a face like that. 

Now with his marks being covered you just needed something for his hands...You frowned a little before something occurred to you, going over to Jimin’s gym bag you grabbed the finger clothes he always used to lift barbells with. 

His fault he was a pussy that didn’t want to get callouses. 

You handed them to Jk as he tilted his head, first examining the fabric before he slipped them on, looking at them as he snorted as if amused before saying something that sounded an awful lot like he enjoyed wearing these. 

“Eat, now.” He perked up at your words as you nodded and he excitedly followed you as you grabbed your bag and phone before exiting the apartment building. JK was beyond fascination, looking around as if he had never seen anything like this place, even going so far as to wonder off a few times, immediately making you hold his hand once more to keep him next to you. 

Other people also stared at him, but mainly because he was acting weird, you shoved him a little and he seemed to understand to stop. 

But he still took a few peaks before his feet halted, making you nearly yanked back as he stopped, his lips parted and his eyes were all big and doe like in awe as he stared out over the sunset, speaking once more and you frowned. You wished you could at least pick up a few words of his own language, JK was honestly impressive in picking up so much in so little time. 

You smiled a little at how fond he appeared to be looking out over the sunset before you tugged his hand which was still in yours, he looked down at you before pointing towards the sun as you nodded, “Yeah it’s pretty, but let’s go eat, I’m starving.” 

“Pretty.” He repeated before looking back out over the sun as he repeated the word again as you tugged him along. Entering the Panda Express it was nearly empty given it was six o’clock already and the dinner rush had left but that was good, you weren’t sure you could control JK in this type of environment. 

JK only observed you as you ordered for the both of you, watch the mouth watering food slide down the servers before you paid for your meal, leading you both to sit the back of the store where glass paneling was up for JK to keep looking at the sunset as you set his box in front of him. 

Fried rice and orange chicken was never a bad combo for the first time eater. JK observed you as you held up your fork, plowing into your food as you sighed in contentment before a noise of amusement escaped you at the sight of JK pinching his brows as he struggled with holding his fork. 

His eyes darting to you as his lips parted a whine escaping him as he messed up your name again making you laugh even harder, you waved a hand before you set down your fork, leaning over the table as you spoke, “Okay fine, fine, no need to get so pouty. Here, you just...place them like this.” You fixed his long thick fingers that fumbled a little before they properly gripped the fork. 

“Okay? Like this.” You held up your own before scooping up a pile of rice with it, Jk mirrored you, puffing a breath in slight frustration at the sight of the rice falling from his fork a little, “If you’re mad about this I guess it’s a good thing i didn’t get us chopsticks.” You snorted as JK focused on his food. 

You watched in curiosity as he took his first bite, his brows furrowing for a moment and his held tilting as if he was heavily focused on how it felt in his mouth before his brows shot up and almost immediately began scooping more food into his mouth like he was a fucking starved man held captive. You were surprised at how fast he was devouring his food but you only smiled softly as you began eating as well, enjoying the rest of your meal in silence. 

JK had even ate the rest of your food once you were finished, you just sat there in your seat, your knee hiked up towards your chest while you ran a hand through your hair absentmindedly while watching him devour the rest of the food. 

“Good?” You called out, JK’s eyes finally leaving your box of food, rice sticking to his upper lip making you smile a little as he rapidly nodded, looking like he was drunk off fried rice and orange chicken, probably not even paying attention to what you said. 

By the time JK was finished he slumped in his seat, stretching out as a yawn escaped his lips, his eyes closing briefly before he sighed, looking out over the glass paneling as if something troubled him before his eyes darted back to your figure and back to the window.

You wished you could speak fluently in whatever language he spoke so you could ask what he was thinking about, once all of the innocence had melted off his expression in those child-like moments of glee, he was left like this, as if he was tired and maybe even lonely. 

How did he even get here? And did he need to get back? To where he was originally going? You thought back to his disappointment when he realized he was on Earth, and if you could stretch for a reach, you’d say he obviously had another location in mind before...whatever happened. 

“Hey,” you called out, drawing his attention as he raised his brows, “Home.” 

He tilted his head as he echoed the word, “Home?” You stood up as you nodded with a small smile, knowing damn well you wouldn’t be able to avoid Seokjin forever. 

JK stood up mirroring you before you guided him to where you threw your boxes away and he had even helped clean up the table before you both exited the shop, it was now dark out and the walk home was quiet as ever. But you enjoyed it, his company at least, you didn’t really have a lot of friends outside Jimin and Seokjin, who were your best friends since middle school and you all now split rent on an apartment close to campus. 

You opened the door, peeping in as JK stood there mildly confused, Jimin and Seokjin sat on the couch watching a movie much to your disappointment, opening the door fully you pressed a finger to your lips at JK as he tilted his head before you quietly shut the door. Grabbing his hand as you gently tugged it along. 

“Where in the absolute fuck do you think you’re taking him you horny fool?” 

God dammit. 

You grabbed your head with a groan as JK frowned, almost immediately concerned as he looked around, Seokjin stood up with his arms crossed, “He told me all about the goo monster here.” 

“He’s not a monster!” You screeched making Seokjin snort as he raised a brow, “...He’s an alien.” 

“Wearing MY sweatshirt!? That’s balenciaga!” Seokjin cried out, pointing an accusing finger at JK who looked a little concerned, looking at Seokjin then at you who he shuffled a little behind like a puppy with a tail between his legs. 

You felt an immediate wave of protection come over you at the sight of the action as you stood in front of him, despite him towering over you, “Would you stop! I’ll get him clothes tomorrow! Just leave him alone, okay, he’s hurt, he doesn't know anything about Earth and he just…!” 

“He’s not a dog Y/n!” You pressed your lips together as you looked away from Seokjin who glared at you pointedly, “We don’t know what this thing is or his intentions.” 

It was difficult to imagine JK’s intentions being anything but good when he was delighted at finding out your bed was bouncy, or the take of friend rice and orange chicken, or his excitement at the sunset, “He isn’t here to kill us! I can promise you that...just!” You squeezed your fists as you sighed, “Just trust me, okay? He’ll stay in my room and i’ll get everything he needs.” 

“Until what!?” Seokjin shouted at the lunacy of your words and you understood, it wasn’t everyday someone stumbled across an unconscious alien in a ditch, “Until what Y/n!?” 

“Until he’s able to speak enough English for us to know what the fuck he’s doing here, hell if I know Seok!?” You raised your arms, you...you hadn’t thought about his words yet, admittedly, “He just needs somewhere to stay until he understands more about Earth and how it works here okay? Listen…” You shuffled in your spot as you sighed, “The moment he poses a threat….i’ll deal with it okay? We can call the police or whatever and report it, but he’s been docile the whole time…” Okay that was a stretched truth but what they didn’t know wouldn’t kill them. 

“Jesus christ,” Seokjin groaned as he collapsed back on the couch as he sighed, “...Fine, just make him use Jimin’s sweatpants.” 

“Hey! I didn’t consent to this!” Jimin whined who had been admittedly just sitting back and enjoying the fight between you both as he almost always did, serves the hoe right. 

You said no more not wanting to push things further as you grabbed JK’s hand once more guiding him down the hallway as you pushed the door to your room open, his eyes lit up a little at the familiar sight, hurriedly he went to the bed as he bounced on his as he laid down, burying into your blankets and pillows with a content sigh as if he had been aching to lay down all day. 

You felt a little bad at the sight knowing you should’ve probably let him rest sooner, choosing to sit down on the floor you opened up your laptop before you began working on the paper that was due by tomorrow afternoon that you had chosen to ignore since you had came across JK this morning. 

By the time it was late night JK had been in a deep sleep, obviously deducing that humans weren’t that dangerous of a species to keep himself awake over. You yawned yourself as you shut your laptop, rubbing your eyes before you looked at your bed, frowning as you sighed. Grabbing the pillow that had fallen off the side of the bed as you laid on the ground. You had slept in worst places before. 

You sighed in contentment as you rolled over on the nice soft surface, warmth filling you and sleep had been particularly forgiving to you last night. Man what had been so forgiving today to let you sleep this good?

The memories of yesterday had filtered to your mind too quickly making your eyes snap open, you had fell asleep on the floor how did you get in bed!? You searched frantically for the puppy like alien who was absent from where he had been collapsed here last night.

Fuck this better have not been that bad LSD trip! It would have you fucked for months that Jimin would really let you believe there was a hot alien guy you made up in your head. You quickly padded down the hallway almost frantically before your eyes were met with three heads of hair on the couch. 

“Die! Die!” Your mouth moved multiple times but you couldn’t form a single coherent sentence at the sound of JK’s nose wrinkling and buttons being mashed as the three boys were sitting with controllers in hand. 

“Which one of you fuckheads taught him that word!?” You growled finally, knowing JK was your age and probably even hundreds of years old depending on how his species aged and he understood the concept of killing but shit! You didn’t like hearing him say it like that when he seemed so naive and innocent about everything else on Earth. 

Seokjin and Jimin both whipped around sheepishly at the same time before they started immediately blaming one another as you gritted your teeth. You would’ve continued to glare at them both if it not been for JK’s cheeriful voice, he had immediately perked at the sound of before hurrying over, “Y/n!” His pronunciation had gotten better and it was difficult to not smile at the triumph in his voice as if knowing he had improved before stating your name again, “Game…!” He pointed at the TV before his controller. 

You nodded, “I can see that��so I guess he��s suddenly not a threat anymore?” You sneered at both of your bestfriends, JK frowned a little as he looked between you three, obviously confused as to what was going on. 

Seokjin looked mild, pretending as if he hadn’t heard what you said, prideful bitch, “He’s okay. Better at Jimin in Overwatch if you can believe it, maybe I’ll just let him be my duo instead.” 

“Hey fuck off!” Jimin glared at him, brushing his shoulder in somewhat offense before he spoke, “He is good though, wouldn’t stop saying your name this morning though.” 

“He couldn’t say it yesterday,” You explained before turning to JK again, offering him a weak smile, “Play.” You pointed at the TV in encouragement, who were you to tell the man what to do? You just rolled out of bed and needed something to eat before you interacted anymore with those two idiots. 

JK looked excited as he ran back over to the couch before he spoke, “Play! Y/n play!” Your lips parted at the way he strung the two words together so easily, he was catching onto the language...fast...like extremely fast. His species was obviously intellect enough that this was a skill of theirs, or so you assumed for him at least. 

“No play. Eat.” You pointed at yourself before the tiny kitchen as you walked away hearing a noise that sounded like a whine from him. 

“Hey you're making breakfast for all of us right?” Jimin called out, making you glare him down and if lazerbeams could shoot from your eyes he’d be a pile of ash, he held out his arms as he spoke, “Damn fine, so much for sharing is caring in this household huh.” 

You rubbed your eyes ignoring him as you yawned, immediately making a cup of coffee before turning to the fridge only to jump at the tall boy standing in front of you peering down wide eyed and curious, “Eat.” He said singularly before he offered the world's cutest smile that you couldn’t begrudge as easily as you could Jimin. 

Fuck! He was asking you to cook for him and he had a cute almost bunny-like smile and he looked so endured and hoping you would make him something as good as Panda Express, which there was no way you could but jesus you were willing to try. 

“Breakfast,” You pronounced slowly, knowing this was a bit of a harder word for him as he tilted his head and repeated ‘Eat’ once more before you shook your head, “Eat, breakfast.” You tapped the clock on the stove that ticked away, showing it was ten in the morning. 

JK only rubbed his head in confusion before shrugging, he sat patiently in the stool at the counter as he happily watched you cook away. You didn’t make anything too fancy, just breakfast sandwiches for you both before you set his plate down in front of him, a happy smile on his face as his nose crinkled. 

Not even hesitating before he dug into the meal which you had purposely made him two given how big of an appetite the man had, something akin to pride swelled in your chest though at the sight of JK nearly devouring the sandwiches happily, Jimin stepped into the kitchen looking offended as he sputtered, “Oh so you’ll make breakfast for the hoe that can hardly speak but you won’t for your best friend, I see how it is. Is it because you know I won’t fuck you and he probably will?” 

“Shut up!” You hissed immediately, unable to even enjoy your own food because of your head ass best friend who only smiled viciously at how flustered you were. JK was naively munching on his food not understanding a single word either of you were saying and not caring either when his face was stuffed with food. 

 Seokjin entered the kitchen making himself something to eat as well, “Hey, are you guys going to that party tonight at Beta Tau?” He tilted his head as your nose immediately wrinkled, you used to do frat parties back when you were a freshman but since then you just couldn’t keep the high pace anymore or the sleazy guys. 

“I’m going!” Jimin called out, before tapping his chin as he looked towards JK before you, “Hey, we should bring JK along, give him some good socialization!” 

“Uh no, that’s a horrible idea,” You shook your head immediately, “And I never said I was going either, and if I don’t go he’s definitely not going.” JK tilted his head in curiosity, knowing his name had been brought up before he between you both. 

“Boo you whore,” Jimin tossed a piece of bagel at you as you dodged it, his nose wrinkling as he pointed his butterknife at you, “You’ve just been nursing your wounds ever since Mark dumped you. You know it’ll be good for you and him.” 

“I am not nursing wounds!” You hissed out, feeling like a black rain cloud was piling over your head as you crossed your arms, “And it is a bad idea, JK hardly knows anything about Earth, taking him to a frat party is like tossing a baby into the ocean.” 

“Umm all I hear is bullshit babe,” Jimin scoffed as he rolled his eyes, “Besides, a little party never hurt anyone, it’s our job to show off what Humans are capable of after all.”

“At a frat party…?” You frowned as you sighed. 

“He’s not a baby Y/n,” Seokjin frowned as he looked between you both, “Just because he can’t speak english and he’s unfamiliar with how we live doesn’t mean he isn’t intelligent, i’m sure they have parties where he’s from. If this is about Mark that’s kinda selfish to hold him back.” 

You weren’t…! You weren’t babying him! And this wasn’t about Mark! You just…! You weren’t in the mood to see him, especially attached to Lisa, who you had already thought was hot as it was but instead of going for you she went for your boyfriend and now they were together, 

It had been a pretty big blow to your ego. 

“Fuck fine! We can go what the fuck ever. I have to go get him clothes today though if you don’t want him bumming off you guys though.” Jungkook was still wearing his clothes from yesterday and he didn’t look the least bit concerned though he watched you guys curiously. 

Jimin pumps his fists in victory as he shoved the bagel in his mouth, “You guys do that then, it’ll be a good bonding session, anyways I have a lecture I’m already late for peace.” He threw up a peace sign before quickly exiting as you huffed, you thought it was weird he was here at 10am on a friday morning. 

“Bond?” JK perked up looking at you in excitement as your brows furrowed a little, how could he pick up random words so fast? Jesus, he’d be enrolling in college just to see what it was about within the weeks if he didn’t chill out. 

“Something like that,” You muttered, “Finish your food though,” You gestured to his sandwich before you picked up your own taking a bite, “I need a shower first but afterwards we can go out and get you some new clothes.” 

JK frowned as he looked down at his clothes once more, obviously slowly beginning to understand you more and more as his lips jutted a little, clearly he liked his clothing he was wearing. 

Maybe they just didn’t change clothes where he was from? It was difficult to say, regardless you shook your head finishing up before you went to your room. JK followed you around like a lost puppy as he had finished eating before you. 

You had paused at the door to the bathroom as you frowned, JK looking as if he’d totally come in if you’d let him, “Go play.” You pointed towards the living room where Seokjin had resumed Overwatch. 

JK frowned as he looked between the living room and you, “Bond.” He pointed at you making your pupils widen a little, what was that supposed to mean? He shuffled a little more, nearly chest to chest with you as you craned your head to look at him, jesus he had to be 6’3 in the average pool of 5’9 men, “Bond.” He said more firmly. 

“No.” You shook your head, your smile became awkward and your body movement became flustered, what was he talking about, “You are gonna go play with Seokjin.” You pressed a hand on his chest, pushing him back a little, his lips quivering a little and hurt in his eyes as he looked down at your face as if in search, “And I’m gonna go shower.” 

You couldn’t stand to look at it any longer before you quickly shut the door, locking it as you groaned, pressing your back against the door. Why did he have to look at you like that…?

“JK! Stop wandering off,” You lowered your voice a little as you tugged him along, your hand in his again as he had been exploring the store, “We’re here for clothes,” You held up the hanger you had in your hands as he frowned. He had been moping ever since you wouldn’t let him shower with you this morning. 

Or whatever his intention was. Regardless it didn’t change the fact that he needed clothes and despite being poor you were willing to throw out some money for him, but only because he was so cute. 

“Come on, let’s go to the dressing rooms, my arms are getting tired.” You tugged JK along who only pouted, obviously wanting to explore more than get things, but this was kind of a necessity. You gently pushed him into the dressing room, handing him the clothes as he frowned, his eyes looking down at the clothes then at you. 

Sighing you groaned, stepping into the small room with him before shutting the door, it wasn’t too cramped but you were uncomfortably close with him, “Okay….umm you obviously don’t understand the concept of trying on clothes so…” You flailed a little before tugging on his sweatshirt, he frowned before his eyes brightened a little. 

Understanding the message he pulled the sweatshirt over his head, your face immediately heating as you tried to not ogle his sculpted body which was muscular but slim, his shoulders broad but it suited his delicate small waist. 

You now had a good view of the marks that ran up his arms, they curved into a crescent at his hands and ran all the way along his arms, up his shoulders before curving to his back. You had changed his bandages this morning after you got out of the shower and admittedly they had healed a lot faster then you had assumed they would. 

 Whatever thoughts about his wounds however left your head as you nearly squeaked at the sight of tentacles immediately protruding from his back. Four to be exact, they were of a clear substance for the most part until your eyes followed further to their base where you noticed it matched the glow of his marks. 

A subtle pink and JK’s eyes a little bashful as he mumbled, “Bond…” His tentacles stretched forward a little as if in search for you before you squirmed towards the wall, trying your best to not let your horniness get the best of you in this situation. 

“U-ummm if you’re asking me to marry you the answer is gonna be no.” You held out the shirt in front of you to act as a semi shield to his advancement. Despite the language and cultural barrier JK seemed to understand your rejection as his lips quivered, his eyes dimming as he lowered them in acceptance. 

The tentacles immediately retracting back into his back as delicately took the hanger from you, fumbling to get it off and wow, way to make you feel like a dick. He wouldn’t even look at you as you sighed, relaxing a little as you grabbed the hanger pulling it off for him, “I’m gonna just let you do your business in here if you understand.” 

You exited as you grabbed your face, why did you feel so bad for rejecting him? You groaned as you leaned against the wall opposite of his room. Probably because you didn’t fully understand what he was trying to do if you could just speak the same language, and understand why he was here, maybe you wouldn’t have felt so bad. 

Seokjin kept saying he wasn’t a baby but...he was just so clueless as to how Earth worked, you couldn’t help it....You sighed as you rubbed your face, you just wished things could be easier. You had an afternoon lecture you needed to go to and you weren’t sure how JK would fair on his own and it admittedly gave you anxiety just thinking about it. 

He was curious by nature and you wouldn’t have a doubt he’d get bored easily just stuffed in your little apartment. JK opened the door to the dressing room, his gaze still cast on the ground as he handed the stuff back to you and you could only assume they all fit. You made sure they did because they were all at least two sizes too big for him but hey, they had to be comfy at least. 

Neither of you spoke as you paid for his things, holding the bags as you began walking back home, you didn’t like how quiet it was between you both and JK didn’t wander off not once as he let out what sounded like a sad sigh, his eyes looking up towards the sky as he mumbled something in his own language before back towards the ground. 

You felt like you kicked a puppy. 

You set his things down on the table as you looked towards the clock, you needed to get ready for class and honestly, you were gonna treat yourself to some starbucks after all this crap, “JK,” He peered up at you a little before his gaze became downcast, not looking at you but you knew he was listening, “I have to go to class…” You pointed to yourself, “You...need to stay...home.” You worded it carefully, his lips trembling now and you weren’t sure if he was going to cry or not, “I’ll be back!” You rushed, hurrying to the couch where he sat as you grabbed a remote. 

Pulling up Netflix as you shuffled around, deciding to put on a documentary for him on the ocean to keep him busy, maybe his language would improve meanwhile or...or he’d learn something, hell if you knew. 

JK frowned, sighing as he lowered his gaze in acceptance, reaching out you sighed, grabbing his face to make him look at you, “I’ll be back.” You spoke, your thumbs tethering over his skin which felt so soft and subtle, almost even more soft than any other person you had ever met, the glow of the TV made that iridescent tone reflect just a little. 

He really was the prettiest thing you had ever set your eyes on. 

He said nothing before you gave his face a little squeeze before letting him go, pressing play on the TV as he turned to watch, his expression slowly melted from sadness to that curious expression as he tilted his head, a purple glow from the crescents on his hands as he watched in fascination. 

You smiled a little before you grabbed your bags and slowly closed the door. You’d just hope he could figure out how to use the remote if he wanted to watch something else. 

Class was slow and you couldn’t help but wonder what JK was doing the whole time much to your frustration, you needed to focus on taking notes as midterms were coming up and you would absolutely fail if you didn’t pay attention. 

The whole class dragged on for two hours and in order to try and do damage control for your lack of attention you ended up going to the library to study more and make flashcards as you had originally planned before your life fell apart due to an alien binging on netflix back at home. 

You eventually got a peace of mind when you pushed your earbuds in and put on music to help you focus. Proud of your work you leaned back in your chair as you sighed in contentment before your eyes finally landed on your phone, not thinking much before your eyes nearly popped out of your head. It was almost seven in the afternoon! Fuck! You’d be leaving within the hour to get to the frat. 

Shoving all of your shit back into your bag you hurriedly zipped up before running out of the library, fumbling the whole way home before you entered the house in a rush. Much to your surprise though Seokjin and Jimin were already ready and JK looked happy to be around them both. 

What you didn’t expect for what you had bought him to look so good, he was wearing a fitted shirt and jeans, Jimin must’ve let him borrow his leather jacket and those fingerless clothes adorned his hands, “Hey hold still!” Seokjin spoke as he kept combing his hair, obviously styling it up, “I should’ve gone into cosmetology for being this good at turning trash to gold.” 

“Not everyone wants to look like Tinky Winky on steroids Seok.” You called out as you plopped your bag down in the ‘study corner’ which you and Jimin invented as a way to justify your laziness and Seokjin had said you both were on thin ice but he’d allow it because he also was lazy. 

Seokjin whipped around, those bratz lips of his parting in offense as you shrugged, holding up your hands, not about to apologize for the healthy dose of truth he needed at least once a day. 

“Y/n!” JK cried out, immediately running over to you making Seokjin groan as he grabbed your shoulders, frantically checking over you as if making sure you weren’t hurt. You frowned as you looked down at yourself. 

“I think he was worried about you.” Jimin was licking a drumstick at the moment while sitting on the handle of the couch, “He wouldn’t stop saying your name when I first got in and he looked like a scared puppy. Had to convince him that it was not a good idea to go look for you like he first suggested.” 

“Suggested?” You frowned as you looked back up at the tall boy who immediately cupped your face making you squirm a little, perhaps startled and a little touch starved, “Umm I told you I’d be back…” Not surprised he didn’t understand you but still. 

You gently grabbed his wrists, tugging them away from your face as you smiled awkwardly, trying to not think about the fact that this man looked even hotter then before, if that was even possible, “I need to go get dressed.” 

“Nope, nu uh, I’m not finished with you.” JK was yanked back with a whine as Seokjin grabbed him by the collar as he had attempted to follow you, much to your relief because you didn’t need another episode of earlier today. 

You didn’t take too long to get dressed, choosing to stay casual as you typically would given you didn’t plan of staying long and hey, if all hell broke lose maybe you’d get yourself and JK mcdonalds on the way back. 

Pulling the flannel over your shoulders you stepped out of your room, Jimin incessantly jingling his keys as he spoke, “You took too long, we’re gonna be late!” 

“You’re late everywhere we go you whore.” You rolled your eyes, grabbing JK’s hand as you all left the apartment, he still seemed a bit confused as to where you all were going but had no complaints as you both sat together in the back of the car which he inspected.

Pressing the button on top of the ceiling only to immediately squint with a whine at the light, you pressed it again turning it off as you looked at him, “Stop touching things.” He pouted a little, choosing to grab your hand as he mumbled something in his own language. 

The ride was short and you couldn’t stop dreading what might possibly happen at the party, one scared with JK and it was over, the police would get involved and they would take him off to some lab where he could get tested and poked and prodded and the idea was upsetting to think about. JK hadn’t been here for more then a day and somehow you decided taking him to a party was a good idea? 

You crumpled in your seat, looking outside the window as you watched the party rage on in the house. Of course you wanted to avoid your ex but that wasn’t your main worry for the night. Opening the door you stepped out, JK quickly following after you as you called out, “JK...stay with me okay?” 

He nodded though you weren’t quite sure if he understood, regardless he seemed happy enough to hold your hand as the three of you entered, the music was blaring and the crowd was big tonight given it was a friday and everyone could cut loose. Not the wildest you had seen but certainly not the smallest. You looked at JK in concern but much to your surprise he only looked around in curiosity as he nodded, “Party?” He asked as he raised his brows. 

You nodded, “Yeah, it’s a party.” You called back over the music, looking around for somewhere a little more quiet but Jimin cut in, grabbing JK’s arm, “Hey, we’re playing beerpong and I need to know if he has good aim.” 

JK was immediately tugged from you as you glared at Jimin his smile cheeky, “Chill, he’ll be fine, looks like he’s used to this kind of scene. Maybe he’s a space fuckboy. We’ll watch him go relax.” JK looked back at you mildly concerned but you gave him a reassuring smile as you nodded, despite not fully agreeing with it. 

Could JK even drink? You felt stressed but then again you did pour rubbing alcohol all over a wound that could have reacted like acid to him, you supposed if he knew something was dangerous he would avoid it, or so you could only hope. 

“Bitch! Why haven’t you been answering my messages!?” You jumped at the sight of the blond looking ready to mow you over, Solar’s heels clicked against the ground as she nearly ran for blood at the sight of you. 

Cowering a little your lips twisted into a sheepish smile, your best friend glaring down at you and a pout adorning her lips, you hadn’t meant to ignore her texts the whole day but other things had obviously taken precedent. Should you tell her? 

“It better be for a good reason.” She pointed at you accusingly before you made your way to the buildable table set out with drinks on it, purposely avoiding the jungle juice you knew for a fact probably had that shitty bang energy in as you grabbed a bottle of benchmark, sure it was cheap and tasted like shit but didn’t that sum up your whole personality?

“Well…” You took a breath, your expression contorting a little as you looked up at Solar who waiting expectantly, why the fuck not? If anyone could keep a secret it was her- hence her promise to Kim Jenny in 5th grade that she wouldn’t tell you that she liked the same boy and ended up helping her ask him out. 

Which you only found out about last year in a drunk truth or dare session and you marked your own words that the next time you saw Jenny you'd slap her across the face. Which you ended up not, instead you were still drunk and ended up crying with her because her dog had died earlier that day. 

Still, the principle remained, Solar would keep it a secret. Taking a long chug of the mixed drink a warm burn settled in your throat, “I discovered an alien and- he has tentacles that literally fucking explode from his back.” 

Solar nearly snorted out her drink as she began laughing, “Girl you watch too much hentai. Seriously, what’s up?” Her laughing died down before an uncomfortable silence sat between you both, your lips quivered only a little as you looked up at her, her expression immediately dropping, “You’re joking…” 

“I wish I was Sol…” You took another long drink. 

“You’re joking!” She shouted, her lips dropping, “Okay no, tell me everything! Where is it? What does it look like? You better not be pranking me right now…!” 

You waved a hand, walking as she quickly followed as you recalled the events of how you found JK and what had ensued in the last 24 hours before you paused at the beerpong table, pointing at JK. Your face warm at the sight of a cocky smirk on his face, obviously his team winning as he landed yet another shot assuming by the sound of the other teams groan. 

“That...Y/n…” She turned to you deflating a little at the sight of him, obviously hoping for something a little more...alien like, “You’re such an ass!” 

“He is! You just can’t see the shitty avatar cosplay beneath all the clothes! He does have tentacles again, by the way...I am not crazy!” You grabbed your chest in offense, “You wanna know what I’ve been doing the last 24 hours, there it is! Trying to figure out what to do with an alien that keeps trying to bone me.” 

“Bone you?” Solar raised her brows before she scoffed a little, her brows raised as she took a sip from her cup, “Thought being a monster fucker was always your thing?” You shoved her a little, making her snort in amusement, again, if you could just figure out what his motive was and...maybe have a decent conversation, “Let's say he is an alien...not that I believe you but let's say he is...what are you gonna do about it? I mean really….?” 

You rubbed your head as you frowned, “Well...I don’t know.” you confessed with an awkward expression as she sighed, “I just…! I’m assuming he probably has his own plan…! But generally I’m hoping as he learned english- which is extremely fast by the way- that he’ll eventually tell us what happened and where to go from here I mean…” 

You frowned a little, something sad stirring inside you, there was nothing holding JK back from just leaving you all one night when he’s found what he needs, or figures out where to go or...whatever it is he’s doing here, “If he even stays here long enough…” 

Solar hummed before tapping her cheek, “That’s it, I’m playing against him, he hasn’t missed a single shot.” You tried to call out to her but it was useless, when Solar was determined, nothing would stop her.

You sighed as you turned away, feeling too much anxiety from watching JK to try and come in further especially if he caught sight of you. JK surprisingly enough seemed as though he had fun a lot of the night, you had stayed curled up in a corner on your phone most of the time brooding while nursing your drink which had admittedly helped you relax a little. 

Eventually though, good times always come to an end, this being no exception, “Hey babe, long time no see?” You stared down at your phone, scrolling through instagram as you ignored the sound of Mark’s voice, “Awwh c’mon, don’t ignore me.” 

You inhaled sharply, closing your eyes before you put away your phone, looking up at him as you raised a brow trying to ignore your heart racing just a hair, “Can I help you?” You asked, trying to act as if this totally wasn’t freaking you the fuck out. 

“You sure can,” Mark flirted, sending you that wink that was the very reason you had spun out in the first place with this guy and god you couldn’t deny his flirty nature always got the best of you, “Me and Lisa were hoping for a third in bed tonight and I thought, what girl would be better than my main girl.” 

He smiled, delicately holding your chin with a proud look and for a half a second you had forgotten how much of a bitch he was, that was until your mind lingered on the word ‘main girl’ to which your lips curled slowly, “...Main girl?” You scoffed immediately slapping his hand away as you shouted, “Main girl!? Since when was I the main girl!?” You watched Mark groan as you shook your head, “Uh no! You came up to me! You don’t get to act like this and you were the one that left me in the first place, why don’t you go back to your main girl!” 

“God you’re so over emotional-” You didn’t even let the little gaslighting fuck finish before you splashed him with your drink, a scoff escaping him as he raised his brows, “Are you fucking serious Y/n?” 

“Yeah, fuck you.” You shoved him before walking out of the kitchen, what a piece of shit! How dare he act all put out when he was the one that approached you, in a total douchebag way at that! You weren’t sure where everybody had went and at this point it was almost ten o’clock and you didn’t care! You just wanted to take a warm shower and go to bed!

You stepped down the stairs of the frat house and into the cool night as as you heaved a breath, scoffing as you rolled your eyes, this was exactly why you hated going to frat parties at Beta Tau now because you almost always ended up in an argument with Mark. 

Stupid little fuck. You muttered it to yourself as you wrapped the flannel around you, your eyes warily finding that of a drunk elderly man who definitely appeared in his forties, alone and his eyes immediately finding your lone figure. 

You kept your eyes on your phone as you slowly approached in hopes of walking past him, you hated parties, you hated going out at night, you hated the fact that you let yourself get so heated in the moment, “Well aren’t you just looking pretty tonight sweetheart.” You sighed in exasperation at the sound of his voice calling out to you.

“Thanks.” You offered dryly, not even attempting to smile because you knew it would just sound like that much more of an invitation to him and yet, even your singular dry word was enough of  a green light to him. 

A hand suddenly wrapped around your upperarm yanking you over as you squeaked out, “How about I take you back to my place? Show you a good time yeah?” He reeked of beer and your nose wrinkled as your expression twisted and your hands trembled. 

“Sir- I..I really need to get home…” You mumbled, not wanting to provoke him but your fear was getting the better of you by the second as you tried to keep yourself from panicking. You’ve never gone out tonight and you should’ve stood your ground regardless of who went were. 

His hands squeezed on your arms eliciting a noise of pain from you and you couldn’t even look at the guy as he growled, “Or I could go home with you sweetheart, or better yet. Why don’t we go over here…! Ow you bitch!” You had smashed his foot with your own but it wasn’t enough for him to let go of you. 

Instead his grip only got tighter making you cry out in pain as your eyes stung with tears, wishing he could just let you go...Within seconds though the man was nearly ripped away from you and a larger figure had wedged between you both, “Leave.” It was a one word command that was clear and demanding from JK, you couldn’t see his face and you weren’t sure you wanted too. 

JK was shoved back from the guy and taking this as an offense, you nearly jumped back at the sight of tentacles bursting from his back, your eyes bulging at the sight, not a single rip in his clothes as if they were transparent yet a lightening of bright fiery ran streaked through him. Your lips nearly dropped though because they obviously weren’t too transparent as JK used them to slam the guy into a wall with enough force to drive him unconscious. 

“JK! Hey! Woah holy shit!” You grabbed your head, JK whipped around, anger still evident on his face but his concern had taken over as he called out your name, what he hadn’t expected as for you to drag him into the alleyway. 

Tentacles still gracefully flowing behind him as if they were underwater, your eyes darting everywhere and anywhere for anyone to have possibly seen and yet…! “Don’t you ever do that again!” You hissed, grabbing your head in stress, if anyone saw that…! Anyone it was over! “Someone could’ve see you!” 

JK might not have fully understood what you said, but he could understand a few words here and there and your tone of voice, his expression darkening and his lips twitching in anger and disagreement, “Hurt!” He growled back pointing at you. 

“I don’t care if I got hurt!” You cried out, running your hands through your hair, anxiety shot through your veins, “You can’t do that!” You pointed at his tentacles, “You aren't human! Humans can’t do that!”

“Hurt!” He growled even louder, now grabbing your forearms in demand, firm enough that you couldn’t pull away but gentle enough that it didn’t hurt, “Y/n hurt!” He emphasized as best he could, his nose wrinkling in frustration as he spoke, “Protect!” It was spoken a little word but you understood overall what he meant. 

“Yes you can protect me that’s fine! But you have to act human!” You pointed at yourself, shaking his arm away before forcefully rolling up his sleeve, the marks which were burning red, “Human!” You snapped as you pointed at your own bare arm compared to his, “Not human!” You pointed to JK’s, “You can’t be that careless!” 

You were just lucky that the guy was drunk and hopefully wouldn’t remember any of this, JK’s lips twitched as if he still didn’t agree with you, snapping something back in his own tongue as he roughly shoved his sleeve back down before he went on what sounded like a long rant, the tentacles retracting into his back once more as he threw his arms up and you stepped back a little. 

You had never heard him so...vocal...or angry before...Which you had brought on yourself, you understood he thought it was the right thing to do and it would’ve been fine had he not decided to get his four other tendons involved. You above anything else, didn’t want JK to be taken from you. JK kept going though in his tongue, directly all of his- what sounded like unpleasant words at you as you crossed your arms, looking at the ground with gritted teeth and ignoring the way your eyes were attempting to blur in tears. 

Even if you couldn’t understand him you were positive you didn’t like or agree with whatever he was saying. You fixed your flannel that had been ruffled from the man as you sniffled harshly, trying to ignore the wet warm tears that began trickling down your face. JK had paused from his rant before frowning, watching the liquid trickling down your face as you closed your eyes. 

Puffing a breath he sighed, figuring it wasn’t any use in trying to talk to you anyways, Orion tongue was beyond ancient to human civilization which is why he hadn’t bothered trying to say any sort of phrases in his own language. 

JK couldn’t stand seeing you like this, from what he observed on- if he assumed he was correct- the TV, humans often depicted this as sadness. Unable to stand this gesture JK did what he had watched, wrapping his arms around you in a form of human affection as he set his chin on top of your head, wetness staining his shirt and he held a silent victorious moment at your reciprocation to his affection. Trying to bond with you had been such a pain in the ass with the language barrier and you almost always looked uncomfortable any time he tried to initiate a bonding session. 

True the locations might have been inappropriate but he was excited, he wanted to find a mate and soon, after all that was part of the original plan, even if it wasn’t supposed to be on earth. You had mumbled something he couldn’t quite figure out until you had mentioned the word Home, as in the place you slept. JK nodded, assuming that was where you had intended on going in the first place. 

He had caught sight of you leaving the house extremely upset and he wanted to tag along in hope that maybe with some alone time at the house, you’d both finally be able to properly bond, he could feel his scaling warm a bit and he could even spot a tint of pink from beneath his gloves much to his embarrassment. 

Knowing this was a human affection JK kept his arm wrapped around you as you both walked home, your hands on your eyes as you sniffled a little and you hadn’t spoken the entire walk back making him a little sad. Your voice was soft and pleasant on his ears which often picked up too many odd and miscellaneous sounds. 

Pulling off your flannel you sighed, muttering something that he leaned in a little to focus on understanding, knowing it sounded something like an apology. JK only offered a small smile, “Friend?” He spoke softly, he liked that word, it was the first one you had taught him after all. 

You nodded, looking severely tired as you repeated the word back before padding to your room to get changed, little by little JK understood more and more about humanity on Earth which wasn’t exactly new, but rather...a bit archaic by Orionia’s standards.

JK had made sure to go into the room with the odd looking boat to change into clothes, knowing it always elicited an odd reaction from you whenever he changed in front of you. Getting into something more comfortable he could appreciate the human need for comfort. 

Feeling a bit timid he peeped into your room where you laid on your bed, looking half asleep but you gestured him in much to his excitement, understanding bonding wouldn’t likely happen now that you were too tired but he appreciated your company, you made things much easier for his stay on Earth. 

Pulling out your lap held device JK tilted his head, oh…! This was like the mainboard back on the ship, just a smaller version of it, a computer? But a lap verison? He furrowed his brows a little, the name on the tip of his tongue as his nose wrinkled. Much to his delight though you typed up the same place where he had been watching educational videos earlier today. 

He only hoped you’d stay this time, he had been extremely worried the Arbitrator's had found you, your friends however had said multiple times you were just at ‘Class’ whatever that was. And they seemed calm enough and if they knew your routine then...he had no reason to assume they were conspiring with the enemy. 

Much to his happiness you laid back down as you stretched out before curling up, your eyes closing as he clicked onto the video of the ocean, as he had learned Earth held quite the exotic lifeform in the sea. 

It was nearing 11:30 which you had pointed at the clock earlier today except now it was dark out, JK could only deduce there was certain names for eating at certain times of the day, he tapped on his chin, scrolling down the assortment of human entertainment. Wanting something to figure out how to win your affection to be his mate. A loud piercing screech nearly jolted him out of bed, holding his head as he frantically looked towards you before feeling relief fill him. If you couldn’t hear this then…! 

He fumbled as he hurried to the window, pushing through the blinds as he peered out, seeing a large flare being shot up into the sky in a deep hue of blue and purple, that acted as something he saw on a video. A firework, if he remembered correctly. JK perked up, Taehyung and Namjoon must be okay, this was what…? At least ten miles south, in human terms? He remembered that much from the academy. 

JK nearly ran out the door before he paused, his eyes looking over your sleeping figure he...he couldn't just leave you here...and…! He perked up, “Y/n!” He called out, jostling you awake as you rolled over with a groan, “Y/n! Home!” He spoke determined, if he could get you to go with him then he could explain everything. 

“What? JK seriously? This better be important.” You groaned as your eyes tiredly cracked opened at the sight of doe eyes looking at you urgently, he nearly ripping you out of bed with a squeak, “Home!” He spoke as he brought your shoes to you before pointing out the window, “Home!” 

...Oh...oh god, this was going to be a long night, wasn’t it…? 

[ssahotchhner]

reckless endangerment

the reader can't let go of the trauma of aaron being kidnapped and tortured six months ago.

pairing: hotch x reader

warnings: kidnapping, torture, smut, dom!hotch

masterlist

questions, comments, concerns

It was stupid to jump on the helicopter that contained at least two terrorists as it took off that roof in Manhattan. Even stupider that you had done it alone, Aaron’s voice screaming for you from behind. You weren’t sure he would forgive you for this if you survived so you supposed it was a good thing you weren’t planning on surviving.

Why did you jump on the helicopter, you may ask, and that would be a reasonable question. Perhaps it was your hero complex finally getting the better of you, knowing the helicopter was planning on flying straight into the Empire State Building, loaded with explosives. Or perhaps it was because these terrorists were part of a group that had tortured Aaron for hours a few months ago when he was on assignment in Pakistan and you had always believed fully in revenge. Aaron did not, he was much better than you.

“Hold your fire!” Aaron had yelled when it was clear you weren’t getting off that helicopter, “Federal agent on board!”

“With all due respect, sir, but you said that helicopter was headed for the Empire State Building where there are thousands of tourists and--”

“I said hold your fire.” Aaron snarls at the leader of the SWAT team. He knows he’s being ridiculous, letting emotion cloud his judgement, but how can he let them blow up a helicopter that you’re on? And why the fuck had you jumped on it in the first place?

The SWAT agent glared at him, “That helicopter gets within a hundred yards of the building, I’m ordering my men to shoot it down.” And then he walked away.

“Hotch!” Morgan yells, the rest of the team not far behind him, “What the hell did she do that for?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” He responded. He was furious with you, so much so he couldn’t think straight.

JJ steps closer, the panic evident on her face, “She’s not responding on radio.”

He looks at the rest of the team, all of them one step away from absolutely losing their minds over the fact that one of their own had gone on a suicide mission without consulting any of them, and then he looks back to the helicopter that’s getting smaller and smaller by the second.

***

SIX MONTHS AGO

You take a sip from your glass, “I miss you.” You say to your computer screen.

On that screen, SSA Aaron Hotchner smiles back at you, “I know. I’ll be home before you know it.”

“When you get back,” You say slowly, “Can we… Can we tell them? About us?”

By them, he knew you meant the team. He gets quiet, the smile falling off his face, “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Hotch, they’re like our family. I feel terrible keeping things from them. It was fun in the beginning, but I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

He swallows, but then nods, “Okay.”

“Really?”

He smiles, “Yeah, of course. I don’t like hiding you either.”

You’re about to tell him you love him when there are suddenly men in the tent, “Aaron?” He looks around and scrambles for his gun, but he’s too late. One of the men hits him in the side of the head with a blunt object and he’s out, “Aaron!” You yell and then the feed cuts out.

***

It was surprisingly easy to disarm them, you supposed because you had surprised them. You easily knocked the gun away from the one who wasn’t piloting, ducked some of his punches before kicking him square in the chest, causing him to fall down. He hit his head on a hard metal handle on the way down, knocking himself unconscious. The Empire State Building was looming closer and closer and you knew if you didn’t stop it, SWAT would shoot down the helicopter. It would lead to less deaths than crashing directly into the building would, but people would still die from fallen debris. You wouldn’t let that happen. You pointed your gun at the man in the cockpit.

***

“Garcia, is her body cam on?”

“No, sir, but I can turn it on.”

Seconds later, the team was viewing the inside of the helicopter. You had knocked one of the men unconscious and handcuffed him to a handle, but you still had to get control of the helicopter.

“Can you hack the helicopter, Garcia?”

He hears the frantic typing of the technical analyst, but she huffs on the other end, “Not under these time constraints no, by the time I get in it’ll be too late.”

“Agent Hotchner, the snipers have locked in on the target.”

“Just give her another minute.”

“We don’t have another minute.”

He sighs, “She’s about to take control of the cockpit.”

“Does she know how to fly a chopper?”

“She’ll figure it out. Stand down, I won’t say it again.” Hotch’s radio goes silent after that.

***

You waste no time getting the team together and forty minutes later you’re sitting in the conference room, styrofoam cup of coffee warming your hands.

“You were video calling Hotch? At 10 PM?” Reid asks. From anyone else, it would sound accusatory, but you knew he was just genuinely curious.

“10 PM here is 7AM for him. I caught him right before he started his day, wanted to ask him about a case.”

Spencer frowns, “What case?”

Your mouth falls open as you try to fumble for something, but it’s already too late. “I knew it.” Rossi says quietly.

You grind your teeth together, “I’m sorry, is dissecting my love life more important to you guys than finding Hotch after he’s been kidnapped by a terrorist group?” You stand, squashing the empty styrofoam cup in your hand and toss it in the waste bin as you walk out of the room.

Moments later, Spencer’s standing next to you and you immediately feel guilty, “I didn’t mean to pry,” He says, “Honestly, the two of you being romantically involved was the last thing I would have guessed.”

The corners of your lips turn up just slightly, “I didn’t mean to snap in there, I know you meant nothing by it, I just… Right before he was taken we talked about telling you all. Together. Once he got back.” You sniff, “Part of me feels like all of you figuring it out without him here is the universe saying he’s going to die out there. I know that’s silly, but…”

“It’s not silly at all. When you’ve witnessed something traumatic, like a loved one being taken away in front of you with no way for you to help, your brain looks for anything to rationalize it. Even the universe predicting the outcome.”

Spencer's voice throwing out facts was actually fairly soothing, “Thank you, Dr. Reid.”

“Come on.” He squeezes your shoulder, “Let’s bring Hotch home.”

***

“Slowly put your hands up and back away from the controls,” You say, flexing your fingers on the gun, “Now!” You say when he doesn’t move. You’re running out of time. Finally, he slowly raises his hands, but at the last second turns and lunges for you. The helicopter tips as you fall over, your gun misfires at the ceiling before tumbling out of the chopper, and you’re free falling until your face slams on the floor and your hands grab the outside edge of the helicopter so hard you’re sure you ripped out your fingernails. Dangling, you grunt as you scramble to hook your feet on something. The pilot, already assuming you’re dead, had gone back to the cockpit.

Finally, you haul yourself back inside and run to him, ripping him out of his seat. He’s bigger than you, though, and quickly overpowers you. His hands wrap around your throat as you’re pinned to the floor and you’re choking, suffocating. All you can think is at least you’ll die before the chopper goes up in flames. And then, in a last ditch effort that’s more involuntary reaction than conscious choice, you’re able to knee him in the groin. His hands immediately leave your throat and instead of taking the moment to catch your breath, you kick him off you and he rolls to the open door. You reach for him, but you’re too late, he falls.

You wanted revenge, but you didn’t want to kill anyone. But you had no time to think about that now. You cough a few times and then stumble over to the cockpit. For the first time since you jumped on the helicopter, you turn your radio back on.

“I don’t suppose one of you knows how to fly a chopper?”

***

When you reenter the conference room everyone’s watching the last few seconds of the video call. They look at you apologetically and you nod in acknowledgement. You have to close your eyes at the sound of your own screams.

“Who was he working to take down while he was there?” Morgan asked.

“The leader of the Kashmir Jehad Force, his name was Syed Khan.” You said.

JJ frowned, “He told you all of this? Wasn’t it classified?”

You nodded, “Hotch asked to bring me on a few weeks ago when they were stuck. I was debriefed, but then they had a break before I could get on the plane. They finished the operation a few days ago, Hotch was supposed to come home in the next couple of days.”

“So Khan is dead?” Rossi asked.

You nod, “No one was supposed to know it was the US Government who did it. They wanted it to look like an accident. They shouldn’t have known Hotch was there.”

“Are you thinking there’s a double agent?” Emily asked.

You shrug, “It’s either that or Hotch was sloppy. Which one would you bet on?” The room is silent. “Exactly.” You say quietly.

***

They don’t have time to be relieved about the fact that you single handedly re-hijacked the chopper because now you need to figure out how to safely land it and you’re a football field length away from the Empire State Building. Reid jumps into action, apparently having read a lot about helicopters when he was younger.

“I’m assuming he had it on autopilot, the button will be glowing green on your left, turn it off and then get ready to steer.”

You sigh, “Spencer, I am so happy to hear your voice.” You flip off the switch like he said and the helicopter immediately starts beeping at you and plummets. You try and remain calm and pull it up and then turn the helicopter in the opposite direction from the building and sigh. “You know how to land this thing, right Reid?”

“Yeah, I’ll walk you through it.”

Hotch has to walk away from the conversation because he’s so caught up in feeling relieved that you’re alive and absolutely furious with you for doing what you did. He thinks he knows why you did it. You had been absolutely torn up when he had been taken while in Pakistan and you had been on edge this whole case knowing the terrorists you were after had been a part of the group that had tortured him.

***

When Hotch wakes up, he’s chained to the ceiling by his wrists, shirtless. He can feel a migraine blooming from his temple where he was hit, but he knows the real pain hasn’t even begun yet. He can hear talking from the corner of the room and before they can see that he’s awake, he begins detaching himself. He pictures your face, smiling at him on your first date. The way you smile sleepily at him when he kisses you first thing in the morning. The way you scrunch up your forehead just a little when you’re thinking really hard. The first time you told him you loved him. And then he’s with you and no one can touch him, no one can hurt him.

***

“Do you know where they would keep him?” Strauss is sitting in the conference room now, looking at you, “You were debriefed, is it enough for a profile?”

You sighed deeply, eyes darting back and forth as you tried to recall all the information you know, “I know most of the profile for Kahn, but we never focused on the group as a whole because we wanted to find him alone when we neutralized him.” You tap your fingers on the table, “I have no idea what a group without Kahn would function like, even knowing what I knew before, the fact that Kahn is gone would change the whole profile. We don’t know who took over.”

“And what do you know about the group?”

“Um,” You blinked a few times, you were having a hard time focusing, “They were all followers, none of them would have been capable of leading. Whoever is in control now was outside of the group.”

“Maybe our double agent?” Emily says.

You nod, “That would make sense.”

Strauss frowns, “You think there’s a double agent?”

“There’s no way the group would have known Hotch was responsible if they didn’t have insider information.” You say.

“What you’re proposing is that a terrorist somehow infiltrated a Top Secret US Operation, waited for us to kill a terrorist leader, then took over that same terrorist group and kidnapped the leader of our operation.” Strauss said and waited for someone to say something, “Does that not sound ridiculous to anyone else?”

“Do you have any other ideas?” You ask sharply.

“Yes, that Agent Hotchner left something behind at the scene that pointed the remaining group in his direction.”

You’re shaking your head, “If you’re so certain that’s the case, then check their old stronghold. If it’s a new guy, they would have abandoned it, which I’m certain they did. But be my guest, waste our time and your men.” You storm out of the conference room for a second time.

***

You find yourself in Aaron’s office and you tilt your head to the side, stretching out a kink in your neck before sitting on the couch. You look around the office, well decorated with plaques commemorating his work in the bureau. When you get up and walk around to his side of the desk, you notice a small gold frame that hadn’t been there before. In it is a small picture of the both of you sitting on the beach at sunset. When had he put this here? When had he decided that it was worth the risk of your coworkers noticing that new frame? Seeing you propped on his desk like that?

And then you were crying and you couldn’t stop it and you just wanted to hold him. “Looks like you just outed your relationship to Erin.” You looked up to see Rossi standing in the doorway and wiped your tears, sniffling.

“Not like she can say anything considering you both make it a habit of checking in at the same hotel every weekend.” You snap, and then sigh instantly, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, kiddo.” He says and walks over to put a hand on your shoulder, “You miss him.”

“A few hours ago we were talking about what we were going to do when he gets back, and now he’s gone.”

“He’s coming back, Y/N. We’ll find him.”

***

You had been right about the former stronghold being abandoned. All signs now pointed to a double agent. You tried to think of everything Aaron had told you about the team that would be a part of the operation, but you kept coming up empty. When a list was brought out with pictures of each you went over it again, every conversation you had had with Aaron since he left.

And then… there was one interaction, one interruption that you and Aaron had both dismissed at the time.

A man walks up behind Aaron while he’s talking to you, debriefing you back when they thought you’d be flying in. At the look on your face, Hotch had turned around to face him, “Can I help you with something?”

The man had simply shook his head and left, but you could have sworn for the rest of the call, he had lingered. Listening. Aaron had explained to you that most of those involved in the operation hadn’t known the full details of the plan up until they had left, in order to prevent situations like the one they were in now.

There were times when Aaron was talking to you on the phone and he told you he felt like someone had been watching him, but you both dismissed it as paranoia. And when the pictures and names were presented to you again, you pointed to the man you were sure you saw on that one video call. “What do we know about him?” You asked.

And the look of dread on Erin’s face when you pointed him out told you everything you needed to know. Garcia did what she always did and soon they knew every detail of his life. He was a textbook narcissist and sociopath. Incredibly charming, everyone loved him, he could convince almost anyone to follow him. He had an FBI background and rumor had it, he thought he was to be the one to lead this operation until Aaron showed up.

“So he takes over an entire terrorist organization just to take out Hotch?” Morgan asks, “We have to be missing something.”

You’re getting impatient, “Well let’s figure it out on the jet.”

“This team is not going to Pakistan.” Erin says firmly, “We will inform an extraction team that’s already on the ground when we figure out where they’re holding him.” You’re already rolling your eyes and preparing a retort and she notes that and continues, “If you can’t compartmentalize your emotions, Agent, I will have you removed from the case.”

You hold yourself back from yelling that you need to be the one who brings him home, because you know how ridiculous it sounds and you being stubborn isn’t helping Aaron. “Fine.” You say, “Here’s what I can tell you.”

***

You’re on top of him, straddling his hips, giggling as your hair falls in your face. He reaches up to push it away and you grind your hips against his. “Hotchner.” You say, “You have to wake up.” He frowns. It’s not your voice.

And before he can stop it, your face swims away and it’s replaced by SSA Scott Carter. It takes him a few moments to realize that Carter isn’t here to help him and that he was probably behind this whole thing. “Carter?” He manages.

Carter smiles, “Ah, the darling of the BAU finally awakens. What were you dreaming about, Hotchner? Sounded juicy. Was it about your girlfriend?” His head shot up at that. If you were in danger, he’d kill this son of a bitch. “Oh, I hit a nerve.” He smirks, “Did you tell her you weren’t planning on coming home this week? That you had some loose strings to tie up?”

Hotch blinked, his brain was still fuzzy from what he assumed was a concussion, “You… You’re the one stealing the military weapons and selling them to the terrorist organizations.” He hadn’t told you he was planning on staying a few more days to figure out who was transporting the weapons, he had still been hoping to figure it out before his flight was scheduled to leave, but Carter had been his prime suspect. Apparently, Carter had figured out he was on to him. It was why he was able to get Khan’s men to drag him from his tent this morning.

Carter gives him a slow clap, “You know, for a profiler, I’m disappointed you hadn’t figured it out sooner, Hotchner. Really, I’m very torn up about it. I have half a mind to fly to Quantico after you’re dead and demand your position.”

Aaron laughs, “You’re out of your mind if you think my team won’t figure this out in a quarter of the time it took me to.”

“What did you tell them, Hotchner?”

“I haven’t been in contact with my team in weeks.”

“Oh, but your girlfriend. Did you think I’d forget she’s a federal agent in the BAU as well?”

“She doesn’t know anything, the mission was classified, you know that.”

“You never mentioned your suspicions of a lucrative weapons trading operation?”

“No.”

Carter hums and takes out a knife, “I don’t believe you.”

Hotch doesn’t flinch, “Then go ahead and carve me up, Carter. You won’t be the first.”

***

With Reid’s help, after working through the night you were able to narrow down the possible holding sights to three places and Strauss ordered three separate teams to check each place. Now the only thing left to do was wait.

You’re sitting alone in Hotch’s office when Penelope, JJ, and Emily all walk in, JJ holding a tea for you. You give her a small smile of thanks as you take it, “You guys don’t have to sit with me, I’m okay.”

“Did you think we were going to just let you gloss over the fact you never told us you were dating Hotch?” Penelope said.

You manage a genuine smile and look down at your tea, “We weren’t sure when or how to tell you guys. Or if it would make things weird.”

JJ shrugs, “We’re already family and families are weird.”

“Not the point,” Penelope interjects, “We need all the details now, who made the first move?”

“He did, actually,” You smile recalling the memory, “He asked me if he could call me outside of work hours and I said sure, he could always call me to discuss a case. Then he got really red and I asked him if there was something else he would want to call me about. And he cleared his throat and asked if he could call me to ask me out to dinner sometime and I laughed and said yes.”

Emily shakes her head, “Hard to imagine that man getting flustered over anything.”

You laugh, “Yeah, he gets really awkward around women he likes romantically, it’s kind of endearing.” You clear your throat, “Thank you guys for trying to distract me.”

JJ nods, “They’re going to find him. Alive.”

You nod, “Yeah. I just wish it was my face he was seeing first.”

***

You had somehow managed to fall asleep at some point, head in JJ’s lap with her fingers gently combing through your hair.

“Guys.” Spencer’s voice jolts you from sleep, “They found him.”

All of you jump up, but you’re the first one out of the room, trailing Spencer, “He’s okay?”

“He’s injured, but yeah, he’s gonna be fine.”

Your legs almost give out, but JJ and Emily come on either side to grab your arms as you walk into the conference room.

“They’re airlifting him to the hospital, he was stabbed a couple of times but they were shallow, some burns, looks like he was waterboarded as well,” Erin Strauss smiles, “But he’s fine. They’ll transfer him to DC first thing in the morning.”

“What about Carter?” You ask.

“It turns out he was stealing weapons from the military and selling them to terrorist organizations and Hotch was onto him. That’s why he took him. Not because of Khan. He wanted to know how much Hotch knew and if he had told you anything.”

You shake your head, “I didn’t know anything about that.”

Strauss nodded, “Carter has people here. Hotch didn’t mention it to you on purpose. So that they wouldn’t take you if something happened.”

You close your eyes. That man, always trying to protect you. Always being the hero. You could have found him hours ago if he had just told you. But that was the man you had fallen in love with.

***

You insisted on being on the roof of the DC hospital when the chopper landed and you charmed all the nurses into allowing you into every room he was wheeled in until he was settled. They had sedated him for the long flight and it seemed he would wake at any moment. You slid your small, cold hand, into his large, warm one and waited.

“I know that ice cold hand,” He said slowly. His voice was gravely and it brought tears to your eyes to see that he was trying to smile. “Oh, hey, don’t cry.” He reaches his hand up to stroke your cheek and you turn your head into his hand to kiss his palm, sniffling.

“I’m very happy to see you.” You manage, choking down your sobs, “I didn’t think I was going to see you again.” His smile grows, “It’s not funny!”

“It’s very funny, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry over anything and certainly not me.” You glare at him through your tears and he chuckles, “Ah, there she is, tough guy. I know the only thing holding you back from punching me in the shoulder is that I’m injured.”

“Oh, I’ll still do it if you don’t shut that pretty mouth of yours.”

He smirks, “Promise?”

And finally you break into laughter and lean over him to kiss his mouth, “You should’ve told me about Carter.” You say, “You could have at least told me you were in danger.”

“And what, have you worried from an ocean away when it might have been nothing? I needed more evidence.”

You bite your lip, “I’ve never been so scared in my whole life, watching you get taken like that.”

“I came home.” He says softly, “I’m okay, I promise.”

You swallow, “Did they get Carter?” He nods, “And what about the guys that took you in?”

“Sweetheart, that’s a whole terrorist organization, no they didn’t get them.”

“They kidnapped a federal agent!” You say indignantly.

“And the federal agent is alive.”

“But—!”

He puts a finger over your mouth to quiet you, “Don’t make me argue with you like your unit chief right now. I just want to be your boyfriend.”

You sigh, “Okay,” Leaning over him, you rest your head on his chest and he begins stroking your hair. Having not slept at all since Hotch had been taken, you fall asleep like that. Finally at peace.

***

You hadn’t really been able to let it go, even when Hotch was better and back to work, he could tell you were harboring real anger about his kidnappers.

And on that morning, the morning you jumped on the god forsaken helicopter, when the BAU was asked to come to New York to investigate a possible terrorist threat, he debated telling you not to come. The government had suspicions that they were here to take revenge for Khan and he knew you’d be upset with being benched.

“Hotch, I’m fine. I’m not angry.” You had said when he pulled you into his office after debriefing the rest of the team.

“If you even hint at taking impulsive, reckless risks I will suspend you immediately, understood?”

You sigh, “I hate when you use your boss man voice with me.”

“Y/N—” He starts impatiently.

“Yeah, yeah, fine, understood. No being reckless. Got it.”

His eyes scan your face to see if you’re lying, “Good.” He says finally and presses a kiss to your forehead, “Let’s go then.”

He should have known you were lying. It was only the previous night you had woken him up tossing and turning from a nightmare. When he had finally gotten you awake you practically flung yourself at him, arms twining themselves around his neck as you caught your breath, “I thought you were gone again.” You had said breathlessly. And he had wordlessly held you to him, running his fingers through your hair until you were asleep again. It hadn’t been the first time he had had to comfort you. You had had far more nightmares about him being taken than he had about himself being tortured. Truth be told, he had been through far worse than being kidnapped and tortured for 24 hours. He knew it made you feel weak, the nightmares, when you weren’t even the one who had been tortured so he never brought them up. Never made you talk about them. But they worried him all the same. You relived the trauma again over and over, nearly every night. How were you expected to let the anger go when you were still living through it?

He should have known, but he let you out in the field anyway. Would that not put in question his ability to lead? His ability to lead with you on the same team?

He can barely see through his anger as he turns back to where Reid is instructing you to land. When you successfully land and jump out of the chopper, the rest of the team gathers around you to hug you, but Hotch stays back, watching.

When you notice, you walk over to him, “Hotch, I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have--”

“You’re suspended for at least a month, if not more.” He starts, “You’re lucky I don’t remove you from this team all together.”

You frown, “Aaron, I was able to detain one of the suspects, now we can learn more about the group--”

“By doing what you did you put yourself and hundreds of civilians at risk. We could have shot down the chopper, but because you jumped onboard I had to instruct them to stand down. Which, by the way, I had to do several times because they were more than willing to kill you to get that chopper down, do you have any idea the damage you caused? What could have happened if you didn’t get control of that chopper when you did?”

“I… Baby, I’m sorry--” You reach your hand out to put on his arm, but he pulls away.

“Don’t talk like that, I’m not your boyfriend right now, I’m your unit chief. Now give me your badge and gun.”

You know you can’t blame him, he had warned you he would do this and you had disobeyed him intentionally. But still, your hands shake as you hand over your gun and badge. You don’t say anything else as you leave the roof, heading down all the way to ground level to get a taxi back to the hotel. And then you wait. You lay on your back and wait for the sound of the door opening and when it does hours later, you push yourself up and sit cross legged on the bed.

“Hi.” You say softly when he walks in.

He spares you a glance before heading to the bathroom without a word. You sigh and fall back on the bed. When you hear the shower running you decide to undress yourself and head in.

He sighs when he realizes you’ve joined him, but doesn’t object when you wrap your arms around his waist and press your face to his back, “I’m sorry.” You murmur.

“You keep saying that, but I know if you were given the opportunity to do it all again, you’d make the same decision.”

You pause at that, “You’re right, I don’t regret what I did, but I’m sorry I had to disobey you to do it.”

He turns in your arms and looks down into your eyes, “Do you not see the problem with that? You did what you did out of revenge. You let your emotions get the best of you, you broke the number one rule of being in the BAU.”

“Those men were prepared to die at all costs, I just didn’t want them to get off that easy. I want them to pay for what they did to you, and this way, at least one of them will. Would you not have done the same? Did you not murder Foyet after he had given himself up because he had killed your wife and threatened your son?”

“Don’t.” He warns.

You scoff, “You have this God complex sometimes, Aaron, and it’s so frustrating. You can do whatever you want because you always have a reason and from your standpoint you’re always right. But whenever one of your toy soldiers falls out of line, it’s a different story--”

“What I did with Foyet did not put myself or civilians at risk.” He says firmly.

“You went in alone.” You said, “You didn’t wait for backup.”

He looks down and shakes his head, “You cannot compare what you did today to the things I’ve done because I would never endanger hundreds of innocent people just for some petty revenge.”

He thinks your eyes water, but it’s difficult to tell in the shower, “It wasn’t petty, Aaron. Not to me.”

He sighs and bends his forehead to yours, bringing both hands up to cradle your face, “Honey, I’m fine. You have to let it go.”

You close your eyes at his touch and lean up just slightly to capture his mouth with yours and as he sighs into your mouth you pull away, just slightly, “If it was me… If I was the one who was kidnapped and tortured in a country thousands of miles away, what would you have done?”

He swallows, and searches your face, “There wouldn’t have been a single protocol that I wouldn’t have broken to get you home safe.”

You nod, “I’m sorry. I understand why you’re upset, I put others in danger. It won’t happen again.”

He kisses you hard on the mouth, “You’re still suspended.”

You hum and he pushes you against the shower wall, his hand coming up to rest on your throat, “Are you going to punish me?” You asked breathlessly.

“Maybe.” He leans down and scrapes his teeth against your neck, hand tightening around your throat just slightly in warning when you squirmed. “I’m still angry with you.” He says, his eyes looking up to meet yours, tightening his grip on your throat again.

You can barely breathe through his grip, “For disobeying you?”

“No.” He says roughly, “For nearly getting yourself killed.”

You manage to swallow, “And that would have upset you?”

The desire immediately fizzles out of his eyes and he drops his hand, “Of course it would, how could you ask that?”

“I didn’t mean anything by it, I just…” You shrug, “I don’t know, forget it.”

“No,” He puts his hands on your shoulders to keep you from leaving, “Do you really think I wouldn’t have been upset if you died?”

“Aaron,” You say slowly, “You are the love of my life. But Haley was yours. And that’s okay, I don’t expect anything else, but it’s just a fact of our relationship that I love you more than you love me.”

He stares at you blankly for another moment, and then looks away to turn the shower off. He leaves you standing there, wet and naked as he climbs out of the shower and towels himself off silently.

“Aaron.” You say after he’s been silent for so long, stepping out of the shower and wrapping your own towel around yourself.

“You think there can only be one?”

You blink, “What?”

“A person can have more than one love of their life, you think you just get one and done?”

You frown, walking over to the bed and lowering yourself onto it, “Yes, that’s the whole concept.”

He scoffs at you, “I forget how young you are, you think you know everything there is to know about relationships, you have no idea.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“Me?” He raises his eyebrows, “Don’t patronize you, you’re the one who just tried to convince me you know more about my feelings, about who I love than I do. That’s quite patronizing, wouldn’t you say?”

You look down at your hands, “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

He sighs and walks over to you, crouching in front of you, “Haley was the love of my life, that’s true. But in my head,” He swallows, “There’s the me from before Haley, and there’s the me from after Haley. And you,” He brushes his index finger over the tip of your nose, “Were the person who made the me after Haley believe I deserved love again. You are just as much the love of my life as she is and I have no idea where I’d be right now if I hadn’t met you.”

You finally give him a little bit of a smile, “Probably even more insufferably miserable than you are now.”

He chuckles and you relish in the sound, bringing your fingers up to lightly stroke his cheek, “I’m sorry. For everything today, being reckless, bringing up Haley… I’m sorry, I was out of line.”

“It’s okay,” He says softly, “But you pull a stunt like that again, I’ll fire you.”

“Yes sir.” You say, smirking as you lean in to kiss him, twining your arms around the back of his head. Gently, you tug and pull him back on the bed, on top of you and you feel him smile into your mouth.

Since you’re already naked from the shower, he can’t stop his hands from wandering across your soft skin. His hand grips your thigh, lifting up your leg and allowing him to squeeze your ass. You gasp into his mouth just the way he likes and he bites down on your lower lip. “Aaron,” You whine.

“Did you want something, sweet girl?” He whispers in your ear as his hand slides between your legs.

It’s not fair, he knows when he works you up like this it’s nearly impossible to get a coherent word out of you. You manage only to moan his name again as he slowly, torturously, rubs over you again. “Come on, baby, use your words.” He teases and you can hear the smile in his voice. Bastard.

He runs a single finger down your folds, “Should I make you come with my fingers?” He slowly dips a finger inside you, eating up your reaction as your mouth falls open and a moan claws its way up your throat. “Or,” He pulls his finger out and you glare at him, “I could do it with my mouth.” Your eyes roll back when he licks you and you physically ache at his touch. But then he stops, “Or maybe,” He crawls back up to kiss your mouth and you can taste yourself on his tongue, “I won’t let you come at all since you’ve been such a bad girl.”

“Please,” You whine, “Please, I’ll be good. I promise.”

When he pulls back to look at you, his pupils are blown out and you feel such a rush seeing your effect on him. “We’ll see.” He says softly and without warning thrusts into you. Your back arches against the mattress as you curse. When your eyes meet his, he has a look of such confident satisfaction it nearly makes you come undone right there. “I think,” He pulls out slowly, “I’ll take my time with you tonight.” He reaches up a hand and wraps it around your throat again, “Is this okay?” He says softly, breaking his role for the first time.

You nod, “Please.” You say again, knowing how he loves when you beg. He scans your face once and then he grins again, tightening his hand around your throat until you’re gasping. “Good girl,” He whispers in your ear and slowly pushes into you again, gently biting your ear.

“Baby,” You manage with what little air you’re able to take in. He immediately stops, taking his hands off you, but you shake your head and pull his hand back to your throat, “Harder.”

He sighs and shakes his head, “Fuck,” He curses, wrapping both hands around your throat, “You’re gonna kill me one day.”

And you smirk as he pushes down on your windpipe before slamming his hips into you at full force, you’re rapidly approaching climax, but Aaron can tell. You don’t know how he can tell, but he immediately slows his hips and takes his hands off your throat. You gasp at the sudden release and cough a little bit, “I didn’t tell you you could come.”

“I didn’t,” You say breathlessly, your heart hammering against your ribcage.

“You almost did, and you would have if I didn’t stop.”

“I’m sorry.”

He looks at you and tilts his head to the side as he watches you, “Turn around.” He says calmly.

You hide your smile as you do what you’re told, turning on your knees, letting your forearms and face fall to the pillow. He roughly pulls at your waist, repositioning you and pulling your ass up even farther. He runs a hand over your ass, “Look at you, so pretty for me.” He says softly before pulling back his hand and smacking it hard against your ass. You moan into your pillow and then he’s inside you, a fistful of your hair in his fist.

“Are you gonna be good for me?” He asks breathlessly.

“Yes.”

He slams into you roughly making you yelp, “And you’ll never disobey me again?”

You swallow, “Never.”

He releases your hair and leans over you, sweetly kissing your shoulder and you can feel his smile against your skin, “That’s my sweet girl.” He reaches his arm around your front and begins to massage your clit as he thrusts into you. “Come for me, baby.” He says and speeds up his movements. It’s all the permission you need and you’re immediately unraveling. It takes everything in you not to collapse onto your stomach until he’s also climaxing, brought to his edge by the pulsing of your walls. He swears and collapses fully onto your back, your knees giving way under his weight.

You both lay there like that, him resting on your back in silence for a few moments, catching your breath. Then, Aaron sits up quickly, hands searching your skin, “I’m sorry, baby, did I hurt you?”

“No.” You say, but he presses kisses all over your skin anyway, immediately entering aftercare mode.

You sigh sleepily and pull him to you, wanting to snuggle with him. He obliges, wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling into your neck. “I love you.” He murmurs into your skin, “So much.”

You hum, “I love you. Thank you for not firing me.”

“If you ever end up getting yourself killed I’ll never forgive you.”

You chuckle and kiss his temple, “Noted.”

[fruitcoops]

eve, what i would not GIVE to read one of our boys being edged within the very last inch of his life (if you have time of course and would like to !)

Of course I have time! Please enjoy some questionable decisions and skinny jean worship. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for semi-public smut, mentioned mild injury, alcohol, and tears (the good kind)

The second they were out of view, Sirius pushed Remus against the wall and shoved both hands up his shirt with reckless abandon. “Jesus—Christ,” Remus said between frantic kisses, leaving a bite on his lower lip. “Impatient, much?”

“Off,” Sirius demanded, though it came out as more of a pathetic plea as he slid one hand down to cup Remus’ ass.

“We’re in public,” Remus mumbled against his lips.

“Don’t care.”

“You’re gonna break my ass if you keep squeezing that hard.”

Sirius whined into his mouth and pushed their hips together. “Skinny jeans.”

“I fucking knew it,” Remus said with a grin. “Come on.”

“Wh—” A hand closed around his wrist and Remus dragged him down the hallway at a run, his face bright with excitement and flushed with arousal. Sirius had been looking forward to a heavy makeout session and maybe a handjob in the hall, but he couldn’t bring himself to protest when letting Remus haul him around meant he could stare at the best ass the world had ever seen for a few moments longer. Want, he thought. Want that. Now.

Remus opened a door on the left with clumsy fingers and pulled him inside with a hand on the back of his neck; as soon as the door shut, he broke away from the kiss and hurried over to the desk. “Two seconds,” he panted.

“I…okay?” Sirius leaned back against the door in confusion. They were in the PT room—he’d know that place anywhere, even through his lust-addled haze—and Remus was stealing Layla’s chair. “Why do you need that?”

“I really hope she didn’t find it,” Remus muttered to himself as he stood on the seat and stretched to reach the gap between the built-in shelves and the ceiling. After a moment of befuddling silence, his face split into a grin. “Got it.”

“Can I kiss you now?” Sirius asked.

“You can do more than that,” Remus said, hopping down from his perch. He tossed a small tube across the room and swaggered over, obviously proud of himself. Sirius frowned at the tube; it was too dark to read the label, but it seemed familiar.

Realization struck just as Remus reached him. “Is this lube?”

“Yup.”

“You keep lube in Layla’s office?”

“I kept lube in my office,” Remus corrected, wrapping his hands in the front of Sirius’ shirt and turning them so his own back was against the door. “And I forgot about it until five minutes ago. Thank god she’s short.”

“Why?”

Remus sighed through his nose. “Because I was horny and ever-hopeful, and maybe I harbored a fantasy or two about fucking on the desk. Does it matter?”

Sirius wasn’t sure his eyebrows could creep any higher. “Was that—are we going to—?”

“Are you kidding? Hell no. I’m not desecrating Layla’s desk. However, we are going to be fucking against this door, so if you would kindly take your shirt off, it would be appreciated.”

Sirius paused, then wrenched his shirt over his head so fast he nearly tore the fabric, crowding closer to Remus to drown in his kisses and his hands roving Sirius’ bare skin. He was practically vibrating with anticipation—Remus wasn’t the only one with fantasies about exciting times in the PT room, but until that moment Sirius had been sure his own were nothing more than a pipe dream.

Except this pipe dream seemed awfully real, and it came equipped with skinny jeans.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he murmured into the side of Remus’ neck, gripping his waist tight over the denim as their hips rocked together. “You and your legs.”

Remus pulled his face up for another openmouthed kiss as his hand snuck down to undo Sirius’ belt, fumbling with the clasp and button before yanking the zipper open. “What are you going to do about it, captain?”

New voices echoed in the hall outside and they both went still, though Remus’ smile didn’t falter in the slightest. Sirius quirked an eyebrow at him. “You’re going to have to be quiet.”

“I can be quiet.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it hard for you.”

“I’m always hard for you,” Remus teased, leaning back against the door with a huff as Sirius bit down on the junction of his shoulder. “Now come on, slowpoke, I didn’t get that lube down for nothing.”

Sirius made a disgruntled noise into his skin and smacked him lightly on the thigh; Remus just laughed, though it was more breathless than before. The clear outline of his dick stood out in his skinny jeans and Sirius rubbed his palm over the shaft with steady pressure until Remus’ exhales trembled and his feet began to shuffle on the linoleum. “What if I want to see you come all over those skinny jeans?”

“No,” Remus whined, bucking his hips as Sirius traced the head. “Fuck, Sirius, I gave you the lube for a reason.”

“I could blow you.” He carefully undid the front button and slid the zipper down at a snail’s pace. He could feel his own heartbeat in his dick already, but shoved that thought to the back of his mind. “Return the favor after all that time in here?”

Remus grumbled into the dip of his shoulder, then leaned away to glare. “Either fuck me or I’ll do it myself.”

“You don’t want my mouth?”

“I want your mouth on me and your dick in me,” he fired back, though Sirius could see the playfulness in his eyes as he pulled Sirius’ lower lip between his teeth. “Get with the program, captain.”

Sirius nuzzled into his cheek, leaving a kiss by the corner of his mouth. “Will you wear these every day?”

“You like them?”

He moved his hands from Remus’ hips back his ass, grabbing a handful of each side with a hum. “You look like a walking wet dream.”

“Then do something about it.”

“Ask nicely.”

“I stood on a chair to get you lube,” Remus snorted. “That’s pretty damn nice.”

“Say ‘please’.”

“Why?”

“Because otherwise I’ll keep doing this until you can’t take it anymore.” Sirius begrudgingly moved one hand back around to hold Remus’ dick through his pants; he shifted, brows pitching, before he sighed.

“Then do something about it please.”

A thrill raced white-hot through Sirius’ stomach and up his spine, and he slipped both hands under the high waistband to slowly drag them down Remus’ thighs, revealing first his boxers, then miles of golden skin. “Off,” he said quietly when they reached his ankles. Remus’ throat bobbed and he kicked first his shoes off, then his jeans. Sirius tossed his own aside as well and began the all-important removal of Remus’ henley. “You should wear this more often, too.”

Remus cleared his throat. “Yeah, okay.”

“Wasn’t that easy?” Sirius didn’t give him the chance to respond—his lips were looking far too kissable to worry about things like that, especially when the snark melted out of Remus on a slow breath when their lips met. More people ran by outside, but he didn’t care. They had no lights on, and he would make sure they were quiet enough. “Up.”

Remus pushed down on his shoulders just as Sirius caught him by the thighs and hoisted him up against the door; some of the dizzying arousal on his face gave way to a giddy smile. “I love it when you do that. Which leg d’you want me to keep down?”

Sirius smiled and nudged their noses together. “Neither.”

A beat of silence fell over the room. “But…I won’t have leverage.”

“And?”

“And I need leverage.”

“Says who?” Sirius dipped his fingertips under the waistband of Remus’ boxers and kissed the confusion off his face. “I can hold you.”

His breaths turned shallow with anticipation; Sirius snapped the elastic against his skin before pulling it down, down, down over the curve of his ass and the muscle of his thighs as they clenched around his waist. He did have to set him down for a moment to get both their boxers off, but within moments Remus’ heartbeat was pounding next to his shoulder again and Sirius was in perfect range to lean up and kiss him.

The lube was small enough that he could open it with one hand and squeeze it directly onto Remus’ cleft, making him jolt with a hushed curse. Sirius capped it again and tossed it onto the closest table, still supporting Remus with one arm under him and their hips pressed flush together. He gathered some of the lube onto his fingers and circled his hole before sliding in—he didn’t stop at the first knuckle to let Remus adjust and instead kept pushing until the whole digit was inside.

Remus’ mouth fell open slightly; he tried to rock down for more, but he couldn’t do much other than tighten his thighs around Sirius. “Leverage.”

“You don’t need it.”

“Can’t move,” Remus whined, squirming until a second finger started moving in beside the first. A shiver rolled through him when Sirius crooked them; outside, the music from the party was still making the wooden door tremble. Earlier in the night, he had fantasized about ditching the team party to spend the night with a pair of glorious legs thrown over his shoulders—now, he knew there was no better way to avoid Harzy’s godawful spiked punch than fucking his boyfriend in said boyfriend’s previous office.

“How much do you want to feel it?” Sirius asked as Remus buried his face in his neck.

“Game,” he managed around a moan as Sirius found his sweet spot. “Can’t—need to be okay for the game—god fuck there.”

The music softened for a moment as the songs switched and Sirius shushed him. “Quiet, mon coeur, they’ll hear you.”

Remus bit down hard on his lower lip to stifle the answering choked whine, and Sirius took his fingers out to gently pull it free. Remus had bitten his lip bloody trying to keep quiet before, but tonight wasn’t about how rough they could be. It was about giving him a taste of what those skinny jeans did to Sirius, and making sure he never forgot it. “Put it back,” Remus pleaded. “Put it back.”

“Nice and slow,” Sirius soothed. “We’ve got a game, you said it yourself. Have to make sure you’re relaxed.”

Remus closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the door, toying with the hair at the nape of Sirius’ neck. This is going to be fun, Sirius thought as he pushed two fingers back in. Very, very fun.

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

“Storage closet,” Nado confirmed as he plopped down next to James on one of the leather couches in the game room. “Could hear ‘em from all the way down the hall.”

“Hey, I get it,” James said with a shake of his head. “Nat was in Florida for, like, two weeks. I miss Lily after two days. Kudos to them for finding a place to fuck without actually ditching the party.”

Nado took a swig of beer. “What’s the tally?”

“Cubs in the break room, Cap and Loops…somewhere, and now Nat and Kasey in the storage closet.” James counted on his fingers. “Sounds like a damn successful party to me.”

“Amen.” Nado clinked their bottles together. “I bet you a Kinder egg Cap and Loops are in the PT room.”

“Deal.”

“Pay up, then, ‘cause I heard them while I was walking back.”

“Aw, come on,” James complained. “That’s so not fair!”

“Thunk, thunk, thunk,” Nado mimicked with a grin. “The Kinder egg is for emotional support.”

“Cheater,” James muttered.

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

“Oh, fuck, there,” Remus panted, tilting his head back as Sirius canted his hips forward for the next thrust. “Please.”

“Tell me what you want.” Sweat dripped down Sirius’ temple and he wiped it on his shoulder without breaking pace; he had been holding Remus up with the help of the door for over ten minutes, and he was finally starting to feel a slight burn. Remus’ turned his face to the side as his whole body tensed, bracing against the doorjamb with one arm and gripping under Sirius’ shoulder with the other.

“Anything,” he moaned.

“You have to be quiet, mon loup.” Sirius nosed along the glistening expanse of Remus’ neck, leaving bites and kisses in his wake.

“I can’t.”

“Be good for me.”

“ ‘m trying, promise.” Remus’ shaking thigh dug into his waist as he tried to breathe through it, only for a whimper to escape when Sirius sucked a mark beneath his collarbone.

“I can make you, if I have to.”

He heard Remus’ breath catch, hitching between thrusts, and Sirius kept one hand on each side of his ass to support him. He locked his ankles at the small of Sirius’ back with a soft noise. “My mouth, I—your neck, please, please, I can’t reach.”

“I can’t get you—” He broke off with an oh of his own as Remus tightened around him. “—close enough, not like this.”

“Fuck,” Remus huffed. His teeth slid over his lower lip again; an idea sprang to life in Sirius’ mind.

“You want something in your mouth, mon amour?”

“Yes, yes, pl—”

Sirius interrupted him by sliding two fingers into his mouth, muffling the answering moan. “Is that good?”

Remus nodded enthusiastically, running his tongue over the pads of Sirius’ fingers. The burn in his right arm grew a bit more intense without the help of the left to keep Remus up, but the change in position seemed to be doing something good—Remus’ eyes fluttered shut and his abs jumped at the feeling. Sirius’ fingertips buzzed with each sound he pulled from him, each slurred plea, each choked groan as Remus’ lips turned cherry red around them. The party was still roaring, but in the darkness of the PT room there was nothing but them and the door.

“Can you come like this?” Sirius asked, speeding up his pace by a degree. He didn’t want his arm to seize and drop Remus, but he wasn’t too keen on stopping the waves of pleasure crashing down his spine, either.

Remus paused, then nodded with some hesitation. “Dunno,” he managed around Sirius’ fingers. “Tired?”

“Just my arm,” Sirius admitted with a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “I’m okay right now, though.”

“Mhmm—” Remus cut off with a sharp gasp and a series of short inhales; his hands dug into Sirius’ back muscles and he sucked hard on the digits pressing his tongue down.

“Like that?” Sirius circled his hips again and Remus’ eyes unfocused for a second as his dick twitched. “D’accord.”

After that, it was almost too easy. Sirius closed his eyes and kept his face tucked against the side of Remus’ neck as he shook closer to the edge with every passing moment, focusing less on the burn of his arm and more on the wet warmth around his fingers. A few stray tears of overwhelming pleasure dripped down Remus’ cheeks as he pushed back as best he could and Sirius hitched him higher up the door, kissing away the tracks. Within moments, their heartbeats and breaths were the only thing he could hear.

Remus mumbled some form of his name and Sirius pulled away from the collection of hickeys forming on his neck to kiss him on the side of the mouth; with great effort, Remus raised an unsteady hand and pulled Sirius’ away from his mouth. “Almost there,” he breathed, voice wound wire-taut. “Almost.”

“You earned it. À tout moment.” Any time. Remus’ face scrunched, his knee slid up to Sirius’ ribcage, and then Sirius wrapped his spit-slick hand around his shaft and he came with a shuddering exhale, gripping the backs of Sirius’ shoulders like his life depended on it as he swallowed his moans.

He was hot and tight and Sirius could feel both their rabbit-quick pulses—he moved both hands back to Remus’ ass and kept his face pressed close to his neck as he came with a bitten-back whine, his knees nearly giving out under him. As soon as his vision stopped blurring, he set Remus down and they both sank to the floor. “Holy shit,” Remus said at last, leaning his head on Sirius’ arm.

“Holy shit,” Sirius agreed.

Remus sat up and ran a hand down his face, using his abandoned shirt to wipe away the sweat and tearstains. “Thanks for sneaking into my old office for mindblowing sex.”

Sirius wasn’t sure his lungs would ever be at full capacity again. “No problem.”

They both laughed at that, then found they couldn’t stop. It took three full minutes for Sirius to catch his breath again, and the first thing he did was press a gentle kiss to Remus’ lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Sirius said with a smile. “Do you think they miss us yet?”

“Are you kidding?” Remus snorted. “They probably haven’t realized we’re gone. Kasey and Nat ran off a good ten minutes before us, too, so it’s not like we did some scandalous new thing.”

“And alcohol.”

“And alcohol.” Remus pulled one of Sirius’ arms over his shoulders and cuddled into his side with a contented hum. “We’re going to have to clean this door, but I don’t think I can move yet.”

“Did you also store water and snacks in here, by chance?”

“I already feel bad about ruining Layla’s door. I’m not emotionally prepared to steal her food, too.”

“We can sneak to the bathroom in cinq minutes,” Sirius said, checking Remus’ watch with a yawn. “Dix minutes.”

“Ten minutes,” Remus repeated sleepily. “Then I’ll see if I can get those jeans on again.”

“Don’t remind me,” Sirius groaned.

“If that’s what happens when I wear them, those skinny jeans are staying on until I’m dead. Bury me in them.”

“Noted.”

A rapid knock on the door didn’t get even a flinch out of either of them. “Occupied,” Remus called.

“Dix minutes,” Sirius added as he closed his eyes. “Dix minutes.”

[fandom-monium]

fuck shit i loved unrivaled but can we please get jealous reader? like maybe everyones on a mission and spencer has to flirt with someone?? the target??? thank you keep doing what you do!! <3

Established Relationship Rivalry

Summary: In which you really don't like Spencer talking to other girls... or assassins. "Shut your mouth, before I do it for you."

WC: 1.8k

TW: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, Jealous!Reader, companion piece to Unrivaled but not a sequel, pining (?), fluff and angst(?), established relationships RIVALRY, more reader-centric sorry, ft. Entropy Cat Adams that bitch (derogatory), a darker side of Mysterious!Reader comes to light

⏤

You sit at the bar a few seats down from JJ, watching Spencer at the corner of your eye as he puts on a show of settling into the velvet booth. 

The restaurant is fancy, the kind you take your significant other, or in this case, invite your ‘high end’ date to gain their trust, lure them in. Your vision swims at its dark red scheme and slightly dim lights, but it’s not too much that you don’t notice how good Spencer looks in his new suit, something he’s recently taken up. The blazer’s dark against his light skin, his purple tie is in a lopsided knot, and he even combed his hair a little. 

You sigh. If only you weren’t on the job, you’d stare as much as you’d want. It seems you’re not the only one who’s noticed either, surrounding patrons stealing glances at Spencer despite most of them with company.

You decide suits might be your favorite on him. It’s definitely up there.

But as the wine glass threatens to crack between your fingers, you weigh the possibility that maybe⏤just maybe⏤you should reel in your emotions, because you might actually get yourself kicked off the operation.

Now, you’re not jealous. Seriously.

This isn’t jealousy. Spencer and you aren’t even like that. Like, yeah you care about each other (more than what would be considered platonic), but you’re not together together, and there’s certainly not this weird, unspoken agreement that neither of you are to be ‘involved’ with others. Because that would imply you have feelings. More specifically, non-platonic feelings for someone you’re just not ready to admit to.

Then Catherine Adams enters the arena.

Her strides are short, almost dainty, and if you were a less experienced profiler you’d think that she was a normal woman, shy and awkward as any first date would be.

But you know each footstep is calculated, controlled. A perfected facade built on years of practice.

Other than respecting her abilities, you don’t know how to feel about her. From what little you guys could gather from her file, she is little… psycho.

So no, you’re not jealous. 

You’re not jealous when she exchanges shy smiles with Spencer. 

You’re not jealous when she invades his personal bubble. Or when she gropes him for his gun.

No, this isn’t jealousy that burns in your stomach. Oh no no no.

This is fury, your eyes stinging with barely contained rage. And as you imagine the eight different ways you could amputate Adam’s hands with a butterknife (there’s plenty within arms length, you could reach it), it takes Hotch’s stern voice for you to lower it to a simmer.

“(Your Name), calm down,” he crackles into your earpiece.

Hoping to dissuade from yourself, you cover a sickly sweet smile behind your glass, your canines glinting in the light. “Hotch, please, I’m the epitome of calm and collected.”

“We can literally see your teeth grinding on cams, and if we can see it, Cat Adam’s will too⏤”

You huff.

“Now calm down. You look more like a disgruntled divorcee than a satisfied customer.”

Okay, harsh. You almost reply indignantly before you catch JJ’s gaze, her blue eyes warm with enough understanding that it makes your shoulders relax. As much as you appreciate her, you’re supposed to be strangers in this restaurant. She can’t even mouth to you without giving you both away, blowing your covers⏤

“...tell Blondie McBlonderson over there at the bar to disappear.”

⏤cover. Welp. There goes that plan.

Immediately you lower your gaze to the rim of your glass, keeping the bitch in your peripheral as JJ clenches her jaw and slides off her stool, trudging off to the kitchen. It’s a chess match; Cat picks each of you off as if you’re pawns, sacrificial pieces, bait, until the restaurant is clear and Morgan, Lewis, and you remain. Gun raised, you try not to sneer as Lewis cuffs the Bomber’s hands behind her back, leading her and the civilians outside. 

“Guess we’re right back where we started. You and me with a gun,” Adams huffs, her tone betraying nothing. Your anger spikes as she grips Reid like a human shield. “Although, I didn’t think I’d get the chance to see you.” She stares across the room at Morgan…and you.

She’s looking directly at you.

You frown. “Do I know you?”

Adams snorts, adjusting Reid in front of her, “No, I guess not. Last time we met was years ago, and you were a whole other person at the time. I barely even recognized you.” Her eyes trail over your figure, and your skin crawls as her lips stretch into a cruel smile. A threat. “But you never forget your first, right?”

Oh. Oh.

Oh no.

In the blink of an eye, you pull the hammer of your firearm, its click echoing through the empty restaurant louder than it should have. Your lips pull back in a snarl, “Shut your mouth, before I do it for you.” 

Her response: a cheshire grin in return.

Huh. You hadn’t used that tone in what feels like forever, your voice laced with the promise of silence and death. It doesn’t feel as foreign as you hoped, and the realization wrenches your gut as you pretend not to notice Reid and Morgan’s scrutinizing gaze, eyes full of questions. Questions you really don’t want to answer. Not now.

Preferably not ever.

So you redirect everyone’s attention back to the situation at hand. It takes little prompting, considering Adams is holding a gun to Reid’s face, and it’s not long when Morgan convinces her to surrender. Like a shadow, you trail behind Morgan as Reid hauls her to the prison transport, your eyes burning a hole in the back of her head.

As Reid steps away, as he quietly settles next to you, before Morgan shuts the truck’s double doors Adams catches your eye. Her eyes glisten as her body shudders from hiccups. But she grins at you, wide enough to make your stomach squirm.

You flip her the bird in return.  

For the rest of the night you act natural, keeping your head down. You don’t leave right away, because nothing screams ‘something’s wrong’ than ditching everyone, so you passively agree to check on Garcia despite your grim mood. But at the sight of her, inebriated as she aggressively tells everyone how she loves them⏤loves you⏤you can’t help the tiny smile that spreads across your face (mostly because she’s pinching your cheeks). 

Even if she doesn’t mean to, Garcia manages to brighten your day, and you love her more for that.

After bidding your farewells (swallowing when Morgan shoots you a look that says, ‘this isn’t over’), you walk side by side with Reid, trudging through the tense atmosphere until you realize with a tight chest: he escorted you to your car. For a moment, you both stand at the driver’s side door, a beat of silence passing as you shakily pull out your keys. 

His hands, stuffed in his pockets, clench and unclench as his jaw sets. He’s yet to look you in the eye but you know, and for once you pray⏤to the universe, to whatever deities are out there, to Karma⏤that he’ll let this go, drop the subject. Hopefully never bring it up.

But this is Spencer we’re talking about. He’s your… friend. He’s confused and concerned and he wants to help some way, somehow.

So as you unlock your car, as his lips part, you don’t give him the chance, shoving away your dread. 

“You wanna get dinner?” It comes rushed, fear trickling into your voice. You hope he doesn’t notice. (He does.)

Spencer blinks at you, his mouth agape. “What?”

“It’s just,” You lick your lips, tugging thick air into your lungs as your body screams to run. Your eyes dart from his, looking at the ground, your car, the scuffs on your shoes, and you hate yourself, knowing Spencer notices all of it. “It’s a shame we didn’t get the chance to eat at that expensive restaurant, ya know? It was paid for too.”

Please, don’t ask. Please, don’t ask. 

“...That’s true.” His tone is scarily neutral. 

Looking up, you’re taken aback as he turns away to round the hood of your car to the passenger side door. “What do you think of thai for tonight?” 

You stammer a response, something along the lines of ‘uh⏤yeah, sounds good’ as you clamber into the car after him, fumbling to insert your key into the ignition. Your nerves only worsen by the second as you drive off into the dark, the only sounds coming from the rev of the engine and your heart thundering in your ears. Up ahead the traffic light changes, slowing you to a stop. You glance at Spencer, his purple tie red from the light, his side profile softly outlined in its harsh glow. He remains deathly quiet.

The silent treatment, huh. If he thinks reverse psychology is going to work on you...

He’d be absolutely right. His silence is deafening.

You turn to him, “Spencer⏤”

“You don’t have to.” Your breath catches in your throat, his lips parting and closing as he stumbles for the right words, “I mean, not right now. I-I know this isn’t the best time, but at some point we’re going to have to talk about it. So whenever you’re ready, I⏤” He clears his throat, twisting in his seat and meeting your eyes. His eyes gleam, earnest even in the dark. 

“We’ll be here for you.”

You can’t help gawking at him. Because Spencer’s eyes are inquisitive and kind⏤always have been⏤but right now they’re trained on you, and your face burns as your heart swells. You’re suffocating.

Because you want to tell him⏤all of them.

But fear clutches your heart.

White-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, you face the road again, blinking through unshed tears. “Thank you.”

Spencer nods, relaxing back into his seat. You’re relieved your answer’s enough for now.

The light turns green and you speed off. The grim night turns a little brighter as you fall back into routine with Spencer, the tension slowly lifting, your stomach, once filled with lead, now stuffed with thai food.

You’ll deal with Cat Adams later. She’s behind bars, so you doubt it’ll be anytime soon. You laugh as Spencer curses, soiling another pair of chopsticks when they hit the floor. Yes, you’ll deal with her when you’re ready.

That is, until you’re stopped by another red light.

⏤

AN: no cap i hesitated posting this because i realized after finishing its less of a Spencer Reid x Reader and more a reader-centric. i wanted to establish that reader has a whole backstory sorryyyy i hope yall like it anyway :)))

if you didnt notice, unless stated otherwise almost all my oneshots and FtH are tied together by Mysterious!Reader. yall dont have to but if you read them it helps understand reader better??

[xoluvx]

betty; p.parker

» pairing: peter parker x reader » song: betty » word count: 1.9K

There was a flutter in Peter's heart as he watched you from behind his locker. He was pretending to dig for something, but his head peeked from behind the door watching you enter the school. The glow of senior year oozed off you and the never-ending giggles of your friends wrapped around you like a safety blanket. Your bag hung on one of your arms as the other linked with an arm of one of your friends.

Peter's heart thumped as you approached his locker. Usually, you would come up to him, peck his cheek, tell him how much you missed him, and celebrate the fact you were finally seniors in high school. But that wasn't the case. You walked right past him as if he were invisible.

He followed you down the hall with his eyes, the chatter among your friends grew softer as you disappeared in the crowd of freshmen rushing to find their classrooms. His eyes were on you when you briefly turned your head finding his eyes. Embarrassed, you turned quickly. But his eyes were still on you until he lost you in the crowd.

Shutting his locker, Peter sighed.

"Hey," Ned's voice rang in the hallway as he hurried to Peter.

Peter greeted Ned, as they walked side by side towards their first period. "Are you going to her party?" Ned asked glancing at Peter. He knew it was a sensitive topic, one he hadn't disclosed all the details about yet.

"She hates me," Peter responded shrugging his shoulders digging his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"What happened with Gwen anyway?" Ned asked bluntly. He was tired of being left in the dark, of tiptoeing around the issue and tired of his best friend ditching him for most of the summer.

Peter turned to look at Ned with a blank look, flashbacks of summer invading his mind.

"Do you need a ride?" The voice startled Peter. He'd heard the car coming, but he hadn't turned to see who was approaching him. When the car stopped next to him, he recognized the girl. She had been in one of his classes, but they'd never spoken before.

"Oh no, thank you." Peter shook his head politely. He was carrying his skateboard, a wheel was busted so he was left to walk the rest of the way home.

"It's not a problem, I have nowhere to be." She added smiling at him, lifting her sunglasses, Peter made eye contact. Her eyes were friendly, lips curling into an inviting smile. "I don't bite," she added unlocking her car.

Peter gulped but approached her car. If he walked, it would take him another half hour. Why not?

"Peter, right?" she said. It was then Peter realized she was chewing gum, she blew a bubble take popped as she brought her sunglasses down. Peter nodded.

"Gwen. We had English together," she mentioned driving down the road. "Why are you out here all alone?" she asked casually keeping her eyes on the road.

Peter shifted in his seat, his skateboard awkwardly between his legs. "I was at my friend Ned's house," He said looking at her briefly. "But my skateboard broke-" he continued talking looking down at the skateboard with the missing wheel.

"You know how to fix it?" she asked.

"I think I have to get it fixed," he confessed. Or maybe Ned could help, but that would require transportation that he didn't have.

"I can take you," she offered and Peter's eyes widen a bit. He was confused by her generosity. He barely knew this girl.

"I have to get home. My aunt is waiting for me." It was true. Aunt May didn't play when it came to dinner. Even though the sun was still out, he had to be home for dinner in less than an hour.

"Tomorrow," she shrugged nonchalantly glancing at Peter as they stopped at a red light. Peter's eyes scanned her face, her round features, and her long lashes. The gum expanded once again in a small bubble.

"Sure. Okay," Peter smiled as he gave her directions towards his house.

Peter should've known then. He should've known how things would end, but he was too gullible and he missed you too much. You'd taken the camp counselor job and though you would only be gone for five weeks, they felt like the longest five weeks. Gwen was filling that void.

Gwen's company made the days slightly more bearable. It was innocent. It started that way at least.

"I saw them at the arcade together," Inez's voice was becoming staticky. Your thoughts fogged as you heard what she was saying. "I wanted to call as soon as I saw, but you were at camp." She frowned, it was ingenuine though. Like she was living for the hurt expression on your face.

She went in for a hug, but you moved out of her way leaving the mall. You weren't going to entertain this. Is that why Peter wasn't there like he said he would? At your doorstep waiting for you to come back from camp?

You could feel the tears forming as you approached your car. Fumbling with the door you finally pulled it open sliding into the driver's seat slamming the door, gripping the steering wheel as you let the tears flow. Your chest felt tight.

This had to be the worst welcome home ever.

"Hey," Ned waved and you turned in his direction. He was waving at you with a friendly smile. Peter was next to him looking like a lost puppy. You faked a smile and waved, ignoring Peter, before you got pulled away by your friends to your table in the cafeteria.

"Are you going to talk to him?" one of your friends, Alice, asked drinking from her juice box. Another cut in and it was all too much for you to process. They knew as much as Inez had told you, and they knew you hadn't spoken to Peter since you left for camp.

"I think you should talk to him," Abigail added with a concerned expression.

"No, don't. He's not worth it. Remember how he didn't even come and rescue you when Jack refused to take no for an answer at the dance?" Rebecca retaliated.

You remembered clearly. You'd just started dating. Peter was still shy. It wasn't a big deal. You weren't even expecting Peter to come to the dance and you wouldn't have known that he was there unless Inez made it a point to tell you later that night as you walked towards the parking lot.

"We've already gone over that, it wasn't a big deal." You reasoned still on Peter's side. Because that was the thing, even if Peter had betrayed your trust, you felt like you'd always be on team Peter.

Glancing at his table, you saw him talking with Ned and you wished you could just go up there and forget everything ever happened press reset, and start senior year how you'd been planning with Peter.

"What if he shows up at your party?" Rebecca asked and you snapped back to your table. Shrugging you poked at your veggies before pushing your tray away. You weren't hungry.

The week went by in a flash, but each day felt longer than the previous. You wrapped your cardigan tightly around your body as you got out of bed. It was Saturday, in a few hours crowds of people would be in your backyard celebrating the start of the last year of high school.

But you were too caught up on Peter.

The sound of a text notification caught your attention.

Can we talk? - Ned

That was weird. Ned wasn't usually one to text you. Peter was always there as the middle man. You were curious.

What's up? You typed waiting for his text in anticipation. Your phone rang and you caught your breath. You were expecting him to continue texting.

"Hello?" you asked cautiously.

"Don't hang up, please. I need to talk to you. You need to hear me out, please-" it was Peter. His voice filled your body with warmth until you remembered.

"Peter," your voice cracked. What could you say to him? Nothing, you were about to hang up when you heard his voice again.

"Don't hang up. I was stupid. I missed you and Gwen was there, and I know that's not an excuse for what I did but I never stopped thinking of you-" he was out of breath speaking quickly.

You felt your heart tighten, the familiar feeling of tears forming in your eyes took over.

"I'm sorry, Peter." You hung up. You couldn't deal with this. Not when Abigail and Rebecca were on their way. Wiping the tears, you discarded the cardigan on your bed. The one he'd bought for you last Christmas.

-

"Are you having fun?" Abigail asked squeezing your hand lightly. She was speaking over the loud music, her nose close to your ear. Nodding, you feigned a smile before looking into the crowd. No Peter.

"I'll be back," you motioned towards your house letting her know you needed to grab something.

But in reality, you needed some space. You'd been looking forward to this day. Towards your last year of high school, but plans changed. Sighing you sat on your porch. You could still hear the music and though the party was in your backyard, you needed a breath of air that wasn't congested by teens.

Swinging on the porch swing, you leaned your head back looking at the silent street. That's when you saw a figure. One hand deep in the pockets of his jeans, a skateboard in the other. It was Peter.

"Hi," his voice echoed drowning out the music. Your heart skipped a beat and you straightened up on the porch swing. You planted your hands on either side of you grounding you.

"What are you doing here?" you asked carefully getting off the swing.

"Just listen to me please," he said climbing up the three steps of your porch. "I messed up, I know I did." He looked at you with sad eyes placing his skateboard down. "It meant nothing to me. Gwen was a distraction. One that ruined the best thing that's happened to me," he was sincere with his words. His tone was gentle as he stepped forward.

"I thought becoming an Avenger was the best thing that happened to you," you joked folding your arms. That got a small chuckle out of Peter.

"That's a close second," he joked back, this time it was your turn to laugh softly. You were falling back into your comfortable state. One where only you and Peter existed.

"I can't ask you to forget what happened-" he was stepping closer. "-but please forgive me, I will do anything." He reached for your hands, your fingers intertwining easily.

"Anything?" you asked, your voice cracking.

Peter squeezed your hands nodding.

"Kiss me," you whispered pulling Peter closer with your hands still tangled together. A goofy smile spread across Peter's face and he happily closed the gap between your bodies.

He let go of your hands so he could cup your face. Yours instantly wrapped around his torso.

"I missed you," he whispered against your lips, your noses touching.

Smiling you kissed him again. The fabric of his soft lightweight sweater felt right under your fingertips. You could smell his fabric softener and shampoo.

It felt like home.

folklore masterlist

[dreamerstreamer]

Like You A Latte

Pairing: barista!Sapnap x gn!reader

Summary: [Coffee Shop!AU] Sapnap usually hates the closing shift, but when one crazy storm sends you barreling into his life, he might just change his mind.

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: this was requested by a sweet anon who wanted something in a real life setting! i took some creative liberty with the au, but i hope you all enjoy nonetheless!

Sapnap grimaced as he stared out at the café window, his lips curling downward into a frown at the sight of the pouring rain. Driving home is gonna suck, he thought.

With a sigh, he turned back to wiping down the table in front of him, trying to ignore the incessant pitter patter on the roof above him. Screw Clay for ditching him with the closing shift. Sure, he might have that presentation tomorrow morning and Sapnap might have let him leave early, but he still sucked. The closing shift sucked.

It didn’t help that it was pouring buckets outside. No wonder the café was empty—there wasn’t a single soul in their right mind who would be outside at this hour and in this weather.

Except for him, apparently.

He sighed, eyeing the clock on the wall. There was an hour left until he had to close up shop, and he was bored out of his mind. He had already scrolled through all of his feeds and was sick of the music they were playing over the speakers. Usually he had at least one or two customers to chat with if they were in the café, but today there was none.

Looks like I’ll be alone for an hour, then, he thought to himself bitterly, leaning his forehead against the wall. Fun.

It was at that moment that the unmistakable sound of the door chimes echoed through the air, and Sapnap’s eyes went wide.

No way.

He lifted his head, turning to see a silhouetted figure standing in the doorway, their clothes sopping wet as they painted. He winced at the sight. Not even an umbrella would have been able to shield yourself from this kind of rain, but it was still painful to see just how soaked to the bone you would get.

Just then, the figure stepped inside, and his mouth went try at the sight.

One thing stuck out about you, and it wasn’t the fact that you were dripping water on the floor he had just mopped.

You were cute.

He just barely remembered to stop gaping as you approached the counter, brushing back some hair that was stuck to the side of your face. You opened your mouth to speak, but what came out of your mouth startled him.

“How many shots of espresso can you fit into an extra large latte?”

He blinked at you, eyes wide. “I’m sorry, what?”

You cleared your throat. “How many shots of espre—?”

“No, no, uh,” he stammered, waving his hand in front of him, “I heard you, it’s just that...” He paused, trying to find the right words. “...why do you want that much caffeine?”

You let out a deep sigh, dragging a hand across your weary face. “Look,” you said, “this paper is due at the crack of dawn, the wifi at my place is out, the library just closed, and I’m either handing it on time or I am going to die trying.”

He raised his eyebrows at you and sucked in a deep breath. “Okay,” he began, “um, an extra large latte, was it?”

You nodded. He turned, grabbing the tallest of the paper cups he had stacked behind him, eyeing it. “Alright,” he mumbled, “that’ll probably fit around... thirty shots of espresso?”

You paused, blinking, and he could practically see the gears turning in your head. “Okay. Okay, cool.” There was a beat of silence, a look of contemplation crossing your features, then you nodded again. “Can you give me like twenty shots, then?”

The words flew from his lips before he could stop them. “What the hell.”

When you only stared at him, he coughed. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to even give someone more than four at once.”

You sighed for what must have been the millionth time as you shoved a hand into your pocket, digging around for a moment before fishing out a wallet. Opening it up, you pulled out a ten dollar bill. “This,” you said, waving the bill in front of him, “will be your tip.”

His jaw dropped, but no sound came out. After a few seconds of tense silence, something desperate shot across your face. “Please,” you said quietly, “for the sake of my paper. I need it.”

Sympathy welled up inside of him at the look on your face. Every college student knew the struggle of handing something in last minute. What kind of person would he be to say no?

“Okay,” he said, grabbing a sharpie from his apron pocket and uncapping it with his thumb, “this is gonna take a bit. Please, take a seat...?” He trailed off, expectantly waiting for your name, his eyes locking onto you.

Your lips curled into a small smile, and he felt something jump in his chest. “[Y/N].” You raised your brows at him. “You do realize I’m the only one in the store, right?”

His cheeks flushed, and he tore his gaze away from yours, fumbling to scribble your name on the cup. “Oh. Um, right. Sorry.” He offered you a sheepish smile. “Force of habit.”

You laughed while you slid your backpack off your shoulder and it sent a tingle up his spine. “Nah, I get it.” As you plopped onto the bar stool seat, your eyes darted to his chest, flashing with recognition. “Thanks, Sapnap.”

He nearly dropped his sharpie, his heart doing a backflip in his rib cage. How did you—? He glanced down, nearly shriveling with relief. Right. I’m wearing a name tag.

Sending one more glance in your direction as you pulled out your laptop, he turned, cracking his knuckles. Twenty shots was going to take more than just a few minutes to brew, and he’d be damned if he didn’t stick to his guns and deliver this absolute monstrosity of an order to you.

A good fifteen minutes later, Sapnap found himself staring down into a pitch black cup. Where the smell of coffee beans was usually even distributed throughout the store, it was now almost entirely concentrated in one cup. With a delicate hand, he oh-so slowly poured in some frothed milk, carefully moving it as a design began to form on the coffee’s surface. A few moments passed in devoted silence, and he pulled away to reveal a perfect milk heart staring back at him.

Indeed, he was holding an extra large latte with twenty shots of espresso. He was half impressed and half horrified by his own creation.

With a small smile, he picked the cup up, sliding it over the counter toward you. “Voilà,” he said, bowing dramatically, “your order is served.”

You looked up from where you were typing on your laptop, blinking blearily at him before recognition set in. A grin tugged at your lips as you picked the cup up. “Oh my god,” you breathed, taking a heavenly sip, “you are such a lifesaver. You have no idea how close I was to passing out just now.”

Sapnap chuckled at your enthusiasm, picking up a rag and walking over to the sink. “I don’t know how you’re going to enjoy drinking that, but I hope you stay conscious.”

You raised your cup up toward him in a silent toast, the mirth in your eyes sending something light and warm dancing across his bones. As you turned back to your paper, he began cleaning up the mess he had made while brewing twenty shots of espresso.

Time passed in a blur as he shifted cups around and wiped down machinery, only sped along by the sound of your frantic typing. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he saw as you raised your now empty coffee cup in your hand and tossed it across the room. In an elegant arc, it landed squarely in the trash can a few feet away.

“Nice throw,” he said, smiling at the satisfied look on your face.

You sent him a thumbs up with a hum, your face looking delightfully warm and much more awake. “Thank you.”

Another moment passed in silence when a realization suddenly hit him. “Wait a second. You finished it? All twenty shots?”

You didn’t even look away from your screen. “Yep.”

His look was one of complete and utter disbelief. “That quickly?”

You deadpanned. “I think the most I’ve slept in the past three days is something like three hours. I’m kind of dying.”

He chuckled. “Understandable.” His lips curled downward as his expression grew serious. “For real though, once this caffeine wears off, I want you to sleep for like, half a day, okay?”

Your fingers faltered in their typing for a moment, and your eyes briefly met his. “You don’t even know me.”

Something in his stomach churned. But I would like to, he wanted to say.

Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest with a teasing look. “Can you really blame me for being concerned? Twenty shots is more than a lot.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but he didn’t miss the way your lips twitched. “Ugh, fine.”

He bit back a laugh. “Fine is good enough for me.”

You returned back to typing, squinting harshly at the glare from your screen as you mouthed some of the words you had written. His eyes darted to the clock once more and blinked in surprise. Was there really only fifteen minutes left until closing? He hoped you could finish in time.

Sapnap turned and bit the inside of his cheek, the cogs in his head churning. I feel like I’m forgetting to do something. An image of the water you had tracked into the café flashed through his mind, and he found himself eyeing the mop and bucket sitting by the corner where he had left it nearly an hour prior.

Do I really want to wipe the floor again? He paused for a long moment. Not really. He thought of the streaky puddle left in your wake one last time, then shook his head. Ah, whatever. George has the opening shift tomorrow—it’s a him problem, now.

A soft yell broke him out of his thoughts. “Hell yeah!”

He lifted his head in time to see you close your laptop screen, a wide grin stretched across your face. “Did you finish?”

You flopped onto the table, letting out a relieved groan. “Yes, finally. I thought I was never going to be done.”

He opened his mouth to respond when your face suddenly scrunched up. Before he could ask if you were okay, you ducked your face into the bend of your elbow, a sneeze escaping your lips. Sapnap’s heart leapt at the sound.

Cute—your sneeze was cute.

His lips quirked up at you as he sent you a worried glance. “You cold?”

You wiped at your nose, shivering a little. “A bit, yeah.” You offered him a lopsided smile. “The rain kind of did a number on me.”

He fiddled with his keys in his pocket, gulping. “I’m, uh, gonna close up in a few minutes. Did you want me to give you a ride back to your place?” He paused for a moment, then quickly added, “I promise I’m not a creep.”

Your laugh made him want to dance. “Oh, yes please.” Suddenly, your smile dimmed, and you curled back a bit. “You—you won’t mind if I get your car a little wet, will you?”

Sapnap stared at you and your dripping clothes, something tugging inside his chest. If it was Clay or George asking, he’d probably kill them if they even attempted to get into his car while soaking wet.

But for some reason, the way you looked at him with your wet hair sticking to your face and a hopeful glimmer in your eyes made his heart skip a beat.

“Not at all.”

“George wanted me to tell you that you suck.”

He turned, feigning an innocent look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Clay sent him an amused look. “Something about a puddle? And that you’re a huge prick for not wiping it up for him.”

Sapnap rolled his eyes. “He’s just being whiny. I was stuck by myself yesterday because you bailed on me.”

Clay gaped at him. “I had a presentation and you literally let me go! That’s a valid reason!”

When Sapnap only gave him a levelled stare in response, he sighed. “I’m here now, okay? I’ll even man cash for you so you can just do the easy clean-up stuff, too.”

Sapnap grumbled but didn’t protest. “C’mon, man.” Clay leaned over to gently prod his shoulder. “I bet you today’s closing shift is better than last night’s!”

He waved a hand dismissively, focusing his attention back on the order he was working on. “Sure, sure.”

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Clay was right about one thing—today’s shift was better already. It wasn’t raining like crazy again, and the café wasn’t completely deserted. Well, you were there yesterday, but he had already accepted that the two of you probably wouldn’t interact again. It’s not like you were a regular or something.

He was vaguely aware of the door opening, the chimes tinkling like bells as it swung open and shut. Footsteps approached the counter as he pushed some stray trash into the garbage can, not particularly paying any attention. That was when a familiar voice spoke up.

“Can I get an extra large latte, please?”

Sapnap froze then whipped around, eyes wide as he took in the sight of you standing in front of the cash register. Before Clay could even confirm your order, he blurted out, “[Y/N]? You’re back?”

You grinned at him from the other side of the counter, your wallet in hand. “I like coffee, okay? And you’re not too shabby of a barista.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “‘Not too shabby’? Rude.”

You giggled, tapping your credit card on the PIN machine. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I did mostly want to say thanks for the other night, since you are pretty great, Sapnap.” Your eyes flashed. “But...”

“...but?” he prompted.

“But,” you said, grinning teasingly, “you might cement yourself as my favourite barista if I maybe got a free snack.”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “A free snack, you say?”

Your smile widened. “Yes, sir.”

Sapnap paused, cocking his head. “I’ll... keep that in mind. Go ahead and grab a seat for the time being though, alright?”

You nodded in assent and slid into the bar stool you had sat in the night prior, pulling out your laptop once more. Once you were out of earshot, Clay leaned over to Sapnap. “You know ‘em?” he asked.

Sapnap couldn’t help but smile a little. “Yeah—[Y/N] is kind of the reason why George thinks I’m a prick, right now.”

“Nah,” he said, “George knows you’re a prick. He just thinks you’re being particularly prick-y today.”

Sapnap playfully pushed him away with a shove. “Screw off.”

Clay didn’t even flinch, only wheezing under his breath as he greeted the next person in line. Sapnap rolled his eyes again as he grabbed an extra large cup from the stack, his hands moving like clockwork as he poured in some freshly brewed espresso and frothed milk. Making a regular latte was infinitely faster than making one with twenty shots, to say the least, and practically no time had passed before he was walking over to your seat.

“One extra large latte for [Y/N],” he said, sliding the cup onto the space next to your laptop with ease, one hand tucked behind his back.

Your face lit up. “Thank y—”

“And,” he suddenly added, pulling his other arm out to reveal a pastry, “one chocolate croissant.” He gave you a sly wink as he held it in front of you. “On the house, as requested.”

Your smile fell. “Oh, wait, no. I was joking. You don’t actually have to—”

“Shh,” he whispered, dangling the croissant in front of your face, “just take it. No one else is going to buy it anyway. Consider this thanks for yesterday’s tip.”

You gingerly took the croissant from his hands, your cheeks growing warm. “Okay, fine.” You held the pastry up to your lips, sinking your teeth in and beginning to chew. Your eyes widened in shock as you swallowed. “Oh, wow. This is really good.”

He placed his hands on his hips triumphantly. “Aren’t you glad you took it, now?”

Sticking your tongue out at him, you took another bite. “Thanks, Sapnap. Seriously, what would I do without you?”

He shrugged. “I dunno, actually be well-rested instead of chugging caffeine?”

“For the record,” you pointed out with a slight glare, “I did sleep for like half the day like you asked me to, but now I’m behind on everything.”

He cocked his brows at you. “So, you’re just sticking around to finish some stuff, again?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah—the wifi at my place sucks and my roommate hogs all the bandwidth, plus you guys are open later than the library, soooo.....”

You gestured vaguely, and he nodded in sympathy, crossing his arms over his chest. “Makes sense.”

He could have let the conversation die there, could have just gone back to wiping down the tables and cleaning up after Clay. But instead, he found himself slipping into the seat next to you, curiosity nibbling away at his restraint.

“I don’t think I ever asked,” he said, resting his hand on his chin, “but what are you studying?”

You grinned at him, his ears growing warm as you began telling him about your major. You asked him about his and what he wanted to do after graduation, and it didn’t take long before the two of you slipped into casual conversation, almost as if you were old friends. While he did have to go take some orders every once in a while, he was mostly able to chat with you while the both of you worked. It was nice—spending time with you was nice.

And it seemed like his heart agreed, too.

The ringing of the door chimes made Sapnap raise his head. He opened his mouth to give the official café greeting before closing it, a fond smile overtaking his features. “Hey, cutie.”

You grinned back at him as you strode up to the counter. “Hey, loser.”

He pretended to wince at your words, clutching his chest in mock hurt. “Ouch.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, your lips curling up as you dug a hand into your bag. “Kidding. Can I get a—”

“Extra large latte with a normal number of espresso shots,” he finished expertly, reaching around to push a cup onto the space in front of you. When you didn’t say anything, your wallet balanced delicately in the palm of your hand, he coughed awkwardly. “I know your order.”

You stared at him in utter shock. “You do?”

He pretended that his lungs didn’t feel like they were on fire. “Y-Yeah.”

A smile tugged at your lips, and you opened up your wallet. “I wish I had a memory as good as yours, Sapnap.” You pulled at out a ten dollar bill and slapped it onto the counter, grabbing your coffee with the other. “Thank you so much, and keep the change, okay?” You took a step back, sending him an apologetic look. “I have to get going, but you’re the best.”

He picked up the bill, waggling it in front of his face. “I know.”

You paused, tastefully adding as you turned, “...loser.”

“Hey!”

You laughed at him while you bounded out of the café, and he felt his irritation die in his chest, something blossoming in its stead. “Kidding!”

As the door swung shut behind you, he sighed, a dreamy haze filling his mind. Weeks had passed since you two had first met, and he could feel himself falling harder and harder. He always knew that he wanted to get to know you better, but now that feeling had grown tenfold. There was something so subtle and real about everything you did—about the way you talked and laughed, about the way you pointed and smiled.

He wondered how much more of you he hadn’t seen, and he wondered if you’d show him.

A voice ripped him out of his thoughts. “Are you gonna snap out of it anytime soon?”

He turned, blinking back to reality. “What?”

George stared back at him with paused lips. “Sapnap, you’ve been spaced out for two minutes.”

Clay turned to look at them both. “You look like you just had some big revelation or something. Are you good?”

Sapnap opened his mouth, then closed it, feeling a lump forming in his throat. As much as he ragged on them for being reckless and stupid, Clay and George were his best friends, and they deserved to know what was going on.

Was this going to go poorly? Probably.

But was he going to do it anyways? 

Unfortunately, yes.

“Guys.” He sucked in a deep breath, squeezing his fists by his side as he looked up. “I like [Y/N].”

There was a beat of silence, and Sapnap felt the anxiety well up inside him. They were totally about to flame him, weren’t they?

The two of them shared a look, then Clay turned to him. “We know.”

Sapnap blinked. “You knew?” he said slowly. “Both of you?”

George bobbed his head, cocking a brow at him. “Um, yeah? It’s kind of obvious.”

Sapnap gaped, sputtering. “H-How? In what way?”

George opened his mouth when Clay raised a hand, silencing him as a wide grin stretched across his face. His green eyes brimming with mischief, he sidled up to Sapnap’s side, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “Hey, George,” he said, “watch this.”

He leaned close to Sapnap’s ear, and whispered just loud enough for all three of them to hear. “[Y/N].”

Almost instantaneously, Sapnap felt his heartbeat speed up as George’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god. Look at his ears.”

While Clay pulled away and let out a loud wheeze, clutching at his chest, Sapnap’s hands slammed over his ears, hiding them from view. “Do not look at my ears.”

Gasping for air, Clay managed to choke out between shaky breaths, “He’s blushing!”

“No, I’m not!”

“Are—” Wheeze. “—Are too!”

“No—”

“You totally are.”

“George, shut the fu—”

“Alright, ladies, you’re both pretty,” Clay suddenly cut in, clapping his hands. “If you two would stop bickering, then we can actually address the issue at hand, here.”

“Which is that Sapnap is a hopeless simp?” George prompted.

Clay nodded. “Which is that Sapnap is a hopeless simp.”

Sapnap scowled. “I am not hopeless, and I am also not a simp.”

Clay tucked a hand under his chin. “Well, we’re going to make sure you’re not hopeless.” A devilish glint shined in his gaze. “Not for much longer, that is.”

Sapnap swallowed. This couldn’t be good.

“Wait,” George said, furrowing his brows, “what about the simp part?”

Clay blinked. “Oh, no. He can stay that. We’re just going to make him confess.”

Sapnap, who had been staring in stunned silence up until this point, blinked for a moment, then frowned. “Wait a second, you’re going to what?”

Clay leaned forward, patting his shoulder reassuringly. “Trust me, buddy. Everything is going to be just fine.”

With that, Sapnap’s frown only deepened.

Everything was going to be just awful.

Sapnap swallowed anxiously as he slid another cup across the counter toward the pick-up station, George dutifully picking it up as he read out another name. Sapnap had half the mind to realize that they really shouldn’t have let George be the one to read the names, especially when he was so garbage at it, but the other half didn’t particularly care. It was far too preoccupied thinking about one thing and one thing only.

Well, two things actually.

You and his confession.

The plan was simple in theory, at least, but in practice? He had no clue. He’d had it prepared for days now, but he had yet to see you, and he was pretty sure he was slowly going insane.

“Just calm down,” Clay had told him. “Like I said, you’re going to be fine.”

As much as he trusted him, Sapnap didn’t believe him for one second, and he was pretty sure Clay knew it. If he did, he didn’t say anything, but oh boy, could Sapnap see it in his eyes.

Just then, the familiar sound of chimes and footsteps filled the air, and Sapnap felt his anxiety spike.

You were here.

Taking a moment to breathe and calm himself, he casually began to wipe down the counter before him, dragging damp rag across the countertop. At the same time, he felt his heart hopelessly trying not to and failing to skip a beat at the sight of your weary face. “Mornin’, [Y/N],” he greeted.

You didn’t bother to say a greeting back before you flopped into your usual seat, letting out one long groan. “Uuuggghhhh.”

A flicker of fondness filled his heart. “Rough week?” he prompted, his hand slowing down as he wiped away a small stain.

You groaned again in reply, rubbing at your temples. “Oh, you have no idea. My profs have just been unbelievably infuriating, and I feel like I’m constantly on the verge of a mental breakdown.”

He reached over to pat your shoulder, nodding sympathetically. “I get that—sometimes it’s like they forget you have other classes.”

Your head shot up, your face twisted into a pout. “I know right? Like, give me a break!” You slumped forward, your cheek pressed against the table. “I just want to take a nap.”

He smiled fondly at you. God, you are so cute. “Did you want a latte?” he offered. “The usual?”

You paused for a moment, thinking, then shook your head. “Caffeine is only going to make me even more stressed, and I don’t think I can handle anymore.”

He hummed in understanding, then turned. He quickly grabbed something off the shelf behind him before sliding it over the counter to you. “I know it won’t make your week any easier,” he said, “but here. It might make you feel a little better.”

You perked up at that, raising your head to eye the napkin-wrapped item in front of you. Pulling back the soft tissue, your eyes lit up. “A chocolate croissant!”

He turned away with a soft smile. “Your favourite, right?”

You sunk forward, your gaze dazzling in the midday sun. “Because of you.”

He nearly choked on his spit as he whirled, only to see you pulling back the napkin to take a bite. Sometimes, you really spoke without thinking, and it sent his head absolutely spinning.

You sighed as you sunk your teeth into the flaky dough, your eyes fluttering shut. Chewing away as you leisurely swung your legs, you glanced up at him. “Hey,” you murmured, “what time is it, right now?”

“It’s, uh—” His gaze darted to the clock on the other side of the wall. “—ten to eleven.”

Your eyes shot wide open, swallowing the bite you took as your jaw dropped. “Oh, shoot. I’m gonna be late. I have a class at eleven and it’s on the other side of campus.”

Sapnap’s expression mirrored yours. “Oh, shoot,” he parroted.

You nodded as you slid off the seat, scrambling to slid your bag onto your shoulders as you spoke in a hurried frenzy. “Okay I have to get going but thanks so much for the snack Sapnap you’re the best and um I really appreciate it but I, um, I have t—”

“[Y/N],” he said abruptly, and you fell silent, your voice dying in your mouth. His gaze was soft as he gestured to the front of the café. “You’re gonna be late.”

You didn’t waste another second to turn on your heel and scramble to the front. “Thank you!” you called out behind you one last time as you pushed past the entrance and rushed down the busy street.

The moment the door fell shut once more, Sapnap nearly collapsed against the counter, gripping onto the granite for dear life. “Clay,” he said, turning his head to send his best friend a shaky smile full of nothing but anxiety, “I’m gonna die.”

“You are not going to die,” Clay said immediately, walking over to pull Sapnap up from the counter. He clapped him on the shoulder, looking him dead in the eyes. “Like I said, you are going to be just fine. Don’t lose your head over it.”

Sapnap whipped his head up, grabbing his shoulders. “This is probably the worst confession I have ever tried to make in my life,” he said bluntly, his tone clipped with anxiety. “No, wait—this is the worst confession I have ever tried to make in my life.”

Just then, the back room door swung open to reveal a very tired-looking George who sighed with a bag of coffee beans tucked  securely in his arms. “Okay, pack it up, lover boy,” he muttered, tilting his head at Sapnap. “You’re on break, now.”

Sapnap didn’t even bother to come up with a witty retort, simply letting go of Clay’s shoulders with a quiet whine before sliding into the back room, his shoulders slumped over. As he walked past, Clay leaned back against the countertop, a curious grin dancing on his lips. “You think [Y/N] will even see it?”

George grimaced, setting the bag down on the table. “I hope so. Otherwise Sapnap here is going to die of embarrassment, and I am never going hear the end of it.”

From the back, a muffled groan rang out. Clay and George’s eyes met once more as they let out another sigh.

They really, really hoped so.

How you made it to class on time with two whole minutes to spare, you’d never know.

You collapsed into the nearest available seat with a massive sigh, the air rushing out of your lungs all at once. Maybe you should try out for the track team like your roommate keeps telling you to.

With a tired smile, you sat up, pulling out your laptop from your bag and setting your half eaten croissant on the table in front of you. You were just about to open your laptop when a smudge of black on the pristine white of your napkin caught your attention. You narrowed your eyes, lifting up the croissant to see even more of it.

There’s something written on it...?

Curiously, you found yourself unfolding the napkin, gasping at what you saw. A sprawling string of text littered the thin paper, all written in a familiar sharpie ink.

hey, [y/n]—if you’re reading this then thank god that means you actually kept the napkin and didn’t throw it out or something. super long story short, i like hanging out with you and would love to get to know you better, so here’s my number XXX-XXX-XXXX and also i like you a latte and also i like you a lot :)

You snorted, your cheeks burning up with bashful glee. Even though he crossed it out, you could still read the pick-up line he had jotted down. It was so very like him to get embarrassed and scrap it last minute. There was something endearing about it, really.

Cute, you thought to yourself, something warm and hazy wrapping around your heart. You dug your hand into your pocket, slipping out your phone. Very, very cute.

A few minutes later, a notification lit up Sapnap’s phone. Swiping his finger across the screen, he found himself stating at a message from an unknown number. His eyes darted over the words on his screen, widening. A yell suddenly flew from his lips, and George yelped as he nearly poured some espresso on his hand.

“Sapnap,” he hissed, whipping around with a glare, slamming the cup down on the counter, “what the he—”

He fell silent as he saw the wide grin stretched across Sapnap’s face, his eyes practically glowing with joy. Before he could even ask, Sapnap shoved the phone in his face, six words printed across the screen in black text.

i like you a latte, too :)

[bokugaos]

pairing: iwaizumi x sub!reader

length: 1.5k

tw — master/pet, bladder desperation, oral (m. receiving)

iwaizumi squints at you sitting next to him, bent over and staring wide eyed at your thighs. you are frantically bouncing in your seat while the crowd of the lunch rush pours into the street, making their way into the restaurants at the mall.

he pulls one hand out of his pocket and puts it on your forehead. you are sweating; cold and a little clammy.

“you sure you can go through this? just a little more.”

you squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. both your legs are now bouncing nervously, hands clutched on each of your knee, knuckles going white.

“no… i-i want to. i know i can.”

he grins, showing off a row of teeth. he leans down and presses a kiss on top of your hair.

“i know you can. and i have a surprise for you later.”

the bell on top of the door rings and the volume suddenly notches up a whole lot. the restaurant host guard is making his way to your table, a group of five men behind him. iwaizumi squeezes your shoulder one last time and leans back in his chair, an easy grin on his face.

“is y/n-chan sick?” oikawa asks with a small frown, idly playing with front cover of the menu as he stares up straight at your face from across the table. you are sweating profusely; so much that it looks like it pains you to be sitting there.

iwaizumi shrugs his shoulders, pretending to be bored at having to be here. he tugs his jacket a little downward with his fists in his pockets to hide the half-chub he is sporting watching you fight against your painfully full bladder in front of his friends, and everyone else in the restaurant.

you are battling brilliantly, but this time it is mostly the fear of being punished and your enthusiasm at the prospect of earning your surprise reward later, he knows. you are barely listening to their ongoing conversations, not even when they call your name, they couldn’t get your attention. it’s difficult to make sound decisions when you are fighting against your own body and trying not to piss in front of an audience.

“nah. she’s doing better than ever, actually.”

—

iwaizumi doesn’t rush unlocking his door, but he also doesn’t dawdle. you are clutching his elbow, practically vibrating. you are radiating feverish heat and have even taken to grabbing your lower abdomen; your crotch with both hands like a little kid. you look ready to just explode at this point.

maybe making you wait until you’ve made it home has been just a bit too much, but you’re here now. he stands off to the side as he pushes the door open, not making you wait even a second longer.

he walks in slower, closing the door and hanging up his jacket while he listens to your abject sob of relief coming from the open bathroom door. he slips out of his shoes, the thick stream of piss like music in his ears. it’s been a close one. had he been in a more sadistic mood today, he would have pinned you to the wall until you pissed yourself like a little girl. as is, he has other things planned for you. he’s in a more benevolent mood.

he has everything laid out on the living room table already, but he needs to get himself ready, too.

when you finally come out of the bathroom, looking calm but still embarrassed, you are greeted with the sight of his thighs, spread apart as he strokes himself with his fist.

“h-hajime?” you ask softly. you are wringing your hands in front of your chest. you’re still wearing your clothes and your socks – and your coat.

iwaizumi pauses and turns to face you. his cock is still only half hard but he’ll get there. it’ll only take seconds of his pet kneeling and performing for him to get him good and going.

“you did amazing. come here, you can get your treat now.”

you make no movements, staring down at your feet, occasionally looking up, only to look away after a second.

“come here. this is going to be really good, you’ll love it.” iwaizumi croons with a lazy grin, tongue pressing against the ceiling of his mouth. you slowly come closer. you look rather mesmerized by the simple gesture alone, eyes stuck on the cock that will go into your mouth. no need to wonder about what to say when you are gagged and busy suckling his dick.

this would be fun.

—

iwaizumi’s head is thrown back, resting on the top of one of the couch cushions; he can’t see you but he can hear the soft wet suckling as you play with the cock on your tongue like you’re playing with a pacifier.

it’s surprisingly calming.

he fumbles for the remote as he rocks his hips forward, fucking himself on your face. as he lifts his head up, one hand behind your head to keep you in place, he puts on a movie that he doesn’t really have any plans to watch and stares at the screen without really looking as you slowly take more of his length into your mouth.

there’s no rush about either of your movements. you try at first to awkwardly bob your head and around his cock, but eventually you just stay still at a nice angle and lets him do the rest. it’s better that way; slower and more intimate.

“you’re so good when you can just stay still and not do anything,” he murmurs sleepily. his eyes have gone out of focus, staring at the screen. faintly beneath the moving pictures he can see your reflection in the glass; you kneeling in front of him like a puppy, obediently holding your neck at a weird angle so he doesn’t have to do much but fuck himself on your mouth.

“like not pissing your pants in the public. that was a really good improvement.”

he can feel you shifting a little because his dick is pushed even deeper into your throat, the blunt tip rubbing along the warm inner walls and making him go a bit cross-eyed. he wishes you’re well-trained enough that he could push even deeper into you, making you take his entire length and down your throat, but he’ll go slow as a little reward for your hard work earlier today. 

Besides, this anticipation makes it all the sweeter.

he is aware of the light nudges every now and then when you gag, the tension tingling at the back of his head. it’s a shame he doesn’t have time often enough to just relax and play with you.

iwaizumi fumbles back, then cards his fingers through your hair. you shift even closer to him, having ditched your clothes in favor of getting more contact with his skin without obstructions.

“you did so goddamn good out there,” he slurs, staring blearily at his and your reflection. it’s difficult to see it with the moving pictures but his brain is somewhat fizzled out and he doesn’t have the coordination left to just turn the the screen off again. “thought I’d have to waste my load right there in the restaurant bathroom while i make you wait with the others. they were asking if you were sick, you know?”

he tries to somewhat guide you into trying to take him deeper and faster, but only tugs ineffectually on your hair… which is also nice because you are a pain slut and loves getting hair pulled on.

you get the hint, though, and try to move your head, bobbing along his fat cock. you move your jaw in an awkward motion that has it bending into your throat again, electricity running through your legs and making you thighs shake enough that you have to focus on not toppling down.

he’s always known you are obedient. he’s always known that you would love being unable to receive anything while being made to service him.

it makes him wonder how much you would love getting caged. or plugged up to the fullest.

make you walk around and run errands by yourself as you get inevitably lost in the crowd, always feeling the fullness of his seed and the plug between your thighs, knowing you can’t get out of it without him willing it.

iwaizumi’s eyes glaze over. he stops staring at the screen and just digs his fingers deeper into the cushions, panting softly as he ruts onto your face, pushing himself deeper. the knowledge that he won’t let you come; that your biggest relief today has been being allowed to piss.

knowing that you look to him before you even dare a peek at anybody else is good. more than good. better than any orgasm, really.

in front of him, you are still suckling happy on his cock pushed into your mouth. you don’t even think of anything as you get him off.

god, there’s still so much iwaizumi can do to you. 

[shurisneakers]

shut in [5]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, threats, implied ptsd, violence

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: sam wilson nation how are we feeling after that trailer. only about a month to go for my two dumbasses to get the recognition they deserve!!

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“Where are they?”

“We don’t know, boss.”

Their eyes glossed over with rising anger, masking its earlier aloofness.

“I’m going to need more than ‘I don’t know’.” Their voice was acidic, dripping with faux politeness. A bad sign.

“Police say they pulled off the highway at one point and then they lost track of them because there were no cameras.” The agent looked at his partner who only nodded in confirmation.

“They could have ditched the car before going on foot,” the partner suggested rather unhelpfully,  “We have no idea where they could be”

They were silent, mouth pressed in a hard line, leaving everyone in silence.

“Have I told you about the time my dad hired someone to fix the sink here?” they finally asked, looking away from the agents. “Some drunk fuck got in a fistfight and absolutely decimated the thing. Dad got someone to fix the hole in the wall and the fitting.”

They turned away, facing the wall.

“He did an alright job, that guy. Fixed up the place, installed a new sink. But there was a problem that he said he’d be able to fix only the next day, something about water dripping through an unsealed pipe.”

The agents just sat there on their chairs, feet cold. They knew where the story was going. It was a myth at their organisation, a cautionary tale to everyone who joined.

“My dad, he agreed. Said ‘Yeah sure, come back tomorrow’. Guy packed up his bag and was on his way out when my dad called him back. Asked him to hold out his hand for the money and then he just,” they paused, “cut one of his fingers clean off. Told him that he’d get his payment and his finger when the job was done.”

“I loved my father,” They skipped a beat before whipping their head around to look at the two agents. “But he was a coward. I would have shot him in the head.”

The agents looked paler than what they were a few seconds ago.

“If I tell you to do something, either do it perfectly or don’t do it all because the next time you’re here and those two are still alive,” they sneered, lunging forward to grab one of their collars, “I’ll blow your fucking brains out. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes boss,” the partner was barely audible, speaking for the one who was breathing heavily, looking like he was on the verge of passing out.

“Go on then.” They smiled, letting go of the agent’s collar as he stayed frozen in his place. They dusted their hands off before straightening up. “Don’t return without good news.”

The frustration of not knowing something was not one you were used to.

You were used to knowing. The satisfaction of a puzzle. The ease of a predictable pattern.

So when this mystery wasn’t getting solved within twenty minutes, it was starting to affect you. You spent hours staring at the ceiling, replaying every detail for months leading up to the case. Every client you shook hands with. Every coworker you greeted with a nod. Every vile sicko you had killed.

And yet, no matter how much you thought and rethought and rethought again, it simply didn’t make sense. There was a piece missing. A hidden variable.

Sam helped wherever he could. He offered up arguments and rebuttals. If you had a theory, he’d find the flaw or the lack of proof. He was keeping it reasonable. Only snorted when you suggested that maybe the president was involved in a large scale extermination of underground mafias. A absurd theory that had no roots in reality.

“You could point out any official on the damn senate and they would have some connection to our gang that you can dig up with one Red Bull and twenty minutes on the internet,” he had said. “It’s too much of a liability if we get caught. They’ll just get exposed for all the nasty shit they’ve been hiding under the carpet.”

You knew this, of course, and it didn’t help to be reminded of it again because it also meant that one more theory was ruled out. And with each theory ruled out, the further away you were from your answer.

It was frustrating.

Sam was in front of the TV, lounging on the couch with the copy of Pride and Prejudice in his hands. You were working on plausible solutions, drawing up flow charts to see what could be connected.

If Pierce wasn’t the common link then it had to be something else. You couldn’t proceed with the other spies theory because no one else immediately sprung to mind. There was one... but you decided against writing it.

If Ransone was telling the truth, and there was no way of knowing he was, Sam and you were unrelated and his being there was coincidental. You just had to rely on the employee-employer relationship you shared, if you could even call it that.

“Fuck,” you cursed loudly, tearing up the piece of paper and crumpling it. You groaned, holding your head in your hands. Your eyes were burning from straining it for too long and your shoulders were in pain from slumping over the table all day. 

You took a deep breath, shaking your head before instinctively reaching for another sheet. Your hand came up short so you fumbled around the table blindly, trying to grab at a piece of paper without spending the extra effort of searching.

“You’re not getting another sheet,” Sam’s voice came from above you. “You’re going to watch some shitty movie, eat some soup and relax for today.”

“Give it back, Wilson,” you muttered, reaching out your hand.

“No. You can use your unhealthy coping mechanism when I’m not around to see it. Half of this is my mess too and I’m not going to watch you have a breakdown over it.”

He was going to be annoyingly persistent; somehow he had exhibited that magnificently over the last few days. You knew better than to argue with him over something that he had made his mind up about by now.

“I don’t want to watch a movie.” You let your head fall onto the table, wishing that the cool wood would do something for the headache you felt coming.

You heard him set the paper back down, not saying a word. Your head was throbbing and all you wanted was the frustration to ease. It was killing you.

“Come on. We’re going outside.” That piqued your interest. Sam had never invited you anywhere before.

“Where?”

“Y’know; the outside. I know you haven’t seen it in a while but see if these words jog your memory. Sun. Grass. Win-”

“I know what the outdoors is, Wilson.” You smiled against the table, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing it. “I’m asking where exactly we’re going.”

“You’ll see. Put some shoes on.”

By the time you looked up he was already walking away from the table, leaving you to follow.

You sighed. He sounded too determined and you didn’t have many other options.

Pushing your chair away from the table, you went to go put on your shoes. __

“If in care you were planning to, I’m just going to tell you right now that you can’t kill me.”

The both of you had been wandering along the path for a while. When you met him by the backdoor, he had a bag with him filled with who knows what.

He declined to tell you what was in it either, despite you asking thrice.

“Calm down, Keanu Reeves. That’s not what I was going to do.” Sam gave a short laugh.

“I’m serious. I know karate.”

“So do I.”

“Krav Maga.”

He hummed in agreement. 

“Kickboxing.”

“Now you’re just insulting me. That’s level one.”

The path was littered with tree roots that stuck out of the soil, stray branches and leaves that crunched satisfactorily under your feet. One second of distraction and you were sure you’d fall flat to the ground. 

You both continued for a few more minutes before he finally came to a stop.

It didn't look very different from the rest of the woods until something caught your eye. In front of you, one of the trees stood out. The bark had large concentric circles, resembling a large dart board. A few indentations were already made in it; clearly it was being used for practice regularly.

“Here you go,” he spoke from beside you, handing you a tomahawk. “Go ahead, throw it at it.”

You looked at the tiny axe in his hand.

“Think of it as adult darts,” he encouraged, “Here, I’ll throw the first one.”

He extended his arm in front of him, pulling his wrist back before effortlessly throwing it at his makeshift board. It was two circles away from the bullseye he had carved out. It must have taken a while to make.

“This doesn’t look very safe,” you commented as he picked up another one, launching it at the tree. You followed its trajectory, watching it embed itself into the bark closer to the centre than the previous turn.

“That’s what makes it fun.” This man had no regard for safety protocols. Given, these were things that came with the job but it didn’t mean you did it in your free time. “It helps, just try.”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked curiously, trying to assess his reaction. Pulling you out of the house for a bar game wasn’t exactly the type of thing people generally did for you.

“Because I wanted to.” He shrugged, not giving you any further explanation. “Try one.”

“Okay.” You followed his example, watching as it glided smoothly before landing close to his initial throw.

“Nice shot.”

A smile made its way to your face automatically as he handed you another one. You repeated your action, an unusual sense of pride establishing itself in you when it came closer to the middle.

“Now what?”

“Now we collect and do the whole thing again till you feel better,” Sam replied, making his way towards the tree and plucking the small axes out easily. His back muscles tightened against the material of his shirt in the process. It wasn’t a bad sight at all. “Endorphins and all that.

“Is this where you keep disappearing to?” you inquired, taking two of them from him when he returned.

“Sometimes.” He took aim before throwing it at the board. “There’s a few things you can do around here.”

“Your coping mechanism is extreme sports without proper guidelines.”

“You gotta do what you gotta do.” Sam took a step to the side, giving you space to take your turn.

“Have you always been this wise, or?” you teased, concentrating on the circles in front of you. Your shot came pretty close. 

When you didn’t receive a reply, you glanced at him through your peripheral vision. He wasn’t moving, a thousand yard stare in his eyes.

“Hit it.”

“I can’t.” His fists were bleeding through the bandages wound around them. He could feel the tear in his skin, the burn of flesh against sweat soaked clothes.

“I said, hit it,” Emil commanded once more. Sam could feel his chest rising and falling steadily from beside him, his putrid breath making him want to vomit.

“I can’t.” He could barely stand up. Exhaustion seeped through every muscle in his body.

“You’re weak,” his trainer spat. “Nothing but a fucking child.”

“He’ll die.” Sam looks down at the boy, bloody and mangled on the floor. He had passed out ages ago but that did nothing to stop them from forcing Sam to continue relentlessly.

“It doesn’t deserve mercy. You hear that Wilson?” He leered right into his ear. “Do you fucking hear that?”

Sam flinched, nodding his head. The saltiness of his sweat was fresh on his tongue, burning where it dripped onto his busted lip from his forehead.

“So fucking finish it.” He knew that if he didn’t listen this time, there would be consequences. He didn’t want to find out what it was because he had no doubt it would pain a hell of a lot more than bruised knuckles.

“No,” he whispered, eyes wandering over the body on the floor. “I won’t.”

“What’d you say?” Emil straightened up, taking a step towards him.

“I said no.” Sam turned around on his heel. He could barely stand straight but the spite running through his veins was driving him, giving him enough energy to not collapse right there on the spot.

“He said no,” his trainer repeated, leaning away from Sam. “He said no.”

He turned to look at Ransone. Sam had forgotten he was there in the darkness of the room, observing the fight for the past two hours.

“He said no.” He started chuckling. His chuckles soon gave way to hideous laughter. Stomach clutching, tear inducing laughter.

Before Sam could even realise the change in attitude, Emil’s entire demeanour shifted. He stepped forward, forcefully gripping Sam’s neck. He shoved him backward until his back was pressed against the wall, no doubt bruising his spine further than what it was.

“Say that again, you fucking idiot,” he growled. But Sam couldn’t say anything. He could barely breathe. He was terrified, but determined not to let it show on his face. “When I say something, you better fucking listen.”

His trainer observed his expression for a few more seconds. Sam didn’t open his mouth.

His trainer finally loosened his grip, letting go of his neck.

Sam’s knees nearly buckled but he kept his balance, coughs racking through his body. He felt lightheaded, swollen eyes watching Emil walk towards the body on the floor. The only friend he had.

“Maybe this oughta teach you a lesson.” Emil flashed a quick smirk at Sam before raising his fist above Riley’s face.

Within a split second a guttural cry escaped his throat as he launched himself at the much larger trainer, taking him by surprise. The pure rage he was feeling had him seeing only red, the adrenaline steering his body on autopilot.  

With their position suddenly switched, Sam found himself on top of Emil, bloody fists beating down on his face without a break. The pain didn’t even matter anymore.

“Fuck you,” he screamed, not giving him even a second to defend himself. “Fuck you, you fucking dickhead.”

When he could feel his trainer raising his arm to grab from behind, he took a pause from pummelling his face to grab his arm, twisting sharply it till he heard a crack. The roar escaping Emil’s throat didn’t dissuade him from finishing what he started, returning to landing a punch wherever he could.

He didn’t even know how long had passed before his body was being pulled away, kicking and cursing.

“You see how good it feels Wilson? You feel that relief?” Ransone held him tightly as he squirmed furiously trying to get back to beating the shit out of that asshole on the ground. “Next time you’re angry, remember that’s the only way to feel good. If you’re in pain, you cause pain.”

Sam’s flailing was reducing as the adrenaline wore off. The exhaustion was beginning to take hold of his body as he looked at the onslaught of blood splatter everywhere, two bodies side by side on the ground. He did this to both of them.

“Violence is your only friend. Don’t you ever forget that.”

Ransone let go of him. His feet gave out beneath him, chest rising and falling heavily. His shoulders ached as he dragged his body towards Riley, praying to every force in the universe that he wasn’t dead.

He was still breathing. Sam nearly cried out of relief, collapsing next to him. Ready to defend him if Emil woke up.

“Next time you want to let out some anger, come find me,” Ransone called out. “I’ll find you your next victim.”

“You okay?” You waved your hand in front of his face. “Earth to Wilson.”

It seemed to work as he snapped back, blinking rapidly.

“You zoned out a little there. Everything alright?” you asked. He looked at you blankly for a second before realising what you asked.

“Yeah.” He gave you a half smile. “Yeah, I’m good. You done with your turn?”

The light that was there behind his eyes a few minutes ago had dimmed considerably. He looked weary. You recognised what had happened, what he was probably thinking of. You didn’t bring it up, not risking the chance of him reliving it.

“Kinda.” You pointed towards the target where a tomahawk was sticking out of the centre.

“Damn,” he whistled, resting his hands on his waist. “Best of three?”

“Didn’t know it was a competition.” You went to collect it. It was harder to pull out than you thought. You wondered how many times Sam had practiced it to make it look so effortless.

“Only if you want it to be.”

“Nah.” You walked towards him, handing two of them back to him. “Maybe next time.”

“Next time, huh.” He tested his throw before letting go of the handle. Bullseye. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

You only smiled.

Next part