#but I tried to stay as faithful to the text as possible.

[harmlessaccidentalthoughts]

Hope has mostly been the action field of preachers, politicians and marketers. The concept of explanatory style makes hope an object of scientific research.

To have hope or not depends on two dimentions of our explanatory style: pervasiveness and permanence. Finding temporary and specific causes to adversity is the art of hope. Temporary causes limit powerlessness in time and specific causes limit powerlessness to the situation of origin. [...] Attributing permanent and universal causes to life adversities is typical of despair.

- Martin Seligman, "Learned Optimism: How To Change Your Mind And Your Life"

[shalom-iamcominghome]

Numbers 14, 11-20:

And יהוה said to Moses, "How long will this people spurn Me, and how long will they have no faith in Me despite all the signs that I have performed in their midst? I will strike them with pestilence and disown them, and I will make of you a nation far more numerous than they!"

But Moses said to יהוה, "When the Egyptians, from whose midst You brought up this people in Your might, hear the news, they will tell it to the inhabitants of that land. Now that they have heard that You, יהוה, are in the midst of this people; that You, יהוה, appear in plain sight when Your cloud rests over them and when You go before them in a pillar of cloud by day and in a pillar of fire by night.

"If then You slay this people wholesale, the nations who have heard Your fame will say, 'It must be because יהוה was powerless to bring that people into the land promised them on oath that [that god] slaughtered them in the wilderness.'

"Therefore, I pray, let my Lord's forebearance be great, as You have declared, saying, 'יהוה! Slow to anger and abounding in kindness; forgiving iniquity and transgression; yet not remitting all punishment, but visiting the iniquity of parents upon children, upon the third and fourth generations.'

"Pardon, I pray, the iniquity of this people according to Your great kindness, as you have forgiven this people ever since Egypt."

And יהוה said, "I pardon, as you have asked..."

Reading this really changed something in me - the thought that g-d is somebody with Whom you can directly argue against, that His ideas are ideas which you can directly argue against is something that truly makes me love g-d more.

If g-d were solely Divine, I don't think I'd have a relationship with Him. If He were strictly Perfect, I believe I'd hate Him. But here, seeing Moses literally talking g-d into an alternative tells me g-d is the mixture between Perfect and Fallible that makes it so much easier for me to love Him, to serve Him, to want to be close with Him.

I don't know, I just love g-d.

[tbaluver]

hi!! i was wondering if i could ask for some angst with all the guys ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶

smthing like mc (gender neutral if possible!) going to a mission and not coming back and the guys' reactions to that ?

ty in advance (≧▽≦)

When You Don't Come Back From Your Mission- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: angst no comfort a/n: hi anonnie! i hope this was okay and that you enjoy ! i'll post a part where mc/ reader comes back from the mission after a long time and maybe that would be a comfort part of this angst reaction (๑>؂•̀๑) i know a couple people from my inbox have requested me to write something about that and i'll get it out soon it's just sitting on my drafts but it'll be out so so soon ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) sorry lovelies i just get distracted a lot any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

You and Xavier weren’t assigned to this mission, which was a bummer given how often you two have been always paired for similar tasks. Your extensive training together, countless sparring sessions, and numerous times you two have spent together have created a deep bond and sense of confidence in each other’s skills. Although it was unusual to not be paired in a mission, you both trusted in your abilities and didn’t think much of it.

As he returned from picking up snacks at the convenience store, he walked into the Hunter’s Association office and was struck by the sense of panic that had been overtaken in the room. The frantic energy was evident as he overheard that your team has not given any responses or updates regarding your location. The news hit him like a jolt, nearly causing him to drop the snacks he was holding.

His gentle demeanor shifted to one of deep concern. The usual calmness in his eyes was replaced by a serious and troubled look. His universe felt like it had dimmed, knowing that the brightest star was missing from his grasp.

He demanded immediate access to the latest mission’s location, coordinates, or any relevant information. He insisted that he would take charge of the situation himself and offer no objects as they recognized the intensity in his voice.

He internally blamed himself for not coming sooner. Every path he takes as he travels to find you, only fuels the sense of urgency and concern to find your and ensure your safety.

Zayne:

Zayne has always trusted in your abilities and knew what you were capable of. Each mission, he knew you could handle it with ease and he had faith that you would come back. As always, before he left he would always remind you, “Stay safe and don’t do anything reckless. I don’t want to see you back in my office with another injury.”

Normally, your absences were brief and he would patiently wait for your return, eager to hear the absurd stories of your missions, but this time something felt different. Something he couldn’t quite place. The days dragged on longer than usual and the silence from you was unsettling.

He tried to distract himself with paperwork and tending to patience but his anxiety gnawed at him, thinking of what had happened to you. A mission shouldn’t take this long, especially for someone as skilled as you. 

Every day he would send a text and sometimes they were random. Sometimes they were filled with encouragement or updates about small things in his life, in hopes to get a response from you. However, each message he sent was always left unanswered which fueled his growing concern. He began to doubt if you were ignoring him or if something far worse had happened.

Unable to contain his worry any longer, he drove to your house and knocked on your door unannounced. The minutes stretched into an agonizing wait and when there was no response. His heart that had been warmed by your presence has now gripped by icy fear.

Each day he has desperately waited for any responses and any updates from the Hunter’s Association about your well-being. The longer he had to wait, the more he was determined to join the battlefield himself in desperation to find you again.

Rafayel:

Ever since you departed on your mission, he would be counting the seconds, minutes, and days until your return. It’s something he would usually do when you leave for a mission. Time passed by slowly in your absence and he tried to distract himself by visiting the beach or working on new sketches, hoping to find a spark of inspiration for his next piece. Yet, inspiration was difficult when his greatest muse was missing for a few days

A few days. What began to be a few days stretched into a week and more. His concern grew as your silence and absence in his life persisted. Normally, you would have responded to any of his texts or calls even amid the chaos of your missions. But now, this mission was different. His phone never lit up from any notifications from you and your absence gnawed at him.

His distress was evident. His meticulously groomed appearance had unraveled. His hair was disheveled and his outfits mismatched. The studio that was usually a bright haven of creativity had become a reflection of his inner turmoil. The room was shrouded in shadows, and canvases were marred with erratic splashes of paint and frustrated strokes.

'Missing you comes in waves and tonight I am drowning.'

He was spiraling and grew relentless, digging up any lead and rumor of information about your mission. Whatever happened to you, someone was going to pay. He doesn’t care if the bounty on his head catches up to him. He’ll try to find you no matter what, even if it takes him another 800 years.

Sylus:

He knew you were a skilled Hunter so initially he dismissed your absence as just another routine mission. He assumed he would see you again soon in a couple of days and began making plans for the two of you to relax and enjoy when you returned.

However as days turned into a week without any responses to his text or voice messages, his calm demeanor began to crumble. Your status on DeepSpace hadn’t been updated since the last time you had talked and it never showed that you read his messages. His unease deepened when Mephisto reported that he had been unable to locate you.

The growing anxiety and frustrations were impossible for him to contain. He had tried to rush to the location of your mission only to find no trace of you there. His office became a battleground of his conflicted emotions. He cursed himself for being so careless about you.

Luke and Kieran could only witness the storm of anger and worry from a distance. They dared not to approach him during the moments of his intense agitation. They understand as they miss you as well but they could only wish they could do so much to help find you.

He figures he has to take matters into his own hands no matter the cost. Your little Hunter’s Association could only do so much but many do not understand how much power, influence, and resources Sylus has at his disposal. He doesn’t care if he has to get his hands dirty, he will have to do anything to find his little dove back in his arms again.

[lovecla]

TEACH ME (HOW TO MAKE HIM COME) | jack hughes.

nhl masterlist, nsfw, @lovecla’s kinktober collection, chapter five:

<last chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do this kids), semi-public sex (don’t do this either), jealous jack, dirty talk.

➴ word count: 3.7k

💌 from me to you: you asked, and you shall receive. thank u so much for all the love you all gave to TM(HTMHC) and i hope this final chapter can make u guys happy. sorry if it sucks, though. hope y’all still like me :,)

𖧷

AS YOU put on Trevor’s jersey, you contemplate tonight's game.

It’s November again; the leaves keep falling from the trees, the wind is still cold and impersonal. You’re still tired from all the studying, constantly reevaluating yourself and staying up until late at night to write papers.

Life is still as simple as it was before everything. Before crushing on Zack, before going back to Newark in Summer, before sleeping with Jack Hughes, although— Is it really?

You and Jack hadn’t done anything in months. After fucking him for the last time, you woke up with a Trevor Zegras holding a Hockey stick and ready to break it in half with the help of Jack’s head, which made you snap at him.

“What is your problem, Trevor?!” You yell, barely awake and already pissed off at your brother’s doing. “Why are you here at seven in the morning, yelling at Jack and— is that a stick?”

Trevor lifts it up proudly, like he’s okay with beating Jack up. “Yeah, it is! And it’s about to see Jack’s pretty face.”

“Well—” Jack tries, but you’re not hearing any of it.

“Stop acting like I’m fifteen or whatever. If I want to have sex with him, then I will.”

“What— oh my God. See, this is why I never wanted you to be friends with her. They always end up falling in love, man,” Trevor shouts at Jack, who’s doing his best to hold in his laughter. It isn’t doing much, though. “Sarah, Jack isn’t the right guy for you! He’s a man whore!”

“Y’know I’m still here righ—”

“I don’t care, Trevor, geez,” you sit down on Jack’s couch, covering your face with your hands before speaking again. “I understand why you’re upset and I appreciate the fact that you’re taking care of me, but I’m an adult. I know how to take care of myself.”

“You’re twenty—”

“Besides,” Jack starts, this time his face is serious and his arms are crossed in front of his chest. “I’m not gonna hurt her, you asshole. Have a little faith in me, no?”

“No?” Trevor scoffs, putting the stick down. “This is ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is you thinking Sarah can’t stand up for herself, or that I will do anything to hurt her, intentionally. Like she’s just another one. Fuck off, Z.”

Trevor wouldn’t stop commenting about the two of you together, even when Jack wasn’t around you. It was tiring to say the least, so you decided to take the matter into your own hands and tell Jack that you were both done.

It was ridiculous, really, since you’ve grown to appreciate Jack’s company, not only as a friend, but as a possible future partner. Getting away from him wasn’t ideal, but if that was you needed to make Trevor shut up, then you’d do it.

Occasionally, you’d text each other, just normal conversations about how you’re doing, and how you’d wish you were together rather than studying for finals.

But today, the Devils were in Anaheim, playing against your brother’s team and you were going to watch them, for the first time ever. Not only you, though. It looks like all of your colleagues and friends are going— you’ve lost count of how many people texted you asking for free tickets.

You were agitated, since everything could go wrong tonight: your brother could go crazy and risk a penalty for punching Jack in the face, you and Jack would see each other after months and Zack was also going to be there.

In your defense, it hadn’t been your idea in the first place. Kiara suggested that you give the extra ticket Trevor gave to you to him, because it’d be a good excuse to talk to him and to leave the whole Jack situation behind.

But the truth is, you’re not really sure if you want to “leave the whole Jack situation behind”. You like him and you know he likes you back. Even though you had the biggest infatuation for Zack, it didn’t hold a candle to what Jack made you feel whenever he was inside you.

But, oh, well.

Now, it’s probably too late to ask Jack to try again. And even if it made you feel a little weird, you knew it was probably best this way.

𖧷

“OH, MAN, I can’t believe we lost.”

Zack’s complaints make you laugh. “I mean, it was kinda obvious. But, yeah, losing 6-2 is really tough.”

“We played well, though,” Kiara adds, trying to sound convincing. You and Zack both funnily stare at each other, choosing not to say anything. “Y’all are just mean. Sarah, it’s your brother’s team!”

“I know, I know,” you snicker. “Sorry. I’ll tell him he played well.”

“You’re seeing him tonight?” Zack asks, his brown eyes expressing curiosity. “Can I come? The Devils are fucking awesome!”

“Yes, we have, like, a little get together party, if you know what I mean,” you shrug, biting your lips. “I mean, you can definitely come if you want.”

Kiara eyes you eagerly as Zack smiles brightly at you, saying “thank you” at least a thousand times and rambling about how excited he was to meet actual NHL players in person.

You didn’t know if it had been a good idea to invite him, but you just felt bad to leave him out of the celebration— or what was supposed to be a celebration before Anaheim lost 6-2— since he was a huge Hockey fan. And even if you’re not all that interested in him anymore, he’s cool to hang out with.

Ever since you came back from Newark you’ve been spending more time with Zack. If anyone asks you anything, you won’t be able to tell them why is that, but you’re not complaining. It’s probably due to fact that you’re not that interested in him anymore, so you don’t have to worry about pleasing him all the time.

Now, you had much more interesting people to please.

You all walk to the dinner hall, where a bunch of players and coaches were talking and dining together, the Devils being loud and proud after a well played game, while most of the Ducks had pouty lips and frowns.

You walked around with Zack and Kiara, and quickly finding your brother, his loud voice outstanding everyone else’s.

“Holy fuck, that’s Jack Hughes.” Zack said, his tone not hiding his surprise and admiration.

You immediately turn your head to the side, confirming that Jack Hughes is, indeed, just a few steps ahead of you, chatting with your brother and a bunch of other players.

“Well, well, well…” Kiara whispers beside you and you discreetly shove her with your elbow, making her shove you back, playfully.

“I mean, we don’t have to talk to them right now, right?” You say, trying to find a way out. “They’re probably sad. I’d be sad if I lost a game.”

“Girl, what are you talking about?” Kiara rolls her eyes, clearly not taking a hint.

“Sarah, you can’t be serious!” Zack laughs, grabbing your hand and pulling you forward. You widen your eyes, staring at his hand covering yours and then looking back at Kiara, who just looks like she’s having the time of her life.

Zack keeps his hand around yours as you approach your brother’s group, Jack’s eyes finding yours immediately before falling to your hands.

“Oh, hey there, ugly duck,” Trevor smiles at you, and you take advantage of the opportunity so you can separate your hand from Zack’s, walking until you’re hugging Trevor tighter than you had ever done before. “What the hell, why are you squeezing me?”

You wanted to punch him. “Oh, I just feel so sorry for you guys!” You try to sound devastated. “Losing is tough.”

“They’re used to it, aren’t you, chickens?” Bratt says, making people around you laugh, as your brother’s frown deepened.

“Fuck you.” Vatrano hisses back, and you let go of Trevor, standing beside him.

Someone calls some of the guys, and you almost yell at them so that they wouldn’t leave, but they do, leaving you alone with Trevor and. Well, Jack.

“I’m a huge fan!” Zack starts, smiling at Jack like he’s God almighty himself.

“Oh, really.” Jack says, and you can tell he’s not even trying to sound nice. You frown.

“Yeah. Ever since you joined the NHL. A long time ago.” Zack probably doesn’t notice Jack’s lack of manners, or if he does, he doesn’t say anything, continuing the conversation eagerly.

“Are you calling me old?” Jack raises his eyebrows, and Zack laughs, clearly oblivious.

Trevor eyes you weirdly, already familiar with Jack’s attitude problem.

“This sassy mean apocalypse needs to stop.” Kiara whispers in your ear and you’re seriously just two steps away from shoving her again.

“I was talking to my girl over there, you guys are fucking awesome and—”

“Your girl?”

You see, usually you’d expect this question to come out of Trevor’s lips, since he’s the most annoying person in the world. But once you saw Jack’s eyes turning a deep, ocean blue shade and his face starting to get red, you realize, with surprise, that Jack was the one who asked that.

You stare at him, but he wouldn’t look at you. He was staring at Zack, with his hands in his pocket.

“Oh, yeah, Sarah.”

A year ago you wouldn’t believe if anyone told you that you would want to kill Zack Brian with your own two hands, but at this moment, it’s all you want to do.

Why the hell is he talking about you like that?

“I didn’t know you were dating, Sarah.”

You gulp, looking up at Jack’s upset face, shaking your head immediately.

“Yeah, little sis, I also didn’t know you were dating.” Trevor said, wanting to sound angry, but you knew him well enough to realize that he was holding back his laughter, just like the little shit he is.

“I’m not— Zack and I aren’t dating.” You stutter, alternately looking at Jack and Trevor.

“Oh. You’re Zack?”

Jack can’t fucking be serious.

Zack is happy and smiling again. “Hell yes I am! Can we, like, take a picture together or something?”

This time, Trevor steps in and coughs, politely interrupting the conversation and finally— finally— doing something about this whole mess. “Sorry, man, can’t do it. We have to head back to the party, otherwise our coaches will kill us.”

You knew it was a lie, Keefe and Cronin didn’t care whether their players took pictures with people or missed parties. As long as they stayed out of trouble and played well, they didn’t really mind their players’ personal lives.

But you wouldn’t say anything, not when you were already in trouble.

“Oh, that’s fine, it’s cool,” Zack shrugs, not hiding his disappointment. You almost pass out when you catch a glimpse of a smile on Jack’s lips. “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of other opportunities.”

“Sure, sure,” Trevor smiles, throwing his arms around you once again. “Are you coming?”

“Oh, I—” you look around, biting your lips. “I don’t want to leave Zack alone.”

Even though you did want to leave him alone, you just couldn’t. He had been so excited when you invited him to the game, talking about it for an entire week before tonight.

“He can come too.”

You stare at Jack, not missing the way his lips curled up, and his eyes still looked darker.

“Type shit? You really are the goat, man, fuck yeah!” Zack celebrates and you stare at Kiara, who’s also looking a little bit worried now.

“Great,” you say through your teeth, stepping away from Trevor. “Let’s go, then.”

God, please help me.

𖧷

“SO, FOR how long have you and Sarah been friends?”

You wanted to smash Trevor’s face against a wall and twist his arm until he started crying.

You were sitting at his table, surrounded by other players, Kiara, Zack, Luke and Jack. Fortunately, Kiara had been successful at keeping Jack and Luke bored with her stories about college drama, so Jack wasn’t really focusing on you, or Zack for that matter.

Unlike Trevor, who’s constantly making remarks about your friendship.

“Not long.” You answer, shooting daggers at him with your eyes.

“But you seem really close.” He insists, smiling innocently.

“Sarah’s really cool,” Zack starts, and again you remind yourself that if he had said this not even seven months ago, you’d be smiling and dancing. But now, all you want is to tell him to leave. “We get along really well.”

“She’s a sweetheart, isn’t she? I’m glad to call her my sister.”

“Trevor,” you smile, kicking him under the table. “Stop it.”

“No, no, I like when people compliment you. Makes me proud—”

You get up abruptly, making at least five people look at you, Jack included. Blushing, you smile awkwardly. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. Excuse me.”

Walking fast, you make your way to the bathroom, walking down an empty hallway, finding the bathroom quickly. You got in, thanking God that no one was in there.

Jesus. What the hell is going on with both Jack and Trevor?

You understood if Jack was upset with you, because if it was the other way around, you would be just the same, even if you weren’t an actual couple. But Trevor helping the fire grow? He’s just being a child.

“He’s so obvious it’s embarrassing.”

Letting out a yelp, you stare at the man you’ve been thinking of everyday since the Summer, who’s now leaning against the bathroom door and smirking at you.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, crossing your arms in front of you.

“Well, you’re clearly not peeing,” he starts, approaching you slowly. “And I can’t stand that dick face anymore. Does he not know that complimenting you to your brother won’t get him anything?”

“Leave him alone, Jack,” you roll your eyes. “He’s just being nice.”

“He’s into you. You know that, right?”

You scoff, finding it genuinely funny. “Of course he isn’t. We’re just friends. He’s just being nice, I just told you.”

“I thought you were a smart girl.” He wets his lips and not looking at it feels like fighting against ten thousand demons.

“Are you calling me dumb? To my face?” You raise your brow, watching as he frowns.

“I’m just saying that I thought you weren’t so oblivious, baby. When I told you you’re everyone’s type? I meant it.”

“Jack,” you sigh, defeated. “Why are we having this conversation?”

“Because,” he steps closer, looking down at you. “It drives me insane to think that there’s a fuckhead sitting just a few feet away from us that thinks he’s the shit and won’t take your name out of his mouth.”

Your eyes softened, and you smile at him. “You’re jealous.”

“That’s for people who are insecure, baby. And that you already know that I’m not,” he smirks, resting his right hand on your chin, and you can feel his breath hit your face, making you hold back an embarrassing sound. “Do you need me to remind you how good I am?”

Your eyes double in size and you shake your head.

“Are you insane?” You shout-whisper. “You’re supposed to be back in New Jersey in a few hours. This is your team’s celebration dinner, for God’s sake. You’re not even supposed to be here.”

“And yet, here I am.”

He kisses you bruisingly, your teeth touching with the agressive yet extremely sweet action, and you moan inside his mouth, not realising, until now, how much you’ve missed him.

It was wrong but not kissing him felt even more wrong.

He gently pushes you further into the bathroom, locking the door behind him and putting you on the counter, making you hiss with the coldness of the marble against your exposed thighs and throbbing core.

“Jack.”

“Fuck, I missed hearing you say my name. One more time for me, pretty.”

“Jack.”

He kisses you again, and you busy yourself with messing up his hair, still a little bit damp from his previous shower. It smells nice and fresh, just like the rest of his body.

“We need to be quick,” You whisper against his mouth, his eyes staring at you, lust and desire written all over his face. “We’re not even supposed to be here and we don’t have time—”

“Put your hands on that wall over there,” he whispers, signaling to the wall on the other side of the bathroom. “I’m gonna fuck you from behind. Is that okay?”

“As long as you fuck me.” You shrug, getting off the counter and doing as he says.

He laughs. “I’ve created a monster.”

He’s quickly behind you, and you hear the filthy sound of his hands unzipping his fancy pants, as you quickly lift your skirt, putting your panties to the side.

“Spit.” Jack asks— orders—, putting his hand in front of your lips, and you do, the red that painted your cheeks deepening.

He’s inside you not long after that, and you both moan loudly, forgetting for a few seconds that there are at least one hundred people outside. You can feel your walls squeezing his cock as you try to find some kind of support on the wall in front of you.

“Jesus fuck, Sarah, how are you even tighter than last time?”

“Because, ah,” he’s pouding against you, the sound of his crouch slapping against your ass making you feel dirty and so fucking good. “Haven’t been with a-anyone else.”

“No?” You can hear the smirk on his face. “Just your little fingers then?”

You nod with your head, eagerly moving it up and down, moaning loudly and just a few seconds away from ruining your makeup.

“Baby, you need to be quiet,” Jack says, and his hand slowly leaves your waist, making its way to your mouth, caressing your entire body before it covers your lips completely. “I love it when you’re loud but have you forgotten we’re not alone?”

You roll your eyes at him, as he keeps hitting that spot inside you that makes you see the entire galaxy without needing a telescope. His dick is deep inside you, so fucking deep.

“Jack, fu—”

“Sarah?”

You and Jack both freeze as Zack’s voice echoes through the room. He removes his hand from your mouth and rests his forehead against your head.

“Oh my God.” You whisper, ready to remove yourself from Jack’s grip and leave the bathroom.

Jack doesn’t have the same thought as you, though. He removes his length until just the tip is inside you, just to slam his cock inside of you again, reaching deeper than before.

You bite your lips hardly, feeling the taste of coper fill your mouth, the pain of tearing your lips hardly noticeable— your heart was beating so fast inside your chest that it seemed too insignificant to be preoccupied with a little bit of blood.

“Sarah, are you okay?”

“Answer him,” Jack whispers, as he keeps fucking you, this time reaching down and rubbing your swollen clit too. “Sarah. Answer him.”

“I— I—,” stuttering, you try to focus. “Y-yes?”

“Are you okay? You’ve been in there for a while.”

Jack pinches your sensitive nub and you can feel the tears start to form in your eyes.

“Pretty.”

“I’m, f-fine, ah,” you shake your head, putting your hand on top of Jack’s but not making any move to stop him. “Just— headache.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want any help?”

“Fucking asshole,” Jack mumbles, your orgasm building up quickly than ever. “Tell him you’re fine, baby. Come on.”

“I’m fine, ah, thank you.” Biting your own hand, you feel your body shivering underneath Jack’s. “I’ll be b-back in just a second.”

“Alright,” Zack sounds convinced. “I’ll warn your brother.”

Even with your loud breathing you can hear Zack’s steps as he gets further away from the bathroom, and you barely have time to think properly before Jack is slamming his cock hard and fast inside of you again.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby, tell me. Does it turn you on the fact that anyone could catch us at any moment?”

Yes.

“Too bad I don’t share what’s mine.”

“Jack—”

“Fucking asshole wanted to be the one inside you right now,” he snarls. “No one will ever fuck you like I do, baby.”

“Hmh,”

“This pussy here,” he pinches your clit again, twisting it between his fingers making you gasp for air. “Will only get this wet for me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“You were made to take my cock, baby. Made to be mine.”

Your makeup was most definitely ruined by now. It didn’t matter. Your mind was too focused on coming to care about anything else.

“Say it, baby, come on.” Jack whispers in your ear, kissing your neck afterwards.

“It’s yours, Jack,” you nod with your head, feeling your orgasm closer than before. “I’m yours, and I missed you so bad and—”

You come on his fingers, your thighs shaking as he continues to poud on you, not caring if you’re sensitive or not. He takes his dick out of your pussy after a few more thrusts, coming all over your cheeks.

Your uncontrolled breathing fills up the entire room, the smell of sex and sweat making you blush. Jack’s forehead is on your shoulder, and you can sense he’s just as tired as you.

“Sarah,” he mumbled, and you sigh, humming. “Be my girlfriend. I don’t care about Zegras, I never did. I’ll let him beat me up everyday if that means you’ll be the one helping me get up at the end of the day.”

You chuckle tiredly. “So romantic, aren’t you, Hughes?”

“I try my best.” He murmurs against your skin.

“I will be your girlfriend. But just know that if you cheat on me, or anything like that, Trevor will fuck you up, and I’ll let him.” You say, laughing quietly.

He moves so he can grab a piece of paper, wetting it and cleaning you, making you shiver with the cold water on your back.

“If my own brothers don’t kill me first.”

“Touche.”



[nightingale-prompts]

Engaged...In Conflict- Beholder AU-DCxDP

Part 8

Rest of the series

Rest of the series here

"Let me get this straight DUMBASS!" Jason pinched the bridge of his nose as Dick stood between him and Tim. "You two timed your boyfriend with Phantom. My friend and sometimes sidekick, Phantom. He called me and said he wanted me to keep you as far as possible from him! I should strangle you by our gangly neck!"

"Tim, I'm very disappointed in you but I know you probably had a good reason." Dick said putting a hand on Jason's chest to keep him at bay.

Tim had done the last thing he wanted to do. He had chosen to keep his family out of this as long as possible but now he needed help. He had to admit he didn't know what he was doing. He didn't count on Phantom telling Jason before he could and things looked bad.

"I was having issues and I just happened to met Phantom. Keep in mind Phantom usually flirts with me so I thought it would be okay." Tim tried to defend himself only for a strike from Dick to land on his head.

"Where did I go wrong? What made you think that was okay?!" Dick sighed.

Another hit landed right after this time from Damian.

"How can I be expected to look up to you? You already have Daniel. Must you run around sowing wild oats?"

"First off, you don't even like me! And it wasn't like I was in a relationship with either of them."

"That's disgusting Drake. You really are scum."

Tim dragged a hand across his face. They really are no help at all. He needed to get out of here.

Right when it was needed his phone got a text.

[Danny]: I'm making food. How does pizza sound?

"Well this has been nice but Im needed elsewhere," Tim said heading for the stairs.

"Tim. Please don't hurt him. You are going to end up hurting yourself. If you really love him, you won't treat him like an experiment. And apologize to Phantom. He deserves to be treated better then that." Dick said somberly.

Tim felt a twinge of agitation at the thought of apologizing to Phantom for anything but he knew deep down that was just jealousy talking but he didn't acknowledge it.

"Thanks for the life lesson boy meets world. I'll handle it."

The chorus of sighs that followed signaled that they didn't have any faith that he'd handle it.

****

Danny didn't really know what to do. He felt that soon he'd have to tell Tim the truth. But how do you tell someone something like this, especially your fiancé?

How could Tim trust him? How could he forgive the lies?

He should be upfront and honest. It was the only option.

When Tim finally came home Danny went for it.

"Tim...you can't cook." He said quickly as Tim closed the door.

"Uh, okay. Thanks for saying that as soon as I came in. Wait! You said you liked my cooking!"

"I lied. You burn everything you touch. That's why I try to do all the cooking or get takeout. I just can't take the idea of spending our entire relationship like this."

Relationship. He said they were in a relationship. Tim kind of tuned out the rest after that word was said. It didn't really matter. Danny could hate everything Tim ever attempted to cook but if he still wanted to be with him it was worth it. He also now understood why Alfred was so insistent that he stay out of the kitchen.

"Honestly maybe you should learn from Red Hood."

That actually stopped Tim in his tracks.

"Red Hood? You know Red Hood." Tim asked deathly serious.

"Well...yeah. His turf is where my apartment is."

"Okay, but how do you know him? How well?"

"Tim, I don't like where this is going. What's wrong?"

Danny suddenly felt uncomfortable. It was hard to explain how he met Jason. It wasn't like he knew Danny's identity outside of Phantom. It was just that Danny did a lot of soul collection and the alleys needed a lot of cleaning. He had no right to tell Tim about the revenant and he didn't want to talk about his other work.

Besides the less Tim knew about Phantom the better. Heros, vigilantes, and rouges? Danny wasn't a part of their world. And he didn't want Tim in it either.

"Nevermind, let's just go get something to eat. I don't feel like cooking tonight." Danny said grabbing his coat.

Tum knew Danny was hiding something and that was something Tim was never known to let go of.

[miriamladyvoid]

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My ask: Hello I liked your Grim headcanons so I would like to request platonic solace headcanons with the freshman gang + Grim. In the hypothetical scenario where Yuu/MC will never be able to return home and therefore Yuu will look depressed and tired after hearing the news ( i miss my boys)

Homesick

ft: Ace, Deuce, Epel, Jack, Sebek

Ace Trappola

⤷Ace finds out about the situation from the other first years, who’d already tried (and somewhat succeeded) in lightening the mood.

⤷So he didn’t have the pleasure of meeting you while it was the worst- however, when Ace went to offer his condolences the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.

⤷Now Ace didn’t WANT to attempt to cheer you up when the news was just broken, he’s decently self aware and knows his comfort and help comes off as brash or rude sometimes.

⤷However, it’s not like he’s heartless (if almost the exact opposite- he cares very deeply for someone once they become friends, and it’s a loyalty not easily broken).

⤷So, despite the tension and your obvious emotionally fragile demeanor, Ace took a leap of faith and sat down next to you.

⤷He starts off just saying random things, talking for the sake of ridding the silence, however it eventually drifts to family.

⤷He apologizes, like it was somehow his fault there was no way to return back to your world, and offers you to stay over at his place during the breaks.

⤷Then he starts joking about how you’ll fit in, and how his dad will love you (all the while making teasing remarks towards his brother).

⤷And at the very end, when both your butts are numb from sitting on the cold hard hallway floor, Ace pats you on the back and congratulates you on making it so far.

Deuce Spade

⤷The first one to find you, wholly unprepared and slightly panicking at the pure exhaustion apparent in your features.

⤷Deuce (after a moments pause) jumps into action by crowding around you and looking for any sign of what possibly could have happened- there’s no extra textbooks or assignments in your bag, nobody in the vicinity that could’ve harassed you, and you seem to be all in one piece.

⤷Stops and stares at you before asking just what happened, and panics even more when your expression turns even more heartbroken at his words.

⤷Tells you to wait for a moment, and runs off to a vending machine to grab a warm drink and some tissues in case you cry.

⤷When he returns, Deuce once again presses the topic of what happened, and once you finish the story, Deuce’s heart is broken.

⤷He loves his mom and grandma so much, and can’t imagine knowing there’d be no way to ever see them again- it isn’t pity on his part, more of an extreme empathy.

⤷Tries his best to hug you while there’s still a hot drink in your hands, but as awkward as the embrace is, it’s honest and Deuce tries to convey everything he doesn’t have the words for through it.

⤷When the two of you have to go back to classes, he makes sure to tell some of the others to be more gentle than usual- but doesn’t budge on the reason or story.

⤷It’s your feelings and your tale to tell, all in due time and at your own pace the others can find out.

Epel Felmier

⤷Sees you during lunch, after the text that had been sent out. Epel was almost overly cautious and walked on eggshells about every topic before Deuce caught his eye and started shaking his head.

⤷Relaxed a bit and didn’t pry on the subject- he figured you’d approach it on your own if you wanted his condolences or advice (though Epel knows he’s a bit ill suited for legitimate life instruction).

⤷He offers some food from his lunchbox (Pomefiore is on a group diet again, but Vil at least uses incredibly high quality ingredients), and carves an apple into the shape of something you like- be it an animal or object.

⤷Once everyone joins the table (minus Ace who had basketball), and you’re a bit more distracted, Epel starts to pick up on smaller things that Deuce was doing- steering the conversation one way or the other, avoiding talking about the upcoming break where everyone would get to see their family… oh yeah wasn’t Crowley trying to find a way back- oh.

⤷Pauses in the middle of chewing, and stares at you for a few seconds before the full situation sinks in.

⤷Epel is extremely close with his family (or community in general), so similar to Deuce he’s shocked by his own revelation- and immediately starts looking up possible things he can do to make you feel better.

⤷All of Epels sentiments are incredibly corny- flowers and warm tea, or choosing films with similar scenery to your hometown in hopes to bring some feeling of comfort.

⤷Tries his hardest to support you without you needing to tell him.

Jack Howl

⤷Notices the smaller things, and pieces together what happened like Epel, however Jack believes that talking through your problems can help process them (so long as it’s not him doing the talking).

⤷Lots of questions, though not all at once. What happened? How do you feel- specifically. Does your body feel hollow, or heavy… or a bit of an odd mix between the two?

⤷Asks you how you want to move forward with things- do you want to keep looking for ways back? Or would you prefer to “accept your fate” and start making more permanent roots in Twisted Wonderland (social security, school aptitude tests, bank accounts… etc).

⤷He’s very much a rock to lean on- seemingly forever calm (if a bit miffed due to the wet spots due to tears now in his leather Savanaclaw jacket).

⤷Does small things that you have to look twice at to notice the real value of, on a particularly rough day he prepares some food that tastes similar to a favorite dish (even if the ingredients are different), or takes you to dumb tourist traps on the island so it feels more like a fun trip than a prison, makes a playlist with songs similar to those that he had you sing from your world.

⤷He offers to take you on break with him, explaining that his large family will leave no room to be bored- which therefore means really no time to be homesick or sad.

⤷On reflex gets you a nightlight because it’s one of his little sisters comfort items, and decides to get a matching one. That way you know you’re not alone in this world, even during the sad hours of nighttime.

Sebek Zigvolt

⤷Loudly, and very ungracefully asks why you’re acting so solemn when today marks the anniversary to the Great Lord Malleus’ club founding- as brash and socially dense as he may be, three people giving various negative hand gestures towards him after that statement would make anyone stop what they’re doing- and he did stop, mouth agape in pure bewilderment.

⤷Quiets down and watches as three of the other first years glance over your direction, as your face seems to get even more drained and exhausted by the sheer amount of energy surrounding you.

⤷Starts awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other- he’s well aware of the effect his comment made and is slightly embarrassed that his first response to seeing a friend stressed out and tired was to… “invalidate their personal feelings in exchange for validating his own beliefs” as Master Lilia had said.

⤷Epel eventually gets sick of his demeanor and pulls him aside to explain the situation, and ask him to please help because they can’t make such a massive problem go away on their own.

⤷Sebek puffs out his chest at this new responsibility and decides the best course of action would be to explain why the Valley of Thorns is so wonderful.

⤷Slowly begins asking questions about your own home. The Valley has the highest concentration of Fae in the entire world- what are fae like where you’re from? What’s the food like? What spices, animal products, materials are different from what you’ve seen here.

⤷Accidentally makes mental notes of the descriptions you provide of the objects- and finds himself looking for the closest thing to it Twisted Wonderland has to offer.

The original publication and writing belongs to @spindle-spun-writings (Post recovered) 01/01/23

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Banners created by miriamladyvoid© Feel free to use; please, reblog, and credit banners.

Language of the flowers of each Banner:

First Banner: Faded Dianthus: I depart from you. Second Banner: Elder Blossom: Compassion. Third Banner: Harebell: Regret.

[nocreativityfornames]

Everything we know about Michael so far, lore wise.

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR ALL SEASONS

➤ He's an high-ranking angel from the Celestial Realm, more specifically a Seraph. (nb: 18-2 and nb card: Luke - "I can do it too!")

➤ His love for sweets is the reason Luke took interest in baking. (swd: 5-12 and 23-5)

➤ He and Lucifer were equals in the Celestial Realm and no other angel shared the same status as them. Simeon referred to them back then as "the two great leaders of the Celestial Realm's legion of angels." (swd: 23-7) But currently Michael carries that position alone. (swd: 23-5)

➤ He was supposed to meet MC when they visited the Celestial Realm with Solomon but couldn't because a secret spring suddenly started drying and Michael had to go there to investigate the situation. (swd: 23-7)

➤ He used to be Mammon's mentor and tried his best to train the white-haired brother while in charge of him but wasn't able to figure out how to handle him and eventually went to Lucifer asking for help. And since Lucifer was somehow able to get Mammon to listen to him, he ended up taking over Michael's role and became his mentor instead. (swd: 27-19)

➤ He was originally the one in possession of the Ring of Wisdom but gave the ring to Solomon at a time when the human was feeling "lost" and Michael wanted to help him. (swd: 29-5)

➤ During MC's 2° stay in the Devildom when Diavolo was keeping secret from everyone that their powers had become a threat to the three realms, Michael sent the prince a message through Simeon, warning him that if whatever he was keeping a secret affected the Celestial Realm, angels wouldn't hesitate to intervene. (swd: 31-16 Hard Mode)

➤ He's the one who found the Ring of Light, counterpart to the Ring of Wisdom that Lucifer had lost during the Great Celestial War (swd: 37-9), and quickly noticed it was missing when Simeon stole it to give it to MC ( since it was the only other way to control their powers ), shooting the other angel a text stating that they needed to have a "good, long talk" and that he wanted to see him as soon as possible. (swd chat: M, "untitled")

➤ When MC was given the Ring of Light and fell unconscious because of it, Michael appeared to speak with them. And during their talk, the seraph told MC that he had pictured them to be truly wicked person due to being so well-liked by the brothers, but that he had been proven wrong after meeting them. (swd: 38-17)

➤ In that same conversation, Michael confessed to being jealous of MC. He told them: "I must admit that I'm jealous of you, MC. I wish I could have been more like you. Because I loved Lucifer and his brothers, and I lost them. Perhaps things could have been different..." (swd: 38-17)

➤ When asked, Satan explained to MC that Michael was the opposite of Lucifer appearance-wise but that they felt like twins at the same time. And when Mammon brought up Michael's adoration for Lucifer, Satan chimed in saying that in his opinion the reason Michael liked Lucifer so much was because he was the embodiment of everything he wanted to be but couldn't. (swd: 43-19)

➤ He would be the one having meetings with Diavolo when the prince took over the kingdom if he hadn't thrown the responsibility onto Lucifer in the last minute, making Michael in a way the stepping stone that led Lucifer to question his faith and start having doubts about God and the Celestial Realm in general. (swd: 44-15)

➤ When MC ended up in the past Celestial Realm through a dream Solomon sent them to accidentally by feeding them his food, Michael was the one to bring them back home. The angel told MC that they and the brothers would likely forget what happened in the dream but that it would still have an effect on all of them and he would keep an eye on them to make sure that said effect didn't have negative consequences in the future. (swd: 44-18)

➤ Luke told MC that he often found Michael in the hall where the brothers' portraits used to hang staring at the empty space, lost in thought. According to the small angel, Michael to this day still deeply misses the brothers and has regrets about the war. (swd: 49-15)

➤ He was the one to cast out the brothers from the Celestial Realm and send them to the Devildom. (swd: 50-7)

➤ According to Mammon, Michael and Simeon must've pulled some strings behind the scenes to get Luke to participate in the exchange program and be able to visit the Human World with Simeon because, with his low ranking, he'd never be the one chosen for those sorts of things and the Avatar of Greed is convinced that they're doing this because they want Luke to experience life outside the Celestial Realm, see that there's more out there than heaven, and stop thinking that angels are perfect beings who can do no wrong. (swd: 50-10)

➤ He's knowledgeable on constellations and likes them so much he had Raphael rebuilt a whole room so Human World constellations could be seen even from the Celestial Realm. (swd: 52-7) He also taught Mammon about them when he was still in his care, and later on taught Luke as well. (swd: 50-12)

➤ It was actually he who went into the Devildom and told the brothers that they had been forgiven by God and had to choose between staying in the demonic kingdom ( and making an enemy out of heaven ) or coming back to the Celestial Realm and leaving Satan behind. And in a conversation with Raphael, Michael said the reason for his disguise was that he was worried about what could happen if he showed up as himself. But Raphael quickly rebutted that by saying that the true reason Michael didn't go as himself was because he wouldn't know how to act around the brothers. (nb: 20-14 Hard Mode)

➤ Still disguised as Raphael before going back to the Celestial Realm, Michael told Luke that he wasn't surprised that the brothers didn't accept his offer to go back to heaven and actually knew that would be the outcome of it. He was also surprised not too long after when Luke, not knowing it wasn't Raphael who he was talking to, pointed out that Michael seemed sad and lonely whenever he was staring at the wall where the brothers' portraits used to be. Michael's exact response to the younger angel's words was: "...I didn't realize that's what people thought.” (nb: 20-A)

➤ When asked by Raphael if he planned to attend RAD in the future, Michael avoided giving an direct answer and left. (nb: 20-14 Hard Mode)

[scoutswritingcorner]

Cowboy Romance

Striker x GN!Reader

TW: Fighting, NSFW at the end. 

A/N: I love me a cowboy- especially an evil cowboy..LOVE IT. So let me say- cowboy enemies to lovers? 

-☠️ Striker doesn’t believe in love- he thinks it’s a weakness and a weakness anyone can exploit. 

-☠️So when he sees you, oh god he immediately wants to take you out of the picture. He has a whole plan and back up plan. This man hates you so much.

-☠️ So whenever you keep evading his attacks or just ignoring him it pisses him off even more. Don’t you get it? He hates you so you should hate him.

-☠️ While you- you maybe a farm hand or just another assassin that’s looking for some kinda work or just visiting the Wrath ring! You’ve seen him around and you don’t give a shit about him or you do but you're keeping it hush hush.

-☠️Either way the constant run ins with this crazy man are enough to piss you off to the point where you fight back! Setting up a trap or two, staying up at night cause he’s a sneaky bastard and possibly getting a hit on him, he’s not invincible but he’s strong. So good luck.

-☠️ All in all- this ends up with a lot of sexual tension and then later that evening when your patching yourself up you realize you have a crush on the sneaky bastard. But when he realizes that he caught feelings? Oh boy his anger ramps up to 100% and he’s about to fucking snap. He can’t be having a moment of weakness!

-☠️ And one faithful evening he comes to kill you off for good but it goes sideways and now you both are making out. 

His gloved hands slammed you down onto the ground as he crawled on top of you, never breaking the kiss that has you both breathless and grasping at each other. Your fist balling up his shirt as his tongue easily evades your mouth asserting his dominance over the situation but by how his hands keep touching you tell you how desperately he needed you close to him. “This doesn't mean shit.” He hissed out as he pulled away from the kiss, his tail whipping around behind him. “Uh huh, sure thing cowboy.” You replied, staring up into his yellow eyes, noses brushing together as neither of you made a move to get away. But how he pressed his lips onto yours in a much more gentle manner told you otherwise.

-☠️ So when y’all are in a relationship after months of him breaking into your house or where ever you were staying to make out with you. He’s much sweeter, still kinda rough around the edges but you only get to see the softer side of him.

-☠️ He strikes me as a man who loves it when you rub his back as you both are laying down. Or when you take his hat off of his head to cover up the fact you are kissing.

-☠️ He lets you ride Bombproof with him, and if you don’t know how to ride a horse, he’s teaching you. Like the whole nine yards, don’t worry he’s right beside you guiding the horse around like the true cowboy gentleman he is.

-☠️ He’s constantly busy but he tries to make time for you and on special occasions say date night, birthday, anniversary, etc and he can’t make it because of work? He’s sending you a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a promise of being home as soon as he can.

You huffed watching the clock tick silently, Striker was out doing Satan knows what and you were stuck in a safer place than he was, your phone buzzed alive with texts but not from him. He always called on a burner phone or didn’t call at all. As the clock struck midnight you frowned, he had officially missed your date but you knew his job so you couldn’t hold it against him. A loud knock shook you out of your pity party causing you to rush over and open the door, a random imp holding the large vase of your favorite flowers. Taking it from the imp you quickly say ‘thank you’ before closing the door to put the vase of flowers on the table. A note hidden in the flowers catch your attention, you quickly open it and read it as a smile graces your lips,

‘Sorry for the late bouquet, Darlin. I’ve been busy as you know but I wanted to make it up to you since I can’t be there but I promise as soon as I’m finished here I’ll be heading your way to actually make up for it. With love, yours truly ~S’

-☠️He likes to have a hand on you all the time, his tail curls around your leg or your tail if you have one. If you’re out on the road with him and Bombproof, he’s letting you cuddle up to him the whole time.

-☠️ He loves singing to you and about you all the time. Some folks who have been his targets have heard him singing about his little ‘Desert Flower’ before meeting their untimely demise.

-☠️ He loves showing off for you and showing how tough he is. He’s like a little peacock, please give him some kisses so he can stop flexing for you.

-☠️ Won’t let you touch his weapons. Not because he doesn’t trust you with them but they are super fucking dangerous and he wants to protect you. Speaking of protecting you- this man is super fucking protective and will not hesitate to either put a bullet in someone or break their bones for putting you in harms way.

NSFW BELOW HERE MINORS GET OUT 18+

-☠️ Most of the time you both are making out, it turns into ripping your clothes off one another and fucking like wild animals.

-☠️ He’s a dom for sure. Like you can try be somehow always wrangles you to the ground so he has more control over how he fucks you.

-☠️ Has a thing for being called ‘Sir’. No, I will not apologize. 

-☠️ His favorite position is either missionary, cowgirl or you sitting on his lap. He just likes to watch your face as he pleasures you. 

-☠️ Grab his horns if he’s going down on you, he loves it so much. Also wear his hat, if you know you know. Honestly wearing any of his clothes usually does the trick.

-☠️ He can be gentle and will be gentle if you want him to be but he likes it rough. Especially when it starts off gentle and slow then escalates to everything being rough.

[milaisreading]

🌱🩷: 9th story of the Christmas special... I was a little too silly goofy here...

Pairings: Oliver Aiku x Isagi's sister!Yn (Post-Blue Lock tl)

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. Angst...

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura ⚽️

🎄Dec 18th🎄

'Finally back home.' Oliver smiled as he walked down the familiar streets of Tokyo, specifically one of the wards, Shinagawa. Oliver expected nothing less than a cold day, since it was December 20th already. He returned from Italy the night before, and after a good night of rest, the pro-player decided to explore the capital. Everything was in festive mood, and Oliver couldn't help but be in awe with the decorations. It was nearly as good as the ones he saw in Italy, but these ones had a more personal touch to them. During his walk, he did get recognized by some fans and took pictures with them.

Oliver chuckled as he remembered a few of the girls trying to flirt with him. While he did flirt back, he couldn't help but feel nothing while doing so.

"They seem... pretty happy." Oliver muttered and stopped when he noticed a couple a few meters away, laughing and carrying some presents. Oliver's smile turned into a frown as a familiar heartache hit him... for the 5th time that month.

'Is she single? Or did she find someone else?' Oliver gulped and shook his head when the last thought hit him. He doesn't expect (Y/n) to stay single forever, or wait for him... but her being with someone else did sadden him.

'I made my own bed. It's what I get for what I did all those years ago.' Oliver took a deep breath and went to look for a café, trying to forget about her.

'(Y/n)... I wonder how she is doing? Does she ever think of me.'

🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️

Years prior...

"I hate you! I hate that I even trusted you!" (Y/n) sobbed as Oliver flinched at her sobs and tried to move closer to her, but she recoiled and glared at him.

"Is... is it so hard to just love me? And stay faithful?"

Oliver said nothing, too ashamed to really say anything.

'What am I supposed to even say? Sorry you found me kissing another girl?' Oliver flinched as he watched her wipe a few tears away. He really didn't mean any of this. He wanted to make her happy, unlike last time. But it looks like he made this worse than last time.

"Do... do you hate me so much that you can't break up properly?"

"I don't hate you!" Oliver yelled back, but the glare she sent him was enough to shut him up.

"Really? The first time you broke up with me was over text, in the most dry way possible. And now, now you do this! You could have just told me that you can't do long distance!"

"(Y/n), I really do love you! I am sorry, I was weak for a moment and I couldn't help it."

She rolled her eyes and went to pick up the suitcase that was left on the floor.

"Where are you going?" Oliver gulped, walking after her.

"Please-"

"I am over this. You are a unreliable jerk, who can't be loyal to someone for 4 months?! And as to where I am going, it's none of your business. I am not your worry anymore."

She glared at him and was about to leave the apartment, but Oliver grabbed her shoulder.

"Of course you are my worry. I love you and-"

"No, you don't!" (Y/n) yelled back, moving out of his grip. Oliver moved away, both afraid of her rage and sad by the disdain she held in her eyes.

'Last time we saw each other, it was love.' Oliver recalled. (Y/n) took a deep breath and spoke up again.

"You don't hurt the people you love. If you dare to even follow me, I will scream. Got it?"

Oliver gulped and nodded his head as she put on her shoes.

"Goodbye, Aiku. Feel free to have as much fun as possible." She huffed and left the apartment. Oliver watched her leave and slowly closed the door behind himself. He was fighting the urge to puke.

'Is it really over?'

☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄

'I screwed up so bad... I wish I could go back in time.' Oliver sighed as he watched his cup of hot chocolate. Not even its sweetness could sheer him up anymore. He ignored the people in the the background and just went back to his phone. He smiled as he saw some new pictures of (Y/n) that were posted. For the first 4 months after the break up, Oliver didn't hear much about her. Just a few things from Barou or Aryu, if they felt like saying anything. After that, pictures of her modeling in Madrid, Barcelona, Milan, and Rome started slowly appearing on his social media. It surprised Oliver, since he knew (Y/n) as a more private person, who always tried to stay away from cameras. But, things seemed to have changed after the break-up, he guessed.

'Modeling does suit her, she looks beautiful-'

"Aiku? You are here, too?"

The pro-players heart stopped for a moment and he looked up to find (Y/n)'s shocked face.

'Beautiful.' He gulped and blinked a few times before getting up from his seat.

"(Y-Y/n)... you are here? In Japan?" Oliver asked, dumbfounded as the older Isagi slowly nodded her head, feeling a little awkward.

'Thank God there aren't many people here to cause a scene.' Oliver thought, looking at the half-empty café.

"Yeah...uhm.... I came here a few days ago. I am guessing they gave you in Ubers a week off too."

"They did. Oh! Sit down, please. Don't stand there." Oliver offered her the seat across from him.

"Thanks, but I will be going soon. We just came here to buy some pastries."

"Ahh~ Ok, I understand. Wait, we? Is your bro here too?"

(Y/n) blushed and shook her head, then pointed at a familiar redhead standing in front of the cashier.

"Sae? You... you and Sae are friends now?" Oliver blinked, trying to not show any distaste at the idea.

"We... uh, Sae and I are engaged, actually." (Y/n) answered silently, showing a ring that was on her left hand. Seeing the item, Oliver felt nausea come over him.

"T-that's great. I didn't know..." He trailed off. He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

"Yeah, Sae and I wanted to keep this relationship out of public eye. But we plan on announcing the engagement in the next few days." (Y/n) smiled brightly. Oliver couldn't help but to notice that this smile was way... brighter than the once she gave him back in the day.

'It's like, she is completely herself with Sae.' He bit the inside of his cheek, then gave her a tight smile.

"Happy to hear that. I am... glad to see that you are doing well. Congratulations."

"Thank you. I haven't been this happy in a long while." (Y/n) admitted.

'Are you happier with him than with me?' Oliver wanted to ask, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything.

"Hope you are doing great, too. Yoichi told me Ubers did pretty well last season." (Y/n)'s words woke him up from his thoughts.

"Yeah. We have been doing good. I am, happy with my life so far."

'I really am not.' Was what Oliver wanted to say, but (Y/n) is no longer the one to who he can talk about those things. She wasn't responsible for it, anymore.

"(Y/n), let's go. We need to pick up Rin and Yoichi from the airport." Sae called out, causing (Y/n) to nod her head, then she turned to look back at Oliver.

"It was great meeting you again... and thank you for everything. The good and even the bad times, they really helped me grow." (Y/n) said softly as Oliver slowly nodded his head.

"Thank you for everything, too. Hope you have a good holiday with everyone."

The pro-player said, raising his hand for a fist-bumb. The girl smiled and nodded her head.

"Thanks. Have a great Christmas, too."

With a fist-bumb, (Y/n) left Oliver's side and walked over to where Sae was. The black-haired player fought back a few tears as he saw (Y/n) take Sae's hand and leave the café. It hurt more than when she had left 4 years ago.

"Damn it..." Oliver muttered as he sat down on his chair again and hid his face in his hands.

'It's another goodbye... How ironic that it happened again during this time of the year.'

[boldlyvoid]

I Know Places 2: Minimal Loss

18+ Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader | Masterlist | AO3 link

Summary: Away on a case with Reid, he and our dear reader are held hostage by Libertarian Cult Leader, Benjamin Cyrus. It's now Aaron's turn to try and keep his cool while Leading the Hostage Recovery and Support mission at the same time he's realizing he's fallen in love with his subordinate…

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence (child sexual assault, hostage situations), hurt/comfort, Drug use tw, unrequited love (so he thinks), mutual pining, angst with a happy ending, drug-induced love confessions

Word count: 10.3k

It’s weird being in the office without her. She flew out to Colorado with Reid last night, the two of them stayed in a hotel (one with two queen beds this time) and she texted him this morning before she headed out for the case. He missed her. He missed picking her up this morning. He missed their coffee banter and how every morning without fail she got the same breakfast that always left his car smelling like a buttery croissant.

He smiles to himself as he thinks about her. He wonders how she’s doing, he can’t wait to call her tonight and catch up… hopefully, the interviews don’t take more than a day. He’d miss her too much if he didn’t get to see her tomorrow too. Maybe he could pick them up from the airport? No. She drove herself and Reid there, so maybe he’ll bring her a baked good and they can watch TV together? Either way, he wanted to see her as soon as she got home.

When they were approached by Colorado child protective services, they received a copy of the 911 call that sparked the investigation and a short summary of the alleged unsub. Libertarian cult leader, Benjamin Cyrus of the Fringe Religious group called the Separatarian Sect. was being accused of being inappropriate with the young teenage members. The age of the caller who made the 911 call is 15. This was a crime, no matter what the libertarians personally believed, under Colorado state law, he was breaking the law by having any kind of sexual interaction with a minor.

Sending Y/N and Spencer was a no-brainer. They couldn’t send JJ because she was pregnant, but they wanted a woman there to make the children feel safe. Spencer went because he’s memorized the entire bible and most historical quotes, he’d be able to deal with a libertarian cult leader the easiest. He had faith in—

“HOTCH!”

With his door open, he’s able to hear Morgan's scream even better, he’s immediately up and out of his seat, rushing towards the door when he notices everyone watching the TV.

“The TV, Y/L/N and Reid,” he points to the screen.

The report on screen is standing a few miles from the compound, showing footage from a raid and cutting back to his face as he speaks. “No one knows for sure how many people are inside. It is believed that at least three child service members are still trapped inside the compound.”

His heart drops into his stomach as if he just fell 30 feet in 10 seconds. His eyes widen, he steps towards the railing outside his office and grips the metal pole for dear life.

This can’t be happening.

She can’t get hurt.

He can’t lose her too.

Just then every single phone in the office starts to ring, he’s pulled back to reality and he catches his breath, “alright, that means we’re the lead with Hostage Rescue and Support. Let’s go!”

He runs to his office and grabs his go bag, he shoves his phone in the bag, makes sure his gun is still on his hip and his badge and wallet in the back pocket of his suit pants. He doesn’t bother bringing his suit jacket, he honestly doesn’t even remember to take it as he bounds down the stairs and runs to the elevator.

They all rush to the plane as quickly as possible, it’s always fueled and ready to go, so getting into the air takes less than 15 minutes. Once in the air, they open up their laptop and Penelope patches over a live feed of the Colorado news.

“It turned deadly when the Colorado state police officers tried to serve a warrant. Colorado attorney general, Jim Wells, says the reclusive cult has been the subject of a 6-month weapons investigation”

“6 months?” Morgan repeats. “We didn’t check?”

“Oh, we did,” JJ pipes up, visibly pissed. “I had ATF call Wells and he told ATF there were no pending state investigations. He lied.”

“Why?” Rossi asks, not understanding why he’d lie about that.

“Wells is challenging the governor in the upcoming election,” JJ explains. “He thought that ATF were going to poach his big election-launching weapons bust. Now, it’s clear he didn’t know there were FBI agent’s there, he just thought the best time to serve a state warrant was when the kids were safe inside the school being interviewed.”

“What do we know about the sect?” Rossi poses the question to the group.

Penelope, listening in on a video call the whole time, flips the screen from the news to her face. “Liberty Ranch was founded in 1980 by Libertarian Leo Kane. He created it as a self-sustaining commune.”

“Libertarians believe that everyone has the right to do what they want as long as they aren’t infringing not eh rights of others,” Derek points out.

“But libertarians aren’t religious,” Dave reminds them. “Clearly this sect abandoned libertarian principles.”

Aaron takes a deep breath, he’s still anxious, and his heart is racing but he has to get his head in the game. “Benjamin Cyrus, the current leader, introduced religion 8 years ago when Kane left.”

“Garcia, what do we got on Cyrus?” Derek asks her.

“Oh, we got bupkis,” she sounds disappointed. “It's like the guy never cast a shadow on the known universe… however his predecessor, Leo Kane, is doing a 17-year stretch at Deerfield Federal Prison… apparently libertarians do not like paying taxes.”

“17 years for tax evasion?” Derek laughs.

“Oh no, that would be 2 years for tax evasion and 15 years for going after four IRS agents with a Louisville Slugger…” Garcia pressed her lips together awkwardly, what a dumb crime to commit.

“Let’s have Kane brought to the scene,” Hotch instructs her to get the paperwork going. “He’s our best chance at finding out some idea of who we’re dealing with.”

“You got it,” she cheerfully agrees and turns off her camera.

They all settle into their plane seats then. It was a 3-and-a-half-hour flight, all he could do was prep negotiation teams and worry about Y/N. He worried for Reid's safety too, of course, Spencer was like a son to him… his heart just yearned for Y/N and after losing Kate, he can’t bare going through that kind of loss again and so soon.

He felt as though he was destined to only know what it was like to be left, not loved. He had such a tumultuous relationship with his ex-wife, being high school sweethearts also came with high school drama. He graduated a year before her, he was in college and she wanted to see other people. So they took their first break. He was doing law school and she was in teacher's college and they took a second break because his studying took up too much of his time and she felt as though she needed physical attention he couldn’t give her… then he went to Scotland Yard, back when he didn’t know if he wanted to work for Interpol or the FBI and once again distance caused them to go on break a 3rd time. He met Kate Joyner, they had a thing and when he returned to the States he asked Haley to marry him. He should’ve known that she would run once his attention shifted to things other than her. He thought maybe having a baby would change that about her. He thought maybe she loved him— loved their family enough to stay.

He was wrong.

Now he’s divorced, Kates dead and… and he thinks he might be falling in love with his subordinate.

He takes a moment to go to the bathroom on the jet just for a chance to get away from everyone. He leans against the sink and puts his hands over his face, shaking his head with disbelief. It all happened so fast. One minute they’re co-workers and he enjoys working with her and the next she was filling the void in his heart. Mind you, he knew her when he was married, he didn’t have the capacity to see her as anything other than a friend… now that’s all changed.

He took the ring off and his heart searched for warmth. For comfort. For morning coffees and laughter on the drive to work. For late-night chats and gossip about celebrities. For a hand to hold. For a body to cuddle into in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere. For someone to care for him. For Y/N.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to do this. How he’s going to stay calm and cool and collected while he knows she’s in there? He doesn’t know what he’ll do if she’s hurt. He isn’t sure how he’ll make judgements and do the negotiations knowing that every decision he makes could have consequences.

He heads back to his seat to see everyone else is also doing their best to stay calm. They all love Reid and Y/N, and each of them wants to bring their friends home in one piece… he’s not alone in being anxious and worrying for their safety. Maybe he can play it off, maybe they won’t guess he loves her in a way that differs from how they do.

—

Once they land they’re met with bureau issues SUVs and given an escort to the crime scene, all their sirens on, they speed down back county roads causing dust to fly behind them and rocks to flick up from under their wheels, hitting the car behind them.

When they arrive at the Hostage Negotiation and Support Command Centre, Aaron lets Morgan and JJ head in to set up and he pulls Dave aside. “They’ve left the choice of negotiators up to me.”

“I taught most of the hostage negotiation unit,” Dave reminds him. “You want a recommendation?”

“I’m making you lead negotiator.”

“Me?” Dave can’t believe him.

“why go to the students when I have the teacher,” he simplifies his decision.

“because the teacher is emotionally involved,” Dave spits back. “So is the agent in command.” He stares Aaron down, watching for any facial moment that would give way to just how much he cares for Y/N. Of course, he knew.

He gives in, looking down to the ground, he can’t explain how much this is hurting him. “I know I am. This is a unique situation. We have two agents who could affect the outcome on the inside.”

“True, but I can’t be objective. I know them too well!”

“This outcome depends as much on our ability to predict the moves of Y/N and Reid as much as it does Cyrus,” Aaron explains. “That’s why you’re the best man for the job.”

“Assuming that Spencer and Y/N—” he puts weight on her name to make Aaron know he caught that. The use of her first name and Spencer's last, it’s a hierarchy of needs. He knows Aaron subconsciously wants her safe just the tiniest bit more than Reid. “Are still in a condition to make moves.”

“I-I know how bad this is,” Aaron says, voice dropping down to a whispered tone. “That’s why I want you doing the talking. I need you doing the talking.”

“Alright,” Dave gives—.

“You’re obviously not in charge, I can see that!!!” A man's voice bellows through the air.

“I’m sorry sir, I’m under direct orders from the FBI,” one of the hostage negotiation team members explains.

“I’m the attorney General of this state, I demand to know why I wasn’t told the FBI was sending undercover agents into the Separatarian Ranch?”

It’s Wells. The man who got them stuck in the position, to begin with.

Aaron starts walking away from Dave, driven by anger, he walks right up to the man. “The only thing that you’re in a position to demand is a lawyer.”

“Who the hell are you?” The man asks as if he’s about to laugh at Aaron's voice of authority.

“I’m Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief. I’m the guy who’s going to tell the Attorney General of the United States whether to charge you obstructing a federal investigation of negligent homicide,” Aaron spits back, getting more in this man's face.

“You can’t talk to me like that.”

Aaron takes another step in, towering over the man, “Get off my crime scene.”

And just like that, the man cowers, running away to his car and driving away.

Aaron turns to the other man, the one who was trying to answer Wells’ questions before. Aaron knew him from the bureau. “Hey Dan, you know Dave Rossi?”

“Sure do,” Dan smiles, reaching over to shake Dave's hand.

“We’ve been here before, haven’t we?” Dave jokes.

“Waco, Ruby Ridge, Freeman standoff,” Dan recounts. “Let's hope someone listens to you guys this time.”

“Oh, they did more than listen. They put us in charge,” Dave announces, hands on his hips, ready to go.

“So bring us up to speed?” Aaron asks.

“I've sent the state police packing. They started this mess and lost a man in the process. I hope that’s okay?”

“If you hadn’t we would’ve.”

“Good.”

“The county Sheriffs have had no run-ins with the sect, so we’re using them as support. We’ve had no contact with them so far. they’re got power. Solar. We can shoot out the panels if you think—

“No, no that’s an escalation,” Dave shoots that down.

“Okay, that means they have access to the news,” Dan reminds them.

“I’ll get JJ to talk to the press. Are your men ready to be briefed?” Aaron asks. Dan nods. “Let's go.”

Inside the trailer they’ve set up for secure meetings, Derek, Dave and Aaron start to give the preliminary profile and brief. There’s only a handful of men, which is best. Having too many cooks in the kitchen leads to chaos. 6-10 people, that’s much more manageable.

“We call this the Minimal Loss scenario,” Dave explains. “Every person we get out is a life saved. We won’t save them all. All of us have t be prepared to accept that situation.” He looks over at Hotch and then presses his lips together awkwardly.

Derek steps up to the whiteboard and picks up a marker, “cults are structured like pyramids.” He explains while drawing a triangle on the board. “You got the leader at the top, die-hard believers beneath… and the biggest group, the base. The followers.” He makes a point to circle that group and look at the other men. “Women and children are in this group. These are the people we can save.”

“The ‘trickle, flow, gush’ strategy is designed to get the base followers out,” Aaron explains. “First one or two, then three or four, then as many as we can, as fast as we can. And if at any point it starts to go bad. We go in.”

“The leaders are charismatic sociopaths who target the most susceptible to their seduction. They have the ability to see what each person needs and then they become that thing. We have to undermine their perception that we’re an invading army laying siege to their homes,” Dave explains.

“We’ll lose the fatigues,” Dan assures them. Losing the army look will make them much more approachable. “Ranchers clothes work for you? Like we did at the Freeman standoff?”

“Perfect. Anything we can do to demilitarize the situation,” Dave agrees. “But that’s about it… we have to make first contact and then we can act accordingly from there.”

“We have a phone set up for you guys outside by the lookouts,” Dave explains. “Nightfall is coming, they’ll be the most in need when it’s dark. We should call then.”

“Agreed,” Aaron nods.

--

Dave hits the speed dial button for the ranch, they wait for 5 or 6 rings and then they answer. “you killed my mommy and daddy, are you going to kill me too?” A little girl's voice answers, on speakerphone for everyone to hear.

“No one is going to kill you, honey,” Dave assures.

“This is Benjamin Cyrus, who am I talking to?” Comes down the line mere seconds later.

“David Rossi. I’m an FBI agent. We’ve sent the state police away, there’s just us and the local sheriff now. All we want to do is resolve this before anyone else gets hurt,” he explains.

“Then leave us alone.”

“I’m afraid we can’t do that, Benjamin, one of the police bled out on the way to the hospital,” he explains, wondering if they haven’t watched the news yet. “So let's just stop this before things get worse. Please, just put the guns down and come out.”

“we’re believers Dave,” Benjamin starts. “We believe that god says what he means and means what he says. His laws don’t depend on what state you live in.”

“I have no issue with your beliefs,” Dave reminds him.

“You don’t. But the state does,” Benjamin is clearly pissed off that any of this happened today.

That makes two of them.

“I can’t answer for other people,” Dave states.

“God will answer for everyone in the final battle that I’ve foreseen.”

Aaron sighs, leaning his head back and shaking it. He hates these religious types. Rossi makes eye contact with him as he keeps talking, “That’s why I’m here. To make sure that this is not that battle.”

“We shall see…”

Sounds more like a taunt.

“Now the three child services workers—

“one is dead,” Benjamin interjects.

Aaron's heart sinks down to his stomach further, he feels like he could be sick. They all have the same look on their faces.

“It wasn’t us,” Ben assures them. “It happened in the standoff, a stray bullet flying into our chapel clipped her.”

“We need a name, so I can alert the family,” Dave explains. Hoping to pry it out of him.

“Nancy Lund,” he says and everyone lets a wave of relief selfishly pass over themselves.

“Okay, now please, Benjamin, send out your wounded. I promise you they’ll be taken care of,” Dave asks. Trying to start the trickle.

“With enough supplies, we can tend to our own,” Benjamin explains. They’re not leaving any time soon.

“Okay, I need a few hours to put it together,” he explains. “I’ll bring them up myself at first light.”

Without a goodbye or a thank you, Cyrus hangs up.

They head back into the trailer after that, prepping med kits and retrofitting any electronics that get sent in with small microphones so they can spy on their every movement and plan. Aaron’s just excited for the chance to hear her voice again and know she’s okay.

“I’m going to go in and double-check that the kids, Y/L/N and Reid are okay,” Dave announces as he walks back into the trailer.

“Rossi, at least let me go with you?” Derek bags.

“No,” he shakes his head. “This is about building trust. I go alone.”

“I want the parabolic arc mics fixed on every window in that structure,” Dan announces to the rest of his crew.

“They won’t pick up much,” one of them pipes up. “They have blinds on all the windows, unless they’re shouting the glass won’t vibrate enough for us to get audio.”

“Well if they’re not shouting, these bugs will pick 'em up… at least until the batteries die,” Dan assures them, screwing the back onto an electronic thermometer. “How familiar are your agents with our playbook?”

“The BAU wrote the CIRG handbook,” Aaron reminds him. “They’ll know that we’re trying to get ears in there at all times.”

“Good, let’s hope they can get these people talking.”

“They will.”

—

At first light, Aaron sits at the listening station with a mug full of freshly brewed coffee and his headphones on, listening to everything as Rossi drives up to the compound.

He hears their introduction, muffled through the boxes of supplies. He hears Cyrus spout some more godly bullshit and claim he’s trying to protect the children. He’s not ready to let any of them go now, so Dave shakes his hand and heads out on his way. As soon as the door is closed, Cyrus says: “Prepare the wine.”

There’s a shuffling sound as everyone moves around the room, the elders no doubt do everything Cyrus says and the women and children stay seated. After a few minutes, he hears Cyrus again, muffled but there, saying something about being 1 day closer to god…

“Look at Jessica's body language,” Y/N’s voice can be heard as though she’s standing right beside the box of supplies. “The way she looks at him.”

“She literally worships him there’s no way she made that 911 call?” Spencer questions next.

Derek and Aaron look at each other, nodding with a small smile, they’re okay. Not safe, but okay.

“Look at how she comes between Cyrus and her daughter,” Y/N speaks again. “She’s inserting herself between them…”

Cyrus is getting everyone to drink just as Dave is running back into the trailer. “Reid and Y/L/N are okay.”

“what about Cyrus?” Derek asks.

“He's too calm? It's like he was waiting for this to happen?” Dave suggests. “And now that it has he feels vindicated.”

“Hey guys,” Dan calls their attention back to the headsets.

“We’ll be with him soon. We have drank the poison together,” Cyrus’ voice is heard.

They all turn to each other with horrified expressions. “What the fuck?” Aaron exclaims, “I thought you said he was calm?”

“He was! He wanted me to think nothing was going on, he’s a master manipulator! We have to take everything he says and does with a grain of salt,” Dave reminds him.

“We need to go in!” Derek shouts, gathering his things with Dan.

“If we go in there people are gonna die!” Dave shouts.

“People are already dying!” Aaron shouts back, headset pressed to his good ear, he’s still listening to Cyrus preach.

“What do we do?” Y/N whispers.

“Nothing,” Spencer assures her.

“We have to do something these people just took poison!” She snaps back at Reid.

“I don’t think they did?”

“Wait! Wait!” Aaron gathers them all back towards him. “Listen,” he switches the audio playback to the speakers.

“Cyrus just told them they did, I think he’s bluffing,” they hear Spencer’s whisper loud and clear.

“Why do you think that?” Y/N asks.

“Just after he told them they took the poison he waited for them to react and then he nodded to Cole who started to note down everyone who looked sad, look…. They're scanning the audience for the people who are fine with dying now and who are a bit skeptical. This is their way of narrowing down the true believers and those who he can send out to Rossi,” Spencer explains. “He’s smart enough to possibly know our strategies, he wants to send out a trickle of people and then do something during the gush…”

“Jim Jones pulled the same stunt,” Rossi reminds everyone, agreeing with Reid. “They did a test run just like this years before they did the real thing.”

“Dan, prepare your men to go in but not before I give you the go-ahead,” Aaron points back to him. “We need to wait just a few more minutes, if I hear Y/L/N or Reid say anything about people falling sick or passing out, we go in.”

“Got it!”

Aaron covers his hand over his mouth and hopes to god he doesn’t have to send men in there. They already lost one social service member in the crossfire, he can’t lose his agents too.

“Be still, there was no poison,” Cyrus speaks. “Instead a test of faith BECAUSE YOUR ADVERSARY THE DEVIL WALKETH ABOUT AS A ROARING LION!! Choosing who he may devour. Watch each other for signs of weakness. You are your brother's keeper.”

“Dan!” Aaron calls out to him, he comes popping his head back into the trailer. “Stand down, Cyrus said it was a rouse.”

JJ comes walking in behind him, “The former sect leader just arrived.”

“I got it,” Derek volunteers himself. “call me if there are updates.” He says as he leaves, holding his phone up to assure them he has it.

“Charles Mulgrew, convicted in Kentucky at the age of 18. Three counts of statutory rape,” Penelope says through the phone, recounting her findings to the whole team now… well, the free 4.

“So we need to talk to the warden,” Derek says with a sigh.

“Way ahead of you there, honey,” she assures him, making Derek crack a small smile. “Mr. Kentucky Warden said that once inside, Mulgrew found religion and became a model citizen.”

“Well it’s not that hard to behave when you’re in protective custody,” Derek reminds her.

“General populations a rough place for a child molester,” Hotch adds.

“No, no, no, I don’t think guys understand he was a Model Citizen. This guy volunteered at the prison hospital,— the aids ward, he was reading to prisoners dying of HIV… he was emulating saint,” Penelope explains father.

“Good stuff, mama,” Derek compliments her the way he always does.

“Damn straight now you get our friends back, baby,” she says before clicking off the call to do more digging.

“Well,” Dave stands a little straighter and sucks in a deep breath. “This makes things worse.”

“What? That he’s a model citizen?” Derek laughs.

“That he’s been to prison,” Dave looks at him, he’s completely serious. There’s no room for giggles now.

Derek closes his eyes for a moment and his shoulders drop, “right. He knows what happens to child molesters there…”

“If the current sexual allegations are true and he thinks we know it, he’s not coming out of there,” Hotch agrees.

“Then we have to make him think he’s not going back to prison,” Dave assures.

“JJ,” Aaron calls back into the main tent for her. “I need you to release a press statement saying that we have absolutely no evidence of sexual allegations.”

JJ comes marching back over to them, sweaty and exhausted, she rests her hands on her pregnant belly and shakes her head, “You need to see this, pop the laptop open. Click on the news tab and play the audio…”

They follow her instructions, gathering around the laptop they see the same news guy from yesterday, he’s set up a little camp for himself in the hills somewhere. He has a perfect view of the ranch and he’s keeping his voice low.

“Now well into its second day, the standoff at the Separatarian Sect Ranch is now been taken over by the FBI. There is much speculation in regard to hostages, but anonymous sources inside the state attorney general's office have told us there is an undercover FBI agent currently being held inside the ranch. Hostage negotiators say they are making headway with the sect's leadership and are hopeful for a positive outcome. There is still no word as to why an undercover FBI agent was sent in alone…”

“Are you fucking Kidding me?” Hotch stands, anger than ever before. “I’m going to I’m going to wring that fuckers neck. I’m going to make his life a living hell.”

“Hotch,” JJ can’t believe those words left his mouth.

“You two,” he points at Derek and Dave, “you get to the parabolic mics and listen in as best as you can. JJ I want you to circle back with Penelope and tell her she can dig into Wells' life as hard as she can and you can reach out to the press with dirt on him. He wants to win the election so bad he’s willing to get federal agents dead, then we’re going to air all his dirty laundry.”

“Got it,” JJ likes that idea and runs back into the tent to make her calls.

Dave and Derek run to the parabolic mic station, leaving Aaron to head back inside and listen to the other spy mics they sent in.

There’s a silent chatter in the church, the mics are picking up more now that they’re not trapped inside boxes and surrounded by supplies. There are a few different angles they get based on what supply was places where. They’re all synced up, playing at the same time and able to be pinpointed for spy-in on individual conversations.

Suddenly, they hear the sound of a struggle, “Get off me! I can walk without you pulling my fucking hair!” Y/N’s voice shouts back.

“FBI scum like you don't get to give orders,” one of Cyrus’ goons speaks back to her and then he hears a slap.

Y/N groans at the pain and Aaron covers his mouth. He’s never been this anxious in his whole life. He wants to run down there, break in and kick the shit out of anyone who laid a hand on her. And then it gets worse.

More mics pick up the sound of the struggle. They hear what Aaron supposes is her body being dragged as she struggles and then the sound of her smacking the concrete. It sounded hard. Like she hit her head.

“I thought I told you not to put me in this position!” Cyrus shouts. Slamming the door behind himself.

Of course, he wouldn’t do this in front of the members.

He slaps her again, the sound of her struggle makes Aaron want to throw up. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. One second he’s covering his mouth then holding the headphones to his ears and the next he’s just holding them out for no reason. He listens in as she keeps getting hit. Punched, kicked, slapped… he really hopes that this is the extent of Cyrus’ abuse. If he had to hear anything else…. He would actually throw up all over everything.

“We’ve gotta go in,” Aaron says as he takes the headphones off. Derek and Rossi come running into the trailer then.

“We can’t go in,” Dave reminds him. “We’d be risking the lives of everyone in there.”

He knows Dave is right, Dan’s put the sound of her struggle on the speaker for everyone to hear and Aaron can’t escape it. The sound of her being hit again and again, moaning from the pain, she’s struggling to defend herself.

“Get up!” Cyrus says, hauling her up and then punching her in the face again. She slams into something this time, there’s the sound of a window or glass or something shattering and then her crying.

“Proverbs 20:30 tells us blows and wounds cleanse evil,” he spouts his bullshit at her. Then he growls, tossing her in another direction and she falls to the floor once more.

She cries, breathing in sounds like it hurts as she whines as she does so, “I can take it!”

“Oh, you can take it?” Cyrus just gets more pissed at that. He slaps her again and she cries more.

“I can take it!”

“Listen to what she’s saying…” Dave suggests.

“She’s antagonizing him!” Derek gets defensive, on Hotch’s side and wants to go in.

“She’s not talking to him, she’s telling us not to come in,” Aaron agrees with Dave, bowing his head, he hates that he’s right.

He can’t take this anymore. He gets up and leaves the room, Dave can listen to the rest. He has to step outside, away front he watchful eye of everyone there and around behind the trailer. He rests his back against it and sinks down to the floor, his face in his hands. He cries.

The weight of everything comes crashing down on him in that moment. He lost his wife. He hasn’t seen his son for more than a few hours in the last 6 months, his friend and colleague died in his arms in the middle of the street and he almost died too. The only good thing that’s happened in all of this is that he’s gotten closer to Y/N.

If anything happens to her he’s going to actually go insane. He may have joked about it before, when he was off work and had nothing to do… but now it feels real. He can’t lose her. He can’t go through the trauma of burying another friend. He can’t imagine losing another woman he loves. Cause he does love her. He loves her more than he should love a co-worker.

It all started when he got divorced. He never had eyes for any other woman but his wife, however, after the divorce… he found himself enjoying her company for reasons other than friendship. Sure, getting coffee together in the mornings was nice and he didn’t care for her choice of TV shows but hearing her talk and knowing her opinions on things felt special to him. He knew a side of her that no one else on the team knew.

And sleeping beside her didn’t help his crush either. She was so soft. She cuddled into him like she was always meant to be there. When he woke up that next morning, spooned into her, he could smell her hair and he had his hand on her stomach… under her shirt. As if in the night they got even closer than either one of them ever thought possible.

Derek comes out to find him just a few minutes later. Aaron’s managed to wipe his tears and pull himself together a bit, he accepts Derek's hand and gets pulled back up to his feet. “They took her to another room but there are blinds on the windows so we can’t hear anything.”

Aaron just nods. “I don’t know why she did that, why she put herself in danger like that.”

“He probably held a gun to one of them and got them to confess, he did that to get Kane out of the ranch, too,” Derek theorizes. “Maybe she confessed to get him off Reid? Reid’s only in there because he knows the bible so well, he can get on Cyrus’s good side and help us out. She knew that.”

“Still,” Aaron can’t really argue.

“I know you love her, man, but we’ve got a job to do,” Derek whispers. “I feel the same way about Spencer.”

Aaron’s a little shocked to hear that but then again, not? It makes sense. The teasing, the closeness, the room sharing… that time Spencer missed his flight to hang out with another man he knew as a teenager. There were signs there from both of them, he just never thought to read them until now.

Aaron stares into his eyes, the two men would do anything for their team already, knowing they both loved someone in the ranch, which made them even more eager to do this right. “So let’s get them out of there.”

Back inside the trailer, Rossi has the speakers on still, and Reids talking. “Nancy said she was a child abuse interview expert from Denver. In the four years I’ve worked with her, Nancy’s never lied to me before.”

“As far as you know,” Cyrus spoke, believing him. “Their law says that a 15-year-old girl is a child when just 50 years ago that same law said that a 14-year-old was an adult. Have children changed so much in 50 years?”

“I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve investigated abuse charges against small religious groups… most all of them turn out to be false,” Reid lies to him. Successfully.

“What do you think of that?”

“What does it matter what I think?”

“It matters to me,” Cyrus assures him.

“Why?”

“Because god wants to save you,” Cyrus spouts.

“I swear to god if Cyrus comes out of there alive I’m going to beat him to death with my bare hands,” Derek mumbles under his breath to Hotch.

“Get in line.”

“I mean, that’s why god sent you here, isn’t it?” Cyrus poses, making reid feel like he’s a part of them now.

“I think… on the next call you should test them,” Reid suggests. “Test the negotiator. Make him prove that he isn’t a liar.”

“How would you suggest do that?”

“Ask for the identity of the FBI agent—

“We already know her identity,” his goon responds for him.

“They don’t know that we know,” Cyrus agrees with Reid.

“but the FBI would never tell is that?” The goon responds again.

“They keep asking you to release people, say you’ll release a kid only if they tell you her identity and if they really care about the children they’ll have to tell you her identity,” Spencer tries harder to get Cyrus on his side.

“You’re trying to get us to release a child!” The man fights with Reid.

“It’s one kid,” Spencer talks to him like he’s an idiot. “If they don’t hold up on their end of the deal then you know they can’t be trusted.”

“He’s right,” Cyrus ultimately agrees.

“Reid has ‘em,” Rossi turns back to them, clearly proud of the kid.

“What is it, Christopher?” Cyrus asks his friend.

“Well… some of them have been talking about… leaving?” He poses the suggestion.

“Leaving?” Cyrus repeats.

“yeah…”

“Wake the baby. Let them see the orphan they’ve made.”

“Okay, everyone!!” Hotch calls out of the trailer, getting the other's attention. “We’re about to get a call, we should expect some members to be released shortly. Get ready for phase one.”

Everyone rushes around then. Preparing to make room for the followers, cars are called in to collect people and take them to a hotel for the night and a few ambulances show up in case anyone is in need of medical support.

But no call comes in.

They wait all night until the sun comes up. But nothing.

“They’re probably going to ask when we call them,” Rossi suggests. “I’ll give my morning call at 6.”

“Okay,” Hotch agrees. “Morgan, I want you to take the truck up to the ranch and collect the little girl, if anyone else is released, Dan will come up and help escort them over here.”

“Yes sir.”

—

Rossi calls in right at 6. They haven’t heard anything else over the mics or through the windows. Most of the members must’ve been asleep in the chapel overnight. Sleeping in pews or on the floor… they all must be exhausted and mostly ready to leave now that the condition of their stay has changed.

“Good morning, Ben, how are you today?” Rossi speaks to him cheerfully.

“We are prepared to release a child if you tell me the identity of the FBI agent promise no harm will come to them from this point forward,” Cyrus leads right into it.

A wave of relief washes over Aaron.

“I can’t give you that information,” Rossi eggs him on.

“I will send the child now.”

Aaron waves his hand to Dan who’s got eyes on the ranch, a little girl has started to walk out of the compound and is standing in the gravel driveway. Dan motions to Derek who’s already taking his gun off and handing it to Hotch who hands him a radio in return. He takes off to the truck then, one of the other men drives Derek up and they watch on the cameras as Derek calmly collects the little girl and gets her into the truck safely.

“I’m taking a big risk here Ben,” Dave tries to play it cool with him.

“Trust is earned,” Cyrus reminds him.

“Her name is Y/N Y/L/N,” Rossi says her full name. “She came in with two child service workers to talk to the girls.”

“There’s a good chance we can work this out, Dave” Cyrus assures him. “I’m gonna provide another sign of good faith.”

“You’re doing a good thing here,” Dave assures him. Hyping up his confidence, getting on his good side.

Cyrus hangs up after that and they rely back to the microphones. “Assemble everyone in the chapel. Get agent Prentiss back down here,” Cyrus orders Christopher.

“This is it,” Aaron assures Dave and Dan. “We’ve started the trickle, it’s about to flow. We need to be prepared for women in children to be released as well as some of their husbands who’ve lost faith in Cyrus.”

Just as they thought, 10 minutes after the order to gather everyone, Cyrus starts to explain why he has them all gathered there. He points out that some of them have lost their faith, that he no longer can support people who don’t support him and his god. And then he starts to name names.

“He looks pissed?” They hear Y/N whisper.

Of course, the two of them would stand where they could be heard the best by the others.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she assures Spencer.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers to her.

“Look at who he’s releasing,” Y/N says again.

“It’s the ones who failed the loyalty test,” Spencer explains. “I’ll get word to the team. You wait for a sign from the outside that will tell us when the raid will come.”

The room goes quiet for a few moments and then they heard, “Take her back.”

Y/N was being sent back to whatever room they had her locked in, in the first place. They need to figure out where that would be… they need to be able to find her during the raid and get her out of there safely.

“Those of you standing, collect your belongings and meet in the main hall immediately,” Cyrus orders.

Not long after that, they start to see a bunch of people start to leave the chapel. Just then, Cyrus calls them. They send Dan and his guys out to collect the survivors and Hotch listens in on the phone call.

“We will surrender tomorrow at noon, we want the press there to make sure that we’re treated fairly,” Cyrus makes them a deal. “We’ll discuss the details tomorrow at our 7 am call… I’ll see you then Dave.”

“I look forward to it,” Dave agrees.

“Oh, and one more thing, could you send in some food in?” He requests.

“Sure, what would you like?” Dave pretends to be hospitable but by the look on his face, Aaron can tell he rather take a bite out of a leather shoe than keep this act up.

“Fried chicken, all the fixings.”

“You got it! I’ll have it brought right up to you.” Dave hangs up and shakes his head. “I hate this mother fucker.”

“I don’t understand, why did you let them go?” Another goon asks, more like, demands to know from Cyrus.

“They weren’t prepared to do what was needed of them,” Spencer butts in.

“Yeah, no offence but you’re not one of us so shut the fuck up,” he spits back at Spencer.

“Listen to him,” Cyrus sides with Reid. “Tell him, Spencer.”

“They failed the test,” Spencer explains. “They-they had a chance to prove their faith when Cyrus told them that they’d sacrificed themselves for god, but instead they showed they weren’t worthy…. That’s why he wants the media to bear witness to your true final act of sacrifice.”

“how do you know that?” The man asks.

“I’m always looking for signs of things to come.”

“Spencer’s asking us for what time to expect the raid,” Dave understands his meaning right away. “He’s telling us this is it! Time is running out! We’ve gotta go in!”

—

The food arrives around mid-day, and they have it delivered to the trailer first. They examine it all to make sure nothing's been tampered with by the restaurant and then they get it all boxed up and ready to go.

“We obviously can’t spike the food 'cause there are kids,” Aaron explains to Dan. “So we need to find another way to alert Spencer that there is a raid coming…”

Just then he picks up a red Sharpie marker and writes on the lid of the chicken box. “New management, open until 3 AM tonight!!” He underlines it a few times and then repeats it on the boxes for the corn and mashed potatoes and biscuits. Spencer has to see it somewhere.

Aaron and Derek are so positive that Spencer can find a way to prepare for the raid inside and figure out a way to get the women and children out of harm's way when Derek, Dave and Dan come crashing through the doors. He’s not going, he has to stay back with JJ and oversee the whole operation. He hates it. But it’s his job.

Derek and Dave go up to the ranch to deliver the food and just as there’s a commotion at the door and everyone is busy at the ranch, the parabolic mikes pick up Y/N’s voice.

“AARON!” Dan yells for him from outside, causing him to rush down to him.

“What?” He fears for the worst.

“it’s Y/N, she’s listening to the blinds with her high-heeled boot and we can hear her, listen,” he hands him the headphones.

“If you can hear me, I know you’re coming. I can try to get the women and children down to the tunnel but I need to know when you’re coming.”

She keeps repeating those two sentences over and over.

“come on,” Aaron gets up, grabs a riffle with a laser scope and they head to the hill closest to the ranch. Dan follows behind him with the transmitter, listening in on what Y/N’s saying still.

He points the gun right at the window and she sees the laser shine against the wall in the room she’s trapped in.

“I got you, what time are you coming in?”

He blinks the laser 3 times.

“3 am?”

He keeps the beam steady and nods the gun, up and down, as if he’s nodding yes.

“Got it. Reid is on the first floor somewhere with Cyrus, and please remember there are children here... someone's coming,” she’s quick to pull her foot away from the window and they lose signal with her.

Dan starts to retreat, leaving Hotch there with the gun and a hopeful feeling. “Hang in there, sweetheart.”

—

At 2:15 AM they start preparing for the raid. Swat is called in, they’ve got a supply of Humvees supplied by the army, weapons, ammunition, and tear gas. They’re ready to go. All without Aaron.

Aaron has his headset on and his radio with him, listening in on the Sect while also in contact with the team as they make their way closer to the ranch.

They know somethings up, that somethings coming… they should’ve cut the lights to the Humvees and gone in there blind.

Cyrus heads outside of the chapel, points his gun in the air and starts shooting the sky, gathering attention from the media just over the hill. He wants them to see how this all goes down.

Luckily, Cyrus just doesn’t know how much they know. When Derek met with the previous leader, Kane, he drew them a map of the whole facility. Secret tunnels, bunkers, you name it, they know where it is. So that’s where they go in.

On the radio he hears Dan give the go-ahead for phase one, the men storm the tunnel exit and surprise the guard down there with flash grenades and tear gas, subduing him. The men force their way inside, they drag the guard to the corner and cuff him up so he can’t cause any trouble and within seconds, Derek is on the radio.

“Y/N’s here, she got the women and children down to the tunnels,” Derek alerts him. “I’m sending them out to you, Dan.”

“Ten-4, I have a vehicle ready to transport them to safety,” Dan responds.

“They’ve wired explosives,” Derek alerts through the radio. “We need to move, now!”

Aaron throws on a bulletproof vest then and starts to run out of the tent, “where are you going!?” JJ calls after him.

“to help get them as far away from the blast as possible this is an all-hands-on-deck situation!” He yells back and keeps running.

He runs as fast as he can, following the dimly lit dirt road up to the chapel, he can see the women and children running out of the tunnels and towards the front of the building. “Over here! This way!” He calls to them, “Over here! You need to get away from the building!”

“Aaron!” Y/N shouts, as the last one to leave the tunnel, she ushers the women and children towards him and hobbles along as fast as she can.

She runs right into his arms, and they both make an audible “oof,” as their chests collide but he holds her close. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” she assures him, pulling back, she turns to face the others, “Keep moving, follow the lights, head to that tent back there!”

They usher them up the road, keeping them at a safe distance from the building, he rests his hand on her back and when she turns to him again, he uses his other hand to cradle her face. He can’t really see in the dark, but he can tell she’s all beaten and bruised, “are you sure—

“I’m fine, we need to go back in there, they have Spencer,” she worries, almost in tears. “It’s bad Aaron, the whole building is rigged to go, they have TNT and gas everywhere, in every hallway way, doorway, support beam… it’s going to go up like a fucking tinderbox.”

“Dereks got it,” he assures her. “They’ll be okay.” She doesn’t look like she believes him, so he pulls her in closer again and cradles her head. “It’s going to be okay.”

They hear a few shots then, followed by the chapel door flying open, Derek and Spencer come running out of the building, and Dave comes running out of the tunnel exit with Dan just as the building goes up in flames.

“Jesse,” Y/N whispers, shocked.

They rush to the building, running up the few concrete steps toward where Derek and Spencer were knocked down by the blast. Aaron picks up Derek, Y/N picks up Spencer and as a team, they retreat away from the fire. At a safe distance, they all stop, turn to the blaze and realize they made it. All of them.

Y/N pulls Spencer into her arms, breaking out in a sob, she crumbles. Her knees give way and Spencer does his best to keep her upright, Aaron steps in and supports her, and Derek too. “We did it,” Spencer whispers, “we’re okay.”

“We’re okay,” she repeats, absolutely exhausted from everything she’s been through.

“We need a medic!” Aaron calls, “Someone, please, get a stretcher over here!”

“I’m fine, I’m okay,” she tries to push them away, standing on her own two feet again but she’s wobbly.

“No, you’re not,” Aaron argues with her. “You got beat up, I heard it all. You’re not okay, I don’t care how strong you think you are you’re—

She reaches out and covers his mouth, “Stop yelling at me, my head is killing me.”

“Sorry,” he apologizes, wrapping his arm under her to support her, he helps her down the stairs just as the ambulance is pulling up to the church.

—

It doesn’t take long for both Y/N and Reid to get checked out by the paramedics. Spencer has some general ringing in his ear from being so close to a blast, and Y/N has a concussion and severe abdominal bruising. They don’t suspect any internal bleeding, but they advise her to have someone watch her all night and to go to the hospital if she feels sick or light-headed.

Derek offers to drive himself, Reid, Rossi and Y/N back to the hotel, JJ and Hotch just have to finish up a few things and then they’ll join, but she turns down Derek's request. “I’m going to stay with Aaron and JJ,” she whispers, not really wanting to talk unless she has to. “You guys head out, it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” Spencer gives her his puppy dog eyes.

She nods, giving him a sweet smile, “Yeah, I don’t think I can handle Derek's driving right now.”

“Fair enough,” Rossi pats her shoulder, heading off after Derek.

“Okay,” Spencer understands the real reason why she isn’t going, he looks at her and then at Aaron. He’s not dumb. Far from it, actually. Of course, he knows there’s something going on between them… Aaron just wonders what it is on her side.

“Spence,” she stops him, pulls him in for another hug and holds him there. She whispers something in his ear, something Aaron can’t hear, but by the look on Spencer’s face, it’s sweet. When she pulls back, she speaks louder. “You come get me if you need anything, I mean anything… okay?”

“I will, thank you,” he smiles before turning away and heading off to the SUV.

She comes to sit beside Aaron after that, he’s filing out some paperwork about the supplies they used and Dan’s signing off on everything, too. JJ’s wrapping up from things on the phone with the state, and firefighters are now on the scene putting out the blaze… it’s a commotion, but he doesn’t care about anything other than Y/N.

He reaches out for her hand, under the table, he holds it and looks at her. Asking if she’s okay with just his eyes.

She nods, “I’m tired.”

“I can do the rest of this,” Dan offers.

“Yeah?”

He nods, “Yeah, you guys go get some rest, you’ve done more than enough for us.”

“Okay,” Aaron doesn’t fight it, he simply lets go of her hand and starts to stand up, helping her up too. “Come on, let’s get you out of here… JJ?”

She’s still on the phone but peaks her head over, asking what’s up with her facial expression.

“We’re heading out, come on.”

She holds up her finger, asking for just a second, which is good. It gives him a chance to pack up his things and help Y/N into the passenger seat of their SUV. JJ comes rushing over not 2 minutes later, the phone still pressed to her ear, she gets in the back seat and all they hear is “Thank you so much, half our team should be there in a few minutes, we’re about 30 minutes out… thank you, again, bye.”

“Good to go?” Aaron asks.

“Yeah, and I got us all hotels for tonight Rossi is alone, Derek is with Reid and I will partner with Hotch tonight so Y/N can be alone and—

She cuts JJ off. “I don’t want to be alone,” she says in a low tone. It hurts to talk. “Not with my concussion.”

“Oh,” JJ didn’t expect that. “Um, I guess we can be together, Hotch can be alone?”

She shakes her head, “No, mama you go be alone for the night, I’m sure you’re exhausted. You’ve done so much these last two days, Hotch can babysit me, make sure I don’t die in my sleep.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” he looks over at her, completely serious. “You’re okay, the paramedics said it’s not too serious, you’re going to be fine.”

“I was kidding,” she gives him a sweet smile.

It doesn’t take long for them to get to the hotel, they check in, they’re handed their room keys and off they go. The double rooms are on the same floor, they’re just across the hall from Derek and Spencer, JJ’s a floor above them and Rossi is on the top floor. He really doesn’t care how much money he spends, he always wants the best rooms.

He carries both their bags upstairs. He had someone go to her other hotel, the one she and Reid were sharing when they arrived, and get her things. He sets them all down on one of the beds and she just stands there, sore and tired. She looks like she wants to cry again. She’s bruising slowly, everything’s getting worse and darker in colour the more time passes.

“Are you okay?”

She nods, “Yeah… I just hurt all over.”

“I don’t want this to come off as weird, or anything,” he prefaces. “But do you need or want help changing? Do you want to take a bath? I can help you get in or out— I won’t look, I promise. I just want you to feel better.”

She laughs lightly, but it hurts to do that. “I don’t think I need help… but thank you.”

“You took such great care of me last month, I just want to repay the favour,” he gives her a small smile.

She takes a step towards him and wraps her arms around his middle, resting her head on his chest. He carefully holds her back, his cheek resting against her head. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“You need a lot more than a bomb to get rid of me,” she teases. He said the same thing in the hospital in New York.

He smiles, dragging his cheek across her hair until his lips are pressed to her head. He kisses her gently, “Come on, let’s get you ready for bed.”

She sighs as she pulls back, “Would it be weird to share a bed tonight? I really don’t want to be alone.”

“Not weird at all,” he assures her.

“Good,” she smiles.

He brings her over to the one bed that their bags are on, they each zip open their own bag and start digging for their things. She takes out her pyjama shirt and her shorts, her little bag of toiletries and her phone charger and then she remembers she doesn’t have a phone anymore. “I can’t believe that fucker blew up all my stuff.”

“We’ll get you a new phone when we get back tomorrow,” Aaron assures her. “Penelope knows to call me if anyone calls work looking for you.”

“Okay, good… I’m going to change in the bathroom first, I’ll call you if I need help?”

“Okay,” he agrees.

He takes the chance to change in the room, he slips out of his khakis and dress shirt and quickly replaces them with a new pair of boxers and a fresh white shirt. It's what he slept in beside her before… that was the best sleep he’s had in years. Even beside his ex-wife he never slept that good.

He heads over to the empty queen bed that their shit isn’t on and folds back the covers for them. He fluffs the pillows and even sets a complimentary bottle of water on each of their night tables, that’s when he remembers he still has medicine in his bag. She emerges from the bathroom soon after, all changed with a soft smile on her face. “Tada?”

“You look nice,” he compliments her. “I uh, I still have some medicine— the T3s…”

“Ooo,” she thinks about it. “I was just going to tough it out but that sounds like a much better option.”

“I just don’t like the idea of you hurting all night long, you’re supposed to be resting,” he reminds her, handing her the pill bottle once she’s closer to him. “There’s water on your side.”

She takes two of them, sets her water down and starts to get into the bed, Aaron stands at her side, watching as she hisses. “Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” she hums. “Getting punched and kicked in the gut sucked, I’m surprised I don’t have internal bleeding.”

His heart breaks even more, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she waves it off. “Come get in bed.”

Before he does that, he flicks on the lamp on his side of the bed and heads back over to the door to turn off the main light. When he finally slips into bed, she reaches over for his hand and pulls him over so he can spoon her. She just wants to be held. He gently places his hand on her stomach, he doesn’t want to hurt her at all. She lets out a deep sigh, relaxing into his arms and waiting for the pills to kick in.

“I’m really glad they put you in charge of everything,” she whispers. “The second Rossi showed up in the church I knew we were going to be leaving okay.”

“You should’ve heard Morgan scream for me when the situation popped onto the news in the bullpen,” he recounts, still astounded by it himself. “I was just thinking about you when he called for me and then all the phones started going off and I knew we’d be the ones doing the rescuing.”

“You were thinking about me?” She repeats. “What were you thinking about me for?”

“Oh…” he feels suddenly embarrassed. “Just that it was weird not having breakfast together and I was thinking if you didn't drive to the airport, I would’ve driven you home.”

“Awe,” she swoons, she places her hand over his and interlocks their fingers. “We can get lunch together tomorrow after we land… before you take me back to the airport to get my car.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he whispers. “But we’ll have to take it to go…”

“Why?”

“I don't want anyone to think I did that to you,” he explains, a sick feeling in his throat at the mere thought of someone thinking he could hurt her.

“Oh, oh yeah,” she forgot. “Sorry, I’m starting to feel the medicine… if I fall asleep on you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, go to sleep if you have to,” he assures her. “I’ll be right here all night if you need me.”

“Thank you, Aar,” she mumbles out, already slipping into her slumber. “Love… you.”

His heart skips a beat, he wants to say it back but he doesn’t know how much of that is just the medicine and him taking care of her and how much of it she really, truly means. He doesn’t want to risk it, so he just snuggles in closer, kisses the back of her shoulder and attempts to fall asleep with her.

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @babybisexual @marsmunson86 @buckleyhans

IKP

@southernraven @alluringshawn @lambsheepsheeping @lmg-stilinski24 @louderfortheback @deludedfruitcake @kleff03 @mrs-ssa-hotch @maxinehufflepuffprincess @lokifanfic2021 @art-and-thoughts 

[molly-ghuleh]

Camellia: Copia x f!reader - Chapter 7

Camellia: n. - A flower which symbolizes a deep desire or longing.

Summary: You slowly chip away at Elizabeth's diary. Copia takes you for a little break to clear your head.

Word count: 4.4k

A/N: Hey hi hello!! Thank you once again for your incredible patience with these chapters. You all are so very close to my heart and I cherish every single like/reblog/comment (I cry when people say nice things to me, help). That said... let me know your thoughts!!

Warnings: possible mention of anxiety (very brief), Sister Imperator being shady, mentions of ritual sex (no graphic depictions)

AO3 / 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

You live in limbo for a full week. “A few hours” of working in Copia’s office had turned into a full day and well into the night. Then one day turned to two, and two to four, and then you found yourself in his office without him asking, simply because it would save time. 

The atmosphere between you and Copia during these days is oddly comfortable. You’ve always preferred to work alone, feeling that any noise or talking would be a distraction. Your translations would always turn out more eloquent and faithful to the original text when you could place yourself into the author’s headspace, and that requires near silence or, at most, the ambience of the room around you. 

With Copia, though, you find that you’re able to focus even when there is noise or talking in the corridor outside his office. Part of you wants to believe that it’s just the change of scenery. His office is opulent, as the rest of the Abbey, but understated. The wall to the left of the door is lined with bookshelves filled with books and little relics or knick knacks. The desk you work at, which sits nestled in the back corner of the room, had been piled with papers and books which you’d helped him organize (a task which he insists he owes you a favor for), but now it houses your own materials. His desk is still fairly cluttered but since you’ve started spending the days in his company, he’s made a significant dent in the work. 

He’d said that having a study buddy helps him stay on task. You’ve always thought you were the opposite, but perhaps you’d never found the right person. It’s as if Copia radiates this aura of calm and focus that you can inhale by just sitting in the same room as him. Your notes are clearer, you can decode letters faster, the Latin flows from your pen smoother. 

That’s not to say you always stay on task. 

There have been times when a little observation or comment turns to an hour-long conversation, or an invitation to the refectory for lunch turns into a walk through the gardens to take advantage of the warming weather. Or a little glance his way turns into watching him work, memorizing the pattern of his pen’s dragging across a signature line. Watching the little cowlick he tries so desperately to keep in place as it falls back over his forehead. Spotting a tiny smudge in his black paints and remembering how his face had looked, soaked in rain and bare and flushed at your touch. 

Yes, you have been living in limbo between being Copia’s study buddy and being something more. 

You know, he’d said. You must.

You do know. If the past week has shown you anything, it’s that you know, more surely than you’d expected to, that you’re dangerously close to falling in love with him and that every day you tip further and further over that cliff. The abyss below is deep and if you fall you have no chance of climbing back out. 

Copia… Copia is already plummeting. There’s a pleasant heaviness that settles in his chest at the thought of you, increased tenfold at the sight of you. Just existing in the same space as you makes him content with how his life has been, like every moment he’d spent alone only led him to you. Oh, yes, Copia is hurtling downwards at terminal velocity and it’s a long way down.

Somewhere within the last few minutes, Copia noticed you’ve stopped writing. Your eyes stare blankly at the letter grid, one hand pointing to keep track and the other holding your pen a few inches off the notebook page. You must be lost in thought. 

“Tesoro?” Copia calls gently. A small smile plays on his lips. He’d gone for the informal paints today after staying in his office far too late to complete some work the previous night, and not at all because you’d accidentally let slip that you like his freckles during a particularly sunny walk. “Where did you go just then?” 

At the sound of his voice, your eyes flick up towards where he sits at his desk, watching you. You blink. “Mars, I think,” you say with a little laugh. “I’m stuck on this one phrase.” 

Copia rises from his desk chair, stretching his arms above his head, and you try not to stare at the little sliver of skin exposed when his shirt rides up. “Would you like another pair of eyes on it?” He asks. 

“Here,” you nod, pointing at the line in your notebook where you’d written the deciphered phrase in Latin. “Collige virgo rosas. Literally, ‘pick, girl, the roses’.”

“Ah, so… what is that phrase? ‘Stop and smell the roses’, yes?” 

“Yes, exactly,” you say. “But in the context of this, it doesn’t make sense. She’s not talking about something good.” 

Copia’s brows furrow as he rounds your desk and comes to stand beside your chair. He leans over to read what you’ve deciphered in your notebook. The words of Latin slide effortlessly off his tongue as he reads your work out loud, and not for the first time, you’re reminded of how smart he really is. Not that you ever doubted it—he’s proven time and time again through answering your questions about the Ministry’s history that he’s Papa for a reason—but it’s a quiet intelligence. The two of you could be joking about something entirely inconsequential and then suddenly he’s telling you about the theistic anti-religious undertones of the works of Marcus Aurelius and somehow he makes the transition make sense. 

“Oh! I see,” Copia says with a jaunty little snap of his fingers. “Here. Further down, read this part.” 

Your eyes follow his gloved finger down the page of your notebook to a passage you don’t quite remember deciphering. Using the letter grid is mindless now. After spending a week doing nothing but mapping and mapping and mapping every single letter in Elizabeth’s diary, you’ve learned how to let your mind drift just enough that the translation is still accurate but your mind is elsewhere. 

In horto moribundo, elige rosas sanas, Elizabeth had written. 

In a dying garden, choose healthy roses.  

You continue to read the rest of the passage, and yes, now that first idiom makes more sense. It’s oddly… optimistic, for Elizabeth. 

“Huh,” you say dumbly, suddenly all too aware of how close Copia is standing. “I don’t remember writing that at all.” 

“Because you were on Mars,” Copia laughs. “Come back down to Earth and we can go for a walk, si? You seem to be, eh… zoning out.”

You smile at him. His eyes are already on yours. From this close you remember that, on top of his intelligence and kindness and wit and charm and empathy, he’s devastatingly handsome. And then you remember how you feel about this man, and how this man feels about you, and your heart kicks up a gear. There haven’t been any romantic declarations or passionate kisses, but every time you pass the romance section of the Library on your way to return Elizabeth’s diary to its lockbox at the end of the night, you’re tempted to borrow a book or two, just for the catharsis of it. 

Carefully, you close the diary and wrap it in its linen to protect it while you’re away. Copia moves back to his desk and fishes his key out of the top drawer. “Let’s go to the front gardens today, cara mia,” he says.

“How come?” You ask as he opens his office door for you. 

He shrugs. “It’s something different. And the sun is over there right now.”

He doesn’t mention the conversation he’d had with Terzo the night before. How he’d approached his brother, the master of romantic gestures and wooing, and asked how exactly he might tell someone he has feelings for them in a way that won’t leave anything in question. He doesn’t mention how Terzo had (embarrassingly) made him roleplay how his confession might go. He also doesn’t mention that, at Terzo’s suggestion, he’d gone to Primo to ask where the prettiest places in the Abbey gardens are, and Primo had told him that the front gardens are full of Japanese camellia bushes on their last leg of blooming for the Spring season. Copia doesn’t mention how, after that, Primo had lent him a well-loved copy of Linguaggio dei Fiori. 

When you’re finished organizing your materials, Copia leads you out his office door with a warm hand placed on the small of your back. The touch, little as it is, makes you shiver. 

“I haven’t been to this side of the Abbey,” you tell him. “Not since I arrived.” 

Copia watches you as you speak. “The front of the Abbey is very, eh, overlooked. Most people prefer the back gardens because they are bigger. There is more to look at.”

He seems nervous, you notice. You can hear the creaking of his leather gloves as he wrings his hands behind his back. And despite his calm facade, his voice sounds… different. Not weaker, but less sure. 

“Copia,” you say quietly. You always say his name with such softness and it makes his heart pound. “Are you alright?” 

He smiles at you but it isn’t very believable. “Oh, yes, tesoro, I’m alright,” he says too quickly. 

You tilt your head. 

“Well…” 

You can read him like a book, he knows. Fitting—you can read almost any book in the Abbey’s library, no matter the language, and you choose to read him. And he can read you, too. Like scholars with their manuscripts. Cheesy, he thinks. I’ve been talking to Terzo too much. 

“It’s alright,” you say after a pause. “We can just walk, if you’d like. But you have my ear if you need it, or if you need some time—” 

“No, no, I…” Copia gently takes your hand as if you’d drift off if he didn’t. “Please, walk with me. There are just… things on my mind, which I need to sort out.”

You squeeze his hand, relieved. “Okay. I’m with you.” 

Sathanas. You’re with him. Copia breathes in and out again, shakily. You’re with him, it’s just you. Nothing to be nervous about. 

It’s just… you. 

You, who he’s about to bare his soul to. You who came into his life and who will stay for such a short time. All he has is a few months with you, and he’s been kicking himself for a week, trying to tell you that he can’t bear to waste any more time, not when you’re both well aware of the feelings you each hold. He can’t go another hour without knowing how it feels for you to know. He knows you know, of course, but you don’t know—

The hallway seems too long. Copia’s working himself into a spiral. His brain keeps telling him you’re as good as gone already. That if he tells you how he feels, you’ll reject him and he’ll lose you. But he’s going to lose you anyway, and he needs to know if he can have these few months with you or no time at all. 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, he thinks. And sorry I could not travel both…

The two of you come to the front door of the Abbey. The old wood creaks when you push it open with your free hand, your other still holding Copia’s. You emerge outside and you hold the door open for him to follow after you. He gives you a small smile, not entirely present. Perhaps on Mars, visiting where you’d been.

The front of the Abbey is picturesque. You remember seeing it as you rode up the driveway that first afternoon. It had been so imposing then, gothic and ancient and huge compared to Marseille. These things are still true as you emerge into the sunny lawn, but in the sunbeams, with a breeze that holds only a little bit of bite compared to the air when you arrived, it begins to feel safe.

Your mind reels against the Abbey being a safe place. For your entire stay thus far, you’ve been trying to convince yourself that you don’t like it here, that you aren’t absolutely titillated by Elizabeth’s diary, that the massive Library doesn’t make your mouth water. This is just a temporary work placement, nothing more. Nothing can keep you attached. Not even Copia. 

You almost have to laugh, because you know immediately that you’re lying to yourself. You’re already attached. The thought of leaving the Abbey burns in your gut, but the thought of leaving him almost makes you crumble. 

You squeeze Copia’s hand. “Still with us?” You ask gently.

Your voice brings him back to this realm, but he’s already mostly through his mental recital of The Road Not Taken, and it’s better if he finishes it. It helps him breathe. Decide. 

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

“Yes,” Copia replies after a moment. “Still here. Sorry, cara mia.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be. Would it help to talk out loud?”

Copia turns his head and looks at you. All the words he’d practiced with Terzo are suddenly lost to him, nowhere to be found in his brain. Now he just sees you, feels your presence in his chest, and he knows he can’t use some rehearsed line with you. That’s not him. And more importantly, that’s not you. 

The two of you walk along the blooming camellia bushes. You recognize them from the first time you’d walked in the back gardens with Copia. They’re the only flowers in bloom at this time of year, bright white and pale pink on a backdrop of evergreen. You wonder why more Siblings don’t spend time in the front gardens, especially at this time of year. The flowers are big and supple, if not just on the verge of wilting for the season, and the springtime breeze carries their sweet scent on a hint of warmth to come. 

“Tesoro,” Copia begins, his voice soft and quiet, just for you. “I, eh… well, I wanted to… tell you that I, eh…” 

You wait patiently. Your heart kicks and you think you might know what he’s trying to say, but you give him time. Neither of you have spoken the words out loud, and in your head, it exists only as the thing between you. The thing that is happening, the thing you feel.

Instead, Copia turns the subject. “I read about camellia flowers recently, you know,” he tells you. “Primo leant me his book, Linguaggio dei Fiori, the language of flowers—well, eh, you must already know that, of course, you are fluent…. Anyways, I was reading about camellia, and I learned that this kind is native to Japan, isn’t that interesting? They only bloom in late winter or early spring, and go dormant in the summer, but they don’t die because they are evergreen shrubs, which means—”

“Copia,” you interrupt gently, “breathe.”

“Right, yes…” He takes a deep breath and his shoulders drop. “What I mean to say is that these flowers will be gone soon, when the warm weather comes. I wanted to take you to see them before they were dormant.”

You stroll along the line of camellia bushes, observing the large blooms closely. The sun almost makes them glow against the dark green leaves. There are a few early bees gathering pollen for their stores, until it’s time for the summer flowers to blossom. You reach out to brush your fingertips against the outer petals of one pink flower, feeling the satiny texture and the dewdrops still clinging from the morning. “They’re beautiful,” you say softly. 

“They remind me of you,” Copia replies. 

Oh sweet Satan, you think, your heart suddenly pounding in your ears. 

He continues after a brief pause. “In that book, Linguaggio dei Fiori, it said…” he clears his throat. “It said that camellia symbolize admiration and affection and desire.” 

You look at him then, and he meets your gaze. Admiration and affection and desire. 

“And longing, for someone who is far away.”

Copia steps closer to you. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, as if to tell you that it’s alright, he won’t ambush you, that these are those feelings and now he’s saying them out loud. Your eyes stay locked on his own, watching as his green eye grows more vibrant against the backdrop of the camellia bushes’ leaves. His other hand lightly runs down your arm to take yours. 

“I’m not far away,” you whisper. 

“No, you are not,” Copia says, and he’s close enough that his breath wisps over your face. You have to tilt your head up slightly to hold his gaze as you stand nearly chest-to-chest. “You are here, and the camellia are getting ready to close their flowers.” 

“And when I go, they will bloom again.” 

“Yes. And when they do, I will long for you, Camellina.”

Camellina. Little camellia. His flower, his blossom in the cold. Here until you’re not. “Copia…” 

He reaches up and brushes a stray hair from your forehead, then traces his fingers down your cheek until he cups your jaw tenderly. “I don’t want to keep dancing around each other,” he tells you softly. “If we only have so much time, I don’t want to waste it.” 

Your eyes flick back and forth between his own, and you’ve committed your own cardinal sin. You’ve gotten attached. So very attached. Incredibly, deeply attached, and you’re terrified, but Lucifer below, how can you be scared when he’s looking at you like that. Like he might already love you. 

“No,” you say. “I don’t want to waste it, either.

“Then please, camellia mia, let me kiss you.” 

He waits for just the slightest nod of your head before he draws you in and presses his lips to yours. 

It’s really not a kiss at first, just a light brushing of lips together. He wants to know you’re sure that this is what you want. And when you don’t run, or disappear, or turn into a frog like some fairytale bastardization, he kisses you for real. Your lips fit together like they were cast from the same mold, built as the perfect opposite by Satan himself. He kisses you like you’re ethereal. 

His hand on your jaw pulls you closer while his other hand slides around your back, and your own find his shoulders to keep yourself upright. He tastes like overly sweet coffee and whatever the refectory had served for breakfast and something else you can’t really place, but has the same distinctness as how he smells. The subtle oakiness of his cologne fills your nose as it sweetly bumps against his. His thumb gently pushes your jaw up, tilting your head to kiss you deeper at a better angle. You feel his tongue swipe along your bottom lip and you don’t even have to think before you let him in. 

Your hands trail down from his shoulders to his chest and you press slightly, feeling the warmth of his body under his vest. You can feel the quick pounding of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips and you know from the thundering in your ears that yours is paced the same. 

When he pulls away, it’s barely far enough to stop the embrace. With every slight movement, your lips brush together in the lightest touch possible, an echo of the kiss you’d just shared. 

“Impie… seigneur des ténèbres en bas,” you breathe against his lips. It seems the only words that can escape you now are those thanking your Dark Lord for the man standing before you. What else can you say when Copia has just drained your brain of any coherent thought? “Embrasse-moi comme ça pour toujours.” 

Copia laughs, the puff of air brushing against your lips and cheek. “I’ve broken her, I think,” he says. “She’s lost her English.”

You swallow and try to suppress the heat rising to your face. “I, uh… merde, I can hardly think. Maybe you did.” 

“Is this a good thing, camellina?” Copia asks, his thumb brushing against your cheek. He’s still wearing his leather gloves but you wish that he’d take them off. You want to feel his palms against you. 

“Oui—sì, er… yes,” you stumble. 

Copia laughs again and presses another kiss to the apple of your cheek. “You know, I thought I was going to be the one tongue-tied,” he says with a little smirk. “But I’ve rehearsed this in my head about a million times, so perhaps the shock hasn’t set in yet.” 

“Oh? It hasn’t?” You ask, finally coming back to your head. You lean up and kiss him again, simply because you can. 

“N-no, not yet. Sathanas, do that again.”

You oblige, and kiss him once more. This time you linger, your fingers gripping the fabric of his vest and pulling slightly. You feel him smile into the kiss. He’s still smiling when you pull away. “I don’t think you ever finished your thought,” you say, remembering what he’d said before… all this. 

“No, I did,” Copia tells you. “I had this whole speech planned, telling you how much I adore you, but I kind of… stumbled through it.” 

You smile, imagining what his rehearsed speech might’ve been like, but it doesn’t feel right. You can’t imagine it going any other way than it did. “I adore you, too,” you say softly. “And your speech was perfect. Very you.” 

“Awkward, long-winded, but somehow made sense?” Copia asks. He draws you into his side and takes your hand again, resuming your stroll through the front garden. 

You laugh, and Lucifer below, it’s the sweetest thing Copia’s ever heard. “Exactly.”

Oh, this is bad. Maybe you would’ve gotten away with a mild heartbreak when you left if you hadn’t kissed him. But you had, and you know that when you leave you’ll be devastated. Kissing him, allowing yourself to finally feel the feelings you’ve been desperately pushing down since you first met him, is just digging yourself deeper into the hole you find yourself in. 

But how comfortable and warm and perfect this hole is. 

You remember the passage from Elizabeth’s diary you’d been having trouble with. In a dying garden, choose healthy roses. Find the good within the bad, the light in the dark. 

When you spare a glance at Copia as the two of you continue strolling through the front gardens, you find that there’s a dimple on his cheek that hadn’t been there before, and little crinkles beside his eyes. He’s smiling. You smile too, and look forward again. 

Pick, girl, the roses. 

~~~

“You remember what we talked about, I’m sure?” Sister Imperator asks Secondo, who stands in her office rather against his will. 

“Yes.” 

“And you have kept it a secret?” 

“Yes.” 

He hasn’t. 

No, in fact, he’d done the opposite of what Sister Imperator had asked him to do, just to slight her. He’d told you exactly how old Elizabeth’s diary is, and what he knows about Prime Movers. Although it seems like Sister Imperator knows more than he, if she’s so adamant about keeping it hidden. 

“Good,” Sister nods. “We wouldn’t want some little French girl getting any ideas.” 

Secondo huffs and looks out the window of Sister Imperator’s office.

There you are, walking hand-in-hand with his younger brother, looking quite cozy. From the second-floor vantage point, Secondo can tell the two of you are talking, but he can’t tell about what. The window is situated at Imperator’s back—she’d given herself the corner office, of course—so she can’t see what’s happening just under her nose. Secondo’s lips quirk up at the corner at the sight. From the little interaction he’s had with you, he knows you’re not some naive little French girl. 

“Sister,” Secondo begins, “I do not understand what is so important about it that it has to stay a secret.”

Sister Imperator is irked. “Because it must,” she says, as if that’s a good explanation. “We can’t have just any Sibling with a womb vying for Papa’s attention because they heard a silly rumor. Not everything is full of sunshine and butterflies.” 

“And what rumor is that?” 

Sister sighs. “Being a Prime Mover is not glamorous, Secondo. The role is barbaric and dehumanizing, and I would not have any Siblings think otherwise.”

Secondo turns to leave with a huff. “I was hoping you would tell me something I did not already know.” 

“Ask your father,” Sister Imperator says, and perches her reading glasses on the tip of her nose in dismissal.  

~~~

March 29

I woke up in Papa’s bed this morning, alone. I do not fool myself when I say I had not hoped differently. 

Mother says the ritual went well. She says the candelabras in the garden chapel stayed burning all night, a sign of approval from the Dark One. She says that candles lit from the fire of burning ritual bedsheets will burn until the sun takes over, but I think it is just because the candles were large and extra care was taken to ensure the chapel is not drafty. 

He was very gentle. He was very… skilled with his hands and mouth. He treated me like a lover when we were alone in the chapel. It was as if the ritual bed was my own, and all I could focus on was how I felt and how he felt. Whispered words and praises and caresses on my skin. He was human for those moments. He became Papa once more when the knocker sounded. 

Mother said to be glad that he was gentle at all. She said, ‘pick, girl, the roses.’ 

I want to believe that Papa hates this as much as I. He seems kind. Perhaps a man obligated by faith into such a demeaning practice, but kind nonetheless. I want to believe he cares for me in some regard. If not now, I hope he will grow to, as we will be spending much time together. But he was kind, and he was gentle. In a dying garden, choose healthy roses.

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

Tag list: @bonelessghoul @gbatesx @the-did-i-ask @leah-halliwell92 @archive-obsess @rosacrose @nikkyatoyourservice @sodoswitchimage @portaltothevoid @lightbluuestars @thesoundresoundsecho @stephnthangss @enchantedbunny @jackson5611-blog @copiasprincipessa @kadedoesthings @justheretoreadleavemealone @tiedyedghoulette @bl00d-mxxn @honimello @deetz-ghuleh @copias-sewer-rat

[amberlynnmurdock]

Blind Faith

Chapter 3: Temperance 

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Chapter Summary: You get private self-defense lessons from the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, who you call Mike now.

A/N: The POV switches a bit frequently in this chapter, between Matt and the reader. I tried to make it as clear as possible. Basically, if you see Matt's name when he's with the reader, it's from his POV. But if it's just described as "he" then it's the Reader's POV. Thanks to all for the kudos you've left on this so far <3 this fic is in its beginning stages but I am really excited to see it through. Enjoy! P.S. This entire series takes place after Season 3 of Daredevil, but Matt kept the black suit.

Chapter 2 here

Hell’s Kitchen

8:00 AM

You hated mornings.

You specifically hated mornings when you were hungover. Your phone alarm woke you up obnoxiously. Groaning, you slammed your finger on the button to shut it off, worried it might wake your friends.

The bright 8 AM sky of Hell’s Kitchen shone directly in your face. No amount of blankets covering your eyes could keep the darkness inside, and you forced yourself to wake up knowing your sleep was well over. You stretched in bed and reached for your phone again on your bedside table.

You scrolled through your notifications.

The Daily Bulletin posted a new article about new restaurants coming to Hell’s Kitchen this summer. You scrolled through mindlessly as you tried to stay awake. You had a few emails from professors, wishing you a happy graduation and good luck to prospective law students. You remembered your job searching app and that you had one new message from one of the firms you applied to.

Nelson and Murdock: 1 view, 1 new message.

You clicked open the message:

Hi __,

Thank you so much for applying to be our new legal assistant. Of all the applications we received, your resume stood out the most to us at Nelson & Murdock. We’d love to have you come in for an interview next week. Does Thursday at 4:00 PM work? We look forward to seeing you.

Sincerely,

Karen Page

Office Manager at Nelson & Murdock

You couldn’t help but smile at Ms. Page’s message. Finally! I get to have some experience working in the legal field before applying for Columbia Law.

You quickly typed out your message:

Dear Ms. Page,

Thank you so much for reaching out! Of course, I would love to come in for an interview. Thursday at 4:00 PM is perfect. Thanks so much for your consideration.

Regards,

___

You added the interview to your calendar and immediately texted your friends’ group chat the exciting news.

Hell’s Kitchen

8:30 PM

You wanted to go out with your friends, but you had other plans for tonight.

“I can’t believe __ is skipping out on tonight!” Hannah exclaimed as she was getting ready in the bathroom. You looked up from the LSAT book in your lap from the couch and mustered up the most convincing shrug.

“If I want to be a successful lawyer, I’ve got to get into law school first. Columbia, no less. That means studying for this Godforsaken test,” you held up the textbook in your hand and clumsily dropped it in your lap.

“Oh, you’ve got the whole summer to study,” Emily pried, dabbing her lipstick on.

“Better start now, then,” you retorted. The truth was, you were absolutely not going to get any studying done tonight. But it was unlike you to decline a night out with your friends, so you used the LSAT as your excuse. You had other plans… of course, if your savior decided to actually show. Who knows? Maybe vigilantes also played games like every guy you’ve ever met at NYU.

“Well, we’ll miss you,” Bella said as she walked out of her room. You smiled at her.

“The bright side is if you guys need me to pick you up, I’ll be sober to do so!” You tried to reason with them.

“True, though we may crash at Ben’s place. Depends how the night goes,” Hannah explained. You nodded, thinking that might be preferable, but you didn’t say so.

You waited patiently, hiding behind your textbook for your friends to leave for the night. Luckily, they decided to get dinner before going out. You would’ve been jealous had you actually needed to study, but the thought of seeing your savior was too exciting to be jealous about anything else.

As soon as they locked the door, you hopped up from the couch and changed out of your pajamas and into a relaxing outfit of leggings, a sports bra, and a hoodie.

It was 9:30—only thirty minutes until your secret meeting with the man in the mask on the rooftop of your apartment building.

Office of Nelson & Murdock

Earlier that day

“Okay, who’s ready to hit up Josie’s tonight?! Karen, Matt?” Foggy Nelson cheered as he slammed his hands on the conference table. Karen Page laughed in her seat as she leaned back in her chair. Her strawberry blonde hair was pushed to one side of her neck.

Matt Murdock suppressed a smile and paused the case file he was just listening to on his Orbit reader.

“I might be inclined,” Karen thought, leaning forward on her desk. “It would be nice to have a drink after coming in to work on a Saturday…”

“Oooh, yeah,” Foggy squinted his face, “sorry about that. I mean, it’s a good thing we’re getting a lot of clients but at the same time, we don’t have enough people here to talk to all of them,” Foggy explained. And then, he remembered something. “Hey, did that applicant ever reply to your message?”

“Oh!” Karen pointed a finger, “Let me check. Ahh, okay! Yes, wow, she did. Uhh, so she’ll be coming in for an interview next Thursday. I just calendared it.”

“Yes!” Foggy put his hands into fists. “Karen, I trust your judgment, unless you want Matt or I to sit in on the interview.”

“Either works. Whoever’s available, I guess,” Karen nodded.

“Cool. So, Josie’s tonight? Matt?”

Matt shook his head.

“I’ve got plans,” he simply said, a smirk on his face. Foggy rolled his eyes.

“Come on, man,” Foggy begged, “you can’t take one night off?”

“I—I can’t,” Matt answered, “I promise next time I’ll join you guys. But not tonight.”

Karen sighed. Matt knew neither of them was pleased with his nighttime activities as they called it, but they’d be happy to know that wasn’t entirely what he was up to tonight—then again, he’s not sure they’d be happy to hear what else he had planned. That was a secret he wouldn’t tell.

“Just let us know if you’ll need us, okay?” Karen asked. Matt nodded.

“Of course,” he said.

“Alright well, guess we’ll hit up Marci to join us,” Foggy suggested.

“Matt, we trust you’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured them.

“Well then, I’m going to get a head start on Josie’s martinis. Karen, let’s get outta here.”

Hell’s Kitchen

10:00 PM

You stood by the edge of the rooftop, looking down at the people who walked the streets. You never came up here at all. Sometimes, you and your friends would take pictures up here, but that was it. Being up here alone felt different—it felt like a hideaway. There you were, watching as stores began to close, and bars began to open up. You could see the lights from Times Square in the distance. You shivered when a cool breeze passed.

And then you were startled by something—a thud, somewhere around the back of the rooftop access. You turned around in defense mode, waiting to confirm the identity of what the noise was.

Then, he appeared. Out of the black, into the soft light that reflected from midtown. His black shirt hugged him so tightly, you could see the outline of his muscles on his chest, his abs… his arms. His face was of course covered by the mask, but you saw his lips and the light stubble he had. His hands were wrapped in rope, like a boxer's. He wore black pants and boots to match.

“I wasn’t sure if you would come,” you decided to speak first as you walked toward him. You stopped after a few feet. The man in the mask walked toward the edge of the roof and sat on the edge, facing you.

“I keep my promises,” he replied. “It’s the Catholicism.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, “you’re Catholic? And you act outside of the law? Seems like a subjective way of justifying things.”

“I don’t think about it too much,” he responded with a shrug. You eyed him suspiciously.

“So, before we begin,” you cleared your throat to keep the mood light, but truthfully he was making you nervous, for some reason. He had a smirk on his face you wanted to wipe off. “Why did you agree to come here and teach me how to defend myself?”

He was quiet for a few moments.

“You had a convincing argument, from what I remember,” he said.

“That can’t be enough to come out of your way and onto the rooftop of my apartment. Surely, you have more important things to do. So, why did you come? And don’t say it’s because of religion, because that’s bullshit.”

“Maybe I wanted to,” he returned. Your heart pounded when he said this. You were thankful it was dark out, or else he might’ve seen your blush. “And you know, it’s important you know how to defend yourself.”

“Hmm,” was all you said. You pressed your lips together. “Do you give all the girls you’ve saved before private self-defense lessons?”

He laughed. You liked how his laugh sounded.

“You’re my first student,” he said in a low voice.

“So, what should I call you? In my head, I’ve been calling you my savior.”

He smiled, then he got a bit serious.

“Call me Mike,” Mike said.

“Well then, Mike,” you walked closer to him so you were no more than a foot away. You crossed your arms and tilted your head. “I’m a quick learner.”

Mike pushed himself off from where he leaned, so the space between you shrunk even more.

“I don’t doubt that.”

~~~

“Show me what you’d do if someone were to approach you in front of you,” Mike ordered, placing his hands on his hips. You squinted your eyes at him, thinking.

“I’d try to do this,” you began as Mike pretended to “attack” you. You took your arms and tried to hit him away, but he grabbed you by your forearms and steadied you from losing your balance.

“That’s how they can get a hold on you, as I do now,” Mike explained, with a sly grin on his face. “Instead, you want to make sure you move both your arms to one side and do a swiping motion, so they can’t grab you. Try again.”

He got back into position as you did. You braced yourself as he came to you, holding up his arms. You did exactly what he said before, and moved your arms in a swiping motion, gently hitting his arms away.

“Don’t be afraid to hurt me when we do this. I want you to fully grasp how you’d handle yourself, God forbid, you ever had to,” Mike stated. “One more time.”

You repeated your stance as before, and this time, you aggressively swiped his arms away, feeling your forearm clash against his.

“Good girl,” he smiled in satisfaction. Your heart was pounding again in your chest. You weren’t sure if it was from his comment, or that self-defense training was like a workout. You huffed as you caught your breath.

“And what if they anticipate that? What next?” You asked, genuinely curious. Mike thought for a moment before answering.

“Then you have to use your legs,” he replied. “Let’s try that. Give me your arms,” he held up his hands. You raised your arms, and like slow motion, he wrapped his fingers around you, pulling you closer to him. You gasped at the contact. The tip of your nose barely touched his.

“Listen carefully,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve got your arms. You’re going to want to slip from under, using your whole weight.”

You nodded your head, understanding him. His grip on your arms tightened. You took a deep breath and then plunged, slipping out of his grasp.

“Now stop!” He halted. “Raise your right leg and try to kick my shoulder.”

“I don’t know if I can stretch that much,” you stressed.

“You can. This is life or death. Just try it,” he urged you.

You raised and kicked your right leg, hitting his shoulder and using the weight to push him away. He nodded and clapped his hands.

“Exactly that,” Mike smiled.

“I need a water,” you uttered, “I don’t know how you do this every night. Do you need a water?”

“I could use a water,” Mike answered.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

Trotting down the rooftop access stairs, you hurried for two water bottles from the fridge. You glanced at the clock—11:30 PM. Sheesh. Time flies when you’re learning self-defense.

Upon entering the roof again, you were confused to not find Mike where you left him. You scanned the roof, looking for him. Did he leave?

Suddenly, a dark figure came charging at you. You dropped the water bottles and immediately went into defense mode, realizing it was Mike. You thought fast and swiped his arms immediately, swaying him to the side.

“That was a test,” Mike said out of breath.

“Jesus!” You exclaimed, “You scared me!”

“That’s how fast an attacker will be. Out of nowhere, and just like that,” Mike explained.

You shook your head, picking up the water bottles from where you dropped them. You handed one to Mike.

“Let’s take a break, shall we?”

~~~

Matt contemplated coming tonight.

There was something wrong about why he chose to come to you, to fulfill his promise. When he started his activities, he told himself he’d never get attached to the people he saved—never get emotionally involved. He would strictly leave it to business: stop the criminals, and save the innocent person. But for some reason, with you, he couldn’t let go.

The second time he saved you was a complete accident…fate, as you had said. He was in a completely different part of town, and you so happened to be in the same area. He remembers hearing your voice, dignified, yelling at that punk kid to leave that innocent girl alone. He recognized your voice immediately. Matt’s hearing was so sensitive, even after hearing someone’s voice once, he could pick it out in an entire crowd. He liked that you talked to him; that you weren’t afraid of him in his suit.

And still, he wasn’t sure if coming tonight was a good idea. Because he knows he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from coming again.

And now, here was, on your rooftop, sharing a bottle of water with you. He sat against the wall, knees pulled up. You sat next to him with your legs in front of you.

“Don’t you ever get tired?” You suddenly asked in a soft voice. Matt tilted his head to listen to your body. You were calm now. You weren’t when he first showed up. Your heart was beating steady. She feels safe. She is safe. He could smell a lingering scent of your perfume on your skin. It smelled like black cherry and vanilla.

“Of what?” Matt asked in return.

“You know,” you shrugged, “expecting to be everyone’s savior.”

Matt shook his head, “not really. It’s easy to not get tired when you’ve accepted this as your purpose.”

“It’s your purpose, to bear the burden of other people’s situations?”

Matt laughed, despite himself. “Maybe.”

“Well, if you ever need someone to share that burden with—I’m right here,” you told him. “Even though I don’t actually know who you are.”

He smiled a little. “It’s better that way.”

“Is it?” You questioned. “I mean, you could literally be anyone. You might be one of my professors and I might not even know it. Actually, I’d hate that. I take it back,” you shook your head. Matt laughed again.

“I promise I’m not one of your professors.”

“Phew,” you said. “Well, who are you?”

“A New Yorker, like you.”

“I guess that counts,” you smiled. “How old are you?”

“Oh, come on,” Matt sighed.

“What? These are valid questions. I won’t figure out who you are, but I can know basic information. Can I guess? You’re definitely older than me.”

Another reason why this felt wrong. He wasn’t that much older than you—about seven years.

“I’m not that old,” Matt argued. You laughed.

“I didn’t say you were, Mike.”

“Let’s try another defense technique,” Matt said, changing the subject. He stood up from sitting and held out his hand for you. You grabbed it and he pulled you up. He let his hand linger in your touch before he let go again.

“Okay,” he said, “turn around.”

“What?”

“Turn around,” Matt repeated. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you answered. Matt listened to you closely. You weren’t lying. You turned around.

“Do you mind if I…get close?”

It was your turn to pause. “No.”

“Okay,” Matt took a deep breath. He listened to you closely again, and using his senses, he took you in. He knew your hair was down. He slowly raised his hand and moved your hair to one side, revealing a part of your neck. He felt your goosebumps rise at his touch. You shivered. Matt pretended not to notice. He placed both his hands on either side of your waist, bringing you snug against him, so your back was against his chest. You felt warm against him, and delicate. He slid his arms underneath yours so he rested at your collarbone. He was completely holding you against him now.

“You okay?” He whispered in your ear. You took a shaky breath.

“Yeah,” you said in a small voice.

“Someone could come up from behind you, and grab you like this,” he held you tighter for emphasis. “Similar to before if they got hold of your arms, you have to slide out from underneath. And kick back, too.”

“Okay,” you said in understanding. “Let me try.”

Matt anticipated your moves. He felt your muscles tense as you braced yourself to slide down. And you did, quickly. You exited his restraint, and he didn’t feel warm anymore.

“Good,” Matt said, “exactly.”

You caught your breath. “Can we do it again?”

Matt nodded, motioning for you to come to him.

You slid easily back against him, like putting on a glove. It was like your body melted against his, the way you sunk back into position. You rested your head in the crook of his neck, taking a deep breath.

Matt could feel every muscle you had relax when you did this. It was then he slipped his arms under you again, holding you tightly—but not in the way he instructed before, a different way. He held you tighter against him and touched his covered nose on your temple. He took a deep breath, and instantly, like inhaling a drug, you filled his senses to the max. Your fragrance was intoxicating. He listened to your heartbeat slowly pick up its pace until it was pounding against your chest. He heard you take your own deep breath, as you sunk even more into his body.

It took everything in him to practice self-restraint. He repeated Bible verses in his head, the longer he held you.

A man without self-control is like a city broken into and left without walls. Proverbs 25:28.

“Ready,” Matt whispered.

~~~

You slipped out of his grasp, and you were almost successful, but he held onto your right hand. Mike kept holding on, and suddenly, you were pulled right back into his grasp. This time, facing him, you collided flush against his chest.

He was breathing heavily, and God did you wish you could see his face underneath that mask. His mouth was slightly parted, and you were breathing heavily. You felt Mike’s strong arms snake around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His nose gently touched yours. You felt his hand run up the length of your spine before it rested on the back of your neck. And then, his lips were on yours.

The kiss… you felt his stubble tickle your face, but you didn’t care. His lips crashed into yours, which you accepted gracefully. His lips were soft, but his kiss was rough. Needy. Curious. It was intoxicating, being kissed like that. The closest thing to describing it was like a brand new day. It was like exploring a new universe, where only the two of you existed. Yeah, that’s what it felt like right now. You weren’t in New York City, on your rooftop anymore. It was you and him sharing this kiss, with no one else to see. In secret. His head tilted to the side to take more of you in. You breathed in sharply, desperate for more.

And then, he pulled back and rested his forehead against yours.

“Was that your plan all along?” You asked suspiciously.

“No,” Mike answered. “It wasn’t.”

“Good,” you said, “because that’d be messed up.”

Mike laughed.

“I fear we are way past messed up now, sweetheart.”

Hell’s Kitchen

1:00 AM

Your friends stumbled into the apartment. You were on the couch, LSAT textbook in your hand. You kept reading and re-reading the same paragraph over and over. Your mind kept replaying your moment with Mike, just an hour ago.

“There’s our girl,” Hannah walked in the living room, plopping on the couch next to you. Bella made a beeline for the fridge and Emily sat on the floor, turning the TV on.

“How’d studying go?” Hannah asked drunkenly.

You sighed and closed your textbook.

“Terrible,” you answered with a knowing smile, “I’m in deep trouble for this test.”

[coraniaid]

It is very sad when Buffy patiently tries to explain to Joyce that she's a Slayer and exactly what that means and why she alone has to go and save the world right now, only for her uncaring and abusive mother to refuse to listen and instead demand Buffy leaves the house forever (an instruction which the fifteen year old Slayer is powerless to overrule and which she takes so seriously she doesn't even think about going back later to pack her bags and leave her mother a note).

Or at least it would be if, you know, literally any of that were true.

What Joyce does say to Buffy in Becoming is bad enough that I don't know why you all insist on pretending she says something different. She doesn’t try to kick her out of the house. She threatens her daughter with an ultimatum in a doomed attempt to try to stop her leaving. She does this after Buffy refuses to explain anything about Angel or Acathla, and then physically pushes her away when Joyce tries to stop her leaving the house.  Joyce is trying to make Buffy stay. It doesn't work – and while Joyce doesn’t know it (because she never does get told exactly why Buffy has to leave right now) it could never have worked – and even if it worked it would be a horrible thing to do to anyone, but it's obvious in context that Buffy leaving is not the outcome Joyce wants!  

Honestly, with the best will in the world, how can you not work that out if you watch the episode?  Have you watched the episode?  And if Buffy only leaves town because Joyce "kicks her out" – if she wasn’t going to leave after being forced to kill Angel no matter what Joyce had said to her – then why does Buffy come back to leave her mother a note and yet not say anything to her Watcher or any of her friends?  Do you think Buffy would agree with you that Giles is entirely blameless here and Joyce is ridiculous for suggesting otherwise?  Are you sure? If Giles is the Good Dad to Joyce's Bad Mother, isn't it a bit strange Buffy doesn't even think about going to stay at his house? Or even telling him where she's going?

I mean, I'm sorry to keep going on about this and I'm sure it's not fun for anyone else to read, but it is just so fucking tiring that people who will variously

forgive or handwave away all the fucked up things Faith and Angel and Spike canonically and gleefully do to Buffy (or pretend that they only happen because the mean writers hate these characters and shouldn't be regarded as canon)

insist on a strictly metaphorical reading of the text where all Buffy's arguments with and betrayals by her Watcher or her friends must only be understood as divisions in Buffy's own mind (which is a valid reading!  but it's not the only possible reading, and people are weirdly selective about who gets covered by this)

understand that because the show is at pains to tell us Buffy likes and trusts her friends we should not try to find evidence that they are "really" bad people or that she is somehow weak or stupid for thinking that they are and should find better friends (which is true!  this is the correct position!  the narrative tells us Buffy likes her friends and they like her and the show is lessened if you don't accept this!)

will, somehow, despite all this, when it comes to the show's only middle-aged woman of any prominence, just insist on reading the text in the most reductive and unfair way, exaggerating her faults or even outright making things up to get at mad at her for.  None of the above applies to Joyce, for … some reason. She's just a badly written character and a bad mom.

Joyce wants Buffy to have a normal life and go to college?  Well, that can't possibly reflect anything Buffy herself wants (Buffy’s certainly never said anything like that! “Cheerleading tryouts”, “Homecoming Queen”, “Northwestern” … why, these are just strange sounds and not words at all!): no, it must be because Joyce is a bad mother. The show always tells us that Buffy and Joyce love each other but sometimes it doesn't show Joyce treating Buffy fairly or with kindness? Well, then Buffy must be some kind of idiot for talking about her mother in the positive way she almost always does.  How dare she be sad her mother died and remember her fondly. Joyce isn't written to be perfect?  Well, that must be because she is badly written: as we all know, flaws and contradictions and weaknesses are only a sign of good writing if they're about a teenager or an adult man.  Sometimes Joyce does and says terrible things that would be hard to forgive in a real person?  Well, that's just who Joyce is and there's no denying it.  

If you listen to people on this site, then you'll learn It's bad when Joyce doesn't immediately believe Buffy is the Slayer. What a terrible mother.  But, equally, it's also bad when she tries to bond with her about being the Slayer and be involved in that part of her life. What a terrible mother.  It's bad when she thinks Buffy might have a future beyond violence and killing things and encourages her to pursue it.  What a terrible mother. It's bad when she's comfortable with her daughter being violent and killing things.  What a terrible mother. What a terrible mother.

And I just wonder:

Don't you all ever get tired of this constant double-standard?  Don't you ever get even a little bit embarrassed about hating a fictional woman even more than Joss Whedon managed to do?

(And even if you don’t, can’t you please just shut up about it for even five minutes?)

[thesweetnessofspring]

Maybe the people that voted “he’s hijacked for the rest of his life” thought that it’s something he will have to deal with long-term. In many post-MJ fics Peeta has episodes/flashbacks and there’s always the possibility of a trigger. There’s no need to be rude to people for interpreting your question in the way you didn’t want them to, or not voting how you want them to. And it’s not really people misinterpreting the text either, because all we know about Peeta when he comes back is that he’s lost the clouded look in his eyes, but still has flashbacks. Beyond that is up for interpretation and everyone can have their own HCs without being policed by someone who claims to know the book much better than everyone else.

I asked the question because I'd been wondering at what point in time people no longer considered Peeta "hijacked!Peeta." This is the term, in my experience, fandom uses to distinguish Peeta's behaviors from when he's himself. Like, "Peeta never harmed Katniss except when he was hijacked" or "hijacked!Peeta was such a little shit" etc. At most, people have said things like he "deals with the effects of his hijacking." And yes, that canonically includes flashbacks. Other symptoms he has are headcanons and I'm not here trying to police those made in good faith with the text.

To say that Peeta was "hijacked" as he was in the cafeteria scene or during the pod explosion IS canonically incorrect, however, because Katniss would have never stayed alive for that Peeta, grown back together with him, slept in the same bed as him, determined that he was her dandelion in the spring, spent 20+ years of her life with him, or had two children with him. And yet there ARE people who say "how could Katniss ever be with that man who wants to actively murder her? Their relationship post-war must be so unhealthy with Katniss waking on eggshells not to trigger him." It's an anti-Everlark argument that ticks me off because it goes against what we know about their ending, relationship, and characters.

I tried to clarify what I meant in my reblog, and I do think that cleared up some of what I meant based on how the voting shifted after that, but some surely voted based on tags/reblogs without the explanation of what I meant by "hijacked." I thought based on how I'd seen hijacked used in connection to Peeta before the question was clear, but obviously not. That was my poor communication.

In the poll results I was hasty with my wording and spent more time on the latter interpretation of Peeta's behavior postwar and I downplayed my vague initial explanation.

But I do still think people who think Peeta goes around acting like a major jerk and randomly violent are fools and idc if that's rude.

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

between the lines | chapter 08 (finale)

rúben dias x original female character [+18]

synopsis: isabella is a sports journalist covering the premier league. she has sworn to never get involved with a football player. that is, until she meets a handsome portuguese defender. warnings: incorrect journalism references; timeline of events are not faithful to real life; i have never been to england; mutual pining; romantic comedy;  minors dni.

previous chapter | masterlist

Chapter 08 — Shooting and Finishing

Days went by smoothly. I tried to spend as much time as possible minding other people's business and concentrating on other people's drama. Hours daily doom scrolling social media. It worked as expected and I managed to stay distracted.

Until I got a promotion at work. Yesterday.

It was the most ordinary day possible at the office, the monotonous hum of the air conditioning filling the room as I sat at my desk, the low voices of my coworkers talking nonsense to each other, somebody somewhere in the office opening a snack thinking no one would notice… The usual. 

And then my phone buzzed. I glanced down at the screen to see a text from my boss, Mr. Evans.

‘Can you meet me in the media room in five minutes?’

My heart pounded as I read the message. I always hated meetings with the boss, they were never ever good news. I headed towards the media room, my footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent corridor, my legs shaking.

When I entered, Mr. Evans was already sitting down, his expression a mix of anticipation and confidence. He gestured for me to take a seat, and I nervously obliged, my palms beginning to sweat.

"Isabella," he began, his voice steady, "I've been observing your dedication and hard work over the past months."

I nodded, my anxiety building with each passing second.

"I believe you're ready for a new challenge," he continued. "I want to offer you a promotion, a better role, with increased responsibilities."

My mind whirled, a thousand thoughts colliding. The promotion was everything I had hoped for, but it was also the very thing I had been avoiding. It meant stepping out of my comfort zone and facing the unknown.

I agreed anyway, and didn't even have to think twice. I just nodded and thanked him. I could feel my legs trembling beneath the table, as if they were on the verge of betraying me. My voice quivered as I responded, "I... I appreciate the offer, Mr. Evans."

He gave me an encouraging nod, his eyes unwavering. He could tell how nervous and like a kind and caring mentor Mr. Evans smiled, a reassuring gesture. "Isabella, fear is a natural part of growth. It means you're stepping into uncharted territory, and that's where true progress lies."

I couldn’t escape reality after that. No amount of idiotic insta posts could keep my thoughts away from the inevitable: I want Rúben. I want to talk to him everyday. I want him in my life. I want to be a part of his life.

So, even scared, even with my legs shaking and heart pounding and all of that. I called him.

‘I have an answer for you’, I wanted to say. Instead, I said:

“I just got a promotion!”

“Isa, congratulations! That 's amazing.” I could hear his smile through the phone, he did not question my phone call and sounded genuinely happy for him. The desire to hug him flooded me.

“Well, you see… I actually got scared when I first heard about it. It seems like a lot of responsibility.” I was twirling my hair fighting the urge to bite my nails.

“What? You think so?” He seemed so worried I almost laughed, but I had a point to make and he needed to know.

“I have commitment issues.” I say loud and clear.

He takes a moment to answer, unsure.

“Are you still talking about the job?”

I shake my head, uselessly, since he can't see me.

“I lost both of my parents when I was too young to know how to deal with it and I never had a serious relationship before.” 

I can hear him sighing over the phone and I use the moment to take a deep breath and proceed. I decide to tell him all at once, before I have the chance to lose courage again.

“I realized something about myself this past week.” I continue. “I tend to focus too much on what’s right in front of me, instead of considering the whole picture. I worry too much about the small emergencies life throws at me and forget about what’s really important.”

“Am I a small emergency?” He interfered, confused.

“No, you’re the important part. You’re the house.”

I make gestures as if he could see me, trying to make him understand.

“The house?” Rúben laughs.

“Yeah… Shit, I kind of ruined the speech, there was a part about a house and leaks and…”

“Isa, are you home?” “Yes–” “Give me fifteen minutes.”

Twenty minutes later and he was towering over my front door wearing a hoodie and rosy cheeks, he looked like he came running to see me. I felt in the moment that I was allowed to hold him as hard as I’ve missed him, so I did.

Rúben held me back and I felt a soft kiss on my neck. He then held my face, making me look him in the eye.

“Is this your answer?” He searched for any sign of doubt in me, but there wasn't any.

“Yes. Yes, I’m not running away again, I promis–” and he kissed me. Before I could finish my sentence he closed the apartment door and still holding me tight, he guided me inside.

“I missed this so much.” His voice was rough, his lips still touching mine as he spoke, going in for another kiss. Rúben was hungry and I shared the same feeling. “I missed you.” He spoke, this time properly looking at me.

“I missed you too.” I told him with a smile, feeling so happy and grateful for his reaction.

He smiled even brighter at my words, looking suddenly relieved. His hands were firm in my waist then, pulling me as close as possible to him.

“Now come here, we have to make up for the lost time.”

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[wordycheeseblob]

Calamity

Warnings: This might not be for everyone, discretion is advised. Death of important characters, worst case scenario, overly dramatic, not a writer so my bad writing, and all that war entrails.

Fandom: Ikemen prince

Word Count: about 500

About: Everything is in place and Gilbert made a final decision; it's time for Rhodelite to fall.

Disclaimer: I do not own Ikemen Prince or any of its characters. The characters and all that, except the plot of this fic are the property of Cybird. Please do not repost.

Author's Note: Text apart, if you'd like to imagine the fall of Rhodelite, i'd pair it with Der Prinz Von Ägypten [Soundtrack German]- Die Plagen. Unfortunately the German version was not on Spotify.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

It was only a matter of time, peace was a fleeting dream shattered in the wake of violence.

With Blood Stained Rose day commemorative ceremony around the corner disquieting whispers began to spread. The winds of fate were changing, anyone who sensed it knew that this slight disturbance preluded imminent disaster but very few could tell just how severe it would become. At first, many were conflicted, national opinion split in two; those who supported the monarchy and those who were against it. The friction didn't burn, it simmered. In silent resentment It crept and spread until at last, it ignited. The fires of revolution. It's catalysts were many; an enemy prince staying at the palace, the discontent with the current system, grief of the past, fear of another possible war...

Everything was all too sudden when the ground shook, inaugurated by a deafening sound, the smell of smoke, the banging at the iron gates of the palace followed by cries and protests. Too inflamed to stop and too violent to reason with. only when Rhodelite began falling from within did it feel the full brunt of Obsidianite invasion.

Both factions dispatched troops to stop the advancement of the enemy empire while also trying to suppress their own uprising but no matter their fierce resolve, the fight back and all the courage in the world could not stand against facts. And the the facts were that Rhodelite was overwhelmed. All the series of wrong events and worst case scenarios unchained at the best possible moment. For him that is. The World's Calamity, first prince of Obsidian.

Faith is said to be the last thing to be lost, and lost it was, that damned day when Gilbert strode about nonchalantly to thank you personally for the push, for helping him make the decision to conquer and override Rhodelite, the final judgement.

The rest is history. The day judgement was imparted, more than ever people needed to be united. Jin had tried to calm the people in the city and de-escalate the situation, withstanding several grave injuries. Luke nearly defected and disappeared. On the front lines, Clavis, god he tried, presumably passed from a bullet wound and with him died Chevalier's humanity. Gilbert hounded and captured Yves, Nokto and Licht. Although instead of executing them himself, he graciously handed the princes to bloodthirsty revolutionaries, the people of Rhodelite, to decide their fate for themselves. Leon was the only one who could fetch help from their benitotian allies at the time. With no chance to grieve or look back while his homeland crumbled and shook withstanding the weight of the world.

By then it was already a point of no return. War invited famine and plague. Heartwretching pain and destruction, chaos and finally

silence.