#author is going to be in the back cursing

[megamindsecretlair]

Hi, beloved! ❤️ Would you be down to write about Terry Richmond using some rope tricks that he learned from his Marine training on reader? 🤭 If not, I completely understand and you’re still amazing !😘

A/N: Forgive me, I know this doesn't technically fit the bill, but this got my mind spinning. Let me know if you want a more faithful response.

Touch Me Like You Care

Pairing: Daddy Dom!Terry Richmond x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female), fingering (fem receiving), teasing, size kink, dirty talk, mean Terry, daddy kink, praise kink, spanking, lite bondage, overstimulation, reader is able to be picked up, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some, rushing.

Summary: See Ask. Story by @uniqueoutlierblog . Terry comes home to find you reading in bed, all thoughts of getting dressed out of your mind as you rest. He was prepared to let you, truly, but then he finds that you’re not wearing the bracelets he bought you. And well, he can’t let that slide, can he?

Word Count: 4,475k

AO3 Link

A/N: @planetblaque knows I can deny her nothing!! Whew, everytime I think I can take a break from this man, ya'll pop out with all of these amazing fics! I'm so over the moon to see so much activity. We fr just tossing this man around like a beach ball and I love that for us!!! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You pulled your dresser open and searched for your favorite pair of thigh high socks. Ever since the weather turned, you were back to shivering every two seconds, feeling colder than a witch’s broomstick no matter what you did. 

After a refreshing shower, you opted to dry under your blanket hoodie, feeling the need to retreat from having to be “on” all the time. Navigating the world as a Black woman was fucking exhausting. 

You picked up your phone, scrolling through your latest dirty book. There was a subtle increase in Black led romances that were making you stay up to the wee hours of the morning reading. The latest book was absolutely filthy from your favorite author. The anticipation for this book had been immense, the group chat blowing up with speculations and guesses.

The book was getting better, when the couple who swore they hated each other was about to fuck that tension out since fighting got them nowhere. You squealed, picking up the nearest pair of socks. You tore your gaze away long enough to put your socks on.

You looked around the room for your blanket hoodie. It was sitting on the famous chair, piled on top of a mountain of clothing that was near toppling over. You grabbed the hoodie and then checked in on your phone. 

Oh, the tension. The passion. It just ate you up inside when the characters got to that part. Confessing their love in drunken confessions or in the middle of an argument. Ouee, your body was on fire just thinking about it. Your pussy clenching at the details. The rich words creating a movie in your mind’s eye.

Abandoning your hoodie, you laid across the bed and decided to air dry. With the way this book was going, you might need a second shower. You rested your head on your closed fist and let your mind drift, picturing the scene.

You didn’t hear when your boyfriend called your name after he arrived home. Or how his heavy footfalls padded down the hallway to your bedroom. Or how he called your name again when he stood in the doorway. You didn’t hear the subtle camera click as a picture was taken.

Somewhere between the fifth and…counting?... sex scene, you ended up on your tummy, legs high behind you, tapping your socked feet together. You were literally kicking your feet as the characters kept telling each other that they hated each other as they were clutching onto each other for dear life. 

You sighed. You simply ate this shit up. You were already mentally typing up your notes for your review on Goodreads. Ouee, maybe you should start keeping a side notebook. Just to jot down bullet points so your scatterbrained mind didn’t forget a single detail. 

Fingers reached across your ass and you yelped, looking behind you ready to scream. Terry stood behind you, his head tilted and a smirk on his luscious face. You choked out a laugh, rolling to one side so you could look at him better. 

He looked damn good in gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt. Terry slid his fingers absently across your bare ass, tracing the globes up and down. Your body shivered, pussy clenching with need. You gazed at your man. At the smooth planes and lines of his face, the cut of jaw, those big pink lips. 

“You didn’t hear me calling you?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Sorry,” you said, giving him a cutesy grin. 

His lips twitched but he didn’t let himself smile. “You’re not cute. You have to be more aware of your surroundings,” he said. 

“Yes, sir,” you said, nodding. “Though to be fair, the only man getting in here is you.”

“Mhm,” he said, nodding his own head. “You reading your dirty books?” 

“Yes! You remember my favorite author?” You asked. 

Terry nodded, hiking his eyebrow up as he encouraged you to tell him all about your favorite author. And the book you were currently reading. “And I just got to the good part,” you said.

Terry chuckled and nodded. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it,” he said. He trailed his fingers between your legs as he moved away and you gasped. For two reasons. On the one hand, Terry’s hands on you always instantly put you in the mood. With your pussy already wet, you were thinking it was a good time for a break. 

On the other hand, you forgot that you had taken off your gifts from him while you showered. It was the only time you were allowed to do so. You meant to put the ankle and thigh bracelet back on when you lotioned up but plum forgot.

Terry stopped and you could feel his stare. It burned in the back of your head. Your heart thumped in your chest. You had no idea what he was going to do.

“Baby,” Terry’s deep timbre was a physical caress down your spine. You stretched your back and bit your lip. 

“Yes, Big Daddy,” you said, pitching your voice higher. 

“Where are your bracelets?” He rubbed his thumb across your thick thigh. The weight of those words pressed down on you, making you want to retreat in your mind. You began to pant, feeling out of sorts. You were so turned on you could barely breathe. But you were also worried about what kind of punishment you were about to receive. 

“I just showered,” you said. You rolled so that you could look at his pretty face. To at least try to gauge where his mind went. Terry stopped you by wrapping his hand around your thigh. 

“I believe you. But you’re out of the shower now,” he said. 

“I really forgot this time,” you said. 

Terry sighed, the sound like a coin drop in an empty room. “You know what we have to do now, right?” He asked.

“You sure I can’t bargain out of this one? I can be pretty cute, you said so,” you said. 

“Up,” he said, his calm voice making matters worse. You may as well have been pleading your case to a brick wall. There was no changing his mind.

You got to your knees and then flipped over, scooting to the edge of the bed. Terry rolled his shoulders as he moved to your closet. He pulled a pine green box down from the top shelf. 

He placed the large, repurposed gift box on your dresser and opened it. Cheery snowmen looked at you from the painted edges as Terry rummaged around. He drew out a pair of leather cuffs and crossed over to you.

You pouted at him as he strapped the cuffs to your wrists. There was a small golden link between them keeping it connected and not giving you much room to escape. You tested the pull on it as you tried to separate your wrists. No dice. 

Terry grabbed the link and pulled you into a standing position. He sighed deeply, his voice a rumbling thunder behind it with a hum as he stared you down. “I had plans to treat you so well when I got back,” he said. 

“Fuck,” you said, the curse flying fast. You rubbed your thighs together, staring up into his pretty colorful eyes. Every time you looked at them, they were a different color. You loved to see the changes, especially this up close. His eyes went more brown when he was like this, when he’d sunk into that role of being in charge. Of being protective. 

He kissed your cheek, softly, reverently, his juicy lips leaving a small wet spot behind. He moved down to your lips, not quite kissing you. He hummed and smirked. “Whatever happens, just know that I love you, okay?” 

“Terry,” you huffed. His name was a plea and a curse all in one. You didn’t know what was worse. Knowing the torture was coming or having to live through it. Your thighs were on fire, burning with the need to have him between them. 

He pulled you closer by the cuffs, kissing you completely this time. He brought his free hand up to cup your cheek, hands warm. You licked his lips and he moaned. “Nice try,” he said against your lips. 

He said that, but you stepped closer, rubbing yourself against his growing bulge. He chuckled, letting you, looking down while you rubbed on him. He grinned and then grabbed your shoulders, turning you around. He pushed you down. You let out a soft oomph, flopping onto the bed. 

He grabbed your hips, pushing you further up your big ass bed. He positioned you how he wanted, close to the edge, but not so close that he didn’t have free range behind you. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you could only hear him moving around behind you.

It sounded like he was rummaging through the goody box again. You sighed. Digging your toes into the bed. “Start reading,” he commanded, voice sharp.

How the hell were you supposed to read anything? You hesitated, looking at your phone. There was no way you’d be able to concentrate and he knew that. 

“Baby,” you said and licked your lips. 

Terry said nothing and again, you felt his gaze bearing down on you. You whimpered as you grabbed your phone, unlocking it, and swiping back to your phone. You began reading aloud, reading about the sex scene you were in the middle of. 

Reading it aloud to Terry, picturing him as the main male character, you were miserably wet. Dripping practically. You sighed, thinking of your ruined bed. You’d have to spend tonight doing laundry. 

Terry’s massive hand slapped across your ass, the recoil loud enough to rival a gunshot. You squealed, falling forward onto the bed. Heat bloomed between your thighs, warming up your core to a dangerous level. 

It still really fucking hurt though. Your ass stung and you swore that you could feel aftershocks of his hand, slapping across your ass over and over. “Fuck, fuck!” You yelled out. 

“Keep reading,” he said. 

You got back to your knees and arched your back like he positioned you in before. You returned to reading out loud, pussy throbbing at the way the words made you feel. You got to an explicit part when Terry’s hands came back down. He smacked your ass a handful more times, covering a wide area and making your ass light up like a Christmas tree.

Tears welled in your eyes from the pain and the pleasure. It was too much stimulation. “Please, please, fuck me. I can’t take it,” you whimpered. The words on your phone swam in your vision as your body contracted with shivers. Both from the radiating waves of heat and the burn low in your belly. 

Terry rubbed his hands across your ass and you screamed, kneeling away from his hands. Wherever he touched, your ass sang with pain. “Are you going to remember to put your bracelets on?” 

You nodded. “Yes, I swear,” you said. 

Terry shoved his fingers between your legs, plunging right up your pussy. You collapsed onto the bed, twitching. “Mhm, I didn’t give you permission to cum,” he said. 

“Daddy, pleaseeee,” you pleaded, lower belly twinging with the pain of fighting off your orgasm. 

“You can get wetter than this, baby,” he said. 

“I can’t,” you said, drool seeping into the navy covers beneath you. Your face was smashed into the bed, no way to hold yourself up while his fingers stroked your walls. The loud squelching of your pussy, wet because of him, made you clench around his fingers and moan. 

He placed his free hand on your ass, giving you the dual sensation of sweet torture and cruel relief. He moved his fingers faster, stretching you out with his long, thick fingers. You rode yourself on his fingers, throwing it back and he moaned. He smacked your ass more lightly this time, more in encouragement than anything else. 

“Please let me cum. Please let me cum,” you said, legs twitching. You couldn’t hold off any longer. 

Terry leaned down over your body, placing his lips as close to your ear as he could get it. “Nahhh,” he said slowly, a subtle rasp in his voice. You bit your lip and rode him harder, showing him that you needed more. “Gotta earn that shit.” 

You sobbed into your bed, tears streaming freely. You were about to explode. Come undone at the seams. “Daddy, please. Pleaaseee. Pleaaasseeee, ouee, pleeasseee,” you moaned, desperately riding his fingers. 

“You know what Daddy needs,” he said. 

Tears leaked freely, mixing with the drool and pooling onto the covers. Your mind turned to mush, no longer able to keep reading. Your moans were loud and near screaming. Your throat raw with the effort. Your essence flooded his fingers and he hummed in satisfaction. 

“There’s my good girl,” he purred. He suddenly flipped you over, not giving you a chance to work with him. He was too impatient, too needy, too rough as he positioned you on your back. He pushed your arms above your head, giving you a look. You planted your hands above your head and knew better to move them. 

It pushed your breasts up, giving him a total view of your chest. He groaned, eyes tracking to your pert nipples. Terry folded you in half, scooting his thighs beneath your back, holding you spread open for him. 

He placed soft kisses to your wet pussy, lips smacking from your juices. “Baby, I can’t hold it no more,” you said.

“You’re gonna hold it because Daddy told you to,” he said, his voice brooking no argument. You whimpered, whined, trying to breathe through being folded like a pretzel. 

Your toes brushed against the bed with every rocking motion from Terry as he got himself comfortable. He continued kissing your pussy, stopping to look back and stare at your pussy. His lips began to glisten with your essence. 

You groaned, a primal, possessive side of you jumping out. You marked your claim. It was your juices on him. Your essence feeding him. 

“Daddy, please,” you cried out. From this position, you saw his face perfectly. He stared at your pussy like a man possessed. Like a greedy man with the richest treasure in the world. Your heart softened just as your pussy throbbed. 

Terry smirked. “Pretty fuckin’ pussy. She miss me?” He asked. As if you hadn’t gone two and half rounds when you woke up this morning. As if he wasn’t driving you insane nearly every time you got within two feet of each other. 

“Yes, Daddy, she missed you,” you moaned. 

“Yeah? She gon’ be good and cum when I say?” He asked. He stared at you from beneath his long eyelashes framing his stormy blue eyes while his tongue rolled out of his mouth. He used the tip of his tongue to search through your soaked curls, separate your pussy lips, and flick across that little bundle of nerves. 

“Ouee, shit,” you moaned. Sweat beaded on your forehead. Your heart beat so loudly, it was a miracle he couldn’t hear it. You huffed, watching his tongue work around your clit. Feeling it was even better. His breath was hot across your pussy, making your breaths stutter in your chest.

His lips followed his tongue, going deeper, playing with the rim of your entrance before dipping his tongue inside you. You cried out, belly fluttering. You moved your hands and Terry’s eyes narrowed. 

Fresh tears leaked from your eyes, dripping down the side of your face. “Pleasseee,” you begged. 

“You’re doing so well, already,” he moaned. He sped up, licking you, eating you, devouring you as he lapped at your pussy. Fresh essence dripped out of you and he licked that up too. He moaned, burying his nose and face into your pussy. He ate like a man starved. Sloppily. Messily. 

“Oue, fuck, ouee,” you screamed.

Terry moved closer, like he was trying to shove his whole face inside of you. His plush lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. 

“Oh fuck! Terry! Terry!” You screamed. Your body began twitching. The orgasm you staved off was coming whether you wanted it to or not. Terry stopped altogether, suspending your body in the midpoint between denial and reprieve. 

Your eyes rolled lazily to him, panting, huffing, body feeling like you had been tossed into a barbeque pit. “T-T-”

Terry tilted his head, tongue flat against your clit. You throbbed and pulsed on his tongue but he didn’t move. Your body retreated from the edge in slow increments, relaxing against him. 

You blinked at him, no longer able to communicate a single thought. Terry’s eyes gleamed with sick pleasure. He hummed, moving his tongue against your clit once more. He brought you to the edge and then denied you the rush of pleasure at the last minute. He did it one more time, letting you relax and then bringing you back to the precipice. 

Your belly cramped so bad. Your mouth stopped working. You couldn’t do anything but pathetically moan as he ate his fill. Your toes brushed against the bed again as he leaned back far enough.

“She too tired now?” He asked.

You shook your head. Furthest thing from it. Terry smirked. “You nice and dumb for me, baby?” He asked. He gave you teasing little licks. You hissed and moaned, eyes aching from how hard you closed them from the torture. 

“Answer me when I’m talking to you,” Terry said, smacking your ass for good measure. It woke you from the fog long enough to nod. 

“Yes, Big Daddy,” you said. 

Terry grinned and then relented, giving in and eating you with a renewed fervor. “You can cum now, baby,” he moaned into your pussy. His tongue and lips teased your clit. His fingers dipped back inside your entrance, coaxing that sweet, sweet orgasm out of you.

You screamed loud enough to wake the dead. Or hell, maybe you joined them. Lights burst behind your eyelids as you came with so much force, you couldn’t breathe. Your pussy ached and throbbed, thighs shaking against Terry’s face as he teased you throughout the whole ride. 

He slowed down as he sensed that you were coming down, drawing out his teasing licks and kisses to your pussy. He pulled back and your essence dripped from his face. He looked like he went swimming in your pussy. His entire jaw was covered, shiny and wet. You wish you could take a picture of him like this.

A long spit chain connected you to him and he moaned, ending on a hiss. “That’s a good fuckin’ pussy,” he huffed as he regained his own breathing. “Turn that ass over.”

Terry lowered you to the bed while he hopped off. He made quick work of his clothes, his huffs and puffs the only indication of how badly he was rushing. You were just a noodle, watching him reveal inches of his bronze skin, the veins in his biceps, the tattoos on his arms.

You traced the tattoos more times than you could count, lips twitching with the urge to do so now. His thighs were equally delicious. As big as tree trunks, a light dusting of hair. And that ass. He turned to the side briefly so he could free his long legs from his underwear and sweats. 

“You are so damn pretty,” you mumbled. 

Terry chuckled. You didn’t think he heard you. “That’s my line,” he said. “And I’m pretty sure I told you what you need to be doing.” 

You couldn’t flip over fast enough, giggling. He’d just bent you over and ate you so well, your leg was still wobbly and shaky. Yet you yearned for more. Yearned for his body surrounding you, protecting you, caging you in his embrace. You were greedy. Needing, wanting, craving more. 

Terry descended onto the bed, roughly grabbing your hips and sliding inside with a savage thrust. 

“Oueeee, SHIT, Daddy!” You screamed. He slid out and then slid back in, coating his long dick with your essence. 

“Cream this shit,” he moaned, sliding inside faster. His massive hands gripped your hips and pulled you onto his punishing dick, ramming into you. “Made for me. You were made for me, weren’t you?” He asked.

“Yes, Daddy, I was made for you,” you moaned. He stretched you beautifully, slamming into you just as rough as you wanted. As you needed. 

“Just a pretty, tight hole for me to abuse whenever I want?” He asked.

You sobbed, tears gathering in your eyes once more. He hit that magical spot inside of you, the spot only he could reach. No other man, not even your toys, could hit that spot with such precision. With accuracy. He was just as much made for you. 

“Yes, Daddy,” you moaned, voice muffled by the covers. The bed dipped as Terry leaned over, planting a fist beside your head to hold up his weight. He used his other hand to grab a handful of braids and yank, baring your throat to him. 

“I wish you could see how creamy you are. Pretty little ring on my dick. So nice and wet,” he cooed into your ear. He pulled your head back so that he could kiss you. His face smelled like you. You moaned and clenched around his dick. He hissed and then growled in your ear. 

“Filling me so deep, Daddy,” you moaned. “So fuckin’ deep, ohmygoood.”

Terry chuckled. He shifted his hips and drove in deeper, possibly down to his base, as he fucked you into the mattress. Your hands stretched out in front of you, gripping onto the covers just trying to meet his thrusts. 

“Untie me, Daddy. Let me feel you,” you begged. 

Terry responded by kissing you, tongue licking your lips. You opened your mouth and played with his tongue. His beautiful, amazing tongue that was capable of the sweetest words and the filthiest things. 

“You don’t know how to behave when you’re free,” he said against your cheek. 

“I’ll behave, I promise,” you whispered. 

Terry moaned, dick throbbing inside you. “I want to believe you,” he said. 

He kept up his brutal, savage thrusts, digging into you and making your belly clench. “Pleasse, Daddy. I want to feel you,” you moaned. 

“All you need to do is feel this dick, baby. Feel how much you mean to me. How much I want to take care of you,” he said.

Each thrust felt like it was going straight to your heart. There was no way you were still flooding his dick. Still making it easier for him to glide and thrust and stroke so far inside you, you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. 

“Fuck me so good. So well,” you moaned. 

Terry gripped your hips and then pulled you down harder, faster, rougher. You yelped and squealed, stretched out on the bed, trying to escape. Terry yanked you back, fingers digging into your skin harder. 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you moaned. Your thighs trembled from trying to hold yourself up from his hold. He kept you in place, filling you, fucking you good and deep. Your eyes rolled back into your head. But still, your body propelled you forward. Both because of his thrusts and because you just couldn’t take any more. All the edging from earlier had you spent. 

“Sit that ass up,” he panted, breaths falling across your damp back. 

“C-Can’t,” you stuttered. 

Terry grunted and pulled you by the hair until you were on your knees. He sat on his haunches, continuing to pound inside you. 

“You keep telling me what you can’t do. But all this time you been takin’ this dick and doing what Daddy tell you to. Do you know how proud I am of you? So pretty when you listen,” he moaned. 

“Fuck, Daddy, please,” you moaned. 

Terry grabbed your arms and pulled it until the cuffs went over his head. It made you thrust out your chest and he grabbed your titties, playing with your sensitive nipples. He pinched and plucked as he fucked you, kissing your neck and biting your shoulder. 

Your pussy made smacking noises on his dick, sounding thick and creamy. You moans mingled in the room, mixing with the pound of the headboard against the wall. You were constantly getting little dents in it from the force of your lovemaking. It was too much. You tried to sit on his lap but he grunted.  “Mhm,” he said, pulling you into a kneeling position one more time. 

“If I gotta stand you up one more time, you ain’t gon’ like it,” he snapped. 

You whimpered and whined but concentrated on holding yourself up. His dick slammed into your walls while he kissed your neck. One hand gripped your titty and squeezed while his other hand searched lower, rubbing two fingers against your pussy. 

You screamed out, unable to hold off this one. It gobbled you up with the force of it. Tearing you down to your roots, breaking you down to your center, to the very last atom that makes you you. You cried out, shaking, twitching. 

Your vision turned black and your right ear rung with a tinny bell as you came and came in rolling waves. One triggered another for an extended orgasm, body jerking uncontrollably. 

“Cum so pretty,” he said. “You ready for this nut?” 

You could only manage a nod as he rolled his shoulders and moaned in your ear while he came, unloading a thick load of cum inside of you. 

There was no more air in your lungs enough to moan. You could only sigh as he warmed you up from the inside, soaking your walls with his cum. Nothing leaked out as he continued to stroke into you.

Your body arched as he stilled, buried to the hilt. He kissed your neck, your cheek, your jaw. He brought the fingers he used to play with your clit up to your mouth and bid you to suck. 

“Taste that?” He asked.

You nodded. Too spent, too tired, to fucked out to do anything else but yawn. Terry chuckled, and slipped out. His cum leaked out with him, sliding down your leg and dripping onto the bed. 

“Sleepy,” you mumbled.

“I know, baby. But let’s run you a bath first and I’ll change these sheets,” he said. He lowered your arms from his neck and then laid you on your side. He gave you a kiss on your forehead. 

“Don’t let me catch you without your bracelets again,” he said.

“Yes, Big Daddy,” you yawned, stretching out onto the bed to await his tender, loving aftercare.

WHEW. If you need more like I do, here ya gooo! The Secret Terry Richmond Files

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[alygator77]

❖ cursed by color — satoru’s new look ❖

❀ summary. satoru gojo faces a challenge no amount of cursed energy can prepare him for—his daughter’s makeover. with pigtails, polish, and plenty of giggles, satoru finds himself utterly powerless to resist her antics.

❀ contents. pure fluff. pre-established relationship. you're both sorcerers. domesticity. satoru being the best girl dad.

❀ wc. 2.7k

As you push the front door open, the first thing you hear is giggles. Not just any giggles—those giggles. The kind that signals trouble or, more likely, your husband being roped into something ridiculous by your daughter. Toeing off your shoes as you walk in, you turn the corner, curious to find out what mischief is happening now.

And there, you are met with Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer in the world, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table—completely at the mercy of your daughter.

“Hold still, Daddy! You’re gonna mess it up!” she scolds with all the authority a four-year-old can muster.

“I’m trying,” Satoru whines, his head tipped back against the couch. “But I’m starting to think I’ll be stuck like this forever.”

Biting your lip, you suppress a laugh as you step further into the room.

“Oh, and what’s going on here?”

Satoru’s head swivels toward you, a grin instantly spreading across his face.

“Ah, my love, you’re just in time to witness history in the making. I’m being upgraded.”

Your eyebrow raises as you take in the sight of him—each finger covered in glittery pink nail polish.

“Upgraded, huh? Looks more like a full-on makeover.”

Proud of her work—your daughter beams up at you.

“Mommy, look! Daddy said the glitter makes him super strong!”

“Did he now?” you glance at Satoru with a smirk. “How much stronger are we talkin’ here?”

“Like, a million times stronger!” she declares with a big smile, capping the nail polish bottle like a professional. “All done!”

Satoru lifts his hands, admiring the sparkling polish with a mock serious expression.

“I’m practically invincible now.”

Ah, but—your daughter, isn’t done. Jumping up with excitement, her eyes gleam with a new idea.

“Daddy! Daddy! Now I’m gonna do your hair!”

Satoru freezes in panic, eyes darting between you and your daughter.

“Uh, my hair? I’m pretty sure it’s perfect as is, don’t you think?”

But before he can protest, your daughter has already dashed off to grab her hair accessories.

“y/n! Help! I’m being held hostage by a tiny tyrant,” he pleads, giving you his best puppy-dog eyes.

But you just grin, crossing your arms.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t dream of stopping her. Besides, I’d love to see what she comes up with.”

“Traitor…” Satoru mutters under his breath as your daughter returns moments later with a plastic comb and a handful of colorful hair ties.

“Sit still, Daddy!” she demands, climbing onto his lap and tugging at his snowy white hair with enthusiasm.

Satoru winces but stays obediently still, his lips twitching between a grimace and a grin.

“Yes, ma’am. I wouldn’t dream of ruining your masterpiece.” He flinches as she accidentally tugs a bit too hard. “Ouch. Careful, sweetheart. Daddy needs to keep some of his hair please.”

Too engrossed in her ‘hairstylist’ role to notice his plea, your daughter starts gathering little sections of his hair, combing it carefully, and securing them with bright pink and purple hair ties—the pigtails are uneven, sticking out at odd angles, but she works with such determination—her little tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration.

“There!” she announces, standing back up to admire her work. “Now you look perfect, Daddy!”

Satoru raises an eyebrow, looking at you with a mix of resignation and amusement.

“Perfect, huh?”

Stepping closer, you pretend to give his new look a serious evaluation—his hair is pulled into several lopsided pigtails, each one accented by colorful clips and ties.

“Hmm, I don’t know... It’s close, but I think something’s missing sweetheart.”

Satoru narrows his eyes at you suspiciously.

“What do you mean, ‘something’s missing’?”

Giving him a playful grin, you pretend to study his face before snapping your fingers.

“Ah, I’ve got it. Makeup. A look like this just isn’t complete without some makeup.”

Satoru’s eyes widen in horror as your daughter gasps excitedly.

“You’re right Mommy!”

“No, no, no—” Satoru starts to protest, but your daughter is already darting toward your room, her giggles echoing through the house as she searches for your makeup bag. He drops his head back against the couch, groaning. “y/n, why would you do this to me? Haven’t I suffered enough?”

You plop down next to him on the floor and tap his nose teasingly.

“You’ve handled curses. You can handle a four-year-old stylist. Stay strong.”

“Don’t worry, Daddy!” your daughter chimes in, running back as she triumphantly holds your makeup bag. “You’re gonna look soooo cute!”

Satoru lets out a resigned sigh, leaning back and closing his eyes.

“Alright. Do your worst, kiddo.”

As your daughter starts unpacking the makeup bag, he mutters under his breath to you.

“Just so you know, I expect full compensation for this. Something involving chocolate cake.”

Chuckling, you reach out for his hand and interlock your fingers—offering him a comforting squeeze.

“Oh, you’ll get cake. Maybe a crown too, after this.”

“Great,” he sighs dramatically, “I’ll take the cake in exchange for my dignity.”

Your daughter, too focused to even notice your banter, pulls out a tube of bright pink lipstick.

“Okay, Daddy, pucker up!”

Sighing dramatically again, he puckers his lips for your daughter, who eagerly leans in to apply the lipstick with far more enthusiasm than precision—half of the lipstick ends up on his upper lip, and the other half, somewhere closer to his chin.

“Beautiful!” your daughter announces proudly, standing back to admire her work.

Satoru tries to glance down at his lips, his eyebrow quirking up.

“Beautiful, huh? Uh… should I be concerned that I can’t feel where half of this is?”

You cover your mouth, trying not to burst out laughing.

“It’s very... abstract.”

Before Satoru can comment, your daughter is already moving on—she pulls out the blush, her face scrunched in concentration as she starts swirling it onto his cheeks. The rosy color quickly turns into something more akin to a deep flush.

“Um, I think you’re using too much—” Satoru tries to say, but your daughter shushes him with a stern hand wave.

“Shhhh, Daddy! I’m the artist, remember?”

She dabs even more blush on his nose for good measure, and you cover your mouth again— trying to stifle your laughter as Satoru glares at you through squinted eyes.

“y/n, this feels personal.”

“Oh, not at all,” you exhale—grinning, “but I’ll admit, it’s a great look.”

Your daughter continues, switching to mascara—she fumbles with the tube for a second, and Satoru tenses, his eyes growing wide as she holds it up like a delicate weapon.

“Now for your eyes, Daddy!”

He blinks, sitting up a little straighter, and your daughter, eager to get closer, stands up on Satoru’s lap—wobbling slightly for balance. But as she leans in, her footing slips, and she topples forward, the mascara wand making a beeline for his face.

“Whoa—wait!” Satoru blurts out, instinctively pulling back, catching her mid-fall just before the brush nearly pokes him in the eye. He holds her steady as the brush grazes his cheek instead.

“Jeez, kiddo,” he chuckles, but there’s a hint of relief in his voice. “Let's not get too close with that thing. I still need my vision for exorcising curses.”

As he pats her head gently, your daughter giggles, scrambling back up—completely unfazed by her near-miss. She quickly regains her balance, waving the mascara wand again with renewed enthusiasm.

“Oops, sorry, Daddy! I’ll be more careful this time!” and without skipping a beat, she leans in for another attempt while Satoru sighs in playful resignation—a grin curling upon his lips.

“Okay, artist, but one smudge and I’m calling a redo. I have standards, y’know.”

You pull your knees into your chest—watching them with adoration.

“Hmm, I thought Infinity was supposed to block all external threats,” you grin, raising an eyebrow. “Guess it’s no match for a determined toddler, huh?”

Satoru laughs softly, watching your daughter carefully swipe the mascara across his lashes. As his gaze lingers on her, his smile softens—his voice lowering as the playful banter fades, leaving behind something more heartfelt.

“Mm, well… infinity can handle most things, but when it comes to her?” he glances up at you, a gaze full of warmth and affection as his voice dips lower—he offers you a small shrug. “And you? I’m powerless.”

Warmth floods your chest as you see the love in his eyes—it’s moments like this where he’s just Satoru—not the strongest sorcerer, but the man who adores you—the man who would do anything for his two girls.

“Well,” you murmur, a small smile curling up your lip, “powerless looks good on you.”

You hold his gaze—an unspoken intimacy in the air, and your daughter, blissfully unaware of the tender moment, finishes her masterpiece with a triumphant flourish.

“All done, Daddy! Now you look soooo pretty!”

Satoru blinks a few times, adjusting to the feel of the mascara on his lashes.

“Oh yeah? Am I ready for a night out?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, still holding onto that playful grin.

“Forget the night out—you’re ready for a photoshoot,” you quip, quickly snapping a picture of him before he can react.

The moment the camera clicks, Satoru’s eyes widen, and his grin falters.

“Wait—did you just...?” His tone turns from amused to mock-horrified as he realizes what you’ve done. “Oh no, no, no. Give me that phone, y/n.”

You hold the phone up just out of his reach, smirking.

“What, you don’t want the world to see the ‘prettiest’ sorcerer in all his glory?”

Satoru lunges toward you, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“You’re not keeping that!” he declares, and before you know it, he’s trying to snatch the phone from your hand.

You squeal, spinning away from him as you clutch the phone tightly to your chest.

“Oh, come on! This is gold!”

Satoru reaches out, his hands grabbing at your waist as he tries to get closer.

“Nope, delete it!” he insists, laughing as he playfully wrestles you for the phone.

You twist away again, giggling as you evade his attempts, dancing just out of his reach.

“Oh, but it’s too good to delete! You’ll thank me later when this becomes your new profile picture.”

“Like hell I will!” Satoru laughs, lunging again, this time managing to grab your wrist. He tugs you closer, using his free hand to reach for the phone. “Come on, y/n, hand it over. No one needs to see me with pigtails and mascara.”

You’re both laughing now, the playfulness escalating as you try to wiggle free from his grasp.

“But you look stunning! This could be your big modeling break!”

Just as Satoru tries to make another move for the phone, you hear an excited giggle from behind you—before either of you can react, your daughter’s voice rings out.

“Dog pile on Daddy!”

Satoru lets out an exaggerated groan as your daughter climbs onto his back, clinging to his shoulders with her little arms.

“Ahhh! No, not you too!” he cries dramatically, the grin never leaving his face.

Your daughter bounces excitedly on his back, giggling as she tightens her grip around his neck.

“Mommy! You too! Dog pile on Daddy!”

You can’t resist the pure chaos unfolding in front of you—the joy in her laughter pulling you in.

“You asked for it ‘toru,” with a grin, and a playful lunge, you tackle Satoru to the floor, landing on top of him with a light thud.

Satoru stumbles under the weight of both his girls, dramatically flopping onto the floor as if utterly defeated.

“Ahh! Nooo! I’m down! I’m down!” he cries, laughing so hard his eyes squeezed shut.

Your daughter squeals with joy, her laughter infectious as she bounces on his chest.

“We got him, Mommy! We got him!”

“Yeah, you did,” Satoru groans, still laughing as he reaches up to dramatically shield his face with one hand. “I didn’t stand a chance.”

The three of you are laughing uncontrollably now, tangled together on the floor in a mess of arms and legs. Satoru—still pinned beneath you and your daughter—finally rolls over onto his back, pulling you both into his chest as he catches his breath.

“Looks like you’re officially outnumbered, Satoru,” you tease, holding your phone up to show off the photo of him—his hair a colorful mess of pigtails and clips, his lips bright pink, and his cheeks dusted heavily with blush.

Satoru’s eyes widen in mock horror when he sees the picture.

“Betrayed by my own family... I should’ve seen this coming.”

Before you can respond, your daughter leans in to look at the picture, her eyes lighting up as she gasps.

“Daddy! You’re soooo pretty!” she declares with an enthusiastic smile.

Satoru’s faux horror softens immediately as he laughs, pulling her into a hug.

“Pretty, huh? Well, I guess if my favorite artist says so, then it must be true.”

“Guess you’re not just the strongest anymore—pretty’s your new title,” you grin, propping yourself up on your elbow as you rest your chin in your hand.

Satoru narrows his eyes playfully at you, but there’s a mischievous glint forming in his gaze—grinning, he leans back as if an idea has just struck him. His voice drops to a teasing murmur as he turns to your daughter.

“But you know...” he begins slyly, his grin growing wider, “since my little artist did such a great job on me, maybe it’s Mommy’s turn next.”

You shoot him a look, instantly suspicious.

“Oh, don’t you dare.”

Satoru’s smirk deepens, clearly reveling in your mock hesitation. He pulls your daughter closer, his hand gently running through her hair, adding a touch of tenderness to his playful plotting.

“It’s only fair, right, princess?” he asks conspiratorially, glancing down at her with that warm, affectionate look that always gets her excited. “I say it’s time for Mommy to get the full makeover treatment.”

She gasps, clapping her hands together in delight.

“Yes! Mommy’s turn! I can make you look soooo pretty, Mommy!”

You sit up, laughing nervously as she squeals—your hands up in a surrender.

“Wait, wait, maybe we should—”

But it’s too late—your daughter is running towards the nail polish, and Satoru leans back on his elbows as he watchers her go—looking far too pleased with himself.

“Looks like you’re not getting out of this one,” he says smugly. “You’re in good hands,” he continues, nodding toward your daughter as she eagerly collects nail polish and clips. “She’s a pro—you’ll look ‘soooo pretty,’ just like me.”

You groan in mock defeat but smile nonetheless.

“Oh great, the prettiest sorcerer title will soon belong to me.”

Satoru sits up, chuckling softly as he glances over at you. His eyes find yours and the world seems to slow—his expression softening in that way that always makes your heart flutter.

“You’ve always had that title,” he murmurs, with a tender smile. “No contest.”

A warmth creeps up your face as his gaze holds yours—you can feel the sincerity in the way he looks at you, like you’ve always been his everything.

Reaching over, he gently brushes his knee against yours in a simple but affectionate gesture.

“I love you, you know that?”

His voice carries the weight of those words, and you lean in—unable to stop yourself from pressing a gentle kiss to his temple before you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath you.

“I know,” you whisper back. “I love you too.”

Satoru sighs lightly, the sound barely more than a breath as his arm wraps around you—drawing you closer against him. His hand moves in slow, soothing motions along your arm, his thumb tracing soft circles over your skin.

Together, you sit in peaceful contentment—like nothing in the world could disrupt this moment—wrapped up in the easy warmth of each other’s presence as your daughter hums happily in the background, carefully arranging her colorful collection of nail polishes and hair clips.

Satoru’s voice, barely above a whisper, breaks the quiet but not the peace.

“As long as I have you two,” he murmurs, “there’s no curse I can’t handle.”

a/n. yeah... fuck ch 271. i needed some satoru comfort so here you guys go :')

[xxchumanixx]

Hiii! If its not much trouble could I request a tim Bradford and reader fic where she's really shy and sensitive, but still diligent at work and his rookie? He usually had a soft spot for her bcs he has a crush on her but she messes up a case and gets yell at by him?? Calls her a crybaby and all?? But later he comforts her and confesses? Maybe she thinks he likes lucy up until that point?? Just a lot of angst filled with pining and fluff! Thanks sm and I love your workk💕

Headrush

Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Warnings/Tags: language! (Shut up, Steve), fluff, hurt, angst

Word count: 2.523

Authors note: Oh my god, it's been so long, I'm so sorry! Thank you a lot for your request! I really liked the idea and I hope you'll like how I wrote it.

Lots of love! ❤️

Please, as always

Enjoy!

"Shit, shit, shit!" you cursed under your breath, biting your lip as your fingers anxiously fiddled with the belt on your hips.

This was not how this case was supposed to go.

Not at all.

It was like a damn domino effect - one thing went down the hill, and so did the rest one after another.

A whole fucking shitshow.

That your suspect was lying dead on the street was just the cherry on top.

He had tried to run from you, not watching where he went. You tried to warn him, yelled that he should watch out, when a car hit him, and sent him flying over the street.

Tim stood beside you, eyes wide and mouth agape, not really believing what he saw. He wasn't sure whether to yell at you, comfort you, or just get back in the car.

He gritted his teeth, hands balling into fists. He usually was softer with you, than he was with other rookies he had.

You just didn't know that he harbored feelings for you that went far beyond being your TO.

A conflicting thing, really.

"You-" he started, cutting himself off, eyes flying over the scene. The dead man on the floor, the shocked civilians all around you.

The poor woman that drove the car that hit the man.

The ambulance covered the man with a sheet, calling the coroner.

That was what snapped him.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Tim spoke up, rasing his voice as he looked down at you. "What the hell did you think?" You flinched at his tone, some of your usual shyness and sensitivity shining through.

Tim bit his cheek, so hard he almost drew blood.

He felt bad, sorry even.

To yell at you was one of the things he wanted the least, but he had no other choice if he wanted you to be successful.

At least, that's what he told himself.

"Sir, I-" you wanted to defend yourself, but he didn't let you. Once he was in that stage of rage, it was hard to see an escape through the fog.

"No, of course you did not!" he went on, the look on his face both terrifying and breaking you.

To ever think you'd stand a chance with the man yelling down at you seemed like the stupidest thing in the world suddenly.

"How could you let him get this far?" he continued to rage, seemingly not caring about the people around you that started to watch the commotion. "You should have stopped him!"

You swallowed, a bitter pill you'd forced upon yourself by letting the suspect get this far. That you'd fallen pretty badly along the way, most likely spraining your ankle, wasn't important anymore.

Who knew if he'd even seen it?

"I- I'm sorry." you breathed out, doing your best not to lose your face in front of him. The day had started bad, and it got worse the longer it went on. "I shouldn't have let him get this far."

Tim scoffed, hands fisting his belt as he looked around you. "I shouldn't have let you handle this on your own." he spoke, voice a mix of regret and spite. "I should have known better."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut.

You knew you were ready, and damn he knew it, too. Mistakes were normal, no matter how long you were doing the job already. But with your last week as a rookie rolling around, he pushed you more and more beyond your limits.

You felt tears burn in your eyes, the ugly tugging sensation in your jaw when you tried your very best to hold them back.

But Tim had already seen them.

His head tilted in disbelief, eyes widening before they narrowed.

Not a good sign.

"Are you gonna cry?" he asked, voice full of disbelief. "Are you kidding me? What are you? A fucking crybaby?"

Told you so.

You cleared your throat, cheeks burning in shame.

"No, no, of course not." you mumbled, trying to steady your voice. Tim tilted his head more, sending you a look that told you to repeat yourself. "No, I'm not crying." you repeated louder, looking up at him.

To say his behavior hurt was an understatement.

"Get in the car." he hissed, motioning at the shop. You nodded, doing as he told you without protesting.

It wouldn't have done you any good, anyway.

Moral of the story suddenly played in your head, and you couldn't help but think how right Ashe was, as you climbed into the passengers seat.

You had learned a lot about Tim the last year, yet he surprised you with how cold and harsh he was right now.

You should have never let your stupid crush get out of hand like this. Maybe to be hurt like this, to be talked down by him like that - maybe that was your moral of the story.

Like they said: Never fuck the company.

Not that you and Tim had gotten physically close somehow, but that didn't stop your mind from imagining sometimes.

You just were glad you experienced him like this before anything could have happened.

Not that you had much faith in that, anyway.

____

You let out a sigh, as you finally made your way out of the station.

It had been a long day, maybe the longest of your life. After driving back you had to wait before being questioned about the incident. It went on for nearly two hours, in which they decided you weren't responsible for the suspects death.

Yes, he had run from you, but it was his own decision, and you had tried to warn him.

You body-cam proofed it.

You hadn't seen Tim since you'd gotten out of the shop, silently thankful for it.

You didn't know if you'd been able to endure another round of his scolding today without actually breaking down.

Seeing Lucy though, only pressed on your sore nerves more. Yes, you liked her as a friend, but the thought that Tim seemed head over heels for her warred with that.

Only a fool wouldn't see.

The cold night air hit your skin, effectively cooling it down and clearing your head a little. You hoped to get home and fall in bed, only waking up again when you would have forgotten this day.

But someone seemed to have other plans.

"Y/N, wait!" he called out after you, and you only then noticed that his car was still in the almost empty parking lot.

You debated whether to ignore him, act like you didn't hear, but your consciousness said otherwise. You turned around as he stopped in front of you, silently cursing yourself for being such a good person.

He seemed at a loss for words for a moment, lips parted, like he didn't expect you to actually wait. "Listen," he then started, brows furrowing slightly as his gaze drifted away for a brief second. "I didn't mean to be so harsh on you back there."

You frowned, blinking a few times in confusion. Was he a-

"I'm sorry."

You didn't know what to say, now at a loss for words yourself. "I- i'ts okay." you then said after finding your voice, biting your cheek. "You lectured me, and it's not like it wasn't justified, sir."

He gritted his teeth, you could see even in the dim streetlight.

"No, that was too harsh." he gave back, shaking his head, frown deepened. "It wasn't your fault he was hit by the car. You tried to warn him and he didn't listen."

You pushed your bottom lip forward, not sure where his sudden change in mood came from. "Look, sir-" you started, but he cut you off. "Stop that." he demanded, the frown on his face bordering on angry now.

Your lips parted in confusion, not sure what you did wrong now.

"Stop calling me sir." he said. "We both know that's needless. It's not like- I mean, you're one week away from becoming a p2. We both know you'll make it with flying colors. Call me Tim."

He was selfish, he knew it.

But if it meant he'd hear his name from your mouth even once, he'd do anything. He didn't know yet if you'd choose to stay after graduation, and he'd have to take what he got.

He was in way too deep.

You swallowed before you nodded, gaze meeting the ground. Your teeth maltreated your cheek, not sure how to react.

"I've never- I've never seen a dead person like this before." you suddenly spoke, looking back up at him. "I didn't know where my head was, and you yelled at me. I was overwhelmed."

It just bubbled out of you. Maybe the dim lighting made you bolder.

"That's not me." you continued, shaking your head. "I- I'm tidily, I always make sure to give my best, it just-" Without you noticing, tears formed in the corners of your eyes, and you gasped for air.

Tim's own eyes widened, as he realized you were about to panic.

He closed the distance, wrapping his arms around you.

It was pure instinct, every nerve in him telling him to hug you, to comfort you.

To not make him see you cry.

He couldn't.

"It's okay." he spoke softly, as your fingers fisted the material of his jacket. "It wasn't your fault. I'm sorry for yelling at you."

You couldn't help the tears from flowing, not when he held you like this, doing his best to make you feel better.

"I should have known." you sobbed, pushing the shame for crying onto his jacket aside for now. "I wasn't ready."

He shooed you, one hand carding through your hair.

He knew if someone saw you two, this would have ended badly.

But he couldn't bring himself to care.

"You are ready." he gave back. "More than ready. I've seen you out there, you always have yourself under control. You're diligent, something that not every rookie is. You may be shy, and maybe a bit sensitive, but that's something good. You know how to talk to people, you understand them. And I know this wasn't your fault. You did your absolute best, and that's exactly what I told them back there."

You swallowed, cheeks heating up at his words.

You didn't expect him to be so open and soft with you.

"You- you really think that?" you asked, sniffing as the tears slowly subsided. He chuckled softly. "God, you have no clue." he mumbled, gaze flitting over the dark parking lot.

You frowned, not sure what he meant. But before you could have asked, he continued on his own.

"I'm not good at this emotional stuff." he said with a huff. "But you are. And I'm grateful for it, I really am, because I learned to get better at it, because of you. And I'm supposed to be the TO here, not you."

You chuckled, not having expected him to learn something from you whilst training you.

"You should talk to Lucy, then." you suggested, the thought jabbing at your heart. But if he wanted her, he'd be prepared for the emotional talk now, then.

Tim frowned, looking down at you with confusion. He gently pushed you away enough to look in your eyes.

"What do you mean?" he wanted to know, trying to make out what you were telling him. Your cheeks heated up, but you knew there was no turning back now.

Might as well reap what you've sown by digging into his personal life.

"I mean that you can tell her how you feel if you're better at emotional stuff now." you explained, doing your best to look encouraging. He scoffed a laugh, nose crinkling slightly. "Wait, you think I-" he started, but cut himself off with another laugh.

You frowned, suddenly feeling uncertain. "Yes, I mean-" you wanted to explain yourself, but he cut you off, hands on your arms as he leaned a bit down to look into your eyes. "No." he said firmly, a grin on his lips. "I'm not in love with Lucy."

The thought almost seemed absurd to him.

Why would he want Lucy when you were here, standing right in front of him?

Your frown deepened, thoughts running a million miles a minute. "Wait, you're not?" you asked, voice carrying a hint of disbelief and maybe relief. He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. "No." he confirmed. "I'm not."

Silence hung between you like a heavy fog, only broken by a huff leaving your lips. "Well, I'm not as good at reading people as I thought I am." you mumbled, biting your cheek.

He shrugged as if to say I noticed. "If you were you would have known I don't want Lucy." he said, empathizing her name.

You cocked a brow, looking up at him again. "What do you mean?"

He sent you a smile that sent your heart into a frenzy, and for a moment, you thought you'd have a headrush. "I mean," he began, eyes wandering over your face. "That I can't wait for you to be a p2."

You felt dumb.

"Tim-" you started, but cut yourself off, as realization suddenly hit you like a freight train. "Wait, what?"

He chuckled, a sound that seared its way into your brain the first time you'd heard it. "Yes." he confirmed. "I don't want Lucy, because I already want you, Y/N."

It felt like the night sky had decided to let all it's lucky stars rain down on you at once.

A mix of emotions rushed through you, and you felt like you'd actually have a headrush.

"What- How?" you stammered, words escaping your brain. "I- I mean, why me? Why not her?"

Tim cocked a brow at your words. He knew you'd say something like that, a clear sign of how well he knew you by now. "Because you're you." he said. "Because you care. You're smart, funny, cute. You are a good cop, and I couldn't ask for more in a person than you already are. I don't want Lucy, because I'm not interested in her the way that I'm interested in you."

You inhaled shakily, his words like a balm to your wounded heart.

"And if you'd let me, I'd like to take you out once you're officially a p2." he added with hope shining in his bright eyes.

A smile spread your lips at his words. "I'd love to go out with you, Tim." you gave back, causing his own smile to grow.

His eyes fell to the smile on your lips, and suddenly he cared even less about the open space of the parking lot.

"Can I kiss you?" he wanted to know, eyes finding their way back to yours.

Your smile widened, and you nodded. "You can."

It was delicate the way he pressed his lips to yours, like petals of a flower. One hand snaked its way into your hair, cupping the back of your head to pull you closer. Your own hands gripped his jacket, anchoring you.

It was all you could have wished for.

And suddenly, the headrush wasn't so unpleasant anymore.

Tag List:

@newobsessionweekly @laheysfilm @dhundhchrih @augustvandyne @rookietrek @nachofriess @dtftheavengers @wonderland2425 @freyathehuntress @skywalker0809

[brickmvster]

An Old Flame (Leon Kennedy x Reader)

Synopsis: After getting hammered at a club in attempts to repair a broken heart, in your drunken stupor, you call the one person you were trying to get over. He takes you back to his place, taking care of you, and it's then you realize that your feelings for him never quite dissipated.

Tags: breaking up and making up/exes to lovers, angst, fluff, a little bit of emotional hurt/comfort that goes both ways, reconciliation

Warnings: Drinking, mentions of alcohol consumption

Word Count: 6,311

Author's Note: I'm alive 😭 writer's block sucks, but I'm slowly getting back into the swing of things, I think. I hope you guys enjoy this!! Notes and reblogs are appreciated of course. This has been proofread, but if any mistakes still managed to slip by me, apologies in advance, they're all mine.

I imagined RE4R Leon while writing this but please feel free to imagine any version of him you'd like!

(Read on AO3)

Sobbing in a dirty bathroom stall was definitely not how you envisioned your Friday night going.

The fact that you were also considerably drunk and could feel the liquid sloshing around inside of your belly, threatening to come up your throat and all over the floor, certainly didn't make matters any better.

You had come to the club with a group of friends who were all far more enthusiastic than you to be there. You never considered yourself much of a party person; and if you were going to attend a party, it was always a small one with people that you knew or were at least acquaintances with. At a dingy nightclub, you were surrounded by hundreds of sweaty strangers, and the music was so loud that you were sure you were going to be temporarily deaf for a while. To make the long story short – you weren't looking forward to coming here, but you regrettably let your friends drag you out of the comfort of your home.

The stupid leather pants your friends insisted you wore were feeling too tight. The bathroom was so stuffy and unbearably hot. There were two individuals in the stall next to you engaging in… a certain activity that you really didn't want to be around to hear. And the awful, terrible smell of puke was probably one of the worst things you've ever smelled in your entire life. It was all too much, every single one of your five senses being mercilessly attacked.

You shouldn't have let yourself get wasted; you knew that, and you mentally cursed yourself for such reckless behavior. But the longer you sat at the bar, completely by yourself and with your friends nowhere in sight, it was like no one was there to stop you. You still missed him and you thought alcohol would be better at numbing the pain than a tub of ice cream. Both were terrible items for getting over a heartbreak because they both only made you want to vomit, which is something you always learned the hard way.

That's how you ended up in a stall, tears freely running down your cheeks in a drunken haze. Your friends were on your mind, but more than anything you just wanted to be carried out of here. You grabbed your phone out of your bag and opened up your contacts. But for some reason, instead of clicking on one of your friend's names, you kept scrolling further down, subconsciously searching for that specific name that you knew you should've just deleted a long time ago.

You clicked on the little phone icon, and listened attentively to the ringing on the other end. It rang and rang and rang, and it went on for so long that it almost snapped you out of the very stupid thing you were doing, but then–

"Hello?"

Leon actually answered. And even after all this time, his voice was still the most soothing sound in the world. You cleared your throat before attempting to put together a sentence in response.

"Hey… I'm… I'm, uh, in a gross bathroom at, um… fuck, what was the name of this place…" you trailed off, your cheeks heating up out of embarrassment. You rubbed your forehead, trying to think despite how hard it was to do.

Leon was silent for a bit on the other end before speaking up.

"___? Are you okay? It's… really late."

You chuckled, a burp coming out alongside the sound. "I know, right? What the fuck am I even doing here?"

"___, listen to me. Are you alright? Why did you call?" Leon asked. You could just faintly hear shuffling on the other end, and the unmistakable sound of keys jingling, as if he was already gathering his things before you even told him the location. Your heart fluttered at that and even more warmth was sent to your cheeks.

"No. No, I'm not alright. I feel really fucking sick right now and I don't know where my friends are and I fucking hate being here and-"

"Slow down, sweetheart," Leon said. If the alcohol didn't kill you, the pet name that Leon apparently still liked using for you would.

Leon fell quiet on the line, almost as if suddenly realizing the word that had slipped from his mouth.

"Sorry, I mean– look, tell me where you are. Do you want me to come and get you?"

There was a voice in your head screaming at you to just say no. Your friends were a text message away. If they saw the state you were in they'd take you home in a heartbeat. You knew the right thing to do was apologize to Leon, hang up, and get your ass out of the bathroom stall to find your group. But the alcohol was clouding your judgment, and the rational part of you simply didn't exist right now. Going back to Leon's apartment was like reopening a wound that had just healed. But you couldn't deny how much you needed him in this moment, no matter how pathetic it sounded. He had been on your mind the entire time you were at the club, and hell, even if you had been sober you probably would have ended up back at his place anyway. Because you simply didn't know how to stay away from things that you walked away from.

"Yes. Please come and get me." You replied softly, your words shaky with sorrow and guilt, your voice cracking.

"On my way. Stay put, okay?"

____

"___?"

Your eyes opened slowly. The side of your mouth felt wet with drool. Your brows furrowed as you took in your surroundings.

"___, are you in here?"

Your eyes widened a bit more upon registering whose voice was calling for you. You immediately sat up, trying to adjust your hair and straighten your shirt – before quickly giving up, because you knew no amount of adjusting would make you look like less of a hot mess.

"In here," you called out, not bothering to get up and open the door as your legs felt like they didn't work and any small movement would've caused you to expel your breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

You saw two feet stop right in front of the door. You recognized those boots anywhere. They were your favorite pair.

"Are you… decent? Can I open the door?" Leon asked. You nodded, before quickly realizing he can't hear the movement of your head.

"Yeah," you replied weakly. Leon did just that, opening the stall door slowly.

God, you wanted the ground to swallow you up right then and there. You knew you looked terrible, disgusting even. Your ex, on the other hand, still looked as gorgeous as ever, with his dirty blonde hair slightly longer than the last time you saw it and prettily falling into his deep blue eyes. He was wearing a form fitting black shirt that left nothing to the imagination with a pair of blue jeans and his expensive brown coat.

You averted your gaze out of pure embarrassment. Leon had never seen you in this state and you wish he hadn't. You wished you could turn back time and call your friends instead of him.

Leon kneeled in front of you in the cramped space, gently lifting your chin and making you look him in the eyes. The action only made you feel smaller.

"Hey, let me see you," he started, his gaze softening as he observed you.

"What happened? Nobody-" his jaw clenched. "Nobody did anything to you, right?"

You shook your head. You didn't trust your voice enough to speak.

"Okay, good. You just drank too much?"

You nodded that time.

Leon seemed physically relieved, his shoulders relaxing a bit as he stood back up. He held out his hand.

"Can you stand?" He asked. You muttered out something that sounded like a "yes," taking his hand and slowly rising off the toilet seat. You almost toppled over, but Leon was there to steady you.

"Put your arm around my shoulder." He instructed, but he was already moving your arm for you. You gladly took ahold of his shoulder as his hand held your wrist; his other arm was wrapped around your waist, holding you firmly. The two of you walked out of the bathroom together, ignoring the stares from other club goers.

The both of you made outside, and the cool air was a pleasant sensation to your extremely warm body. Leon helped you into your car, handling you like you were made of glass, before getting into the driver's side himself. He buckled you up first, leaning over you to pull the strap across your chest. His breath was fanning across your face, and you felt your heart rate skyrocket. You gazed at him with tired eyes, and he returned the eye contact briefly, his eyes mostly unreadable, but definitely filled with concern no less.

Once he was buckled up himself, he took off, and you just closed your eyes, hoping and praying that the motion of the car wouldn't cause any sudden hurling.

The car ride was mostly silent; aside from the radio that Leon had turned up slightly, playing some rock song, you were far too exhausted to say anything. You didn't even know what to say, anyway, and it seemed like Leon didn't either.

Eventually, when he stopped at a light, he spoke for the first time in several long minutes. "Your friends – did they abandon you?"

You shook your head. "No… I was the one who split from them. Told them I wanted to be alone."

"But they didn't even check on you?"

You glanced at him and noticed his tense jaw had returned, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"They're all probably shit-faced, too." You replied dryly.

Leon sighed. "I… sure, I guess. Then that brings me to my next question… Why did you go over your limit? You could've put yourself in danger."

You shrugged, gazing out the window.

"I really don't know," you lied.

"God, ___, don't do something like this again. Please." Leon replied.

"I'm… sorry." You said. What you were apologizing for exactly, you weren't sure. For worrying him? For making him come all the way out here to save you like a damsel in distress? The more you thought about it, the more you leaned toward all of the above.

Leon seemed to relax again upon hearing your soft-spoken apology. "There's no need for that, I just…" a sigh. "You should rest. We're almost home."

Home.

You let your eyes slowly drift closed again. The last thing you saw was the sight of Leon driving with one hand, still wearing that unreadable expression.

____

Leon was quick to help you out the car after finding a parking spot. He guided you up the steps to the second floor of the complex, walking to his door. You leaned against him while he fiddled with his keys.

He eventually got the door open, helping you walk through the door. As he walked you through his living room to the bathroom, rather slowly as your feet were slightly dragging across the floor, you took in the familiar space around you. Leon's apartment was, of course, just how you remembered it. He had few decorations, most of them put up by you. His raggedy, but deceptively comfortable couch was somehow still standing strong. His place looked well lived-in; not terribly disorganized, just slightly cluttered. Given the nature of his career and how often he was away, he was never home long enough to let huge messes pile up anyway. You felt a smile tug at your lips as memories crawled back into your mind.

You remembered shopping with Leon for his decorations shortly after you moved in. He pretended to be indifferent, but you'll never forget the grin on his face as he helped you hang up some abstract paintings with poorly hidden amusement. That very couch was often where you spent your time resting your head on Leon's shoulders, or sometimes his head on your lap. The now spotless kitchen was where you and Leon made huge messes together, doing more kissing than cooking.

But your smile slightly faded as memories of the tail end of your relationship tainted your mind. Waiting alone for Leon to return home for a mission, worrying yourself sick. Sometimes Leon was distant, going from attentive and caring to cold and unresponsive in a heartbeat. You knew his trauma made it difficult for him to be fully present in the relationship – but sometimes you acted harshly anyway, both out of frustration and out of concern. His career was eating away at you, too.

The sound of running water pulled you out of your thoughts. You quickly registered that Leon had sat you down on his toilet. After wetting a washcloth, he leaned down in front of you again.

"I'm just gonna wipe your face, alright?" He said. You nodded, closing your eyes.

Leon wiped your face with the washcloth ever so gently, dabbing away dried drool and removing the light sweat that had formed across your forehead. He even went as far as to brush your teeth for you, thoroughly reaching every inch of your mouth to the best of his ability. Somehow, even during this, you found yourself dozing off a few times.

"You don't have to wash up now if you're too tired." Leon said once he had finished a portion of your nighttime routine for you. He stood in front of you while you were still seated, waiting for your next move.

You wanted nothing more than to wish the stink of the nightclub off your skin, but your eyelids were getting heavier by the second.

"Take me to bed, Leon." You muttered, wrapping your hands around his waist and leaning against his torso.

Leon found himself grinning at how much of a koala you became when sleepy and drunk. With one hand, he played with your hair for a bit as you continued holding him. You sighed contently as you felt yourself slip away in the sensation. Leon looked down at you, feeling something tug at his heart strings at how vulnerable you looked like this. The warmth from your arms around his waist brought Leon to a painful realization – that he missed your touch more than he thought.

Leon tried to store that thought away. You'd be gone by the morning, right? He couldn't allow himself to open up to you after all this time. You had made the choice to walk away and as far as he knew, you hadn't changed your mind.

He gently tapped your arms, causing you to stir a bit.

"If you want me to take you to bed, you have to get up first." He said teasingly. You groaned, but reluctantly did what he asked. Even while standing, your eyes were barely open.

"Do you wanna change?” He asked.

“Into what?” You said sleepily, words slurring together.

“I can give you one of my shirts and a pair of my pants. I don't mind.”

You just nodded, leaning into Leon's side, your head falling onto his shoulder.

Leon walked you to his bedroom, grabbing some clothes for you as you stood there patiently, your eyes half open. He gave you an old shirt of his and some gray sweatpants.

You began stepping out of your gross nightclub clothes right in front of Leon, who didn't seem to mind – he helped keep you from stumbling as you got dressed.

“This is so much better.” You said, feeling free and unconstrained now that you were out of those awful leather pants. Leon found himself holding back a grin at the way you were happily rubbing at the fabric of his shirt.

“Let's get you to bed.” He spoke.

He assisted you in getting cozy under the large comforter, even going as far as to tuck you in.

Leon's scent washed over you as you sunk into the softness of his mattress. You almost instantly succumbed to slumber, subconsciously burying your head into Leon's pillow.

For a long time, Leon just stared.

You were safe now, finally out of that awful nightclub and resting comfortably. He felt the tension leave his body, and he could finally go about his nightly routine at ease knowing you were taken care of.

Seeing you in his bed like this reminded him of the nights he came home late. Those nights, he'd crawl into bed next to you, holding you close as if you'd disappear into thin air. Strangely, despite the fact that he was looking directly at you, this was another moment where he felt like you'd cease to exist if he so much as looked away.

But he eventually forced himself to look away, sighing to himself as he went back to the bathroom to freshen up himself. He decided to sleep on the couch, falling asleep with you in his mind and still feeling the phantom touch of your arms around his waist.

____

Upon slowly opening your eyes, squinting slightly at the sunlight filtering through the room, it didn't take you long to notice the splitting headache that pulsated uncomfortably right behind your eyes. You also took note of the fact that you were clad in Leon's clothing.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, your face bunching up in pain at your awful hangover. You were mentally chastising yourself, as you knew that this terrible headache could've been easily avoided had you not gone past your limit the night before. It was at the moment, as you were lying on your back and staring at the familiar sight of Leon's apartment ceiling, that all of the memories from last night came rushing back to you.

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, feeling a sense of shame wash over you. You barely remember anything from last night, but you knew that when you were shit-faced you turned into a giant child, and you were already feeling apologetic for putting Leon through your drunken antics. You didn't even want to get out of bed and face the man.

So, you did just that; you lied there for a few extra minutes, absolutely dreading the moment when you would have to get up eventually. You sighed, rolling over on your side, facing the closed bedroom door. It was then that you noticed the tall glass of water and bottle of painkillers on the bedside table.

You sat up slowly, feeling your heart warm at Leon's thoughtfulness. You took one pill from the bottle, swallowing it down in one large gulp of water.

You also noticed your phone on the table. Curiously, you checked to see if your phone was even alive – which it was, much to your surprise, but the battery was low. You saw numerous text messages from your acquaintances last night. Some of them were just talking about how much fun they had and thanking you for coming out. Others seem concerned about where you had gone. You didn't feel like replying to any of them, so you promptly shut your phone off. You needed to save your battery, anyway, as you didn't have a charger. You left your phone in its place on the table.

You sat in Leon's bed for a little longer after that, sighing to yourself, before getting up to go find where he was.

You didn't have to look very far after opening the door; there Leon stood in the kitchen, occupied with making breakfast. It seemed like he didn't notice your presence at first, so you took that opportunity to gaze at him, grinning softly at the concentrated look on his face as he flipped over a pancake, his hair falling into his eyes. He looked cuter than ever, clad in his well-loved plaid pajama pants and a loose black shirt. It felt strange, seeing him like this again after so many months.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Leon suddenly spoke, still turned away from you. You were slightly startled, quickly averting your gaze.

“Morning,” you said softly. “Did you know I was standing here the whole time?”

“Of course I did,” Leon replied, finally turning to you with a pretty smile on his face, one that you couldn't help but immediately return. “Government training helped me with my awareness, y'know.”

You chuckled at that, making your way over to the dining table and taking a seat. Resting your chin in your hand, you watched Leon lovingly, a comfortable silence settling between you.

“Need a hand with anything?” you asked.

“Nah, it's alright. I'm almost done, anyway.” Leon replied. “By the way, how did you sleep?”

“Like a baby. I forgot how comfortable your bed was.” you said.

Leon grinned. “That's good. And your head?”

“It's feeling better. Thanks for the medicine, by the way.”

“Of course.” Leon replied.

Eventually, he carried to the table two plates of food, along with two tall glasses of orange juice. It was a simple breakfast, consisting of just pancakes, but it was totally fine by you. They looked fluffy and perfectly cooked and you didn't hesitate to dive in.

Leon just watched you eat in silence, a small grin on his face as he watched you do a little happy dance upon taking a bite. He wasn't really showing it, but he was very pleased with himself; not just because he made you a decent plate of pancakes but because you were here with him, out of that grimy nightclub, content and being taken care of. Leon felt a tug at his heartstrings as he realized just how much he missed taking care of you.

“Leon. Are you gonna eat?” you said with a chuckle, nearly done with your food. Leon seemed to snap out of whatever trance you had put him in, quickly glancing at his untouched plate of food.

“Yeah. Sorry.” He said in a slightly bashful way that made you swoon. He finally had begun eating, thoughtfully chewing, taking his time.

You leaned back in your chair, feeling completely satiated. For a while, the two of you just sat in comfortable silence. It dawned on you that eventually you'd have to leave, sadness beginning to wash over you like waves.

“What's the matter?” Leon suddenly spoke. “Be honest, were the pancakes actually terrible?” He said jokingly. That got you smiling again, and you let out a small, half-hearted laugh.

“Leon, they were fucking amazing,” you replied sincerely. You smiled then faltered a bit. “I just… I still feel bad.”

Leon, who was also sitting lax in his chair, had straightened up, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he gazed warmly at you.

“About?” He inquired.

You sighed, looking down at your lap. Suddenly eye contact was too much right now.

“For last night. I know I've already apologized but… seriously, I'm really sorry for making you drive all the way out there. And for worrying you.”

Leon shook his head, looking at you with an expression that could only be read as sympathetic.

“I've said it before and I'll say it again – you don't have to apologize, okay? If anything, I'm glad you called me. It meant that you trusted me to ensure your safety; and that made me feel good.”

You felt your heart warm at that. You continued to stare down at your lap, twiddling your thumbs, still hesitant to let him into your gaze.

“Can you look at me? Please?” Leon said ever so softly. The gentle, almost desperate tone of voice was enough to get you to finally raise your head and meet his eyes.

“There you are,” he said fondly. “I want you to know that you can always call me. For anything. And if you need me, I'll be there. We're not… together anymore but that doesn't mean I'm just gonna step out of your life, okay? I still care about you. Always will.”

You were effectively silenced, so deeply touched by Leon's words that you couldn't even produce any of your own. Suddenly your vision began to blur and your bottom lip was quivering.

Your friends – really, just your co-workers – who had practically forgotten about you at that club? They probably didn't care about you all like they claimed to. But if there was one person that would always stand up for you, help you, tend to your needs – it was Leon. It had always been him.

With a shaky voice, you responded, “Thank you, Leon. I… still care about you, too. So much. I totally owe you after last night.” you said with a playful smile, although you were honestly very serious.

“No, it's okay. You don't owe me anything. I was just doing what a good friend is supposed to do.”

Friend.

You brushed the word off, ignoring the pang of disappointment that hit you. You simply smiled at him.

Clearing your throat, you started another topic. “So, um… I guess since I'm here, we should catch up a bit. It's been so long since I've last spoken to you.”

Leon shrugged. “Honestly? I don't have much to catch you up on. I've just been doing what I always do, lounging around, working, occasionally going out with Claire and Chris. You know me, I'm a boring guy.”

“You are not at all boring, Kennedy,” you said teasingly.

“You know, it's okay to admit it.” He replied, and you could only shake your head, laughing quietly to yourself.

“You're literally a government agent. That's the opposite of boring.”

“Well, what a lot of people don't know is that being a government agent also comes with a shit-ton of paperwork.”

“I suppose,” you said with a completely playful roll of your eyes. “Anyway, Claire and her brother doing well?”

“They're doing great. They're always asking about you.”

You felt guilt begin to rear its ugly head at Leon's comment. “I haven't spoken to them in a while too… God, I'm terrible.” You said.

“Hey, don't make it a huge deal. They know how busy you are. They still care about you too. You could go a thousand years without speaking to them and they'd still be excited to hear from you.”

“That's nice to know.” You replied. You made it a mental note to get in contact with them soon.

The dining table fell quiet again. There was this undeniable tension in the air, one that the two of you couldn't shake. As much as you hated to admit it, you had missed sitting at Leon's dining table, sitting across from him specifically, sharing peaceful mornings together. You knew that eventually you'd have to leave; you'd part ways with Leon once more. You wish you could say that'd be easy to do.

Leon pulled you out of the recesses of your mind when he suddenly stood up, grabbing the two plates and cups. You silently watched as he went over to the sink, turning on the faucet.

Without even thinking, you stood up as well, joining him in the kitchen.

“Let me help you,” you said, not even giving him the choice.

Leon shook his head, like you knew he would. “It's alright, I got it. I know you've probably got things to do, so I understand if you need to go-”

“Things to do? Like what?” You interrupted with a playful grin. “I want to help, Leon, please.”

“It's only a few dishes.”

“I know– look, stop being so stubborn and let me help. Please.” You said, taking a plate out of his hand and grabbing a washcloth to help with drying. Leon just chuckled, having paused his washing for a bit to admire you.

“You haven't changed.” He spoke.

“What do you mean?” You asked as you put the plate back in its respective cabinet. You didn't even need to ask where it went – it was muscle memory for you.

“I mean… always wanting to help with stuff. It's what I've always liked about you.” Leon replied, handing you a newly washed cup. You took it, slowly, still processing his words. You felt a certain warmth throughout your body, trying to distract yourself from the feeling by rather furiously drying the glass.

“That's just how I am. Can't help it.” You replied shyly, your voice coming out small.

“I know. You should consider being an agent since you like helping so much.” Leon teased. You were putting the glass up when he had said that and weren't looking directly at him, but you could hear the smirk in his voice. It made you smile.

“Absolutely not.” You replied immediately, to which the both of you broke out into laughter, the sound filling the kitchen.

The two of you finished doing the dishes fairly quickly, falling into an easy rhythm. It all felt too familiar. The both of you fell into your usual banter so easily, and it was almost like you two hadn't just spent months apart.

You ended up helping Leon clean his entire kitchen after the dishes, chatting with him every second and moving around each other with the sort of ease you can only get when you've spent enough time in one place to memorize everything. You told Leon that you didn't mind helping him knock out a few chores, which was true; you knew how busy he was and how he was usually too tired to take care of things like this himself. But deep down, the true reason why you were still here was because you just didn't want to leave. But you kept that part buried within you. It was difficult coming to terms with what that meant and you didn't want to think about it.

“Does anything else need tidying?” You asked him once you finished wiping the kitchen counter. Leon looked around, seemingly thinking for a moment, before shaking his head.

“Nah, it's all good. But I appreciate it.”

Your grin faltered a bit. You knew you had to go. You had been here for hours now.

“Ah, okay,” you said, trying to hide the dejection in your voice. “Well, um… I guess I should get out of your hair then.”

Leon perked up at that. “You don't have to leave.” He said quickly. He then cleared his throat, looking away. “I mean, uh– if you don't want to, you can stay as long as you want.”

You wanted to more than anything else. But the right thing would be to leave, even though that went against your heart's desires. Who knows what you'd end up saying– or doing– if you stayed. Whatever it'd be, you'd probably regret it.

“I should really go.” You said quietly. Leon just silently nodded. His expression was unreadable yet again.

After making sure you had all your belongings, and unfortunately having to change back into your cursed club outfit for the time being, you now stood in front of the door. Leon had changed out of his pajamas too, looking as handsome as ever in a simple pair of jeans, a black shirt, and boots.

Since your friends had driven you to the club, and Leon drove you to his place, he'd have to drive you back. You were waiting for him after he had said he had to find his keys. You took one long, final glance around his house as you stood there with a heavy heart.

Quite a bit of time had passed, though, and you were about to call out to Leon, as you noticed he seemed to be taking longer than you expected. You figured he just needed help searching for his keys, so you jogged over to his bedroom, where you saw him enter.

When you walked in, he was kneeling in front of a cardboard box. His closet door was open, so you presumed that's where the box came from. Your brows pinched together in confusion.

“Leon? I can help with finding your keys-”

“Oh, I have my keys. I just, um… suddenly remembered something.” He said, a bit cryptically.

You were still visibly puzzled. “Remembered what?” you asked, walking a bit closer to see the contents of the box. And then you realized.

In the box was some jewelry of yours, one of your shirts, and a bottle of perfume that you had forgotten at his home ages ago.

Your heart warmed at the fact that Leon kept them safe and tucked away in his closet, almost as if he was waiting for the day to return them to you.

“I completely forgot about these,” he said, standing up to face you. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. I've been meaning to give these back.”

You just smiled, feeling so incredibly touched and endeared.

“It's okay, Leon. I didn't even realize I was missing these items.” You said with a chuckle. You kneeled down yourself, sifting through the contents of the box and reminiscing. The perfume especially reminded you of so many date nights and all the times Leon told you how nice you smelled.

“You know, that reminds me,” You began, feeling the cotton of your old, worn t-shirt that lay perfectly folded in the box. “I think I still have one of your sweatshirts. The old RPD one.”

You knew you did. It was still in your closet, hidden away. Not forgotten, just out of sight.

“You can keep it.” Leon said. “You looked better in it anyway.”

You felt that familiar heat rush to your face again. Even after all this time, his words still affected you.

“Well, um… thanks.” You replied.

“It's nothing.”

You stood up, holding the box, and the two of you walked back to the door. Every step felt heavier than the last.

You watched as Leon was about to open the door for you. But in that moment, as he was about to turn the knob, something within you snapped.

“Wait.” You said.

Leon paused, turning to look at you. “Did– did you forget something?” He asked.

You shook your head. You slowly put the box down on the floor, gently kicking it aside.

“I don't wanna leave, Leon.”

Leon still seemed perplexed. “I told you, you can stay as long as you-”

“No, I mean… I'm not leaving… again.”

It didn't take long for the realization to hit Leon. He was silent for a bit, unsure of how to proceed, or what to say.

“I need you to be more clear.” He said simply.

You stepped closer to him. You nearly reached your hand out, wanting to gently stroke his hair like you always used to do, but you weren't sure if he was ready to jump back into physical affection like that. You restrained yourself.

“I want to try again, Leon. I'm so sorry for how I treated you. At the time, I didn't understand your trauma – I failed to accommodate you. When I left… I realized how shitty I had been. How much I had missed you. I dated other people and none of them gave me what you did. You were too good to me and I was too selfish. I'm sorry, and I want you to know that I've grown. I will try my best to meet you where you are from now on if you just let me back in.”

You said all of this while staring directly into Leon's captivating eyes, sincerity in your tone and in the way you gazed at him. You hoped Leon could feel your guilt. Your remorse.

Leon just stared back, stunned into silence. You could tell his mind was racing, searching for what to say, processing everything you had told him. You were prepared for him to say no. You were bracing for the heartbreak. You wouldn't be upset, no. You'd be understanding. You were ready to leave for good if that's what he wanted.

But heartbreak isn't what you got.

“Thank you. For apologizing.” Leon said. “I should, too. I wasn't being totally honest about my line of work. And dating a government agent isn't necessarily an easy thing to handle. It was probably traumatic for you, too, seeing me come home so damaged, physically and mentally.

“And for the record, I don't think you were being selfish. You wanted to help, I know you did, you just didn't know how and it was frustrating.”

You felt a stinging sensation in your eyes, your emotions nearly meeting their boiling point, tears threatening to spill. Deep down, you didn't think Leon had anything to apologize for, considering everything he's been through and seen, but you were appreciative of his apology nonetheless. It warmed your heart to know that he never resented you when you were together, like you always thought he did.

“So… should we try this again?” you said, a playful glint in your watery eyes.

Leon grinned. “We should.”

At that, you couldn't hold back any longer. You went in for a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck snugly. He wasted no time in wrapping his around your waist. Being back in his arms again felt like a dream.

You brought a hand up to his hair, running your fingers through it. You felt Leon relax even more at the soft touch.

With your lips close to his ear, you whispered:

“I never stopped loving you.”

Leon pulled away a bit, his hands just lightly resting on your waist.

“Neither did I.”

A pause. You felt his breath fan across your face.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, already grinning like a lovesick teenager.

“Please.” Was all Leon said before you leaned in, your lips finding purchase on top of his, bodies pressed close together.

You had a hunch that making yourself at home again wouldn't be difficult at all.

[kaleldobrev]

Vampergeist (5) — The 15 Year Problem Series

Pairing: MOC!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader & Dean Winchester

Series Summary: Needing help on a poltergeist case, you ask fellow hunter Sam Winchester for help. Despite having a broken arm, Sam agrees to help you. But, just as he’s about to head out and meet you, Dean tells him that he’ll take his place and help instead.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Cursing (6x), Age Gap (15 years), Sexual tension & Vulnerable Reader

Authors Note: Only 2 more parts after this one gang! I hope y'all have been having a great time with this series so far! | It's one of my favorite universes to write for | A prequel series to the Old Man Universe (OMU) on how Dean and reader met | Takes place a few days after Dean is cured from being a demon in 2016 (please read this post for reasonings why it’s 2016, not 2014) | As always, thoughts are in italics and the "POV's" switch between Dean & Reader | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

⋆ The 15 Year Problem Masterlist ⋆

⬸ Go Back & Read Chapter 4

“Okay, I think I know what we’re dealing with,” Dean said, looking up from one of the case files the coroner had given you less then half an hour ago. He kept a strong grip on the files, his tone and facial expressions serious.

You gave him a slightly questionable look as you sipped your beer and squinted your eyes slightly. Before you had called Sam, you had done some digging and you were sure that it was a poltergeist case, as all signs of one were there at all of the crime scenes. The only couple of things you hadn’t quite nailed yet were who the poltergeist was, and why it seemed to be only targeting medical students. “Yeah, it’s a polter—”

“A Vampergeist,” Dean said at the exact same moment as you, essentially cutting you off.

Your mouth was half open, trying to process what he just said. After the case was over, you made a mental note to ask Sam if his brother said things like this often. You folded your hands, eyeing Dean, trying to keep a straight face. “What in the living fuck is a Vampergeist?”

“It’s a poltergeist that sucks the blood of its victims like a vampire,” Dean explained, his tone with slight humor in it. “Vampergeist,” he repeated, moving his hands in a gesture as if he was somehow imitating Vanna White. The smile on his face was a rather goofy one — similar to that of a toddler who told his mother a new word he had just discovered. But you couldn’t help but smile looking at him. With the short amount of time you’ve been with Dean, he had made you smile more than anyone had in such a long time.

“Vampergeist is definitely a new one,” you said, playing along with his new word. A word that you didn’t want to admit to him that you were actually pretty fond of. “Unfortunately, Vampergeists exist just as much as Bigfoot and Nessie do,” you teased.

“Vampergeists don’t exist,” he mumbled to himself, using a slightly mocking tone. You smirked, giving a quiet chuckle to yourself at his imitation of you.

Dean rubbed his eyes, feeling the eye strain starting to hit him from looking at the case files and the laptop. At this point, neither one of you had a clue who the poltergeist could be, and why it seemed to be specifically targeting medical students of all people. In his long hunting career, and in your numerous poltergeist cases you’ve worked, neither of you had ever seen or heard of one that drained the blood of its victims before; especially one that didn’t even leave marks for entry.

He looked at you, and you were biting your bottom lip; something that you tended to do, he noticed, whenever you were thinking or concentrating hard on something. He wished he was the one biting it. Fuck, I need to get laid, he thought.

You must of felt his stare, as all of a sudden you looked up from the case file and smiled at him. The way you smiled killed him. "Did you find anything?" You asked, placing the case file on the table.

"No," he answered automatically, rubbing his face again. "But what I can tell you is that I have a fuck ton of eye strain. Which means, it's time to take a break," he said, patting the table and getting up.

You weren't against a break, as the more breaks you took, the longer it took to work the case. And the longer it took to work the case, meant the longer amount of time you got to spend with Dean.

As he got up from the table, he went to his side of the bed and plopped onto it, grabbing the remote from the side table and turning on the television. "Watching tv isn't going to help your eye strain you know," you commented. "Might make it worse."

Dean scoffed. "Everything can be solved by watching some TV," he said. "Now come." He patted your side of the bed, and started flipping through the channels trying to find something the two of you could watch together.

As you lied down on the bed next to Dean, your heart started to pound quickly. You were inches away from him, and all you wanted to do was reach out and touch him. You wanted to grab his hand and hold it in yours, rest your head on his shoulder. But the more you thought about all the things you had wanted to do with him, the sadder you got. You were never going to be able to rest your head on his shoulder, or feel his lips on yours. There was no way he would ever look at you in a romantic way.

There was absolutely nothing to watch, which slightly surprised him, because even in shitty motels, there was at least one thing to watch. But the more he channel surfed, the deeper he sighed. “There’s nothing on, not even Scooby-Doo,” he said.

“Is Scooby-Doo your favorite?” You asked, looking at him, and he nodded in response.

“Yeah. Like I said before. Scooby-Doo was one of those things that was always on no matter where me, my dad and Sammy were. It was also one of the few things that I watched where I knew the bad guy was going to lose,” he explained. “Like —”

“Horror movies,” you added. “That’s why I like horror movies so much. You know the bad guy is always going to lose,” you explained. Of course you fucking like horror movies, he thought. Was there something the two of you didn’t have in common?

“Yeah, exactly,” he agreed. “That’s what I tell Sammy all the time. He says our life is pretty much a horror movie, that’s why he doesn’t like them but, at least I know in movies the bad guy loses. In our world well…”

“It’s not a guarantee,” you said, finishing his sentence for him yet again, your tone sounding almost slightly saddened. “Speaking of which,” you began, as you sat on the edge of the bed, “we need to find out who this poltergeist is before anymore students end up dead,” you said, as you walked back over to the table.

“Yahtzee!” Dean randomly called out, throwing his hands up in the air before spinning his laptop to face you. “Read the title of this article I finally found,” he said, with the biggest, impressed smile on his lips.

“David Falko’s medical instruments donated to medical museum at The University of Tulsa,” you read aloud. “What about it?” You asked.

“Keep reading, and look at the date on the bottom of the article,” Dean pointed out.

“July first, twenty-sixteen,” you said.

“And when was the first murder?” Dean asked.

“July third, twenty-sixteen,” both you and Dean at the same time.

“Son of a Bitch,” you mumbled.

“But wait, there’s more,” Dean began, holding up his pointer finger before turning his laptop back to him. “I did a little bit more digging on our pal Falko here, and fifty years ago, he murdered three of his medical students using the exact same instruments that were donated.”

“How do you explain the blood draining with no marks?” You asked.

Dean grinned from ear to ear. “I am so glad you asked.” He grabbed one of the case files that the corner had given you, and opened it, revealing the photographs from the autopsy. “Our coroner friend did miss something. See this right here?” Dean pointed to one of the autopsy photos, which was a close up picture of one of the medical students hairlines by their neck.

“That mark right there?” You asked, pointing to a small circular mark that looked extremely similar to a mole.

“Yep. That’s not a mole like the coroner thought. It’s actually a puncture wound. What Falko did fifty years ago, was he punctured the base of the students skulls close enough to their hair line so it looked like a mole and essentially, went unnoticed,” Dean explained. “Until now anyway,” he winked.

“And because he was their supervisor, that’s why there was no forced entry,” you stated, and Dean nodded. “What about the lack of struggle?”

“All three students offered to make Falko coffee, and when the students weren’t looking, Falko would drug them. So, when the students drank the drugged coffee, they would fall asleep, and that’s when he could do his handiwork,” he explained, and his explanation made your blood run cold. Not only did Falko kill three people, he did it in a cowardly way.

“It would make sense for Falko to be our guy. Do you think, and it’s a stretch here I know that, the reason that there are no drugs in any of the students systems is because he can just knock them out from being a ghost?” You knew how crazy your theory was, but in this line of work, sometimes the craziest of theories were the most logical of ones.

Dean shrugged. “Could be possible. But at the same time, even in death, serial killers don’t really change their M.O. And I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”

You chuckled at his comment. “I’m sure it’s not the craziest thing you’ve ever said,” you slightly smirked.

Dean smirked back. “Actually —” but before he could indulge in your comment, you cut him off.

“Please tell me the medical instruments are still at the college, because I’m assuming we can’t just salt and burn this guy,” you said. Both Dean and you have been on plenty of ghost cases, and rarely was it that easy to just salt and burn the remains — there was almost always something else involved.

“You would be correct because our buddy here was cremated,” Dean replied.

“Of course he is,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes. “Alright. Well. Since we have a few hours to kill before dark, I say we take a little nap and fuel up before we steal some historical medical equipment from a prominent university.”

Dean smiled, chuckling to himself. “Couldn’t have said it any better myself.”

The rest of the morning and afternoon with Dean couldn’t have gone any quicker. It felt like the time flew by, and it was time that you desperately wanted to re-live again; which is funny because it was relatively uneventful. The two of you did what you had suggested: take a nap, refuel, and watched some tv. But during those hours with him, you felt safe and comfortable. You felt truly safe with Dean despite barely knowing him a couple of days. He was still relatively a stranger to you and yet, you’d trust him with your life if it ever came down to it.

When it came to your nap, you were the first one to wake, which you were strangely grateful for as you were able to admire the way Dean slept. He looked so peaceful, like he didn’t have a care in the world. You wanted desperately to reach out and touch him, to feel his stubble underneath your fingertips. But you had to resist the urge even though it was getting stronger with each passing second.

When nighttime had finally come, it was time to head to the medical museum at the university, and hopefully put a stop to this once and for all. But based on the information that the two of you had gathered though, you figured that Falko was done with his little murder spree, but you needed to make sure that he would never be able to harm anyone ever again. Three now, and six in total was far too many innocent lives lost.

As you and Dean drove to the university, there remained that comfortable silence that seemed to often appear between the two of you; the only sound to be heard in the truck was The Clash, but the volume was scarily low for you, as you tended to blast your music — not caring who heard. But in this moment, you felt it wasn’t necessary.

Despite the silence that you were enjoying between the two of you, you were the one that broke it. “Before, you asked me how I got into hunting so young,” you began, still keeping your eyes on the road.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Dean reassured you. “It’s not a big deal if I don’t know.”

“I want to. I trust you,” and you meant it when you said that, as trust was something you rarely gave to people since you became a hunter. You removed your hand from the wheel briefly, and touched the dog tags that were hanging in your review mirror. “See these?” You asked, and removed your hand, putting it back on the wheel again. Dean nodded. “He’s the reason I got into hunting.”

Dean looked at you, inches away from touching the precious dog tags you had refused to burn after all this time. “May I?” He asked, and you nodded. He removed the dog tags gently from the rear view and you felt your heart pounding quickly. You never let anyone touch them, and yet, you were letting Dean. “Joseph A. Baxter,” Dean read.

“Joey,” you corrected, partially smiling as you said his name. “He was my best friend and my neighbor. We were…inseparable, attached to the hip. Our parents always wondered when the two of us would start dating but, we…” you sighed deeply. “Never got the chance to.” You hadn’t talked about Joey in such a long time, and it felt almost therapeutic in a way to talk about him, but at the same time, he was someone you rarely talked about because sometimes it was too painful for you to bring up the memories of him, despite the amount of fondness and love you had for him.

You felt tears coming on, and you quickly did your best to bat them away with your eyelashes, but some still managed to escape to your cheeks. “He enlisted, and he left. Said he’d be back in no time,” you took a deep breath again. This was harder than you expected it to be. You wanted to continue, to tell Dean about him, as you felt safe enough to tell him, something you rarely felt with people since Joey died. As you were almost about to give up, you felt Dean place his hand on your thigh. Not in a romantic way, but in a comforting way. But the gesture didn’t last long, as he quickly pulled it away. But that small gesture gave you enough strength to continue.

“When he came back he was…he was dead. We got the news when an army vehicle pulled up in front of his parents house with one of those folded flags with his dog tags on top,” you paused again, but Dean remained silent. “His funeral was a week later. I was just so…angry at him. He promised…he promised he’d come back.” You didn’t fight back any of the tears now, as they were running down your cheeks. You knew you were in no condition to drive now, so you pulled over to the side of the road.

As soon as you did, you couldn’t control yourself anymore. Your body was on autopilot. You turned to Dean and wrapped your arms around him, and without hesitation it seemed, he wrapped his arms around you. He gently rubbed your back the best he could at the angle you were at, and he started humming, as if he was trying to help you calm down. “It’s okay,” he whispered on repeat to you.

⤑ Move Forward & Read Chapter 6 (Not yet available)

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[zhounauts]

KISS THE RAIN, THIS IS GOODBYE TEASER ! ── heeseung's life is utterly flipped after falling in love at first sight with a mysterious girl on a rainy day. yet, when it comes to seeing her again it seems like he's out of luck. why? because she doesn't exist in the present. ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏

general info... genre romance, angst, time travel, long fic word count 0.47k current status in the works loosely based on please show up! by kim kihyun warnings cursing, death

authors note... first attempt at writing a story like this. i'm reposting this cause i lowkey posted it in a rush yesterday and wanted to redo some things, so if you've already seen this no you haven't. . .

currently listening to... lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıılıı. lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıılıı. lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıılıı.

HEESEUNG WAS GOING TO KILL SOMEONE.

And that someone was going to be the local weatherman, because why the actual hell was it pouring outside on a supposedly sunny day? The rain came down harder now, large droplets slamming against the pavement. It was the kind of rain that felt too heavy for the world, as if it wanted to drown everything. Heeseung cursed under his breath.

And then, cutting through the steady rhythm of the rain, there was a laugh. It danced through the downpour.

He whipped around, and there she was—a girl standing beneath an umbrella. She didn't seem to mind the rain at all.

Who was she?

Something about her was off, yet captivating. Her eyes seemed to glitter even through the gray of the sky, and her face—unfamiliar. He definitely would've remembered a face like hers.

“Huh?” that’s all he could manage. A wave of embarrassment heats his neck.

“Need a hand?” she asks.

“Who are you?”

“Me?” she tilts her head, and Heeseung can feel his heart pound faster, “Who are you?”

Heeseung blinks at this. “You don’t know who I am?”

“Am I supposed to?” the girl giggles again, “I do know that you need an umbrella though,” she reaches out a hand, a red umbrella resting on it. Heeseung takes the umbrella in his hand, undoing its velcro strap quickly to open it up.

“Thanks,” he mutters “but really, who are you? I’ve never seen you before,”

“Y/n,” the girl answers.

“Y/n?”

“Y/n L/n,” she smiles, “That's my name,”

Four days later it rains again.

And as it does, Heeseung holds your red umbrella in his hand, his face stoic. As he watches the downpour, he can only think back to the day he had met you. His head was a mess of thoughts, thoughts of you and simply how the hell this situation was even remotely possible. It couldn't be.

He had met you. He had talked to you. He had your umbrella. He remembered your smile.

And as he stands in the same spot he had met you before, he doesn't open the umbrella. He waits. Something tells him to wait.

Thunder rumbles. His heart beats. Lightning flashes. A girl laughs.

“Oh, you’re here again,”

It's you.

But it also can't be you.

Why?

Cause Y/n L/n is a name that belongs to a dead woman.

͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ZHOUNAUTS 2024©

[babymetaldoll]

Are you mine? - Chapter six: "You killed my father, prepare to die."

Summary: It's a sad moment for the Reids: Gideon has been murdered. This is one of Spencer's darkest moments, but this time, he doesn't have to deal with it alone.  Warnings: Cursing, Criminal Minds spoilers of season 10 Ep 13 "Nelson Sparrow." It's just sad, everything is sad.  Word count: 8.405 words A/N: Hello!! So, who do you think Spencer felt about missing his daughter's first Halloween? I'm sure it was a low blow. What do you think their family disguise was about? I'm thinking Doctor Who, with Raven as a tiny Tardis. 

Series' Masterlist - Author's masterlist

Previous chapter | Next chapter (post date: October 2nd)

Spencer’s point of view

For a few months, things were normal for all of us. Well, as normal as they can be considering we worked at the BAU hunting serial killers week after week. (Y/N) and Kate got along incredibly well, and I could see how much she enjoyed spending time with her. She still missed Prentiss, but knowing she was just a phone call away made things easier this time.

Leaving our baby back home every time we had to go out of town for a case was still incredibly painful. Still, Sofia, Lu, Mikey, and Frank were always there with Raven, which helped us stay focused on work. Honestly, we wouldn’t be able to do it without them.

One thing made us incredibly miserable back then: We missed Raven’s first Halloween because we had to solve a case in San Diego. An unsub was kidnapping kids on October 31st, and though I knew our baby couldn’t go out trick and treating yet, it was heart-wrenching knowing we had missed her first Halloween. We had a family custom planned, and though we wore it the entire 1st of November as we stayed at home, carving pumpkins and watching the "Charlie Brown Halloween special" with her, it just wasn’t the same.

- “I wish we could promise her this is the only celebration we'll miss because of work.”- (Y/N) whispered as we cuddled in bed that night. - “But we both know that’d be a lie.”

- “I just hope next year things will be different.”- I whispered and kissed (Y/N)’s forehead as she snuggled closer.

- “I hope we don’t miss Christmas.”

We had some weird cases during that year. We even had a female unsub who ruined every fairy tale I read to my daughter. She was sure she was Cinderella and kept looking for her prince charming, killing every man who didn’t live up to her fantasy in the way. To catch her, I had to pretend to be a prince, carry one of her shoes like a crystal slipper, and nearly propose. That ended up being the only way she could go with us willingly.

I will never forget (Y/N)’s face as I approached the unsub in a cemetery, without any vest or gun. The whole idea was Hotch’s and I didn’t think it could work, but it turned out that that poor girl was so out of reality that she indeed thought I was her prince charming.

- “Not fair!”- my wife argued as we drove to the cemetery, where Garcia had located her and her newest victim.- “You are supposed to be my prince charming, no one else’s. And why did you take off your wedding right?”- and she pouted and whined, making me chuckle.

- “Come on, chipmunk! You know I am your and only yours. I’m just trying to get this unsub with the least use of force possible. And if she sees the ring she’ll know I’m lying.”

- “One weird movement and I’m gonna take her down.”- (Y/N) replied and I smiled, somehow proud of how jealous she was under the circumstances.

- “Do me a favor kids and stop being so freaking sweet when all of us can hear you.”- Rossi argued in my ear from the SUV right behind ours.

- “Never.”- my wife quickly replied from the back seat and I suppressed a chuckle.

- “Should I remind them I’m in the same car with them?”- JJ joked and (Y/N) smiled right away. It took some of the tension off, considering I knew my wife was upset I wasn’t wearing a vest to face the unsub. But I knew I didn’t need one, she had my back.

When we walked to the unsub, she had a pair of gardening scissors against her poor victim’s neck, and she was about to kill him, so I hurried and grabbed one of the evidence shoes we had from a bad and tried to get her attention, as (Y/N) hid behind a bush, pointing the unsub with a gun, and JJ did the same from behind a tree.

- “Excuse me. May I approach?”- I said, exactly as the Prince Charming did in the bedtime story I had read to Raven before we took off for that case.

- “Who are you? Go away!”- the unsub yelled back at me, and I walked slower, raising my hands, showing her I was not a threat.

- “Please, just give me the chance to speak. I've looked for so long.”

- “What? What are you talking about?”

- “I've searched this entire city trying to find the right person. Are you the right person?”- I made a short pause as I watched the guy she was about to kill move from her side. Her eyes were focused on me, so I continued speaking. -“The dance, the other evening. Do you remember?”

- “The dance?”- she stood up, dropped the weapon, and walked to me. She was indeed defenseless. Poor girl, she was actually sure she was Cinderella, and after knowing her background story, I could only hope she’d find help.

- “I met the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my life. We danced the whole night, and then… She was gone. But she left this behind.”- I showed her the shoe and walked a few steps closer to her- “May I?”

And so, I kneeled before her and put on her shoe. She gasped and tears filled her eyes as she stared at me with a big smile and I kissed her hand, like Prince Charming usually does in books, to seal the deal.

- “I brought the carriage.”- it was the only way I could get her into the SUV and into custody.

- “You did?

- “It's waiting for us.”

She seemed so surprised and excited, I didn’t even have to push her, she held my arm as we started walking. I looked at my wife for a second, still hiding behind that bush, still pointing her gun at the unsub, and cut her a short smile, trying to help her relax, until she finally lowered the pistol and smiled back at me.

We had a bunch of crazy cases that year, but nothing, not even the hardest mysteries we’d had to crack, could have ever prepared me for that phone call and the drive in the middle of the night to Gideon’s cabin.

He was dead. Murdered. And it felt like a part of my chest was empty. He was the closest thing I've ever had to a father, and though we hadn’t talked in years after his departure from the FBI, I knew he was out there, being happy, living his life away from the murderers and cases.

But now he was gone, and we had to finish whoever had done that to him and make him pay.

(Y/N) held my hand the entire drive to his cabin, after dropping Raven with her mother. I didn’t speak much, and she didn’t push me either. I just let the tears fall from my eyes. When we got to the cabin, JJ, Hotch, Kate, and Rossi were already there. I couldn’t say a word as Gideon’s body lay on the ground, covered with a white sheet, like any other corpse we had seen at a crime scene before. Only this time, it was personal.

I tried not to cry, but my chin quivered and (Y/N) quickly held my hand tight. JJ looked at me with a sorry glance and I locked my eyes on the sheet on the floor, still trying to process the fact that it was Gideon’s corpse.

No one said a word for a few minutes. They were all broken hearted, just like me. The record player kept spinning, after playing the last song he ever heard. The chess board was untouched, waiting for him to come back and play. Garcia and Morgan walked in after a few minutes and stood next to us, also shocked and deeply affected.

- “Are you sure?”- Penelope asked Hotch, still not believing it was actually Gideon lying dead in front of us. Hotch nodded and kept his eyes on Garcia as he replied.

- “It’s Gideon.”

That was enough for me. I had to step out of that cabin. I couldn’t deal with that kind of grief. My wife walked behind me and hugged me as I finally broke in tears, and sobbed against her neck as he held me close to her.

- “It’s ok honey, let it all out.”- she whispered and caressed my hair as I cried my heart out. I couldn’t stop. I felt a hole had been dug in the middle of my chest. How could Gideon be dead? How? Who killed him? I needed to find that asshole and make him pay. I knew I was sad and emotional, but the need for revenge was growing fast inside me.

- “How could… who would…”

I couldn’t finish sentences as I cried and held (Y/N) closer to me. Closer as possible. You don’t expect your family to be murdered. And Gideon was like family to me. We hadn’t talked in over eight years, but he was still one of the most important people in my life. He helped me grow, and he taught me so much when I first joined the FBI. He trusted my intelligence, he got everybody to call me a doctor.

How does a guy so smart, so bright, get murdered? What happened? What went wrong? How couldn’t he notice something was going on? Gideon was a legend in the FBI, and to me, he was one of the smartest guys I had ever met. How could that have happened to him?

- “We are gonna solve this.”- my wife whispered and kept caressing my hair. - “We are gonna find out what happened and we are gonna catch whoever killed him.”

I couldn’t answer, all I managed to do was nod as a reply and felt (Y/N) holding me, trying to keep the pieces of my heart together.

JJ walked out of the cabin a few minutes later. She stared at me as I did my best to stop sobbing. I wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable in front of my friends and family- and that’s what the team had always been to me- but I knew I had to put my grief aside and start working as a profiler, ‘cos we needed to solve that case.

- “I am so sorry, Spence.”- JJ whispered and walked to me. (Y/N) unwrapped her arms from my body, making me shiver, missing her warmth immediately. JJ hugged me for a moment, but it wasn’t as comforting as (Y/N)’s arms. Not mean to compare, but it just didn’t do much for me. However, I hugged my friend tight and sighed, thinking it had to be hard for her as well. Gideon wasn’t just my team partner. It was everybody’s, and we were all grieving in the same way. I couldn’t be selfish, that wasn’t about me.

- “Do we know anything?”- (Y/N) whispered and JJ shook her head. She moved and hugged my wife for a moment and I cleared my throat, trying to compose myself.

- “Forensic are on their way to remove the body. Hotch is calling the family.”

And somehow that sentence hit me. It was hard for us to know Gideon had been murdered, but I couldn't even begin to imagine how his family was going to feel. He had a son named Stephen. They weren’t close, that I knew, but that doesn’t mean they hated each other. It’s hard having a family with the job we had. (Y/N) and I knew that very well now. It was double work being present at home and keeping what we saw at work out of the house. But giving our daughter the best we had was our priority. I never wanted her to feel she wasn’t as important as what we did for a living, because she is the world to us.

Morning came sooner than I expected. Somehow it felt like only minutes had passed since we arrived at that cabin. I had only been there once before, the day Gideon left the team and I found his letter for me, saying goodbye. The only memory I had of that place wasn’t better than that moment I was living.

(Y/N) talked with the team as she held my hand. She was the functional one in our relationship at that minute. She knew I needed time to process it all, and she let me. But never, not even once, did she stop holding my hand.

A team of criminalistic took Gideon’s body from his cabin and I just stood there, staring at the scene, unable to move. I couldn’t even say a word. I just glued my eyes to the ground, reliving all the memories I had with Jason in my mind over and over again. I remembered when I first joined the team and we had our first case. He picked me to be on the team even when I was still very young. I was the younger agent to join the BAU, and he trusted my knowledge and my abilities, even when I didn’t.

Gideon taught me about serial killers and how to catch them. He taught me about chess and life. He even tried to help me get a date with JJ back in the day.

- “Remember how much he hated us hanging out when I joined the team?”- (Y/N) whispered, reading my mind at the moment. It was the first thing she had said to me in at least half an hour and all I managed to do as a reply was to nod.

- “He once called me to his office and told me I was being selfish with the team, ‘cos the way I was influencing you was taking your mind from work, and that you were the smartest of us all.”- my wife confessed after over ten years. I remembered that day exactly, she had walked out of Gideon’s office nearly crying, and I gave her candies to cheer her up.

- “You never let that get in the way of our friendship and I think eventually he realized I was a good influence on you.”- (Y/N) whispered and turned to me. I looked at her puffy eyes and sighed, they were still sparkling, even with all the sadness I could read on them.

- “Though he never got you tickets to go to a concert with me.”- she teased and cut me a warm smile.

- “I love you.”- I replied and wrapped my arms around her. - “Thank you for supporting me.”

- “Always.”- she answered and kissed my lips sweetly. - “Hotch wanted us to go with Morgan and talk with the M.E. but if you don’t want to go…”

- “No, I have to.”- I quickly answered and wiped the few tears that had fallen from my eyes as I spoke.

- “You don’t have to do anything, honey.”

- “I owe it to Gideon. I have to help the team.”

The entire drive to the M.E. we were silent. We took our car and (Y/N) drove us there. Morgan was waiting for us right outside, standing next to his SUV.

- “How are you?”- he asked us and neither of us replied. I looked at him and felt him tapping on my back a few times- “Come on, kids.”- he whispered and walked with us inside. Neither of us wanted to be, that was a fact.

We walked the same halls we had been in a thousand times during the years, and we met with the same team we had worked with a million times. They all knew how hard that was for us, and they were kind enough to try to make it easier.

- “Out of respect, I kept him covered.”- the doctor said as we stood in front of Giden’s dead body.

- “Appreciate that.”- Morgan replied and I felt (Y/N)’s hand squeezing mine.

- “'Cause of death was hypovolemic shock due to ballistic trauma. Three points of entry: left shoulder, right abdominal wall, and right temporal.”- the doctor started and I felt sick immediately.

- “Did he suffer?”- Derek asked the question we were all thinking and I didn’t move my eyes from the sheet. It was slowly covering staining with blood.

- “Not for long, no.”- the forensic quickly responded and as she continued talking, Morgan turned and looked at me, not saying a word. - “His brain stopped working before he was able to process his last breath. After the final shot, he was gone within a fraction of a second.”

- “Would you excuse us, please?”- Morgan’s words sounded like a whisper in that room, and the doctor nodded.

- “Of course.”

- “Thank you.”- as soon as she was out of the room, Derek turned to me and the tears started to fall slowly from my eyes. (Y/N) rubbed my back and kissed my hand as she continued holding it.

- “Did you hear any of that, kid? He didn't suffer.”- I couldn’t even tell him I understood, ‘cos tears filled my eyes and I nearly started sobbing- “Listen to me. Listen to me. I know you are not alone, I know you have your wife to support you, but you two are not going through this on your own. Sometimes you two put up these walls and you block us out, and you can't do that, not right now.”

I know to this day that he was right. Before being in a relationship, me and (Y/N) would do that to the world. We had our own little bubble and we would live there, help each other, and never rely on anyone else. Like we did when she helped me get clean and sober. After we started dating, that bubble became more exclusive. The way we handled Prentiss’ death was just a glimpse of how we worked. We were a team of our own and we would leave everybody out.

- “We need you, kids. Gideon needs you. Both of you.”- Morgan finished his speech and hugged me tight. He looked at (Y/N) and hugged her too, as she tried her best not to cry and remain strong.

- “I'm going to step right out there, and when you two are ready… let's go get this son of a bitch.”

(Y/N)’s point of view

One of the scariest things about Gideon’s death was dealing with the awful truth: we were all potential victims. Yes, it wasn’t the first time we had to face that fact, but you usually forget it. You are under an incredible amount of stress, dealing with serial killers, trips, your daily routine, and taking care of your baby, your house, and your husband. And then this hits you: You can die. All of your team could be in danger. And there is nothing you can do to stop it.

Honestly, it’s nerve-wracking.

I had held Spencer’s hand since the second we got that phone call and I wasn’t planning on letting it go. I knew how hard that situation was for my husband and I was not going to let him go through it alone. Never.

Morgan left us alone with Gideon’s corpse and Spencer cried for a few seconds. I hugged him and let my own tears fall free as we simply stood in front of Gideon’s body. After a silence, filled with our sobs, I let my husband go and turned to the body.

- “So, as you may know, we got married.”- I started talking and felt Spencer’s hand holding mine tighter in a second. - “It’s been three years already, and we have a little girl. Her name is Raven. You would have loved her. She is so smart, like her dad.”

- “Like her mom.”- Spencer corrected me and I brushed the tears that kept falling down my face as I continued speaking.

- “She is going to be one year old in a few weeks, and we are planning a big party. She loves animals and bedtime stories. Spencer reads her for hours before putting her down to bed.”- my chin kept quivering as I spoke, but I continued fighting the tears and made a long pause, trying to recompose myself.

- “We miss you.”- Spencer whispered- “I miss you.”

His voice broke at the end of that last word, but after a few seconds, he continued talking. 

- “I hope you are proud of the man I became, ‘cos you had a lot to do with who I am today. Every time I am scared and feel like quitting, I remember when you told me “We all have bad dreams. Everyone on the plane, who wouldn't? We hunt the worst of humanity, we see the depths of depravity, we dream of monsters.” And yet, you left us. I guess I understand why you did it. However, I don’t understand why you turned your back on us. Why didn’t you call? Why not send a letter after that goodbye? We were a family, or at least that's how I felt about you.”

My husband was opening his heart, and the only thing I could do was to hold his hand and encourage him to let it all out. That was the time to do it. The moment to start healing from any wound that the end of his relationship with Gideon left him.

- “I’m sorry you felt like you needed to leave us behind. There were so many times when I wished I could still talk to you. Ask you things, get your advice. It wasn’t just serial killers. You were my friend. And as you remember, I don’t have many friends. That hasn’t changed much.”

- “And I’m still a very bad influence for him”- I had to add and chuckled- “But I still try to make him eat his greens at every dinner.”

- “You force me.”- Spencer argued immediately and I nodded.

- “That remains the same, as you can notice.”- my words were a soft whisper as I moved closer to the table, Spencer holding still my hand. - “Thank you for everything, Gideon. I’m sorry things ended up like this. I wish you could have come to our wedding. I wish we could have had one last conversation, to know if you were ok. But I give you my word, we are gonna catch whoever did this to you, and we are making them pay.”

Spencer took a deep breath and didn’t say a word for a moment. I looked at him and cut him a short smile, caressing his hand with my thumb as I still held it tight.

- “Thank you, Gideon. I will always remember our conversations, all of them. You changed my life. I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for you. I owe you so much…”- he sobbed for a moment, letting it all out. It broke my heart to see my husband so affected, but it was a good thing he was being open about his feelings. He wasn’t hiding how he felt, and between us that was a great improvement. He finally understood I didn’t need him to be perfect, I wanted him to be honest. That was it.

- “Goodbye, my friend.”- Spencer whispered, wiped the tears from his face, and sighed, looking at me.- “I’m ready. Let’s catch this guy.”

I cut him a short, warm smile and nodded. I gave him a Kleenex and ran my thumb across his cheek. When we walked out of there, Morgan was waiting for us. He didn’t say a word, he just looked at us and started walking. It was time to go back to the cabin and investigate this case as any other case. We had to be profilers.

Back at the cabin, JJ, Kate, and Penelope were going through some of Jason’s things, tracing his last steps. Spencer and I walked in and overheard the last part of their conversation, as Morgan followed us closely.

- “Ok, Gideon fueled up every 350 miles, he probably stopped at some diners along the way, 'cause, you know, the man could like live off of milkshakes.”- Pen rambled as she kept staring at the screen in front of her. - “Definitely he took his sweet time going down the coast, but booked it back from Jacksonville, and instead of coming here home to his cabin, he stayed one night in Roanoke.”

- “Why? It's only an hour away.”- Kate asked but her words were ignored ‘cause JJ noticed us and looked at my husband with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen.

- “Spence?”

- "I just don't understand any of it anymore. I guess I'm just looking for it again, for the belief I had back in college, the belief I had when I first met Sarah and it all seemed so right."- Spencer quoted the letter Gideon had left him as he stared at a book with a picture of Sarah and her date of death.

- “That's beautiful.”- Kate whispered and looked at us, probably not knowing what else to say. - “Who's Sarah?”

- “Gideon's first love.”- I answered and looked around, still feeling wrong for snooping into someone else’s life. Someone who had taken us out of his life.

- “You're remembering the letter Gideon left you.”- JJ kept staring at Spencer and he nodded, avoiding eye contact with anyone in that room. He just stared at the book in his hands and continued talking.

- “I'm thinking maybe he rushed back and stayed in Roanoke because he was finally happy. What if he found someone like Sarah again?”- Spencer sighed and turned around. He wasn’t ready to be at that cabin again, neither of us was, but we had to start working. I started walking behind him, but Rossi stopped me before I walked out of the door.

- “Principessa, wait. Let Spencer deal with his emotions alone for a moment.”- I stood by the door and looked at my husband outside, just walking around, looking at his feet. - “How's the kid?- David asked Morgan, I guess I wasn’t supposed to hear 'cause he was whispering, but I was right there.

- “Not great. But he'll get his head back in the game.”

- “Come here”- Rossi said looking at me and I walked over, still trying to see what Spencer was doing.- “How are you doing?”

- “I’m… shocked, I guess.”- I murmured and felt his arm around me. - “What about you? He was your friend, you were the fathers of the BAU.”

- “We are going to find whoever did this, then and only then I’ll be able to deal with what happened.”

Rossi’s words sounded a lot like any FBI agent would react: logical. Somehow I felt I was never going to be able to react that way if someone I loved was involved in a case.

- “Rossi, this is crazy.”- Morgan started talking, still trying to wrap his head around what had happened- “Gideon and I used to walk around scenes like this all the time. He'd always say to me, "Morgan, I'm the unsub. How did I do it?"”

- “Well, first I shoot my target from a distance, wounding him. Then I move in for the kill.”- Rossi replied, keeping his head cold, and being a profiler on duty.

- “Gideon has the strength to shoot a few rounds into the door. But he misses.”- Derek walked to the door and stared at the scene. - “Because I've weakened his dominant hand. Gideon didn't have the strength to hold his gun steady.”

- “So, I stand over. I get off on this. My face is the last thing he'll see. And then I finish him.”- Rossi adds and stares at the blood stains on the carpet.

- “But wait a second.”- I finally interrupted them and looked at the room around me like a crime scene, and not Gideon’s living room.- “If most of the gun was from here to the door, why did Gideon shoot way over here to this wall? That makes no sense unless he did it on purpose.”

- “You are right, pretty girl. Shot's gotta mean something.”- Derek nodded and the three of us stared at the whole on the wooden wall. Rossi grabbed the painting that had fallen due to the gunshot: it was a creepy sparrow picture.

- “The devil is in the details.”- David said and sighed- “Do you mind if I take Boy Wonder with me for a ride?”

- “Of course”- I answered - “Just let me say goodbye.”

- “It’s just a ride, Bella.”- Rossi cut me a short smile, and I nodded.

- “I know.”

Spencer left with Rossi and I was left with the girls. The first thing Penelope asked was how Spencer was doing, and I simply shrugged and sighed.

- “As well as expected, I guess.”

- “Were he and Gideon close?”- Kate asked and I nodded thinking “close” wasn’t the word I would use to describe that relationship.

- “They had a friendship that was more like a father and son relationship. He took so much care of Spencer when he first joined the BAU, he was actually upset we were friends.”- I explained and both JJ and Penelope smiled, nodding, probably remembering how it used to be when Gideon worked with us.

- “Upset you were friends? Why?”- Callahan demanded to know.

- “Well, I was somehow… a bad influence for Spencer.”- I whispered and sighed.

- “You two once got to work drunk!”- JJ said and chuckled- “I still remember Gideon’s look when you two sat at the table wearing sunglasses.”

- “Drunk?!”- Kate nearly yelled, shocked. Morgan walked over and overheard the conversation, and of course, he had to add his 5 cents to the topic.

- “Little Ricky smelled like whisky and beer. It was one of the best BAU moments.”

- “They called us at 3 in the morning, for Christ's sake!”- I argued and Pen giggled staring at me- “We had had a few drinks with some friends. It’s not like we were wasted.”

- “Jr. G man was so proud, though”- Garcia said - “I remember he told me he had so much fun that night, that your friends were the best, that everybody was nice to him. And that he even learned how to skateboard that night.” - I was about to add something to that memory, when JJ suddenly said.

- “Gideon really treated Spencer like a kid. Remember that birthday he gave Spence tickets to a football game, even when Spencer has never been a sports fan, so he could take me out on a date?”

Looking back at that moment, I think I should have noticed it was wrong that JJ kept bringing up every chance she could that she went out on a “date” with my husband. Penelope and Kate looked at me, waiting for my reaction, but I just shrugged and smiled.

- “He is screwed now, my family forces him to have football Sundays when we get together. And call me crazy, but I think he enjoys it.”

About two hours later, we got a call from Rossi and Spencer. They had a clue. Apparently, Gideon had been killed by an unsub they never caught in the area back in 1978.

- “The last thing Gideon did was to shoot a bird painting. I think he was trying to tell us that his killer is the same one from a case we worked on in 1978.”- Rossi said through the line.

- “So it was someone he locked up.”- Kate suggested, but the answer was no.

- “No, those murders went unsolved.”

- “So if this wasn't about revenge on Gideon if he didn't lock the guy up, then what was this?”- Morgan asked, looking confused.

- “We all knew Jason, he might have retired from the BAU, but there is no way he ever stopped working. I’m sure he was investigating that case if he never solved it back in the days.”- I said, thinking it was a very Gideon thing to do: retire to never ever retire indeed.

- “Exactly, maybe he went after Gideon because he was back on the case again.”- Rossi agreed with me.

- “The unsub was strangling 20-something brunettes.”- Spencer said through the line and I wished I could be with him, holding his hand. - “Garcia, were there any female bodies found in Roanoke County in the past few days?”

- “Let me check the crystal web ball.”- after a few seconds, Pen had the answer. - “Yes. An unidentified woman in her 50s was found in a shallow grave just outside of Salem.”

- “Was she strangled?”- Rossi asked right away.

- “That's the mystery. There was no foul play.”- Garcia answered shaking her head.

- “Was there a dead bird in her hand?”- Spencer asked and we all frowned, confused.

- “What? Eew. None of that fowl play either.”- Pen looked grossed

- “Hon, why the bird? Is that his signature?”- I asked.- “I’m guessing it wasn’t a random question.”

- “Yes, apparently, they were the unsub's obsession.”- Spencer answered.

- “So how did Gideon get back on the case?”- Kate questioned and looked at us - “I mean, he was retired, he should have been… bird watching. I don’t know.”

- “He saw the story in a national paper and it obviously piqued his interest.”- JJ suggested- “What are the chances that the same woods and the same ritual make headlines again?”

- “But the signature was missing.”- Kate pointed out.

- “It’s Gideon we are talking about. I think he knew something we haven’t discovered yet.”- I suggested and Hotch nodded. - “Or he had one hell of a hunch.”

- “That's why he drove to Roanoke. He needed to make sure it wasn't just a coincidence.”- Rossi supported my words through the line.

- “Well, clearly it wasn't.”- Morgan whispered.

- “And this woman would have been in her 20s back then. Age-wise, that's his type.”- Garcia pointed out and I nodded.

- “It's all there. He just connected the dots.”- I sighed and shook my head. - “If only he would have called us and asked for help.”

- “Don’t go there, principessa”- Rossi said from the other side of the line. - “What’s done it’s done. We can only try to help him finish what he needed to get done.”- I sighed one more time and nodded, which was incredibly stupid considering David couldn’t see me.

- “If she was a victim, then she was held captive for 37 years. Who knows what he did to her in all that time?”- Kate said and my mind went to a very dark place immediately. We needed to give that poor victim the justice she deserved as well.

- “What if he stopped killing because he found the victim he really wanted and held on to her?”- Spencer suggested.

- “Her recent death could have sent the unsub into a tailspin. He's probably gonna want to find someone new.”- Morgan added and we all nodded.

- “And if it's anything like what he did before, he may hunt and kill until he finds the right one.”- JJ added the part we knew but didn’t want to think of: that it might be the start of a new massacre.

- “We'll meet you in Roanoke, Dave.”- Hotch said and we all started walking outside. Only Garcia and JJ remained at the cabin, retracing Gideon’s last steps, while, Kate, Morgan, Hotch, and I got into an SUV and drove to town.

On our way over we kept talking on the phone with Rossi, Spencer Garcia, and JJ. When we got to Roanoke I was paired with Morgan, which was nice. He didn’t ask much about how I was feeling, we both focused on the case and tried our best to be professional and headed to the morgue to identify the victim’s body.

- “That ink's pretty faded.”- Derek pointed out staring at a butterfly tattoo on the victim’s ankle.

- “Yeah, she must have got that 40 years ago.”- I whispered and turned to the M.E - “What was the C.O.D.?”

- “Cancer.”- he answered with a troubled stare in his eyes. Clearly, something was bothering him.

- “Cancer?”- I questioned and he just nodded.

- “She was riddled with it. No evidence of tissue damage from chemo or radiation.”- the forensic started explaining- “At first I thought her severe muscle atrophy and bone loss was a side effect of the disease. And she clearly lost her appetite, because her stomach shrunk to half its size.”

- “You said at first you thought it was about the disease. What changed your mind?”- Morgan took the words from me as he looked at the M.E. waiting for an answer.

- “Well, I hadn't finished the exam when I explained all of this to the other one… what's his name?”- there was a brief silence after that question, Derek and I looked at each other immediately.

- “Gideon.”- I replied, trying to look like it wasn’t weird at all to talk about him like he hadn’t been just killed.

- “Yes, him. Now that I've had time to fully examine the body, it tells a different story. She's got ripped ligaments between her pelvic girdle and femur bone like her legs had been dislocated multiple times. She's got calluses like she was crawling around like a limp dog.”

Every word that explained the excruciating pain that poor woman had been through during all the years she had been held captive, hurt me. I can’t imagine how Gideon felt to know she had been alive all those years, waiting for someone to rescue her.

- “Have you ever seen that before?”- I dared to ask, though I imagined the answer.

- “Yes. On three young women many years ago.”

It was the same unsub.

Hotch, Spencer, and Rossi were waiting for us outside the morgue. My husband was holding a paper bag with a bagel and a hot cup of coffee.

- “You need some breakfast.”- he whispered as I smiled, blushing. Yes, I would still blush every time he made a sweet gesture like that. I hadn’t even finished opening the bag when JJ called and he put her on speaker.

- “Hey, Hotch, there's another missing woman. You need to get to the library on Third and Main right now.”

And off we were. At least I was finally with Spencer again.

Spencer’s point of view

That day was hard. Hard doesn’t even begin to explain it, but for the lack of a better word, let’s go with “hard.” Everything had been uphill. I even called Sofia and asked if I could video chat with my daughter as we drove back from talking with the victim’s mother. That was a balm for my soul. Finally being with my wife helped as well. I understand Rossi wanted to put an eye on me and talk about what was going on, but I really didn’t want to be apart from her that day. She was my happy place.

- “Today’s victim, Josie Behdart, 23, single, she walked to work. Local cops just found her cell phone in a trash can and, surprise, no cameras.”- Kate said as she and Hotch walked toward us at the library parking lot, holding a police file with all the info about the abduction.

- “And all the original reports confirm that each of the victims was taken within a mile of this library.”- our Unit Chief added.

- “Well, needless to say, this guy has a comfort zone to hunt”- (Y/N) pointed out and I nodded.

- “It hasn't changed since '78.”- Morgan added - “My guess is there's another significance to this location.”

- “A library could be an ideal hunting ground. A haven for the lonely. Let me check it out.”- I said and started walking. But before taking another step I turned around and looked at my wife. I didn’t even have to say a word, she was already walking behind me.

Honestly, it felt good to know she wasn’t going to leave my side. And no, that is not something I could ever take for granted.

- “You haven’t taken off your scarf.”- (Y/N) whispered as we walked to the main door of the library's old building.

- “I love this scarf, you gave it to me on January 16th, 2006, almost two months after we met.”- I pointed out and she smiled. Not your regular “that’s funny” smile, a hearty one. A “I love you smile.” I live for those smiles from her.

- “I know, honey. I remember that day too. But what I meant was it's not cold anymore, aren’t you warm?”

- “No, I’m ok. Have you talked with your mom?”

- “Yeah, she and Raven were out for a walk.”

- “Ok Reids. What are we looking for?”- Morgan showed up at our side and looked around. Kate followed him quickly and smiled at us as she said.

- “What? We weren’t going to miss a trip to the library, it’s where the cool kids hang out.”

It was obvious the team was now trying to put an eye on us, maybe even support us or cheer us up a little bit. And it was sweet, in a way. I knew we all loved each other, and we were there in good and bad.

- “Hope you are ok”- JJ texted me a few minutes later, proving my theory. It was nice to know we all had each other’s backs.

I didn’t have much time to reply to JJ’s text because we were pretty busy at the library. It was a small town and Gideon hadn’t gone undetected by the locals. Hotch and Rossi waited for us in a cafeteria, and as soon as we walked back in, we gave them the news.

- “The librarian remembers Gideon. He got a temporary card, checked out these books in the morning, and left them in the drop box on his drive home last night.”- I left the books on the table and moved a chair for my wife, as we all sat at the table with Hotch and Rossi.

- “He left the library and came here to read books.”- Callahan whispered sadly as he sat down, probably trying to see which one of the seats he had taken.

- “Yeah, that is just classic Gideon and classic profiling.”- (Y/N) added and kept her eyes on the book on the table. - “I don’t know why I find it comforting knowing exactly what he did that last day.”

- “He sat right here to let the unsub know he was watching.”- Morgan said, nodding.

- “But if Gideon was so sure he lured the right guy, why didn't he tell us?”- my wife questioned and looked at us. I couldn’t give him an answer, because I asked myself the same the entire day.

- “It's like the unsub was his white whale.”- Kate analyzed and her words made sense. - “He wanted to catch him on his own, and his last move was when the unsub targeted him.”

- “The age of the victims has stayed the same as the unsub has aged.”- Hotch pointed out. - “It speaks to his arrested development.”

- “So the question is what it's always been: Why them? Why now?”- Morgan commented and (Y/N) nodded.

- “Back to profiling one on one.”- and we all sighed - “Ok, give me those books, let’s see what Gideon was reading about.”

We all read for a while, I tried to do it as fast as possible, but I was having a hard time concentrating. The waitress brought us coffee, which we all gladly welcomed, and offered us pie. Hotch said no and I nearly pouted. I could have had some. I needed sugar to function.

- “This is it. Nelson's sparrow.”- Rossi pointed at a book after a while.- “It's what the unsub left in their hands because its behavior matched that of the insecure victims.”

- “So the unsub really knew his birds and where to find them.”- Morgan said, looking exhausted. I’m sure we all looked like that considering we hadn’t slept at all.

- “Is there some kind of bird lovers club in the area?”- Kate asked and (Y/N) grabbed her phone right away.

- “Let me call an expert. Hey Garcia, you are on speaker. Tell me, are there any nature centers or bird-watching chapters in the area?”

- “There's an old-timey bird-watching group called the Flappers, median age of like 89. They started in the sixties. Most of the members have gone extinct.”- Garcia announced in a matter of seconds.

- “And chances are the unsub and his victims weren't a part of that group, so where else would he meet them?”- Kate asked, as Aaron grabbed the picture of the unsub’s victim and showed it to us.

- “Tara was his ideal.”

- “What made her so special for him?”- (Y/N) asked, focusing on the image.

- “Tara's mother said she was broken.”- Rossi pointed out.

- “And he knew that because he spent more time watching her than the others.”- Hotch commented.

- “So he was basically a stalker. He was able to study her, not just glance as she passed by the window.”- (Y/N) said and I nodded along her words.

- “She was a few years out of high school when she disappeared. Maybe he knew her from there.”- Morgan analyzed, but it didn’t really make much sense.

- “She wasn't very social.”- I said, trying to connect their lives, with how they lived.

- “Well, neither was he, hon.”- (Y/N) said and rubbed my hand with her as she smiled at me for a moment.

- “They were both in their 20s when she was taken.”- Hotch pointed out. - “If they weren't friends in high school, maybe they worked together?”

- “Tara's mom said right out of school she bagged groceries.”- I added and Garcia replied in a matter of seconds.

- “I've got Tara working at Joe's on Main summer of '76 through '77.”

- “Are there any employees at Joe's supermarket who started in the seventies and are still there?”- Hotch asked and I raised an eyebrow.

- “You do realize you are asking for the impossible, right?”- (Y/N) whispered and our Unit Chief simply raised an eyebrow.

- “But I’m asking Garcia, I know she delivers.”

- “Well, that's nearly 40 years ago in a galaxy far, far away that wasn't using my magic binary boxes, but, yeah, the place is still family-owned and operated. Give me a hot minute.”

- “Thank you, Pen.”- (Y/N) said and I held her hand as she cut me a little smile.

- “Ok. Three of the people still working there are women. That leaves two males. There's a name I've heard before. Mallick.”- it took Garcia less than two minutes to gather the whole information. A new record.

- “Who?”- Hotch asked, confused.

- “Gertie Mallick was one of the founding members of the bird group. Died in 1974. Her next of kin was her nephew Donnie Mallick, who inherited her farm and... buys enough birdseed to let me know I should send you his address.”

We had a suspect and most likely, our Unsub. Gideon’s murderer.

As Hotch drove us to Mallick’s last known address in the middle of nowhere, I couldn’t stop analyzing his life. His mother gave birth to him at only fourteen, and at eighteen she was sent to a mental facility for schizophrenia, and her four-year-old son was sent to live with his only living kin, a 72-year-old wheelchair-bound Aunt Gertrude. A part of me pitied him. He never had a normal life, he had most likely inherited his mother’s condition. I could relate to the fear and the pain.

But he had killed Jason Gideon. My mentor, my biggest influence. I wanted to shoot the guy, I wanted to give Gideon peace and give some sense of what had happened.

That was until I heard his voice in the back of my head as I remembered one conversation we once shared when I still was struggling to pass my firearm qualification exam.

- “Hotch told me that when he came to the BAU, you told him he didn't need a gun to kill somebody?”- I questioned Gideon and he nodded.

- “The only truly effective weapon we have is our ability to do the one thing they can't.”

- “Which is what?”

- “Empathize. They dehumanize their victims, we humanize the killers.”

I took a deep breath and nodded to myself. I wasn’t going to let my emotions take the best of me that day.

When we got to the house, we divided, and luckily, (Y/N) stayed with me as we went through the back. The gunshot warned us in a matter of minutes, Rossi got the unsub. And he was dead. I thought I was gonna be relieved to see him there, but no. I just felt sad for him, for his life, and for the women he had tortured and killed. At least Gideon’s work was finished.

Did Mallick give a reason to Rossi to pull the trigger? I don’t know. But I know I’m glad it wasn’t me. I wanted to go home and still be myself. A good version of myself. One that could be Raven’s dad and (Y/N)’s husband.

I was gonna miss Gideon, always, but I knew I was never gonna be him, and that was a good thing. 

Next chapter (post date: october 2nd)

Series' Masterlist - Author's masterlist

[satashiiwrites]

F it Friday writing/from a fic i’m totally definitely not writing

I have to go to a work party tonight (joy) but i’m procrastinating by putting this scene down as it’s been stuck in my head. 

For the record… i now have three scenes half-written… and it’s one each from Mass Effect 1, Mass Effect 2 and Mass Effect 3.  

Goddamnit plot bunny…. Can’t you give me a break??

Title: The First Spectre (aka previously known as untitled 911/Mass Effect space opera slowburn) a chapter somewhere in the back third of the story that would fit in ME3 if you’re keeping track. Might end up have ME1=the first spectre, ME2=Spectre Reborn and ME3=The Second Spectre…. But who knows.  

Fandom: 911, Mass Effect Trilogy

Pairing: endgame Buddie (MShenko equivalent).  Assume anything else is fair game until we hit ME3 territory because i’m totally making Taylor into Miranda and Abby is going to be Liara.

Tags/warnings: i’m still not committing to writing this monster length fic(and I do mean monster length if I go for it—like 600k of the slowest of slow burns).  In the meantime i’m evidently writing a beginning, a divorce-era horizon disaster, and can clearly picture the catalyst firing/’don’t leave me behind’ scene in all its angsty goodness and now i’m adding the actual ‘i’m here to help you relax scene. Author may be in deep trouble.  First draft with zero editing done.  Assume Eddie=Kaidan Alenko and Buck=MShep.  

Tagging because they asked @shortsighted-owl​, @monsterrae1​ @ajunerose​ @alyxmastershipper​  If you would like to be tagged for any updates or snippets from this one please let me know.

This scene inspired by this MShenko scene

To Eddie’s surprise, the door opens before he can knock or ask MADDIE to let Buck know he’s outside.  Buck almost walks right into Eddie, his gaze fixed on the datapad in his hands.

“Eds?”  Buck’s eyes are even bluer in the blue light from the aquarium that takes up the entire wall of the captain’s quarters, stepping to the side when he realizes that they’re almost chest to chest. “What are you—“

Eddie easily slips past him.  “Can’t sleep either?” He throws over his shoulder, inspecting Buck’s room for the first time officially.  It’s nice—if completely impractical on a battle frigate like the Normandy.  He suppresses the irritation that Cerberus thought to provide this sort of creature comfort with the hope of enticing Buck into their way of thinking.  Eddie has more than enough hard proof that Buck is on his side and not Cerberus’, otherwise he’d be dead from a bullet instead of Noah. 

No more thinking of maybes.  That’s what Eddie had told himself before coming up to Buck’s quarters.  

He needed to know. 

No more what if’s. 

Buck sets the datapad down on his desk which is cluttered with the things along with a pair of used coffee cups from the mess. Above the desk are a collection of model ships—just like Buck had on the original Normandy.  One of the ships was the Los Angelas—the last city they’d taken leave in before the Normandy Disaster had seemingly killed Buck and left Eddie to mourn his death and spend years thinking of what ifs. 

“No,” Buck finally answers the question, arms crossed over his chest as he watches Eddie inspect his office. 

“You can’t make yourself crazy over this,” Eddie tells him, fiddling with the bottle and glasses in his hands. ‘It won’t help.”

“What won’t?  I can’t know for sure that I didn’t miss something. Eds,” Buck draws out his name, huffing a bit in frustration and rubbing his face in fatigue. “I need to get back to work.”

Eddie makes a noise of disagreement in the back of his throat. “Five minutes.  Just one drink and then I’ll go,” he stalls for time, gesturing towards the low slung couch in the sitting area next to the bed, under the fish tank. 

For a brief second, Buck holds out and then he’s sighing and giving in, unable to resist Eddie’s offer  “One drink,” he cautions as he takes a seat next to Eddie.  

Eddie pours him a generous finger or two or five and hands it to Buck who sniffs at it appreciatively before giving a sip. “You know you’ve done everything you could, right?”

Buck stares at the whiskey like it has the answers to the universe in it’s amber depths.  “Everything?  It doesn’t feel like it.  I hope so.  I keep running the numbers and scenarios, wondering if I missed something.  If I could have saved one more person.”

“You don’t have to take this on yourself,” Eddie soothes, taking a drink of his own before reaching out to wrap his hand around Buck’s wrist. There’s tension in the muscles and then they relax purposefully as Buck watches him from beneath lowered lashes. Rubbing his fingertips along the tendons in a caress, Eddie tries to find the words he needs. “You’ve got a great crew you’ve built. Talented people that are all fighting by your side.”

Buck pulls away and throws back the entire glass of whiskey before getting up and beginning to pace, putting distance between them.  It’s like watching a panther stalking in front of the bars of it’s cage—lethal grace wrapped in an N7 hoodie and uniform pants, feet bare and silent on the rubber mat floors.  There’s a scowl on his face but it’s not focused on Eddie, but within and it hurts Eddie that Buck doesn’t realize how much he’s done because to him nothing short of ridding the galaxy of the Reapers will be acceptable. 

Eddie steps into Buck’s path, making him stop.  Taking a deep breath, he moves to rest his hands on Buck’s hips.

Buck stills under the touch, frown melting away but there’s still a deep furrow between the eyebrows that betrays the stress that he’s under.  Eddie doesn’t resist the impulse to smooth it away and rubs his right thumb across it before cupping Buck’s unshaven cheek so he can’t look away.  There’s faint bruising under both eyes from the lack of sleep but the blue eyes are luminous and laser focused like the sniper he is on Eddie.  The hip under his other hand shifts, pressing into Eddie’s touch and decreasing the space between their bodies seemingly without awareness because Eddie has it all now. 

He has Buck’s complete and full attention. 

Picking his words carefully, Eddie tells him that he’s enough.  “What you’ve accomplished since the Reapers arrived has been nothing short of amazing. You saved so many people, brought so many together in this fight,” he paused, then made it personal.  “You saved Christopher… and you saved me, too.”

Buck breathes out through his nose sharply, an almost wounded sound escaping him.  “I couldn’t leave either of you,” he confesses, moving closer but there’s still just a tiny amount of space between their bodies. “What are you doing here, Eddie?”

“I lied,” he admitted, voice dropping a bit into more of a husky confession. “I didn’t just come for a drink.”

“What did you come here for?”  Buck is holding his breath, waiting on his words. 

“I’m here to help you,” Eddie’s words stumble out of him, tongue tying itself into knots.

“Help me?” Buck’s eyebrows are climbing, confusion evident in his voice but he hasn’t withdrawn.  They’re still so close but not close enough. 

“Help you relax.”  

Eddie is never going to win awards for pickup lines but Buck seems to understand what he’s trying to say, if very badly.  His fingers seem to have a life of their own and Buck sways closer to him as he slips his hand around Buck’s waist to tug him closer. 

“Relax?”  Buck’s pink tongue swipes at his bottom lip, eyes dropping to Eddie’s mouth. 

“Relaxing will help you focus,” Eddie informs him before he can’t say anything further because Buck’s mouth is pressed to his.  

The kiss is gentle at first, tentative like they’re both asking the other for permission to proceed.  When neither pulls away it becomes more persistent and then a curious tongue traces the seam of Eddie’s mouth and he’s opening to let Buck’s tongue tangle with his own. 

When they part finally to inhale, Eddie is chuckling into Buck’s neck, pressing a quick kiss to the jawline. Buck is frozen against him, like he’s afraid that he’s going to startle Eddie and he’ll flee like a wild animal. 

“Eds?”

In response, all he can do is to pull Buck back in for another hungry kiss. 

[curapicas]

how I look at the guy I'll have an intense vore-off with, in which we'll end up cursing each other in permanent ways

[i-live-in-dreams]

I just thought how each book in the inkheart, inkspell, Inkdeath trilogy explores big questions in literature.

Inkheart: what if characters from books became real?

Inkspell: what if we came into the book?

Inkdeath: what if a fanfic writer got in control of the world?

The last one is about Orpheus idk the least obvious one.

[fandumbass]

hey

this post isn't very good news, and I'm sorry about that. My condition has been fluctuating in this past week and I fear it's taking a turn down again. On top of that, I've been trying to catch up with medical bills and dealing with the associated paperwork. Behind the scenes, fic editing has slowed down to a near halt because a lot of the fic ended up having to be rewritten last second. We're almost at arc 2 (this first arc isn't very big) and I have very little written for it; that is to say, I would've had to take a hiatus anyway to try building back up a buffer for it.

Since it was going to happen anyway (regardless of it happening now or later) I've decided to take a (hopefully small, god willing) hiatus now instead to focus on my health and the responsibilities I've been putting off, on top of editing the rest of arc 1 and building that buffer back up. I don't know exactly when fic posting will start up again, but I can only express that I don't want to be away for too long. I'll still be around for messages, and I'll try to post status updates as they come in (those will probably become the new weekly/biweekly posts instead of fic posts until I have enough fic to start posting regularly again).

[zukkaoru]

i support women's wrongs but i have to say i'm also a rather big fan of consistent characterization,,

[angeryyaz]

The fanfic reader experience of thinking you're over a fandom and then being sucked back in by a single incredible fanwork

[bassforte]

writing fics for unpopular fandoms/tags is both a blessing and a curse. Because on one hand you have the freedom to offer unique ideas that haven’t been written before for certain characters.

… but on the other hand barely anybody is reading it. 😭

[horizonandstar]

Ooo if you like selkies you should check out bones of a rabbit! They’ve posted some art for their selkie au :0 Sun and moon are pirates in that one so that’s pretty cool. There’s also starswimmingart who just posted the first chapter of their selkie story!!

oh i know about starswimmingarts selkie au! im planning to read it tonight or tomorrow, after i finish permission slip and dayshift go figure

didnt actually know bones of a rabbit had a selkie au actually! im gonna go check that out real quick

[wibble-wobbegong]

genuinely cannot believe takemichi and mikey are real. like What