#but instinctively emily was right to turn whats like happening..

[mariasont]

EEEEK your post prison fic for spencer is fREAking me out!!! could you maybe do one where spencer is now teasing the reader a bit? maybe he's giving her extra praise and she freaks (what would i do if he called me a good girl? 😩) (this is very indulgent to my praise kink i'm so so sorry 🧎🏻‍♀️‍➡️) tytyty!! i adore love and cherish you and your work 💕

I Aim To Please - S.R

a/n: shewwwwww to be complimented by post prison spencer fucking reid. im drooling!!!! but anyway babes i adore & love YOU!!!! so thank u so so sooo much for requesting 💖💖

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x shy!media-liaison!reader

warnings: spencer being hot, reader being shy girl, spencer being a little shit who loves to tease

wc: 1.5k

There were a few basic rules you had established from working at BAU. First, avoid Rossi at all costs until he’s had at least two cups of coffee. Second, never attempt to outwit Emily; she’ll see right through you and crush your argument every single time. And third—perhaps the most crucial—do everything in your power to maintain your freaking composure around Dr. Reid.

That last one, however, was proving to be a monumental challenge. It wasn’t just the way he spoke, his brain firing off at a speed only he could keep up with. It wasn’t even the way he seemed oblivious to how endearing those very quirks were. No, it was the fact that the simple act of him breathing in your direction had you scrambling to hold yourself together. And honestly you were failing miserably.

Which is why you spent most of your time holed up in your office. It wasn’t much—just a desk, a slightly uncomfortable chair, and a perpetually growing stack of case files that seemed determined to bury you. But it offered privacy, and that was enough. Here you could breathe, decompress, and occasionally allow yourself to daydream about a certain genius profiler without the risk of public humiliation.

The bullpen was proving to be too chaotic, too close to him. Your office gave you distance, a buffer. But, as you had come to learn, hiding only worked when he didn’t decide to seek you out. And Spencer Reid had a knack for finding you when you least expected it.

"Hey."

You jumped slightly, nearly fumbling the stack of press notes you’d been carefully organizing.

Turning toward the door, you found Spencer leaning casually against the frame, a file tucked under one arm and a distracted sort of smile on his face. His tie was slightly loosened, his sleeves rolled up just enough to expose his forearms, and—just like that—your brain completely short-circuited.

"Hi," you said, trying not to sound too startled. "Do you, um, need something?"

"Yeah." He further into the room, lifting the file in explanation. "I was looking at the local coverage of our case, and I noticed a couple discrepancies in the timeline published."

"Oh,” you said softly, quickly shuffling the press notes into a messy pile and pushing them to the side. "Well, um, sometimes reporters try to fill gaps when they don't the facts. It's... frustrating, but it happens."

You glanced up at him briefly, but that look of his made your cheeks warm. Your fingers twisted together in your lap as you tried to focus on anything other than how ridiculously self-conscious you suddenly felt.

"That makes sense. I figured you'd know."

Instead of lingering in the doorway or leaving like you assumed he would, Spencer, casually grabbed the chair across from your desk. He spun it around in one fluid motion and sat it backwards, draping his arms on the backrest with an ease that felt strangely familiar—like you had been friends or colleagues for years instead of just a few months.

"I'll reach out to them about fixing the timeline," you said, your hand instinctively moving a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You clasped your hands together to still them, offering a small, nervous smile. "It shouldn't be too hard to correct."

"Thanks," he said. "That'll probably save from giving another long-winded lecture on factual reporting."

You gave a quiet laugh, grateful for the distraction from your tasks, though you weren’t entirely sure how you felt about the company. Not that you didn’t enjoy his company—there was plenty to enjoy, more than you cared to admit. If you could manage to function like a normal human being around him, you might even look forward to moments like this.

But then he tilted his head slightly, his eyes studying you as if he were unraveling some kind of puzzle and for one terrifying second, you were convinced he could hear every single thought racing through your mind.

"So," he began, "how are you liking it here so far? The job, I mean. Is it what you expected?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. "Oh, um... yeah. It's been great so far. Busy, but... I like it."

"That's good," he said, nodding. "I know it’s not exactly the most predictable job. Some people don't expect it to be so... chaotic."

"Well," you said, fidgeting slightly with your pen. "I knew what I was signing up for. Or, at least I thought I did. It's a lot, but it's rewarding."

"That's a good attitude to have," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Honestly, you're doing a great job. I don't know how you manage to keep everything straight."

Your heart leaped, thudding in your chest as warmth flooded your face. You weren’t used to hearing compliments, especially from someone like him. You wanted to savor the moment, to bottle up the way his words made you feel, but your nerves refused to let you fully enjoy it.

"I'm just, um, organized I guess,” you stammered, your hand flying up to rub at the back of your neck.

"More than just organized," he replied easily, completely unaware of how his words were affecting you. "You've got half the team wrapped around your finger already. Even Rossi listen when you talk. That's impressive."

Your face burned. "I think that's more about respect for the job than me."

Spencer shrugged lightly, as he was watching you, like he didn't quite believe you. "Maybe. Or maybe you're just better at this than you give yourself credit for."

You let out a nervous chuckle, fingers twitching as you fiddled with the corner of the paper in front of you.

"I don't... I don't know about that."

He tilted his head, again, his brow quirking. "Do you know how to take a compliment?"

"Of course I do." You were sure your voice lacked the conviction needed.

He smirked, leaning forward over the chair. "Doesn't seem like it."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words stuck in your throat, tangled in the frantic web that was your thoughts around this infuriating man.

"Well, uh, you’ve only done it twice, so I don’t think that’s enough for you to judge."

His grin widened. "Oh? So you’re saying I should try again? For research purposes?"

Your eyes widened, and you blinked rapidly as if to process his words, your hands shooting up as if to physically block the implication. "I—uh—no, that's not what I meant.”

"No, no," he said, sitting up straighter and waiving off your flustered attempt to deflect. "I aim to please. If more compliments are what you’re after, I’ve got plenty.”

"Please, no."

"You're incredibly efficient. Seriously, I think you've managed to anticipate what the team needs before we even know we need it. And your ability to keep your cool under pressure? That's impressive. I mean, do you even get stressed? Because if you do, you hide it really well."

"Dr. Reid—," you squeaked, covering your face with your hands as if that could somehow shield you from the onslaught of praise.

"And," he continued, clearly now enjoying himself. "You're probably the most patient person, I've ever met. Which is something, considering you work with people who constantly interrupt and derail your perfectly planned press briefings."

Your stomach flipped, and you felt a flush of heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment pooling in your chest. As much as you wanted to sink to the floor, the way he looked at you sent every nerve in your body spiraling. Each word felt like it was tailored to you, peeling back the very thin veneer of control you’d desperately tried to maintain over the massive crush you found yourself drowning in.

Your head dropped to the desk with a soft thunk, muffling your groan. "Okay, okay, I get it."

He leaned forward just slightly, resting his chin on his arms atop the chair. "Now what do you say?"

"Thank you."

He smirked widened. "See? That wasn't so hard was it?"

Your cheeks burned even hotter, and you averted your eyes, trying to hide the nervous smile tugging at your lips. "You didn't have to go on and on..."

"Oh, but I did." He was still grinning. "You deserved it."

You risked a glance back at him, losing your cool by the second. That only made your face heat up more. "You're impossible."

"And yet, you haven't kicked me out of your office."

"That's only because I didn’t think it would work."

"Well," he said, turning towards the door. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you didn't mind the compliments."

You opened your mouth to protest but no words came out. Instead, you watched helplessly as he shot you one last smile before disappearing into the hallway.

When the door finally clicked shut behind him, you let out a shaky breath and drop your head back onto the desk.

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[magewritesstories]

[ SPENCER REID ] IT'S BASIC MATH, REALLY

cw. my continuation of unit chief!spencer reid x gen z!agent, in this installation you try to explain girl math to him [fluff.] wc. 601 (it's a small blurb)

SPENCER REID KNOWS MATH; HE HAS A PHD IN IT TO PROVE SO. But somehow you've managed to stump him (which happens more often than the genius would like to admit) with the concept of what you call 'girl math.'

It started when you walked into the small crowded bar near the Quantico building where the team had decided to meet up after a particularly satisfying arrest.

You strutted into the room in a pair of gorgeous, expensive-looking shoes, and of course, Penelope had to comment on it.

"Oh my God, Y/N," the blonde practically squealed as she pulled you into a hug, "You look even more gorgeous than usual—I love, love, love those shoes!"

You let out a soft laugh as you joined the rest of the team at the table with a quick greeting. "Thanks, Pen, they were actually pretty cheap," you reply, "I got 'em at Bloomingdales."

"Really?" JJ asked, joining in on the conversation, "Were they having a sale?"

"Nope, but they were only $156," you answer.

Spencer raised his brows in surprise, "You think $156 is a cheap price for one pair of shoes?"

"Mhm," you hum as you take a drink that Luke hands you, "It's girl math."

"Come again?"

"Girl math," you clarify, standing closer to him so that he can hear you over the loud music.

Spencer leans towards you instinctively, genuinely curious about whatever 'girl math' was.

"So, basically, these shoes cost $156, right?" you say as he nods along, "But they're comfortable and cute, plus they go with like four different outfits, which means I'll be wearing them a lot. In the coming month, I'll probably wear them, like, 10 maybe 15 times. Which means that they actually only cost me around 10 to 15 dollars—you know, if you divide 156 by the amount of times I wear them."

"But you don't pay for the shoes in installments," Spencer replied in confusion, "And your shoes aren't a car, the amount you walk in them doesn't depreciate their value like mileage would a car."

You shrug as you take another swig of your drink. "But this way, I make myself feel better about spending $156 on shoes," you reply with a grin.

"So it's a form of consolation?" he replied with a small grin playing on his lips.

You roll your eyes as you give him a soft shove, "Shut up, Dr. Reid."

Spencer lets out a laugh at your playful eye roll.

"Well, either way, you do look nice in them," he said.

"You sayin' I don't usually look nice?" you teased, leaning even closer to him.

The close proximity suddenly made him realize the rest of the team had magically vanished from the table.

(Luke and Penelope had managed to drag JJ and Emily to the dance floor, while Matt, Tara, and Rossi were making conversation with the bartender.)

"Silence, really, doc?" you continued, feigning a hurt expression, "I'm hurt."

"I—I—What, no!" Spencer quickly replied, turning back to you, "That's not what I—what I mean was you look nicer than usual—not that you don't usually look nice or anything—"

You laughed, throwing your head back just a little, as you stopped him from digging himself an even deeper grave. "Calm down, Spence, I was joking."

You put down the now empty glass and grabbed his arm. "C'mon, you need to loosen up, let's dance."

Spencer let you drag him to the dance floor, where he pointedly ignored JJ and Emily's surprised faces as well as Luke and Penelope's eyebrow wiggles.

He was never going to hear the end of this.

[bbutterflies]

I spend a lot of time thinking about what it would take to break adrien. what would it take to make him aggressive. to take someone who’s already been to hell and back, who tries so hard to be good and be kind and be patient and just shut up and deal with it. what’s his breaking point. and, honestly, if he’s scared what does he know to do? he knows to hide but what happens when there’s nowhere to hide? what happens when he’s trapped?

chat blanc, of course. it’s adrien and “I’m not a violent dog. I don’t know why I bite.” destroying the whole world out of self defense because he doesn’t know how else to keep himself safe. you see him before he’s akumatized, and right after, absolutely petrified with nowhere to run. so what does he do? he bites.

I feel like his instinct is so often to turn inwards, but if you take all his choices away – nowhere to run and nowhere to hide – he bites. of course he does. what does gabriel do when he’s angry? what does chloe do when she’s angry? what does felix do when he’s angry? (and, if we assume adrien isn’t such a reliable narrator about his mother, what did emilie do?)

he doesn’t know anything else. if you trap a scared dog, even if he’s a good dog, he’s going to bite.

and no wonder gabriel tried so hard to keep him on a leash. gabriel was literally keeping him in a muzzle. all the time. constantly. putting him in his crate. constantly. never socializing him. never letting him run around in the sun. a performance dog, all the time, and locked away at home like he can’t be trusted. (all this doubly so if you subscribe to senti-adrien)

and if you treat a good dog like a violent dog, he’s going to bite.

if you convince a good dog he’s a violent dog, if you convince him he can’t be let loose without doing harm to the people he loves, he’s going to be terrified he’s going to bite. he’ll do everything he can to be good and be kind and be patient and just shut up and deal with it. but all he knows how to do is to bite.

he’s not a violent dog. he doesn’t know why he bites. he doesn’t know that he doesn’t HAVE to bite. he doesn’t know anything else.

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

Luke Alvez x reader

fluffy fluff, slightly suggestive at the end wc: 600ish

The weight of the bed shifting stirs you; the soft sensation of a hand stroking your back wakes you the rest of the way up. 

“Hey,” you whisper, instinctively shifting toward his warmth. “Morning, mi amor,” Luke whispers back, snuggling closer. His mouth is at your hairline, and he punctuates his greeting with a kiss. “‘M sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to wake you up. I just love getting to wake up to you.” He settles you safely into his arms, still caressing you in his embrace. 

Luke’s job meant he had to be away sometimes. Alright, a lot. And it wasn’t a peaceful away either. It was an away that had you constantly worrying if he was going to make it back unscathed, sometimes even if he was going to make it back at all. 

You still remember the feeling of your stomach sinking and your mouth going dry once when you saw Emily’s call brighten your phone. She’d never called you before, and with them all away on a case, you’d assumed the worst. When you picked up, your voice shaky, Luke’s full, warm one had answered. Turned out his phone had died, and he just wanted to let you know when he’d be home. You’d felt silly about your level of concern, but it came with the territory of loving someone at the BAU. 

So, you know how he feels. You feel the same way: reveling in the mornings you get to wake up with each other, safe and together. And every once in a long while, like today, without having to rush off right away. 

You hold him back, kiss his firm chest where you’re nestled against it. He brings his hand to your chin, pushes it up gently to look into your eyes. You’ll never get tired of his, beautiful, like warm chocolate that melts you into them. “I wish this was every morning,” he says, his thumb caressing your cheek. “Hm,” you respond, nuzzling his nose with yours. “Yeah, I don’t know who told you you had to go save lives every day when you could just stay in bed with me,” you tease. He chuckles lightly and pecks your lips. “Coming home to you keeps me going every day I’m saving lives, you know?” Another quick peck. “Any time it gets hard out there, and you know how often that can be, I just think of you. My beautiful” a kiss “kind” another “brave” another “woman.” His next kiss lingers; you moan into it as his tongue traces yours. “How I’d do anything to be worthy of you, to come back to you.” “Fuck, Alvez, you woke up a poet today,” you chuckle, wiping a happy tear from the corner of your eye. He laughs his full laugh, and the vibrations of his chest where it’s flush with yours stir your heart. “I’m a poet every day, mami,” he says with a cocky smirk. He never takes himself too seriously, but he knows exactly how to get to you — to your emotions, to your body. 

“Oh?” “Mhmm,” he kisses you languidly. “You just don’t get to hear it on mornings when we’re apart. But I think of you in, like, beautiful verses or whatever.” 

“Oh, I see,” you giggle. “You should write it down next time, this inspiration of yours.” “Maybe I will.” His kisses have strayed from your mouth down to your jaw, your neck. 

“Mhm,” you affirm, more of a moan now. 

He shifts his body until he’s on top of you, his mouth moving more hungrily. 

“You know what else happens every morning that I think of you?” 

“Hmm?”

“This,” he says against your skin as he grinds his hips into yours. What he’s referring to is hard and evident.

“Fuck, baby.” You grind back, start kissing him more ardently. “Why don’t we do what we can’t do when we’re apart?”

“Please,” Luke whines, his soft lips still attached to your skin, as he starts pulling your clothes off.

[daryldixonsdoormat]

Summary: Paul phases and hurts the reader… angst asf

(We gon pretend they have clothes when they shift back 🫡).

Watching anger rack through the person you love is painful in itself. It’s worse when that anger is directed towards you. Sometimes the littlest things set him off, ruining his steak of not having a outburst. Paul’s main focus point was safety, your safety specifically. If anyone were to challenge the comfort and safety of his girl, it wouldn’t be pretty. The same thing applies when his girl wants to walk into a house full of dangerous people. You just wanted to help the past two weeks Paul has told you to stay at Sam and Emily’s till he got back. Yes it’s true there is a vampire out there but it’s not hunting you. It’s hunting Bella. All you want to do is take some of the work load off of Paul by conversing with the Cullen’s and seeing what their plan is. It’s almost like you can feel the exhaustion in Paul’s bones as he fights sleep when your talking. The whole pack is in Emily and Sam’s house planning, and eating all the muffins. Paul is sitting on the arm of the couch beside you listening intently only turning away from Sam to offer you a bite of his chocolate muffin. You shake your head no, you make the decision this is the best time to bring up your idea. You stand up from the couch watching Paul instinctively straighten up as you move. “Guys I was thinking, now that Jake can’t talk to the Cullen’s (Edward is pissed at him) I should….go talk to them” you say in a mutter but everyone hears. Paul is already standing up with a scowl on his face about to speak before Sam beats him to it. “Like over the phone?”, Sam says pulling Emily into his side securely. You fidget a little under everyone’s eyes peering through you. You knew that Paul was getting frustrated waiting for you to finish before he speaks his mind. “Umm… no”, Paul rushes out the front door shoving past Quil. It’s silent for a moment then the slam of the screen door makes Sam sigh shaking his head. “I’ll think about it”, you nod with a shy smile before stepping around some of the boys to make it outside as well. His shoulders rise stiffly and his lip quivers as he tries to calm himself down. He feels so enraged that you even considered risking your life like that, especially by the likes of the Cullen’s. He starts to shake even more when he sees you walk out of the house, the only thing on his mind is losing you. You stand in front of Paul with a worried expression, your arms folded over your chest. “Look Paul, I just want to help. I’ve seen how exhausted”, Paul cuts you off quickly a animalistic sound rumbling through his chest. “That’s not your job, never will be. So don’t”: Paul takes another deep breath, he’s still shaking thinking of you getting hurt. Paul has always been a hot head so it doesn’t surprise you completely that he’s getting fired up. As Paul’s imprint your presence is supposed to calm him down him down in a matter of seconds. Instead he starts to shake more, you can only think of one thing when you realize. Am I really his imprint? Can you lose a imprint? These questions make it hard to think so what you say next isn’t the most thought through comment at all. “I understand why your mad Paul. I do. But what are they gonna do? Drink my blood? Kill me?” you say not believing it yourself. Paul takes a tiny step back and his breathing becomes more erratic, his teeth grits together uncontrollably. He tries his hardest to get it under control, but his muscles start to tighten and his body whips around quickly. Not for one moment did you think Paul was capable of hurting you. So there’s no need to move right? Just talk to him he will be ok… that’s what Sam said to do. “Paul calm down”, he keeps whipping around and his growls sound more and more animalistic, “PAUL” you yell and then it happens. You were only five feet away if that, that distance wouldn’t be enough to protect you, not for a second. Maybe it was fate for this to happen, don’t the ancestors have this happen for a reason? Nail scratch down your left arm, so quick you thought you had imagined it.

But blood flows down your arm, dripping off your finger tips and onto the once green grass. It takes a good 3 seconds for Paul to realize what had happened, he caused you to be in pain. He forces himself to shift back and kneel next to you, right where you collapsed. So many things ran through him in that moment, blood loss? Fear? …she’s scared of me. His hands shake but not out of anger out of absolute terror, he picks up your arm coating his hands in blood. Then it hits him, he’s not alone he can help you. Paul holds pressure on a part of your arm in attempt to stop the bleeding, the blood flows just as quick as his tears. “SAM, please please, SAM HURRY” he screams and the screen door slams again and the boys as well as Emily run outside. Sam runs towards you to examine your arm, pushing Paul slightly to the side to get a better view, he immediately starts ordering the rest of the group to get supplies. Emily stands out front one hand touching the long scar across her face, while tears spill out of her eyes. Paul isn’t in a good state his hands find the sides of your face shakily covered in crimson blood. “I’m so sorry honey. I’m sorry” his voice cracks while his thumbs move across your cheekbones, a action you adored. It feels like it’s been hours of grief, crying, terror but it’s only when Sam uses that commanding voice to talk to Paul that he starts to grasp time again. “Paul I need to carry her in”, Sam says a arm already under his legs. Paul shakes his head no quickly saying the same reply verbally as well, Paul slips a arm under your head and legs hoisting you up. He walks you inside the house laying you down on the guest room bed. Paul kneels beside the bed holding your hand only looking at your face for roughly a hour, till the room door creaks. He doesn’t move, he’s not even curious who’s standing in the door way they don’t matter. They aren’t her. “Paul I’m here to check on her”, Paul stands up quick enough to startle Carlisle. “Get. Out.”, Carlisle turns his head slightly to look at Sam for guidance. Even Sam is unsure what to do. Carlisle decides to be bold and approach you, a growl leaves Paul. So protective everyone in the living room is stunned by the volume it reaches. Carlisle backs up and enters the living room again talking to Sam to see if they patched you up properly sense he cannot see for himself. Paul stares at the door way for another second before kneeling next to you again, taking your hand for many more hours to come.

[erwinsvow]

𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞

summary: you and aaron are having a hard time deciding on a baby name.

word count: 1.5k

author's note: eeeeeeee x3. cannot stop writing for aaron, especially domestic, happy aaron. not bau!reader but i stole elements from that story too, linked here. i really loved this one!

now spinning

You had thought time would fly by during pregnancy, or at least that’s what everyone else made it seem like. You felt like all you’d heard so far was warnings to enjoy this time with ‘just the two of you’ and spend your days preparing as much as you could. 

You’d taken it very literally—your evenings after work were spent reading baby books and prepping food to store in the freezer.

Your days off from work, and even the rare, treasured weekend Aaron has off, is spent looking at paint samples (all yellows and greens, even though you’ve known it’s a girl since the two of you had Jack take a big bite out of a cupcake with raspberry frosting inside) and browsing websites for a car seat and a stroller. Aaron digs through the garage for Jack’s old things, and comes out with a sturdy wooden crib and a beautiful bassinet. 

Aaron doesn’t worry as much as you, of course, and he has the best dad instinct you’ve ever seen. It comes so naturally to him, you almost worry about yourself. Will it be this easy for you? 

You have experience parenting now, thanks to Jack and all the time you spent with him and Aaron even before you got married, but he barely counts. He’s an angel child—one who asks for extra servings of vegetables, does his homework without being asked, and never complains when you have to remind him to tidy up his room. 

Besides a few puzzle pieces and various, outgrown sports gear scattered throughout the house—your house, your family home, you think fondly— he always puts away his belongings in the proper place.

He even reminds you and Aaron of his upcoming school projects and which commitments he penciled in for—a friend’s birthday party next weekend (When should we go get the gift?) and a class field trip next month (They need two more chaperones. Should I ask Uncle David?)

You’re convinced you’ll never have it this easy with another child. You start over preparing the week you find out you’re pregnant, after Aaron smothers you in kisses and hugs.

He takes you out to dinner with the team—another rare, treasured event, but not because he doesn’t want to, just because they’re always on a case—and you break the news to them when you turn down a glass of wine from Emily, who looks at you quizzically. No more wine for nine months, you had said. Ten, JJ corrected.

You’re seven months now, halfway to eight. Pregnancy brain is very real and has affected you like crazy. You keep forgetting to go grocery shopping and then you keep misplacing the paper grocery list Aaron keeps on the fridge with a little magnet. You and Jack have been eating a lot of take-out, and he’s not complaining but he still inquires about his vegetable intake over slices of pizza. 

“You know, the baby is the size of a coconut right now,” you tell Aaron on the phone, rubbing your stomach. Your back has been killing you lately, another thing you had read about happening nearing month eight in your baby books of horror.

Aaron offers a massage when he’s around but it always hurts the most when he’s gone. Besides, his massages are what got you into this predicament in the first place.

Jack is asleep on the sofa right next to you. He had asked to watch Star Wars before bed—it’s a Friday night and he has no soccer practice tomorrow, and you are a perpetual good cop who can’t say no—so you had cozied up with him and a bowl of popcorn on the couch while The Empire Strikes Back played quietly in the background. You move your hand back to stroke his hair while he sleeps.

“Really, sweetheat? A coconut?” Aaron says. The team is up in Connecticut, and though he’s gone and you wish he was here with you, you’re thankful he’s in the same time zone.

You’re not sure about the case and can’t stomach the gory details anymore, but you think they must have made some strides since he’s staying on the phone with you and not in a rush to leave.

“Uh-huh, that’s what my book said. Never knew a coconut could kick this hard.” Aaron laughs on his side of the call, a sweet sound. You smile. “Maybe she’s kicking now to let us know she wants to play soccer like her big brother.”

“A prodigy in the making. Speaking of, does Jack have practice tomorrow?” Aaron likes to remind you of these things because he knows you keep forgetting.

“No, nothing tomorrow, I triple checked. And this little brainiac is just like you, keeps reminding me so I don’t wake him up at seven-thirty tomorrow.”

You hear Aaron laugh again. It all feels very domestic. Your mouth hurts from smiling.

“Aaron, it’s getting to that time. We need to pick a baby name soon. Any crazy ex-girlfriends or female serial killers we need to avoid?”

“Well there’s certainly a few. Serial killers, that is, not the other thing. What are you thinking so far?”

“Well my book said-” Aaron groans on the other end. “Hey! Don’t knock my book, it’s helpful.”

“Honey, your book had you convinced the baby would be missing fingers and toes if you had a turkey sandwich.”

“Deli meat is bad during pregnancy! So is sushi, thank you very much. I’d rather not risk my baby’s digits just because you wanted subs.”

“Reid said that’s not true and everything’s fine in moderation.”

“I’m sorry, has Reid ever birthed a human before?”

“Point taken. Your book also said your heartburn isn’t a big deal because it just means the baby will have a full head of hair-” “JJ said that too! And she said Henry had lots of hair-”

“And it also said sex during pregnancy is bad. Remember that?” Your face heats up. Damn him, making you blush even when he’s hundreds of miles away. 

“Oh, whatever. Just tell me which names we have to avoid. I think we should do something with a J, though. Make it matching.”

“Very sweet, honey. Jordan? Juliet? June?”

“Hmm,” you ponder carefully. Even if it’s silly, this feels like one of the biggest decisions you’ll ever make. “I like them all but I don’t love them. They’re too… something. Too new maybe.”

“Older names, then? Joy, Josie, Julia?”

“I like those too. Should we really name our child after a Beatles song though?”

“I think that’s a great idea, don’t you?” You can almost hear it in Aaron’s voice—he’s relaxing for the moment. Either they’ve already caught the unsub or you have a bigger impact on him than you thought you did. 

“Well if we’re gonna do that then we should at least use Eleanor or Michelle. Or Lucy! I like Lucy.”

“I’d prefer not to name our daughter after a song written about hallucinogens.”

“Aw, you're no fun. How about Anna?”

“What happened to wanting to match with Jack?” he asks.

“Ah, let the kid have his own identity. If he had it his way we’d name the baby Leia or Yoda.”

“Leah’s not bad. Pretty and simple. Four letters, keeping the trend.”

“That’s not a Beatles song!” You hear Aaron groan.

“You have too many demands, honey.” “No, I’m just picky. You should consider it a compliment, I’m choosy and I chose you, remember?”

“Vividly. Prudence, then?”

“Oh, that’s pretty.” You try to picture it written on holiday cards and homework sheets. Prudence Hotchner. You say it aloud to test the feel of it. “Prudence Hotchner. Prue Hotchner.”

“Sweetheart, I was joking.”

“You should never joke around a pregnant woman. I like it, it’s so pretty. Pretty Prudence.”

“You don’t think it’s a little old?”

“Well, her father is an old man who wants to name her after a Beatles song, so yeah, it’s very fitting. Doesn’t it just roll right off the tongue? Prudence Hotchner? We could call her Prue.”

“Prue is very cute. I like Prudence Joy.”

“Oh, I love Prudence Joy. Prudence Joy Hotchner. I like it so much. I’m tempted to wake up Jack and ask if he likes it.  Will you ask the team if they like it too?”

“I will, honey. Isn’t it time to sleep now?”

“Yes, I’ve just been putting it off. Jack’s asleep next to me, I have no idea how I’ll get him upstairs without waking him.”

“If you wake him he’ll be able to fall asleep again, as long as it’s quick-” “I know, honey, don’t worry about us.”

“Can’t help it.” You can’t stop the smile that spreads, cheek to cheek. You have a feeling he’s smiling too.

“You’ll ask the others, right? About Prudence?”

“Yes, honey, I will. I’ll see them in a little bit, I stepped out to call you while I made another cup of coffee.”

“Oh, Aaron, it's so late for coffee,” you chide, lovingly. Don’t drink a whole cup please. I wish you guys would drink tea instead. Or at least decaf.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. I gotta go now. Kiss Jack goodnight for me?” “Of course.”

“And play Prudence her song, then?” You can’t contain the smile on your face.

“Of course. Good night from all three of us, Aaron.”

[oneshotnewbie]

Emily Prentiss x child!reader where reader is sick or feeling down and Emily takes care of her? 🥰

ᕚ---ᕘ

Emily Prentiss sat in a meeting room at the FBI headquarters, surrounded by her team. The tense air threatened to suffocate them as they discussed the latest information about the case at the table. A serial killer was terrorizing the city and the team was working hard to hunt him down.

The analysis of evidence, witness statements and tiny digital traces were in full swing. Everyone in the room was concentrated and focused when suddenly Emily's phone rang in her jacket pocket. Her hand instinctively went to the device, her mind still lingering on the details of the case.

"Please excuse me for a moment," she said, pressing the green button, already guessing from the number that this call would turn her day upside down as she stepped out of the room. "Agent Prentiss," she spoke up, her voice sounding calm and professional.

"Mrs. Prentiss, this is Mrs. Johnson from kindergarden," came the concerned voice on the other end of the line and Emily bit her lip as she placed her free hand on her hip. “I’m sorry to interrupt you in the middle of work, but it’s about y/n.”

A pang of concern shot through Emily. You were her light, her pride - her daughter. She forced herself to remain calm, but her heart continued to race hard against her chest. "What happened? Is she hurt?"

"No, nothing bad has happened to her. However, she has a high fever and is complaining of stomach pain. We think it would be better if you picked her up and brought her home," your kindergarden teacher explained to her and the black-haired woman took a deep breath as she relaxed, thoughts racing in her head.

She could hear the concern in your kindergarden teacher's voice and knew she had to act immediately. But at the same time, the unsolved case was intruding on her priorities. "I'll be there right away," she assured, then hung up.

Her gaze lifted to her team, who were looking at her expectantly and when she came back into the room, they were just about to begin presenting her with the latest theories they had considered during her conversation. But Emily immediately stopped Penelope with a wave of her hand. "I have to go. Y/n got sick," she explained shortly, pulling her jacket from the chair.

"Would you like one of us to accompany you and help you with her?" Rossi offered, but Emily shook her head. "No, I can handle it. This isn't the first rodeo of illness. Please keep me updated on the status of things," she asked, hurrying out of the room.

Her heart pounded loudly in her head as she rushed through the endless hallways of FBI headquarters. Her thoughts were swirling - worried about you, but also worried about the case that she couldn't just leave behind.

When she finally got outside, she got into her car and drove to the nearby kindergarden, lights dimmed while driving carefully. Her mind worked feverishly to come up with a way to balance these two important aspects of her life over the next few days.

As she hurried out of the car and headed to the kindergarden entrance, her heart was still beating fast with worry for her little daughter, and she couldn't wait to wrap her arms around you.

When she entered the comfortably warm house, her eyes immediately fell on you, lying at a table in your group with your head resting on your arms, surrounded by the other children who were happily playing. Emily felt a pang in her chest when she noticed your red cheeks and lack of energy. She quickly walked over to you and knelt down in front of you.

“Y/n, love, what’s wrong?” She asked softly, placing a hand on your forehead to feel the fever as you lifted your head up briefly. You smiled weakly and opened your arms for her to hug you. "My stomach hurts and I'm tired."

The black-haired woman sighed softly as she looked at you lovingly and pulled you into her arms. "We're going home now, okay? Then we'll work together to make you feel better."

You nodded and let your mother pick you up as she turned to your kindergarden teacher to say goodbye and thank her for the call. You rested your head on her shoulder, your arms wrapped tightly around her neck while your legs hung weakly against her. She quickly took your rain jacket and backpack from the wardrobe, which was decorated with your name, before leading you to the car.

On the way home, Emily tried to cheer you up by telling you stories and reassuring you that everything would be okay. But inside her, the worry was gnawing at her - your fever was very high and she needed to get it down as quickly as possible.

When you both finally got home, Emily put you to bed and tucked you in lovingly after giving you the first helping of fever juice. She promised to stay by your side until you felt better, gently stroking your warm abdomen to ease the pain.

While you slept, she used the quiet time to ask the team for new information, make you soup and tidy up the apartment. She tried to organize her thoughts and come up with a plan to balance both her role as a mother and her work as an FBI agent. It wouldn't be easy in the next few days, but she was determined to get through both. For you and for those she needed to protect.

She checked your sleeping state and fever several times an hour without waking you up. She kept the lights on in the room dimmed, and the silence in your otherwise noisy room enveloped her like a comforting blanket. The day had turned into an unexpected turning point, and Emily was grateful that she was now here to care for you.

You had recovered somewhat in the last few hours, but the fever was still high. Emily was no longer worried about the work she had left behind - right now the priority was solely on you. She remembered being sick as a little girl and her father lovingly caring for her. Now it was her turn to give the same care and love to her own daughter that her father had once given her.

As you slowly woke up, Emily smiled lovingly at you, relaxing from the mountain of untidy toys before turning to your bed and stroking your cheeks. "Hey, sweetie. How are you feeling?" she asked and you yawned and rubbed your eyes tiredly before sleepily stretching your arms out to her. "My stomach doesn't hurt anymore but I'm still tired."

Emily nodded understandingly and handed you a glass of water and some easily digestible and lukewarm soup. She stayed by your side, read you stories, played little bedside games with you and comforted you when you had another headache.

The day passed slowly, but she enjoyed every moment of being close to you. She felt grateful for the precious time you spent together and for the opportunity to give you comfort when you needed it most.

As evening fell and you were visited by Aunt Penelope and JJ, Emily allowed herself a moment of peace. Her heart was filled with warmth and contentment as she heard your gentle laughter mixed with the laughter of her best friends, even though this day had brought unexpected challenges. She was grateful to be there for you. As a mother who loved nothing more than caring for her little daughter.

[do-it-jakey-baby]

Must I Go Bound?

Danny Wagner x f!reader, Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Synopsis: sworn off dating for life, your whole world changes one fateful evening when your best friend drags you out to a show.

Warnings: smut, adult themes, drinking, profanity

+18, MINORS DNI

TAGLIST: @ignite-my-fire

Chapter 1

“This is boring as fuck. Can we go?” You whine into your friend’s ear, the booming music around you making it incredibly difficult for her to hear your bratty outburst.

She scrunches her pretty little features up, pouting at you. “No way, I’m having so much fun!”

This was a usual occurrence for you. Your best friend, Emily, the sweetest being in all the land; ever the party animal and always dragging you along to attend obscure, underground shows with bands you’d never heard of and had no interest in getting to know. As you tried to gather your thoughts, the sound of a guitar screeching to life rattled through the air. Your hands found their way to your ears as you cupped them and gritted your teeth.

“Em, this is fucking shit! I’m going to get another drink.” You huffed, beginning to stomp away. As you turned, the frontman spoke into the mic.

“We have a real treat for you tonight, ladies and gents! Our extremely talented pal Danny is here for one night only to join us on stage. Everyone please give it up for Daniel Wagner!”

You turned your head, ready to scoff at whoever this shitty ass band deemed as “extremely talented”. The man walked on stage, fist bumping the front man and bringing him in for a quick hug.

Wow, he’s… hot

His body was tanned and lean, but with obvious muscle definition. His silvery vest showcased his biceps, and they rippled as he picked up a guitar and swung the strap over his shoulder. His pearly-white smile seemed to light up the entire room, and his face was perfectly framed by his cascading raven coils. A single tattoo could be seen, two thick black bands wrapped around the top of his arm with some sort of emblem studded right in the centre.

Maybe you could stick around for a bit after all…

You swiftly ordered yourself a drink, before re-joining Em.

“You wanna get a bit closer to the stage?”

She turns to face you, raising one eyebrow and crossing her arms. “What happened to ‘Em, this is fucking shit’?”

A blush crept up onto your cheeks, so you turned your face away and awkwardly sipped your drink. Em looked up to the stage and a shit-eating grin spread across her face.

“Oh, I think I see what’s happened. He’s cute, your type for sure.” She goads, chuckling under her breath.

“Would you fuck off!” You grumble, smacking her arm with your free hand. “Are you coming or not? And I don’t wanna hear shit from you or I’ll never come to one of these fuck ass gigs with you again.”

She smiles sweetly at you, then brings her hand up to her mouth in a ‘locking’ motion, then throws her hand over her shoulder, signifying that she’ll keep her mouth shut. She extends the same hand out to you and you take it in yours, walking towards the front of the stage. When you get there, the band is beginning their first song. You stare at Danny as his hands fly across the fretboard, playing every note with extreme precision. The way he immerses himself into the moment, throwing his head back, lips parted, is sending you into a frenzy. You feel like an animal in heat as you drink him in, utterly mesmerised by the display he’s putting on in front of you. You’re pulled back from reality when Em screeches beside you.

“Woooo, go on, Danny!”

You instinctively begin to snap your head towards her, ready to berate her for drawing attention. Instead, Danny’s reaction is quicker, as his line of sight seeks out where in the crowd the noise came from instantly. You see Em nod her head towards your direction in your peripheral, then you’re met with the most intense eye contact you’ve ever experienced. You gulp as his eyes bore into your soul, his smile sweeter than syrup. You manage a smile back, and in a fleeting moment of pure courage and adrenaline, you bring your hand up to your mouth and kiss it, then extend your palm upwards and purse your lips together to blow it in his direction. His eyebrows raise and his tongue licks lightly against his bottom lip as you really drive it home with a cheeky wink. They finish up the song and you turn to Em.

“Fuck, I need a drink.”

You snatch her hand and pull her back through the crowd towards the bar. When you get there, she grabs onto your shoulders excitedly, shaking you back and forth.

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, what the fuck was that? I’ve not seen you that ballsy in a long time! Good for you, girl!”

“Drink. Now.” You huff.

“Two tequila shooters, please!” Em yells at the bartender.

Your shots are deposited in front of you, and you make light work of licking the salt from the back of your hand, throwing the tequila rapidly down your throat, and shoving the lime into your mouth. You suck on the sour fruit, then dispose of it within the shot glass. Taking a deep breath, you try to centre yourself after that completely brazen display back there. That was something you would have done without a second thought a few years back, but after many, many bad experiences with men, you’d reduced yourself to a born-again virgin and sworn off those in possession of a penis.

“I think I need another.” You groan, massaging your temples. You stick two fingers in the air, signalling to the bartender for another. As you go to pay, a hand darts across the card machine, stopping you from pressing your phone to the reader.

“I’ll get that, and make that two, please.”

You stare up in disbelief as Danny takes the two shots and places them in front of you both. He extends his hand out to you.

“May I?”

You nod, frozen to the spot. He reaches across and takes your hand in his, bringing it up to his face. Whilst maintaining eye-contact, he slowly licks a stripe onto the back of it, then picks up the salt shaker. You watch intently as the tiny, crystallised grains stick to the spot where his tongue just was. You close your eyes briefly and swallow, needing a moment of reprieve before you really start losing composure. When you open your eyes, he’s pushing your hand back to your mouth.

“Lick.”

Shit

You feel your heart thundering in your chest as you lift your hand up to your lips. You run your tongue across the salt, peering up through your lashes as you do. You’re pretty damn sure he could ask you to do just about anything and you’d comply, surrendering yourself completely. He hands you your shot and clinks his own against yours.

“Cheers.”

You knock your shots back in unison, then he brings his hand up to your mouth again. This time, he has a wedge of lime between his fingers. You part your lips, letting him push it into your mouth and suck the juice from the flesh. He pulls it from your lips and you take it from him, throwing it onto the bar behind you. With your inhibitions significantly lowered, you decide to play him at his own game. You move closer and capture his wrist in your hand, then wrap your lips around his pointer finger. You push it all the way into your mouth, then swallow around it, savouring the lingering citrus flavour from the lime. You release it with a pop, smirking up at him as his breath hitches and pupils dilate.

“Fuck.” He breathes, flustered for a moment.

Time seems to stand still, your lust-filled eyes wandering over each other. You’re practically toe to toe now, your chest heaving as his eyes scan your face.

“So Daniel, are you going to ask my name?” You press as you trail a finger down his torso.

Where the fuck did this confidence come from?

He smirks, then leans down and ghosts his lips over the shell of your ear.

“Tell me.”

You stifle a whimper, barely holding onto any last shred of composure you have.

“Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N, I’d very much like to see more of you. What’s your Instagram?”

“I don’t really use it, I’m old fashioned. Take my number, though.”

He whips his phone out of his back pocket and hands it to you. You type your number in, adding a lime emoji to your contact name. He takes his phone back and seconds later you feel your phone buzz from your own pocket. He looks like he wants to say something to you, but is interrupted by someone shouting his name.

“Danny, you coming?”

He exhales through his nose.

“Just when things were getting interesting… I have to go, but text me. I’d like to pick up where we left off at some point.”

You nod, unable to form a cohesive sentence. He winks at you, then disappears into the crowd. You lean forward onto the bar, wondering how on earth you’d gone from wanting to leave this shit fest of a bar and go home, to deep-throating a stranger’s finger in public. You let your mind spiral for a bit, then feel a pair of hands on your shoulders. You spin around and find Em stood there, her mouth agape.

“Y/N, what the FUCK. I thought you were both going to fuck right here in the middle of the bar! Atta girl!”

“Oh my god, don’t egg me on! That was so out of character!” You laugh.

“So out of character for you right now, but the Y/N I’ve always known had men falling like that at her feet almost every night. Welcome back.”

“Maybe it’s time for me to step back into my power.” You smirk.

~

Later that night you find yourself tossing and turning in bed, unable to shake the encounter from earlier. You’re still so unbelievably turned on, the evidence sitting slick between your legs. You sigh, wondering if some release would help you sleep. You slip your hand under your pyjama shorts, finding your clit and circling your fingers around the bud. Your breath quickens as your mind drifts to Danny’s lips against your ear, his tongue lapping across your hand, and his finger in your mouth. You quicken your pace, the thoughts of Danny tumbling you quickly towards your impending orgasm. You think about how his tongue would feel running through your folds, how badly you want to rake your hands through his curls, then it hits you like a freight train. Your legs shudder beneath you as his name escapes your lips in a high pitched whine.

But it’s not enough.

You scramble to find your phone on your nightstand.

12:49am

You: Are you awake?

Bzz bzz

12:50am

Danny: I am

12:50am

You: 117 Willow Avenue, now.

Bzz bzz

12:51am Danny: Omw

Fuck, were you really doing this? No turning back now…

You launch yourself from your bed, running into the bathroom to freshen up. You roll on some deodorant, swill your mouth with mouthwash and comb through your hair. Around 10 minutes pass and you hear a knock. Your heart pounds as you approach the door, your shaky hands unlocking the latch and twisting the handle. Danny stands there on your dimly lit porch, looking just as fucking edible as he did when you were in the bar. You lunge forward and attach your lips to his, devouring him with ferocity. He matches your demeanour, fighting for dominance as he licks into your mouth. His hands wrap around the backs of your thighs and he lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his hips. He carries you into your home and you guide him to your bedroom.

“Down.. the hall… thir- third door on the left.” You pant between kisses.

He practically breaks your bedroom door down rushing to get in. He throws you down onto your bed and crawls on top, planting sloppy kisses down your neck and onto your collarbones.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this since the bar.” He breathes, pulling your pyjama top over your head and exposing your bare chest. You sit up and claw at his jacket, throwing it to the floor. It’s a hazy blur as you both grasp at each other, removing articles of clothing one by one until you’re both half naked. He palms at your breasts, bending down to suck the sensitive skin into his mouth. Your back arches as you melt into his touch.

“Oh god Danny, please fuck me.”

“Patience, you’ll get what you want.” He smirks, his fingers ghosting over your centre. You buck up into his touch, unable to restrain from the pornographic sounds slipping from your lips.

“Fuck, let me hear you baby.”

He pulls down your panties in one swift motion and slides a finger through your wetness, circling your clit a few times before plunging inside you and massaging your sweet spot. Your hands grab at his face as you pull him into you, your mouth meeting his as he begins to pick up the pace. You whimper into his mouth and his eyes roll back, clearly enjoying how worked up he has you.

“You like that?”

You nod, not being able to speak as the waves of pleasure consume you. He removes his fingers from you and you begin to whine at the loss of contact, but within seconds he’s spread your legs and is back inside you, but this time his mouth is on you too. You throw your head back as he sucks your bud and fucks his fingers into you at the same time.

“Fuck, Danny. Don’t stop. I-”

He hums against you and that’s all it takes. You’re falling apart beneath him, legs shuddering, his name spilling from your mouth like a hymn. You’ve barely come down from the high when you hear the faint sound of him opening a condom packet, then he’s pushing into you. A guttural moan leaves your chest as he bottoms out. He throws your legs over his shoulder, thrusting into you with calculated movements, hitting your spot each time.

“Harder, please.” You beg, peering up at him.

He pulls out and flips you onto your stomach, then wraps his hands around your thighs and pulls you back, so that your back is arched as far as it will go. He re-enters and drives into you, the tip of his cock grazing your cervix. You squeeze around him, rapidly heading for your second orgasm.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ tight.” He groans, his dick twitching inside of you. He wraps his hand around your hair and pulls back, using the leverage to slam you back into him even harder.

“I’m gunna fucking cum.” You gasp.

“Do it, cum for me.”

Your walls tremble around him as your orgasm hits you hard. Your arms give way, shaking beneath you as you enter a new realm of bliss. The lewd sounds of him fucking your release back into you fill the room, the air thick with sweat and sex.

“Ohhhh fuck.” He curses as his hips start to sputter. You rock back to meet him, squeezing tight as you do.

“I’m cumming, shit.” He moans, bucking into you for the last time and holding you there as he finishes. You fall forward onto your stomach as he pulls out.

“Bathroom is the next door down.”

He removes the condom and ties it in a knot, then pads away. You roll onto your back, your chest heaving as you catch your breath. When he re-enters the room, he lays down beside you and pulls you into his arms.

“Holy fucking shit.” You breathe.

“Holy fucking shit indeed… you’re something else, Y/N.” He laughs, pressing a kiss to your cheekbone.

You prop yourself up onto your elbows. “You don’t have to stay, you know. We’re strangers that just fucked, you have no obligation.”

“You’re not just saying that?” He asks, head tilted to the side.

“Promise.” You smile. “Plus, I have shit to do tomorrow.”

“Ok, well I’ll text you.” He smiles. You rise up and take his face in your hands, kissing him one last time.

“Yeah, do that.”

~

It’s been around two weeks since your encounter with Danny, although the yellowy bruises fading on your hips are a stark reminder of the sins you committed that night. You’ve been texting back and forth since then, and have met a few times for coffee. You’ve enjoyed finding out a bit more about each other, past the mind-blowing sex. From the conversations you’d had so far, you both seemed pretty compatible, but still you held back. Em, on the other hand, was all for it.

“What? He’s hot, no red flags so far, in a band. What have you got to lose, Y/N? She presses over coffee.

“My sanity. It never ends well, I know how this plays out.” You mutter, sipping gingerly from your cup.

“Yeah, there are a lot of dickheads out there, I know. But you can’t stay scared your whole life, babe. You’ll end up missing something great.”

“Watch me.” You laugh.

She sighs and fiddles with her phone for a bit, then hands it to you. There’s an ad for another show at a local bar tonight on the screen.

“Come with me, pleeeease. Have some fun again. Plus, you never know, you might find someone even better in bed than Danny.”

“Ha, I doubt it. But ok, I’ll come.”

Later that evening you’re both sharing a bottle of red whilst you get ready. You opt for a black t-shirt dress that stops at your mid-thigh, paired with fishnets and your trusty platform Dr Martens. Em wolf whistles as you step into her vicinity.

“Damn, girl.”

“I could say the same, you sexy bitch.”

Em is just so effortlessly pretty, with her pin straight dirty blond hair, gorgeously full lips, and freckles studded across her cheeks. She’s clad in a leather mini skirt, thigh high boots and a silver cami, but in all honesty she could wear a trash bag and still look like the most beautiful girl in the room.

“Ready to have some fun?” She wiggles her eyebrows playfully.

“Let’s fuck shit up.”

You walk into the venue, arms linked, and make your way across to the bar.

“Two tequila sodas with lime, please”

“Tequila, again?” She scoffs. “Maybe you’ll have another strangers fingers down your throat again tonight?”

“Can’t have fun without tequila.” You giggle.

The band playing tonight was actually pretty good. You began to sway side to side as the liquor entered your blood stream. The band launch into an upbeat song, so you grab onto Em’s hands, lifting them up above her head, shaking your hips into hers. She shrieks with laughter as you both grind up against each other. It’s so nice to spend a carefree evening with her, actually enjoying life for once instead of being so caught up in the mundane. After a lot of dancing, you peel away and walk towards the bar.

“I’m going to grab a drink, want one?”

“No, I’m good.”

You lean up against the bar, waiting to be served, when something piques your interest. Or someone, rather. The most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on is sitting on a stool a few people down from you. He’s looking towards the bar, so you take a deep breath and slip into the space next to him. You steal a few glances from your peripheral now that you’re closer. He’s wearing a black button down, which is ¾ of the way undone, revealing his tanned chest and multiple silver chains. His hair is chestnut brown, falling in perfectly undone waves on his shoulders. He has slight stubble on his upper lip and chin, and small silver hoops in his ears. You felt your mouth water at the sight of him, the power he held was positively magnetic and he hadn’t even opened his mouth yet.

You stand there for a while, waiting for the bartender to serve you, whilst trying to muster up the courage to speak to him. A few minutes pass and you’re close to abandoning the idea completely.

“Haven’t seen you in here before, you new in town?”

You snap you head to him, momentarily startled by him striking up a conversation with you.

“Uhh, no. I’ve lived here for a few years now. Just… don’t get out much.” You reply, offering him a shy smile.

“What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion, just wanted to start living my life a bit more.”

“So you thought you’d start out by going to a shitty bar?”

“Hey, you’re also at this shitty bar, are you not?” You retort, raising an eyebrow.

A devilish smirk spreads across his face at your rebuttal.

Hmm, he liked that

“So, what are you doing at this shitty bar, …?” You wave your hand, motioning for him to complete your sentence.

“Jake.” He smiles. “And to answer your question, I own this shitty bar.”

Your eyes widen and he chuckles.

“You own this bar?”

“Yeah, but please don’t be impressed. It’s a shitty bar.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not.” You wink.

“Are you here by yourself …?” He mirrors your gesture from earlier.

“Y/N, and no I’m not.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

“No lucky guy. I’m here with my best friend, Em.”

“No lucky guy, hm? Does that make me the lucky guy?”

“Do you want to be?” You challenge.

“You’re a fucking spitfire, aren’t you.”

Suddenly, Em comes bounding at you.

“Heyyyyy, oh god I’m so drunk. Do you-” She stops, her eyes raking over Jake. “Well fucking damn. You’re just getting them all aren’t you, baby girl?”

“Em!” You swat at her side.

“Well… I was just heading home. You kids have fun.” She winks.

You grab her arm as she tries to walk off.

“Em, I am not letting you go home by yourself. Sit down. I’ll call us a cab.”

She pulls you to one side, hushing her voice so only you can hear. “No way, you’re going home with that fucking beautiful specimen tonight. Do not even try. I’ll be fine. You cannot pass this up, fucking look at him!”

Jake interjects, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I have my car with me, let me drop you home.”

“Well, isn’t that kind, Y/N? Such a gentleman.”

“Em, we don’t even know him.” You hiss under your breath.

“I know a good egg when I see one.”

The next thing you know, you’re getting into the passenger side of his car. It’s a brand new black Land Rover Defender, with gleaming leather interior. You can’t help but wonder how the owner of a small bar could afford one of these. He drops Em off at her apartment and you make sure she gets inside safety. You sit back down into the passenger seat and he looks over at you.

“So, I was wondering… and you don’t have to, but I have a pretty decent selection of liquor back at my place. Did you want to join me for a drink?”

“Well, it goes against my better judgement, going home with a complete stranger. But, it also goes against my better judgement to get into a complete stranger’s car… so I guess my answer is yes.”

~

The house you pull up to is not what you expected. At all.

First of all, there’s a fucking gate. He had to pull up an app on his phone to open it.

Do shitty bar owners usually live in huge, gated houses?… His parent’s must be loaded or something

“You said you owned a bar right? How many?” You laugh in disbelief.

“Just the one.” He smirks.

Right…

He unlocks the door and walks over to a flashing console on the wall. He uses a keypad to punch in a code and the console flashes, then beeps.

“Security system.” He says, as if he can read your mind. “Kitchen is just through here.”

You walk from the giant hallway into an even bigger kitchen. There’s a huge granite island in the middle, big enough to seat your entire family. In the far corner, there’s an actual bar. Not a makeshift bar, a fully functioning one, with glittering counters and bottles as far as the eye can see.

What the fuck is this guy’s deal?

“Trying to figure out how I afford all this?”

There he goes, reading my damn mind again

“No, just wondering where that drink is you promised me.”

He chuckles, then makes his way over to the bar.

“What do you fancy?”

“Tequila?”

“Blanco or reposado?”

“Give me that old shit, the older the better.” You wink.

He pours the bottle into a crystal glass, handing it to you, then pours himself a glass and knocks it back in one.

“What, no ice in this big ass kitchen?”

“It’s best at room temperature, fucks with the flavour over ice.”

You sip from the glass, discovering almost immediately that he is, in fact, correct.

“Well shit, ok tequila snob.”

Before you can react, he’s in front of you, snaking his hand up to curve around your jaw. He tips it up, exposing your neck. His lips ghost over your jugular, pricking up every single hair on your body.

“You’ve got quite a mouth on you, Y/N. Wonder if we should put it to better use.”

Your breath catches in your throat as he nips into the sensitive skin on your neck. You place your hands on his face and he lifts from your neck, looking you dead in the eye.

Fucking hell, his eye contact is so intense

You feel like you could melt into a puddle under his gaze. The way he’s drinking you in is addictive, you don’t want this feeling to end. Chasing the high he’s providing, you drop to your knees in front of him. He raises his eyebrow.

“I think we should.”

He pulls his lip between his teeth and nods, unbuckling his belt. You unbutton his pants and pull them down enough to reach into his boxers. He’s rock solid in your palm, and so fucking big, but you like a challenge. You spit into your hand and slide your fist along his base a few times, relishing in the tiny moans coming from his lips. You can tell he’s holding back, so you take him into your throat until he hits your tonsils.

“Fuck.” He groans through gritted teeth, balling his fist into your hair.

You bob back and forth, picking up speed. His grip gets tighter in your hair, so you pull back and roll your tongue over his head. He hisses and bucks his hips, sending his cock straight to the back of your throat. You stifle a gag, caught off guard by the movement, but it gives you a wicked idea. You remove your mouth from him and peer up through your lashes, giving him your best doe eyes. His chest is heaving as he looks down at you.

Bingo

“You wanna throat fuck me?”

He parts his lips, losing composure for just a second. “Tap on my leg twice if it gets too much.”

You flatten your tongue and he thrusts back into your mouth over and over until tears are rolling down your cheeks, but it’s so worth it to see the look on his face. He uses the pad of his thumb to wipe the tears as they fall.

“You take me so fucking well.”

Your thighs clench together as you take him down your throat, only providing slight relief from the feral need you have for him. You can feel the wetness pooling in your panties, the noises he’s making only spurring you on. He pulls you off him until only a string of saliva tethers the two of you, then reaches for your arms. Once you’re off your knees, he lifts you up onto the kitchen island and places his palm between your breasts, pushing you back down against the cool stone. He bunches the skirt of your dress up to your waist and hooks his fingers into your panties, pulling them down and throwing them behind him. He places two hands on your inner thighs, parting them, then finds a home between your legs. He begins licking up through your folds, devouring you completely. Your hands twist into his hair as his name falls from your lips over and over.

Fuck, and you thought Danny was good

His hands are all over you, snaking up underneath your dress and exploring your body, only adding to the complete ecstasy you find yourself in. You squirm under his touch, feeling your impending orgasm building rapidly.

“Don’t. Not yet.”

“Jake, I can’t. It feels too good.” You whine.

“Don’t be a fucking brat.” He barks, delivering a smack to your outer thigh.

You cry out, finding it almost impossible to hold yourself back. Your nails dig into his scalp, but this only spurs him on. He’s eating your pussy like it’s his last ever meal, consuming you with the greed of a starved man. It’s like his whole life’s purpose is to make you cum over and over until you’re a trembling mess beneath him, and you are. You can’t hold it back any longer as your release bolts through you like a surge of electricity.

But he doesn’t let up.

“I thought I told you not to cum.” He booms from between your legs, plunging two fingers inside you and mercilessly targeting your g-spot.

“Shit!” You scream, the overstimulation making you writhe and thrash.

“You wanted to cum, so fucking cum again. Now.”

Your legs violently shake as you enter a whole new realm of pleasure. It’s a brand new sensation you’ve never felt before, and you feel like you’re gripping onto the counter for dear life.

“Jake! Jake, stop! I-” You trail off as you feel the dam inside you quite literally break. The string of expletives and pornographic wails that fill the room ring in your ears, as you topple over into utter euphoria.

What the fuck

You feel like you’re suspended there for a lifetime, Jake’s head between your legs, his fingers inside you. When you finally drop back down to earth, you rise onto your elbows.

Everything is wet.

Jake’s face, his hair, the counter beneath you, the floor.

Your eyes widen in horror, but Jake’s face is the exact opposite. A shit-eating grin is plastered across his face as he straightens up to face you.

“How the-” you begin.

“Never done that before, have you angel?” He smirks.

Instead of responding, you grab the back of his neck, pulling him towards you. You take his face in your hands and run your tongue over his face, lapping at your release. He parts his lips, exhaling sharply. You use the opportunity to lick into his open mouth, which he gladly accepts, his tongue gliding against yours as you both fight for dominance. Then, he’s pushing you back, discarding his pants and climbing on top of you. You reach down between you and take him in your hand, lining him up with your entrance.

“Wait, I don’t have a condom.” He breathes, nipping against your ear.

“I don’t care, just fuck me. Please.”

He pushes into you, his lip tucking behind his teeth. He waits there, only half inside you, letting you adjust. You wrap your hands around his ass and pull him, feeling him slide in until he reaches the hilt. The stretch is insane, and you whimper as he begins to rock in and out.

“Fucking shit!” You cry, your nails raking into the flesh of his back.

“God, you feel so fucking good.” He curses as he spreads your legs wider and picks up the pace.

You lick at his neck, kissing a trail up to his ear.

“Let me ride you.” You whisper.

He pulls out and you whip your dress over your head, then remove your bra. You unbutton the last of his shirt, slipping it off his shoulders and pushing him onto his back. Rising up onto your knees, you sink back down onto him, eliciting a hiss as his fingers dig into the meat of your hips. You lift yourself off him, dropping back down over and over as you use all of the stamina you have left to make him feel good. You squeeze around him as your hips move, feeling his dick twitch inside of you. His hands find your breasts, massaging them as your head falls back in pleasure. The new angle paired with his touch on your body has you there already, the pressure rising in your stomach.

“You’re a fuckin’ goddess, Y/N.”

You don’t even warn him this time, he surely knows as your walls begin to flutter around him. You cum for the second time as he fucks back up into you, meeting you with every snap of your hips.

“I’m gunna cum, where do you want it?” He pants.

“In my mouth.”

“Ohhhh fuck. Now.” He grunts as you lift from him and wrap your lips around his head. He paints the back of your throat with his release as you suck around him. You swallow, licking every last drop from him. You look up, opening your mouth to show him that it’s empty.

“You fuckin’ kill me.” He groans, pulling you into him and melting his mouth into yours.

You both sit there, catching your breath. He glances over to you and smirks.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. Just love a squirter.”

Your hands fly up to your face as you grimace, feeling embarrassed that he’d brought it up. He pulls your hands from your face and cups it with his own.

“Y/N, don’t be embarrassed. That was so fucking hot.”

“Yeah? It kinda was, wasn’t it? That whole… shit Jake, no one’s made me cum like that before.”

“Just say the word and I’ll do it again.”

“Again?”

“Well, not right now. Not sure you could handle that.” He laughs. “But definitely take my number, if you want to. I know I would like to do that again.”

You feel a blush creep up over your cheeks. “Ok.”

He smiles, hopping down from the counter. He extends his hand out to you and you look back at him, eyebrows knitting together. “It’s late, you should crash here.”

“No, Jake. I-”

“Ah ah. I insist. You can take the spare room, if you want. Or, you can stay in mine with me. Your choice.”

You nod and follow him through the house and to his room. He throws you a t-shirt to sleep in, then pulls on a clean pair of boxers and climbs into his bed. You stand there, not knowing whether to sleep with him or in the spare room.

“Like I said, up to you. But I have invited you to sleep in my bed with me.” He smirks, patting the empty space next to him.

Fuck it.

You climb in next to him, pulling the sheets up over you. You turn to face Jake and his arms wrap around your waist, dragging you into him.

“You’re really beautiful, y’know.”

“So are you.” You whisper, feeling yourself being drawn to him like a magnet.

He leans into you, your noses touching. His eyes flick from yours to your lips. “Wanna taste you again before I fall asleep.” He says, his mouth crashing to yours.

You kiss him back with fervour, your hands intertwining in his hair. His hands slide up your back as you tangle yourself in him. He pulls back and plants a soft kiss to your nose.

“Good night, Y/N.”

~

When you wake the space next to you is cold and empty. You stretch your arms over your head and take in your surroundings. You can hear the faint sound of music coming from down the hall, so you pull back the covers to investigate. Following the direction of the music, you find yourself in some kind of home office. Jake is sat down in a leather armchair, an acoustic guitar perched on his knees.

“Mornin’. Sleep well?”

“Yeah…” you respond, looking around the room. The space is filled with …memorabilia? That’s the only word you can think of to describe it. Framed vinyls litter the wall, magazine articles, a multitude of string instruments and amps. You try not to look too hard, not wanting to pry into his life.

“Good. I have a pot of coffee going downstairs, you want a cup?”

“Sure.” You smile.

He stands from his chair, putting his guitar back onto the stand. You follow him from the room, but something catches your eye just before you leave. It glistens on the desk, sitting proudly.

Is that a fucking GRAMMY?!

You feel your heart rise into your throat as you walk behind Jake. You wipe your now sweaty palms onto his borrowed t-shirt.

Who is this guy?!

You silently curse yourself for not paying much attention to the detail on the vinyls or articles hanging on the wall in his office. When you arrive in the kitchen, you pick your discarded dress up off the floor, along with your bag. You pull your phone from inside and spot a text.

10:02am

Danny: Morning gorgeous, we still on for coffee at 12?

Shit! It’s 10:43!!

“Jake, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot, I’m supposed to be meeting a… friend for coffee at 12.” You splutter.

“It’s cool, I actually forgot my brother Josh is supposed to be heading over today too.” He smiles, wiggling his phone which was also long forgotten in the events that transpired last night. “You want me to drive you home?”

“Oh no, you have plans. Plus, I’ve already sorted an Uber.”

He nods, then slides you his phone. “Put your number in.”

You take his phone and type your details in, then smirk as you hand it back. He chuckles as he spots your contact name.

Y/N 💦

You get yourself re-dressed into your clothes from yesterday and hand him back his t-shirt, then make your way out to meet your Uber driver. As you reach the door, Jake’s behind you. He places a kiss to your cheek.

“I hope I get to see you again soon.” He smiles softly.

“I’m sure you will.” You reply.

As your Uber begins to pull away, you spot a white Land Rover Defender driving in through Jake’s gate.

Hmmm, his car has a twin. That must be his brother, Josh.

~

After a quick shower, you get yourself dressed and leave to meet Danny. When you arrive, he’s sat in a booth at the very back. As you approach, he looks up from his phone and shoots you a warm smile, then stands and opens his arms out to you. You hug into him, his strong arms wrapping around you as he squeezes.

“Hey, beautiful.” He hums into your hair.

You slip into the booth and the waitress wanders over to take your order. You can’t help stealing glances at Danny whilst she notes your choice onto her pad. He looks so good today, wearing a tight fitted black t-shirt that emphasises his physique.

“I’m sorry I’ve been a bit quieter than usual this week, a lot of band stuff going on.”

“It’s fine. You have stuff you gotta do.” You give him a genuine smile.

“I have missed you though… Sorry, is that too intense to say?” He grins sheepishly.

“Uh… no. I’ve um, actually missed you a bit too.”

“Hey, I’ve uh- got a party planned for tonight. I know it’s a bit late notice, but I’d really like you to come. If you want. You can bring Em, of course.”

“I’d love to! I’ll call Em, but I’m sure she’ll be down.”

You spend the next few hours chatting, your coffees growing cold. The conversation flows so effortlessly, like you’d known each other for a much longer period of time. You start to wonder if you actually could give yourself another chance at happiness, and if this is what you needed to finally see that not all men are fuck-ass dickheads.

You hug Danny goodbye, telling him you’ll see him later. You hop into your car and call Em, pressing the speakerphone button as you pull away.

“Hey baby girlllll, how was Jake?”

Shit, Jake. You’d forgotten all about him.

“Jake was… fucking out of this world in all honesty. But I’ve just finished up a coffee date with Danny and he’s invited us to a party tonight at 8. You in?”

“Obv, if there’s a party you know I’ll be there. So you’ve seen both of your men today then?”

“Em! They are not my men. I’ve known Jake for less than 24 hours, and Danny and I are just talking.”

“Yeah, mmhmm. I’ll be at yours for 6.”

When Em arrives at yours, you make light work of getting ready. Opting for something a bit more casual, you throw on a pair of high-waisted wide leg jeans with rips in the knees. You pair this with a white textured mesh top with a bralette underlay, and your Nike low Panda dunks. You lightly wave your hair, leaving it to cascade freely over your shoulders. Em orders an Uber and you stop off at the corner store, picking up a bottle of red to bring with you.

When the Uber pulls up to Danny’s place, you’re met with a similar scene to last night. A gated residence.

“Uh, Y/N. What is it you said Danny does?”

“He’s in a band… but I didn’t think it was overly successful. He’s not really given much information about it.” You frown.

You press the button on the receiver and are buzzed in, the gates sliding open for you both. You get to the door and Danny is already stood there, beaming from ear to ear. You hand him the bottle of wine and take turns giving him a hug.

“Hey, so glad you could make it!”

“Hey. Danny, your house…”

He ignores your comment and beckons you inside. There’s already a steady flow of people dotted inside, making conversation and drinking from red solo cups like it’s some sort of frat party.

“You two want a drink?” Danny asks, gesturing towards the kitchen.

You walk through his house and notice it’s a lot humbler than Jake’s. The kitchen is smaller and there’s no obnoxious bar lining an entire side. Danny grabs two cups and looks to you.

“We have beers, seltzers, wine, spirits, anything really.”

“I’ll have a seltzer, please.” You smile.

“Oooo, any white wine for me.” Em giggles.

Danny pours your drinks and you split off to mingle. You end up engaging with some of Danny’s friends and the time ticks on. Before you know it, it’s been two hours and you’re four cans of Topo Chico and a shot of whiskey in. Feeling significantly buzzed, you make your way out to Danny’s porch for a breather. Stepping out, the light breeze tickles over your face, providing a much needed dose of fresh air. You lean against the decking, taking in a deep breath. The sky is shining in beautiful shades of amber and violet as the sun sets. You take a few moments to drink in the stunning visuals, until your name is being screeched from the door.

“Y/N!!! Code red.”

You whip around to see Em sprinting towards you.

“Woah, what’s going on?”

“Uhhh… so Jake is here.”

“What! How?!” You yelp.

“I don’t know. He just turned up with a guy that looks scarily similar to him. I think they’re twins?”

So, that must be Josh…

“What do I do?”

“We can leave, if you want?”

“Yeah, I’d rather not have to explain this. I know we aren’t together, but I like Danny. I don’t want this to ruin any chance of progressing what we have.”

“I’ll go in and grab Danny’s attention, let him know you aren’t feeling well. Then you can slip out and I’ll follow behind.”

“You’re a life saver, Em.”

She heads back inside and you wait for a few moments before going in behind her. You walk through the kitchen and towards the door, noticing that Danny has his back to you speaking to Em. As you’re halfway across the living room, you lock eyes with Jake.

Fuck

You begin to panic, knowing that if you sprint out the door now, you’ll cause a scene. Instead, you start up the stairs, frantically searching for somewhere to hide yourself and think. You open the door to a bathroom and slip inside, shutting the door and walking over to the basin. You turn on the faucet and splash your wrists, feeling hot all of a sudden. As you’re stood there facing the mirror, there’s a knock at the door.

Here we fucking go

You take a deep breath and turn the handle, opening the door to find Jake stood there.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?”

[rivaldreamer]

House of Malignant - CH 2

Crossover between House of Wax & Malignant

What happens when one pair of conjoined twins meet another?~

CHAPTERS:

CH1 , CH3

————————————

Driving up through the old town, Madison admired little old Ambrose. The quaint setting reminded her a lot of the rural areas where she and Sydney grew up, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. With this remote location, she didn’t feel as anxious about being recognized.

Throughout the rest of the car ride, Lester and Sydney had been happily chatting away. Madison smiled, especially noticing how Sydney blushed at Lester’s corny jokes.

However, the closer they got to town, the more Lester’s easygoing demeanor faded.

The truck came to a rickety stop beside a gas station.

“Well, thanks a bunch Lester,” Sydney said, beaming at him.

Lester’s grip tightened on the wheel. “Y-yeah…don’t mention it…” he turned to them, “l-listen, if ya want…I can just tow yar’ truck on’ down here. Save’s ya girls the trouble and all…ya can wait back where I found ya at…”

Madison felt an odd pit in her stomach.

Sydney frowned. “Lester… we’re already here though. We may as well have a look around,” she smiled softly, “I kinda wanna see your hometown.”

Lester’s ears went red.

Just then, Madison’s phone began to screech violently, everyone jumping at the ear splitting pitch.

“S-sorry!” Madison exclaimed, fumbling with her phone, casting a look Sydney’s way.

She put the phone to her ear, Gabriel’s voice rasped and static…

“Get out of the car…”

“What-? Gab-”

“Something doesn’t feel right. Get. Out. Now.”

Madison didn’t know what to think, her fight or flight instincts kicking up. Or was that feeling coming from Gabriel…?

Before she could even react, a hand slammed down by her window.

Madison yelped.

A man came into view, smiling beneath his cap. “Well’s… you must be the fine pair of ladies Lester called ahead about,” he spoke, his southern accent thick and suave, “I’m Bo, the one he told ya’ about.

He offered his hand to shake.

Madison hesitantly shook it. “Emily, nice to meet you.”

Bo tapped his hands on the car window. “Heard you were havin’ some car troubles up the road?” He opened Madison’s door for her.

“Uh…y-yeah…”

As Madison hopped out from the truck, she got a good look at Bo. He was tall, strong features, chiseled chin, curly tuffs of hair peeking out from underneath his cap and an all around charming smile.

Overall, he was very attractive, in spite of the grease stained mechanic suit he wore.

But something about how he carried himself, how he spoke, how he smiled, egocentric, domineering… reminded her of another monster from her past…

Gabriel watched through Madison’s eyes. He too felt an odd familiarity. He didn’t know this man, if they’d met him in the past, they’d remember.

It was than that Gabriel recalled a similar man…the first face he saw after waking up for the first time in 20 years…

A man that dared put a hand on his sister and whom became Gabriel’s first kill in his rampage.

Drawing connections, Gabriel already didn’t like Bo, making his disdain known by growling, Maddie’s phone and the truck’s radio blaring with jumbled static.

Madison jumped, reaching to the back of her head and desperately shushing them.

Bo furrowed his brow, looking over into the truck. “Hey Lester! Somethin’ wrong with ya radio there?”

Lester was in the middle of helping Sydney out from the driver’s side.

As the static blared, Lester moved to hear Bo. Sydney, who’d been using him as support to get down, yelped when the movement caused her to lose her footing, falling forward and causing both her and Lester to go tumbling down into the gravel.

Lester groaned looking up to find Sydney sprawled on top of him.

“Uh…” He went red and so did Sydney once she realized the position they were in.

A wolf whistle was heard, making them both turn to see a smirking Bo.

“Well, Lester, when’s ya get a little lady on the side?” He teased.

The two of them immediately scrambled up, apologizing and giving excuses, faces red and burning.

Madison was still desperately trying to get Gabriel to calm down.

“Gabe, CALM DOWN!” She hissed into her phone, feeling his emotions flare up.

“Something’s not right!”

“Gabriel, please, we can’t just start acting out. They haven’t even done anything.”

“Yet…”

Gabriel added with cynicism.

“Gabriel…” Madison sighed, a hand to her forehead, “Gabriel, I’m not gonna say your worries are unjustified. I’m worried too…”

“The filthy one, he’s acting suspicious and his brother…I don’t like him…he’s too much like… like…”

Madison flinched at the reminder.

“Sorry…”

“No…” She reached a hand to the back of her head, “I noticed too… but I’m not afraid. I’m stronger now…”

She smiled softly.

“…and I have you.”

Madison truly meant it. She felt safer and secure knowing that Gabriel was there, assured that no matter what happened that he would protect them. Her affectionate feelings travelled over to Gabriel.

A purring buzz came over the phone. Madison couldn’t help but laugh. “Gabe! Are you purring?”

“…shut up…”

She laughed even harder.

“Talkin’ to a boyfriend?”

Madison gasped, spinning around. Bo leaned against the truck, arms folded and one leg overlapping the other, a lazy smile on his face.

Madison felt her face warm.

“Uh…no…” she waved her phone, “just my brother…”

Bo inclined his head, arching a brow. “The two of ya must be pretty close huh?”

“Oh… you have no idea.”

Madison had to bite her bottom lip to keep the shit eating grin off her face.

Bo pushed off the truck. “Well, you and your sister can go have a look around the town. Town’s a little quiet at the moment, all other folks are attending a funeral down at the church. I suggest not disturbin’ em. I’ll have Lester head on back down the road and tow ya car in.”

Madison nodded. “Thank you…”

Sydney came stumbling into view.

“Oh Sydney, where have you-?”

Sydney, red faced, stumbled over and buried her face in Madison’s chest.

“Wha-?! Sydney?!”

“Kill me now…” Came Sydney’s muffled reply.

Madison furrowed her brows. “What…?”

Bo chuckled, getting Madison’s attention.

“Seems’ ya sister and mah’ baby brother ended up gettin’ real nice and acquainted with each other.”

Madison’s brows shot up. “What? Sydney-?!”

“It was an accideeeent…” Sydney whined, still hiding her face from view.

A fierce anger and protectiveness spurred from Gabriel’s end.

“WHAT-?!”

Gabriel’s voice screeched from the phone.

Both sisters jumped, immediately shushing him, sending panicked glances Bo’s way.

Bo rose a brow.

Madison nervously chuckled. “Ah heh… guess I didn’t end the call when I thought I did…”

She immediately shoved the phone into Sydney’s hands. “Explain, to our brother what happened young lady. You know how he gets…” she ordered, trying to play it off.

Sydney raised the phone to her ear, raising a brow. “Gabe? Since when were you concerned about my love life?”

A moment of silence passed, Sydney beginning to grin like the Cheshire Cat.

“Aww! Is my big brother Gabby being overprotective?… oh you so are! Don’t deny it, ya big softie! And no I will not drop the nickname!”

Bo chuckled in amusement at the sight.

Madison let out a sigh of relief. He seems to have bought it. Then again, what else could he have expected in this situation? What are the odds someone’s going to suspect you for hiding your conjoined twin?

Bo turned to her, giving her a smile. “Seems ya brother’s a bit overprotective.”

Madison shrugged. “Would you believe it if I told you Gabriel didn’t really like her at first?”

“Not too surprisin’ ,” Bo stuffed his hands in his pockets, “most siblings don’t like it when a new one comes along, ends up stealin’ all the attention.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “It’s a bit more complicated with Gabe and I…”

“Oh yeah? How come?”

“Well, the two of us, Gabriel and I are…twins…it’s-…It’s… a long story…”

Bo looked particularly interested at that.

“Hey…” he shook his head, “we got time, gonna be a while fore’ Lester finishes towin’ ya car in. Wanna have a drink? I got beers in the garage.”

Madison meekly smiled. “I’m… not much of an alcohol person…”

“I got colas, too?” Bo offered without even passing judgement.

Madison blinked, smiling awkwardly . “Oh… okay then…”

The two of them headed into the gas station, Lester passing them to talk to Sydney. Apparently, Lester’s arrival caused Gabriel to go into a tirade of threats, his voice blaring from the phone as he told Lester to keep his filthy hands off of his sister, and offering very graphic descriptions of where he will put those hands if Lester does not heed said warnings.

Bo opened a small cooler in the corner, passing an ice cold cola to Madison. Honestly, with the sweltering heat, a cola had never seemed more tantalizing. Madison did inspect the bottle though, still suspicious, but didn’t find it to be tampered with in any way, the cap sealed tight and good.

Before Bo could even so much as offer a bottle opener, he gawked as Madison effortlessly opened the cap with her bare hands.

“Well damn… I was not expectin’ that…” he pulled out a drink of his own, leaning against the counter as he opened it. “ya sure got a strong arm on ya, little lady.”

“Oh yeah, it… runs in the family,” she shrugged, taking a long deep and soul refreshing gulp.

Bo watched her intently as she drank.

“That hit the spot…” she sighed, “how much do I owe you for the drink?”

“Nothing, it’s on the house. But ya can pay me with a story. Mind tellin’ me about the whole situation with your brother?”

“Uh…well…” Maddie really had to choose her words carefully.

“Syd- I mean-…Sunny, she’s not our biological sister. Gabriel and I are orphans, our mum gave us up when we were still a baby.”

Bo looked down into his drink, particularly scowling at that. “Sounds like a real piece of work your mother…” he huffed, going to take a sip.

Maddie glared at him. “It wasn’t her fault, she had no say. She was just a child.”

Bo choked on his drink.

“Are you okay?!”

“Fine-!” He coughed, clearing his throat, “s-sorry…”

Madison gave a sad smile.

“It’s okay, you didn’t know…”

She looked down at her own bottle as well. As she told the story, Madison could feel Gabriel’s presence slink in, no longer preoccupied with the others outside.

She took a deep breath, whispering. “It’s going to be okay…”

Bo tilted his head. “What’d you say?”

“Oh uh- sorry. Still um…bit of a rough topic to talk about, especially for my brother…”

“Well, he ain’t here right now ain’t he?” Bo took a swig from his drink.

‘Oh if only you knew…’

Gabriel grew smug and Madison smiled to herself.

“Let’s just say… um…the two of us-… kinda…disconnected? As kids?” That was the best way she could phrase it to Bo.

Bo furrowed his brows, looking up her from under hooded eyelids, gaze calculating.

“Why’d ya do that? Ain’t twins supposed tah’ stick together? Ride or die as they say?”

Madison shook her head. “We didn’t have a choice in the matter…”

Bo nodded, seeming satisfied with that response. “But the two’s of ya seem pretty close now, from what I’ve heard. Ya said he ain’t like the little blondie outside much? The one currently chatting’ up mah’ baby brother?”

Madison snorted. “S- Sunny’s real friendly like that. As for Gabriel um-… well-…let’s just say my new family adopted ME but not HIM.” She intentionally emphasized the words.

A wave of hurt and loneliness drifted in from Gabriel’s side. Madison found herself unconsciously reaching back to comfort him.

“I guess-… with a new family and a new sibling, Gabriel…um-… he must felt like… like I had abandoned and replaced him…”

“So, while you were livin’ every orphan’s dream, where’d ya brother go off to?” Bo asked curiously.

“Well- Gabriel’s always been around? Just-…just not- ugh…” she rubbed a hand over her face.

Gabriel’s emotions and hers became jumbled and confused during the conversation, neither knowing which feelings belonged to who.

“Sorry, it’s just a lot and-… it’s-… honestly it…it turned into quite a big fucking mess when both of us reconnected. Recently actually!”

Bo leaned in, brow raised. “What type of mess?”

Maddie smiled weakly. “Like…blood being spilled type of mess?”

Bo blinked looking down at the floor.

Madison shook her head vigorously.

“Sorry, you must think we’re a real cheery pair…”

Madison’s fingers dug underneath her hair, Gabriel nuzzling into her palm.

Bo tapped his finger on the bottle contemplating, before looking back up.

“Nah, I get it. I got into my fair shares of fights with mah’ brother. When I tell’s ya, the two’s of us could get into some real nasty fist fights. Hell, couple of times, back when’s we was teens, both of us had to be rushed to the emergency room. Our momma just screamin’ at us. Mostly at me,” he chuckled wryly.

Madison tilted her head, confused. “Who? You and Lester? Don’t get me wrong, he’s a bit… eccentric. But my sister’s got a good eye for people. And well… he seems like such a sweeyheart…”

Bo chuckled, shaking his head. “No, no, Lester’s third in our family. Talkin’ about mah’ other brother, the two’s of us…well, let’s just say; we’re closer in age. Sometimes the bastard can really get on mah’ nerves,” he sighed exasperated, “…but all the same, I can’t just leave em’.”

He twirled the almost empty bottle in his hand. “Funny thing’ ain’t it? Family. They can do the most fucked up shit and yet we’re willin’ tah’ forgive and protect cuz’ of the blood we share? Blood is thicker than water and all that shit...”

Bo finished off the last of his drink.

Madison tilted her head. “That’s incorrect.”

“What’d you say?”

“That saying? ‘Blood is thicker than water’? It’s actually a cut out piece from the full phrase, which is; ‘The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.’ Basically, the bonds you make through life are supposed to be stronger than the family bonds you have,” Madison smiled to herself, “although, I only partially agree with that phrase.”

Bo smiled at her.

It was small, and for a moment, it seemed like the most sincere smile he gave her since they started talking.

“Huh… well, ain’t you a well educated little lady.”

Madison felt her cheeks become warm.

Bo pushed off the counter. “So… where exactly is this Gabriel? Does he know where ya at?”

“Oh he’s… around.” Madison brought the bottle to her lips.

‘Way closer than you think…’

“What about you? Will I get to meet this mysterious second brother while I’m in town?”

Bo smirked. “Oh ya know, he’s…around.”

Madison narrowed her eyes, smiling.

Bo looked out the window, seeing Lester still chatting away with Sydney, the younger Sinclair now showing off his Bowie knife as he twirled it around.

Bo rolled his eyes, heading to the door. “I better get that lazy ass to start doin’ his job instead of wastin’ time chit chattin’.”

Madison watched him go, raising a brow. “Isn’t that exactly what we’re doing?”

Bo was halfway out the door, leaning back in, grinning. “Hey, us wastin’ time had a point to it.”

“Which was?!” Madison called after him but he was already out the door.

“Hey idiot! Quite playin’ lover boy and git’ to work!”

Madison smiled wistfully.

A radio on the shelf blared to life, Gabriel’s voice speaking through.

“Don’t tell me you actually like that asshole…”

She rolled her eyes. “No, I don’t… but he was nice to talk to…”

She did find Bo incredibly attractive but Madison didn’t think she was ready for romance, especially after everything she’d been through.

Sydney ducked into the gas station, Madison noticing how behind her Bo and Lester seemed to be having a private conversation.

“Ugh! Cockblocked by another big brother and- HEY! You’re hoarding sodas? Gimme!” Sydney exclaimed, diving forward.

Madison smirked, allowing Gabriel control.

Gabriel with deft movements, swiped the bottle out of Sydney’s reach, shoving her back.

“Cockblocked? What I did was for your own good brat,” Gabriel chuckled, voice still coming from the radio.

Sydney jumped and grabbed in futile, scowling. “Gabriel, you embarrassed me and went totally overboard with the threats!”

“I only threatened him an adequate amount…”

“You said, and I quote; ‘Put a hand on her and I will shove your teeth so far down your throat you’ll have to stick your toothbrush up your ass to clean them’! Like, what the shit?! Who even says stuff like that?”

Madison laughed, watching the two bicker with each other.

Outside, Bo and Lester finished their talk.

Lester, gave one last guilty look Sydney’s way before hopping in his truck and driving away.

Bo turned his attention back to the station, watching the girls laugh and fool around inside.

He supposed maybe he could keep the girls around for awhile, especially keep around the blondie for Lester since his brother had clearly gotten too attached to their prey. Then again, Bo had to admit he got a little attached himself.

This Emily character was entertaining, a good conversationalist and overall a real cutie.

It’ll be a shame once they kill them but the brothers couldn’t just spare every pretty face that came by.

Bo took out his phone, calling a number.

“Hey Vince, ya got company comin’ your way…”

———————————

(One more Sinclair brother to go~)

[cap-winter-barnes]

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader - Don’t Leave Me Alone

Warnings: Brief/Vague mentions of childhood & teenage abuse. Y/N has a panic attack due to physical touch.

Someone requested this piece but I lost their @ so apologies for not tagging you when I said I would - hope this is okay for my first Spencer fic.

You’ve been a member of the BAU team for over a year and yet you’re still not ready to open up to your colleagues about your past. Hotch had made it clear to the team that you were not one for physical contact, handshakes and hugs were off the cards. Even a hand on your shoulder is enough to set you off in a panic. Your childhood into your teen years were a painful experience that has left you fearing human contact, even the slightest touch can trigger a panic attack, something you desperately try to avoid. Spencer respects your personal space, especially as he struggles to deal with people touching him too. But he can’t help but want to provide you with support to hold you when he can see that you’re struggling with your own mind or freaking out after a case.

The teams most recent case has you travelling to the humid climate of Florida. With the weather causing an unreal amount of heat and discomfort you reluctantly opted to wear a short-sleeved t-shirt rather than your usual long-sleeved blouse. It made the bullet-proof vest just that little bit more bearable. Yet you didn’t account for the local Sheriff to take it upon himself to grab your upper arm during an argument with one of his detectives. The detective in question had been making derogatory comments towards you, JJ & Emily the entire time you had been at the precinct and you had finally had enough. After calling you ‘sweetheart’ for what must have been the hundredth time, you needed to speak your mind.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, Detective,” your words laced with venom. “But my name isn’t sweetheart, or honey, or darlin’. It’s Y/N.” Silence follows your outburst.

“Well, darlin’. Maybe if you dressed more respectably you’d be treated as such.” The smirk on his face irks you beyond reason, so much so, that you leap from your position on the desk across from him.

“What did you just say to me?” Reid, JJ & Hotch all close in to defend you but you raise your hand to stop them. “I’ve got this don’t worry.”

“Yeah, the little princess over here can handle herself.” This earns chuckles from the other detectives and officers around the room.

“Right, that’s enough!” The Sheriff storms through but with your back turned to him, you don’t realise that he’s reaching for you as you take a step back, getting into his bad books isn’t going to help the progression of the case. It’s too late for your team to step in as they realise what is about to happen just as his hand closes around your upper arm. On instinct you’re body reacts in the only way it knows - a panic attack. You try to pull away as his grip tightens trying to move you aside for a quiet conversation but that isn’t happening now.

“LET ME GO!” You repeat the phrase as loud as your voice will allow you. His touch instantly causes your mind to picture the violence you suffered in your younger years. Tears stream from your eyes as your panic intensifies. You can just about make out the voices of Reid & JJ as they try to comfort you and reassure you whilst Hotch is demanding you be let go. When the Sheriff finally releases you under the threats of Hotch, your can no longer hold yourself upright, on instinct, Spencer catches you as you fall.

“I’m so, so sorry Y/N, but we need to get you someone quiet. I’m so sorry.” Spencer cradles you in his arms as he half walks, half carries you to an empty filing room for some privacy.

“Spencer, I’m so sorry. I’m so-“

“Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for. This isn’t your fault.” As he settles you down he pulls his hands away to let you go, fingers outstretched like approaching a wounded animal. But you reach out, taking his hands in yours.

“Please, Spence.” Your words are breathless as you speak, begging him to stay, to touch you. To comfort you. “Stay with me?”

“Of course.” His grip on your hands tighten as he sits himself beside you. “I’ll always stay for you.” You respond with a tight smile, grateful for him not pressuring you to reveal anything from your past, grateful for the respect he shows for your personal space. Yet now, nothing comforts you more than the feeling of his thumb dancing across the back of your hands, calming you unintentionally. For once in your life, you feel comforted and relaxed by someone’s touch. Maybe it isn’t so bad after all, yet only time will tell. And maybe you can finally let Spencer into your heart that little bit more like you so desperately want to.

[fatecantstopme]

Don't Take The Girl

Pairing: Luke Alvez x wife!reader

Summary: While on a case with the team, you end up on the wrong side of a gun and Luke has to save you. Ends with fluff and smut.

Warnings: Weapons, mentions of death, angsty AF. SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V). Cursing. Use of pet names.

You never expected to be in this position. You'd been shot at more times than you'd care to remember, but you'd never experienced anything like this. You'd never been this truly terrified.

You could feel the cold metal of the gun pressed against the back of your head and your heart was hammering in your chest. You didn't bother to beg for your life--you knew he wasn't thinking clearly anyway.

You entered the police station, the man behind you, the gun firmly in place. The first face you saw was your husband's and you said his name softly, but loudly enough to catch his attention.

Luke turned to look at you, taking in the look on your face. He saw the fear before what was happening behind you registered in his mind. "(Y/N)?" he said as he stepped forward.

"Don't move," the man behind you snapped.

Luke immediately held his hands up, gaining the attention of everyone else in the station, including the members of your team that were standing near him.

"Just take it easy," Luke said calmly. "Let's talk this through."

"I want the man who killed my son."

"Mr. Carter, you know this isn't the way to get justice for Ryan," Emily said gently.

"I'll only deal with one of you, so pick," Mr. Carter insisted.

Emily took a step back, allowing Luke to take control. It was his wife's life on the line after all.

"You can talk to me, Jim," Luke said gently, hands still raised in the air. "Can I call you Jim?"

Mr. Carter--Jim--nodded his head.

Luke took a tentative step forward. "I can't imagine what you must be going through."

Luke's eyes shifted to your face and his heart nearly broke. Your breathing was labored and shallow, eyes filled with unshed tears, lips quivering slightly. You were clearly terrified, yet you managed to retain your composure.

He'd never been this terrified in his life. His heart was close to beating right out of his chest and he fought the urge to run to you and pull you out of harm's way. He'd been to war, he'd been blown up, shot, held hostage...but nothing could compare to the terror he felt in this moment.

"But hurting (Y/N) isn't going to bring back your son," Luke continued.

"I don't want to hurt her. I don't want to hurt any of you. I just want the man who killed Ryan," Jim said firmly.

"You know I can't give him to you," Luke countered softly.

Jim cocked the gun and you inhaled sharply. You didn't wanna die, and you definitely didn't want Luke to watch you die, but there was nothing you could do.

"I will shoot her," Jim shouted.

Luke took an instinctive step forward, terror evident in his handsome features. "Please," he begged. "You don't wanna hurt her."

Your eyes fluttered closed and you took a deep breath in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

"Bring him to me and I won't."

"I can't," Luke said softly. "But I can promise you that we'll do everything we can to ensure he pays for what he did to your son and the other victims."

"You can't promise me that," he yelled. "My only child is dead! I want revenge!"

His yelling only served to make you more afraid. You could tell he was starting to unravel, which meant your death was becoming more likely and more imminent.

"I know you do," Luke insisted. "I get it, I really do, but revenge won't make you feel better. It won't bring him back."

Tears welled in Jim's eyes. "He was all I had," he whispered.

"I'm so sorry, Jim," Luke murmured as he took another step towards you. Three more steps and he'd be within arm's reach. "If you put the gun down, we can talk--"

"No! I don't wanna talk!"

You let out a soft whimper as the gun pressed more firmly into your skull.

"(Y/N/N)," Luke whispered, a tone of desperation in his voice.

"I'm okay," you whispered back.

Despite his hazy state of mind, Jim seemed to notice the tension between you and Luke. "What is she to you?" he asked Luke.

"My life," he answered honestly. "My wife, my family, my everything."

Tears began to flow down your face at his words. He loved you more than anything in the world and you loved him just as much. The mere thought of losing you was enough to break him.

'I love you,' you mouthed to Luke.

Tears welled up in his own dark eyes as he nodded at you. "I love her more than life itself," he said softly.

Luke's words seemed to get through to Jim, softening his demeanor and bringing him back to reality. He slowly lowered the gun and released you from his hold. The moment you were free, you ran to Luke at the same moment he ran towards you.

Emily and JJ rushed forward to take the gun from Jim, rendering everyone safe. Jim repeated "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," over and over as Emily led him to an interview room.

Luke's arms were wrapped around you so tightly you could hardly breathe. When Jim, Emily, and JJ left the room, Luke pulled away from you to take in your appearance.

"Are you okay, baby?" he whispered as he touched your face and neck.

"I'm alright, Luke," you whispered back. "Thanks to you."

"I didn't do anything. Just spoke the truth."

You leaned into his chest as he wrapped you into a hug. "And that's what saved me."

He kissed the top of your head as he held you. He was almost too afraid to let you go--as if you'd disappear if he stopped holding you. "I thought I was gonna lose you," he said so softly you weren't sure you were meant to hear it.

"I'm harder to get rid of than that," you mumbled into his chest.

He laughed lightly, the sound warming your soul. "Thank God for that."

You pulled away from him to look at his face. "I was a little worried too, honestly."

He nodded. "I know, baby. I know," he sighed. "I love you so much, you know."

You smiled at him. "More than life itself, apparently."

He blushed. "I meant it."

"I know--and I love you just as much."

He kissed you softly, a kiss you returned gladly. The feel of his arms around you grounded you in a way you didn't even realize you needed.

"Come on," you said as you pulled away from him. "We need to go talk to him."

Luke's eyes widened. "I'm not letting you go in there."

You raised an eyebrow as you regarded him. "It was my life on the line, Luke, not yours. And I understand why he did what he did. He's just a broken-hearted father looking for justice. Besides, he didn't hurt me and he's certainly not going to hurt me now."

He sighed. "Fine, just--just stay on the other side of the table from him, please?"

You agreed and followed your husband into the interview room.

**********

When you got back to the hotel, you were exhausted. It had been a very eventful day. You had opted to not press charges against Jim Carter...you understood what he was feeling and you didn't want to make things worse for him.

Luke disagreed of course, but he didn't fight with you as much as you'd thought he would. He was just glad you were alive.

Luke pulled you into him the moment the hotel door was closed. He kissed you so passionately that the breath left your body. After what felt like an eternity, he finally separated from you, both of you completely breathless.

"I've never been so scared in my life," he whispered.

"Me neither," you said honestly.

He kissed you again. "I don't wanna let you go."

You practically melted into his touch. "Then don't."

Luke's fingers intertwined in your hair as he pulled you even farther into him. He couldn't stop holding onto you and you didn't want him to. The way he held you spoke volumes about how he was feeling and how much you meant to him.

Luke wasted no time ridding you of your clothes and his own. Either his hands or his lips were attached to your body every single moment.

He gently pushed you back against the bed, letting you collapse on top of it. He crawled on top of you, touching every single inch of your bare skin.

"Luke," you whined. "Please, baby--I need you."

Your soft voice spoke to his soul. He needed you as badly as you needed him. "I've got you, my love."

Normally, he'd want to take his time with you--make sure you were ready for him, but neither of you wanted to wait. Today had been too much for both of you and all you wanted was to feel him--all of him.

You were already soaked, his soft lips and firm hands enough to get you where you needed to be. He gripped your hips as he slowly slid inside of you, eliciting a gasp and a moan from deep in your throat.

"Luke..." you moaned softly. "Feels so good."

"I know, baby. So tight--so good for me."

You clung to him as he moved, moans dancing between the two of you. He couldn't stop himself from whispering sweet words to you. He needed to make sure you knew how much he loved you.

"You're so amazing, sweets. I love every part of you," he murmured.

His words brought you closer to the edge as each thrust brought you immense pleasure. Words had escaped you, only able to moan and whisper his name as he moved inside of you.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered as he kissed your neck. "My beautiful girl. I never wanna let you go."

"Please..." you whimpered.

Luke knew exactly what you needed. He slid a hand between your bodies, finding your clit with ease. He gently rubbed circles around it, bringing you even closer to orgasm.

"I know you're close, baby. I wanna feel you. Can you cum for me, sweet girl?"

You gasped in pleasure as he pushed you right over the edge. "Luke!" you cried out, pleasure overwhelming you as you exploded around him.

"(Y/N)," he groaned loudly. "Baby--I'm gonna--" His voice broke off as he came, filling you with his seed.

He helped you ride out your high before collapsing on top of you, lips pressing to every inch of skin within reach. "I love you, baby. So damn much."

"I love you too, my love," you said softly, placing a kiss to the top of his head. "You're my world."

After a few minutes, Luke was able to roll off of you and make it to the bathroom. He grabbed a hot, wet washcloth and began to clean you up. He kissed you sweetly as often as he could and mumbled sweet nothings as he cleaned you.

Once he deemed you clean enough, he crawled back into the bed beside you and pulled you into his chest.

You settled in against him, feeling so warm and content in his arms. "Don't let go," you whispered.

"Never," he whispered back, pressing kisses into your skin.

You'd never felt more blessed in your life than you did in this moment. Laying here in the arms of the love of your life...you were so thankful to be alive. Thankful to be with Luke--thankful for Luke. You'd never felt so loved either. He was your world and you were his. He would have traded places with you in a heartbeat, would have given his life for yours without thought.

All that mattered to him was that the two of you were here in this moment--that you were wrapped in his arms. He wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with you. He was still shaken from the events of that afternoon, but he was so happy--so content--just to be with you.

[sequinsmile-x]

Our Great Divide - Chapter 4: Beyond the Terror in the Nightfall

It's what they'd hoped would happen for years. For close to a decade it's what they would talk about late at night whilst snuggled up in bed together, quiet voices whispering about a life where Jack and Haley came back, where Jack could meet his siblings and their family would finally feel complete. Now it was finally happening, Emily had a pit in her stomach. A heavy weight made of fear and guilt as she worried that this could actually be the thing that tore them apart.

A Foyet Arc AU

-x-

Hi friends <3

I continue to be blown away by the love for this fic, thank you so so much. This is such an interesting perspective to explore their story from and it means so much that you're enjoying it too <3

As always, let me know what you think of this chapter !

-x-

Warnings: Full list of warnings can be found on the Master List

Words: 4.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily’s grateful to have Stella in her lap. The reassuring and familiar weight of her youngest keeping her grounded as they had a family conversation Emily had pictured so many times. She’d semi-practised it in her head when hope had a hold on her, but the reality of doing it was so much more difficult than she’d imagined. 

“Do you understand?” Aaron asks, Leo and Hugo sat on either side of him, matching expressions on their faces that usually brought her joy. Hugo nods, his lips pressed together as he speaks first. 

“So Jack and Miss Haley are back home?” 

Aaron nods, his arm around the boy's shoulders as he tugs them closer, his need to have his children near as strong as it had ever been. He smiles tightly at Emily before he responds, “That’s right.” 

“Can we meet them?” Hugo asks, his innocence allowing him to be excited, “I’ve always wanted a big brother.” 

It feels like a punch in the gut, the reality that in another life, when things had been simpler, Hugo would have always known his older brother. That they’d have grown up together and been close. Jack’s resistance to even hear about his siblings, whilst understandable, had hurt Aaron more than he’d admit. His naive fantasy that this would work out the way he’d been dreaming of for years crumbling around him. 

“We’ll take this one step at a time, baby,” Emily says, replying for her husband, “We’ve got time,” she smiles when Hugo nods, his disappointment silent but clear. She looks at Leo, her heart clenching at his confusion, “Do you understand Leo?” 

He nods but furrows his brow, “Do you think he’ll like me?” 

Emily tilts her head, “Who sweetie? Jack?” 

Leo nods again, “What if he doesn’t like me?” 

Aaron is snapped out of the semi-trance he’d fallen into at the shake in his son’s voice, and he tugs him closer, kissing Leo’s dark hair, “Of course, he’ll like you,” he smiles softly, “Everyone likes you, buddy.” 

Emily smiles as Leo beams and she turns her attention to Stella, tilting her head as she looks down at her little girl, “Do you understand sweet girl?” 

“The bad guy is gone, and Jack is home,” she says, summing it up in such a way, her sweet voice making it sound even more innocent, that Emily pulls her closer on instinct, kissing the top of her head. 

“That’s right baby,” she says, smiling when Stella turns to wrap her arms around her, always keen to be in the arms of one of her parents, “Do any of you have any other questions?” She asks, and Leo raises his hand, something he’d started doing since he’d learnt it in school, and she chuckles, “Yes Leo?” 

“Can we have pizza for dinner?”

She laughs, unable to stop herself, and she feels a little lighter when Aaron does too, the speed at which their children had accepted something so complicated so easily enough to ease some of the tension that had settled over them. She looks at Aaron, who nods, his smile as relaxed as she’d seen it in days, and then she looks back at her youngest son, “Yes, baby. I’m sure we can manage that.” 

They have dinner together and it feels normal, like the last week or so hadn’t happened, and Emily feels guilty for how grateful she is. Aaron puts Stella to bed, and then Emily puts Leo to bed, taking more time than she usually would as she does it, revelling in the one-on-one time with her youngest son as she reads him a story until he falls asleep against her. When she makes it back downstairs she hears laughter, twin giggles from Aaron and their son as he gives Hugo a piggyback around the hallway. It was a game they’d played since Hugo was small, small enough that it had worried Emily at first, her mother’s instincts kicking in as her toddler laughed so much on his father’s back that she worried he’d fall. She stands back and watches them, letting the small piece of normality wash over her as she leans against a wall, her shoulder catching a framed photo of their family of 5 from Hugo’s most recent birthday. 

She’s pulled out of the moment when the doorbell rings and she frowns, wondering who would come over at this time of night. She walks to the door, keen to answer it before the bell rings again and potentially wakes up either of her kids sleeping upstairs. She doesn’t check the peephole, so she doesn’t prepare herself for coming face-to-face with her husband’s ex-wife. 

“Haley,” she chokes out, clearing her throat in an attempt to hide her surprise, “I…wasn’t expecting to see you.” 

Haley smiles tightly, “I felt bad for how we left the other day,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest, “I thought we should talk some more.”

Emily nods and stares at her for a second before she realises she’s still blocking the door. She takes a step backwards, “Sorry, come in.” 

Haley walks into the house. She doesn’t hide how she looks around, her gaze drifting from photo to photo hung on the walls, every corner of their house the home they’d fought for it to be. She turns to look back at Emily, “It’s a lovely house.” 

“Thanks,” she replies, the awkwardness misplaced in her home, “Would you like something to-”

“Sweetheart,” Aaron says, turning the corner, Hugo still on his back, “Who was that at the…” he trails off when he sees his ex-wife, “Haley.”

Emily watches as realisation crosses Hugo’s face and she walks over, helping him down from Aaron’s back, “Why don’t you go up to your room, honey?” She says, crouching down to his level and scraping his hair back from his face, encouraging him to look at her and not the blonde woman standing in the hall. 

“But-”

“Please, sweetheart?” She asks, “I’ll come up and see you in a little bit,” she promises, “You can play the Switch up there.” 

His eyes go wide at the offer, “Really?”

She nods, grateful that bribery still worked now he is no longer a tiny thing that needed to be talked into brushing his teeth, “Really,” she confirms, kissing his forehead, “Just this once, okay.” 

“Okay,” he says enthusiastically, running off to the den to grab the Switch before he trundles up the stairs. 

It’s only when he’s out of sight that she stands up straight, shaking off her husband’s apologetic smile as she presses her hand against his back, rubbing a soothing circle to remind him that she was there no matter what, “Shall we go sit down?” She offers, and he nods, and she looks up at Haley, “Do you want something to drink?” 

Haley shakes her head, “No thank you.” 

They settle in the living room, Emily so close to Aaron that she’s practically in his lap, their thighs pressed against each other as their joint hands settle on her thigh. He’s sure it’s some kind of subconscious attempt to mark her territory, as if they weren’t sitting in some kind of museum of their love for each other. 

“I’m sorry for the other day,” Haley says, clearing her throat as she settles on the opposite end of the couch to them, “Jack is…it’s been a lot for him. He’s a teenager and thats hard at the best of times,” she says, unknowingly repeating what Emily had said when they’d left her office, “And I was surprised at the news that you had children. I just needed some time to…adjust,” she blows out a shaky breath, “I know it isn’t fair. But I don’t think in any of the ways I imagined this I pictured coming back to find out you had a new family. That you’d just…replaced us.” 

Something about the way she says it has Emily’s shackles going up, her back tight with the implication that she and her children were some kind of consolidation prize. A backup that wouldn’t have been needed if things had turned out differently. 

“My family isn’t a replacement, Haley,” Aaron says, an edge of sternness creeping into his voice as he tightens his hold on Emily’s hand, “And I could never replace Jack. He’s my son.” 

Haley sighs and nods, “You’re right. I’m sorry. This is just an impossible situation,” she smiles tightly, “There aren’t any books on it. I checked.” 

Emily smiles, “Me too.” 

Haley returns her smile, her gaze flicking to a picture on the wall, “Your children are adorable.” 

“Thanks,” Emily replies, looking at the picture herself, her children’s matching smiles shining back at her, “We think so too.” 

“How do manage with work?” Haley asks, “I noticed Emily’s name on your old desk, Aaron,” she says as she looks at him, “Did you finally get that promotion?” 

He takes a deep breath, knowing his answer would likely get a reaction, his inability to do for Haley and Jack what he’d done for Emily and their children had been one of the reasons his first marriage had turned to dust around him. Settling on every good memory that had come before it, each happy moment he’d had with his eldest son and Haley marred by how their relationship had ended. By the choices he had made. 

“Actually, I retired when Hugo, our eldest, was born,” he says, watching as his ex-wife’s shoulders get tense again, “One of us had to, and Emily wasn’t ready to leave yet. So we eventually came to the decision that I should.” 

“You…you retired?” She asks, swallowing thickly as a bitter laugh pushes free from her throat, “You did the one thing that would have stopped any of this from happening if you’d just done it years ago when I asked?” She shakes her head and laughs again, “But, sure Emily wanted to carry on working so you retired no questions asked.” 

Aaron sighs, “Haley-”

“It doesn’t matter that my son and I had to hide for so long. That we had to live under different names and break off contact with everyone we knew. As long as you got to start everything from scratch and make the right choice this time it’s all okay.” 

“Haley-” he tries again, but he’s cut off by Emily this time, her fury clear from the way she grips his thigh, her blunt nails digging in through his jeans. 

“You don’t get to come into my house and speak to my husband like that,” Emily says, protectiveness flaring in her lungs, “I understand this is difficult-”

Haley scoffs, “Oh, you understand-”

“But you aren’t the only one who has been impacted by this,” she says, carrying on as if Haley hadn’t spoken, “We’re all trying our best.” 

She can see how tight Haley’s jaw is from across the couch, but she nods sharply, “Okay,” she clears her throat, “I know,” she screws her hands up in her lap, “I think it would be good if we tried to all get together again. Jack would…he would like to meet his siblings. But maybe not here.” 

Aaron nods, the tension in the room thick enough that he struggles to fill his lungs, “How about that park we used to go to? The one near Capitol Hill?” 

“That sounds good.” 

“Mommy.” 

Emily sighs at the sound of Hugo’s voice travelling down the stairs, his patience clearly running out. She looks at her husband and squeezes his hand, “I’d better go up and see him.” 

He nods and kisses her cheek before she stands up, and she smiles tightly at Haley before she leaves the room, not quite able to fill her lungs until she’s out in the hall. She takes the stairs two at a time, smiling when she sees Hugopurposely standing just inside of his bedroom so he keeps in line with her request to stay in there. 

“Hi sweetie,” she says, ruffling his hair before she steps into his room, “Are you okay?” 

He shrugs, his eyebrows furrowed as he sinks into his bed, “Is that Miss Haley?” 

She nods as she sits on his bed with him, gathering him up against her side, needing the comfort of her little boy, “Yes, it is.” 

“She sounds mad.” 

She closes her eyes as she presses a kiss to his head, settling them down so they are lying next to each other, “She is, honey. But I think she’s mostly sad.” 

He frowns as he looks up at her, “Did Daddy do something wrong?” 

She shakes her head, running her fingers through his hair, “No, baby. No one did anything wrong. It’s just…really complicated,” she says, unable to stop herself from smiling when he looks confused, “It’s hard. Like that big puzzle with all those tiny pieces that Aunt Tara got you for your birthday.” 

He nods in understanding and rests his head back against her chest, “I miss things being simple.” 

She smiles again, “Me too, sweet boy,” she says, kissing his head, soaking in the scent of him like she had done since he was just hours old, “Want me to stay until you fall asleep?” 

“Yes please, Mommy.” 

She sings to him until he starts to drift off, his body heavy against her as his breath evens out. She stays with him long after he falls asleep, content to stay in the relative peace she’d made in his room. She sighs when she hears the front door open and close, and then Aaron’s footsteps on the stairs. She closes her eyes and relaxes her grip on Hugo just enough that her husband would hopefully think she was sleeping, the thought of talking this through again, of having to discuss how complicated everything had become again, enough to make her cry. All she wanted was to lay here with her oldest and pretend it was just a normal night. 

If Aaron knows she’s faking it, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he leans over her and kisses Hugo’s forehead and then hers, whispering an apology against her skin before he leaves the room for a second. He’s back with a blanket that he lays over her before he kisses the top of her head one more time. He turns off the light and gently closes the door behind him, leaving her and Hugo alone and safely tucked up in his small bed. 

She falls asleep curled up around her son, hoping more than anything they’d make it through this.

___

March 2013

It had been hours of this. Hours of laying on her back, of being checked on by nurses and doctors as her labour slowly progressed. With each passing contraction she felt more on edge and the only things keeping her grounded were her husband and the thought they’d soon be meeting their son. 

She had a plan. She was going to spend as much of her labour on her feet as she could, letting gravity do its job as she waited for her son to make his entrance into the world. Hugo, it seemed, had other plans. 

She’d felt nothing short of ridiculous when she cried as her due date came and went with no signs of labour - not even a Braxton Hicks contraction which had been happening on and off for weeks. She tried everything to induce labour naturally, her doctor’s warning that she shouldn’t go past 41 weeks ringing in the back of her mind. Aaron bought her every type of spicy food possible. He went to a specific whole foods store to buy her tea, which the internet said would start her labour. They had enough sex to rival the early days of their relationship, with no small amount of manoeuvring and her pile of pillows to make sure she was comfortable. 

Nothing had worked. So her plan was torn from under her and she had no choice but to lay in bed as an IV delivered medication to do what her body hadn’t been able to do for itself. She knew it wasn’t her fault, that it was just one of those things, but it didn’t make it any easier to take. 

She’d wanted one thing about her pregnancy to be as she’d hoped it would be. 

She clenches her teeth to capture a groan, her grip on Aaron’s hand so tight she’s sure she feels his knuckles crack together but it barely registers as the contraction rips through her. She screws her eyes shut as she tries to breathe through it. Aaron rests his forehead against her temple, whispering comforting praise as the contraction reaches its peak and then fades. It had been hours of this. Her body pushed almost to its limit each time, and she was exhausted. 

“Fuck,” she exclaims, resting back against the bed again, “Fuck this sucks,” she opens her eyes and looks at her husband, something she refused to call a pout spreading across her face, “Why won’t he come out?” He opens his mouth to respond and she cuts him off, “And don’t give me any of that ‘you’ve made a comfortable home for him’ bullshit,” she grimaces, shifting her hips to try to find some relief from the discomfort in her back, “I can feel him in my fucking pelvis and I doubt it’s any more comfortable for him than it is for me.” 

Aaron simply leans forward to kiss her forehead, “Want me to get the nurse to come and check on you again?” He asks, his endless patience for her almost irritating. She nods and he kisses her forehead again before reaching over her and pressing the call bell on the wall, “You’re doing amazing, sweetheart.” 

She squeezes his hand tightly again when the nurse examines her, and she’s disappointed that she’s not much further along, the desire to meet her son even stronger than her desire for this to all be over. 

It takes another hour for things to change, for the contractions to get closer together and for the pain to become close to overwhelming, each pass of it through her body almost too much for her to bear. Everything she’s been ignoring for months starts to creep up on her, the fear that she wouldn’t be able to keep her little boy safe pressing down on her chest, her lungs tight as another contraction rolls through her. 

“I can’t do this.” 

She doesn’t even realise she’s spoken outloud until Aaron presses her hand between both of his, kissing her knuckles as the machine she’s attached to lets him know her contraction is coming to its end, “Em, you’re doing an amazing job. You’re so close - Hugo is almost here.” 

She shakes her head, “No, you don’t…” she trails off, her laugh close to hysterical as she looks at him, tears splashing down onto her cheeks, “He’s safe where he is. I can’t protect him when he’s here,” her voice cracks and she thinks her chest does with it, the pressure of everything forcing it to concave as she tries to breathe. Aaron cups her face, rubbing back and forth across her cheek, “I can’t do this. He has to stay safe.” 

Aaron stands up and sits on the edge of her bed and presses his forehead against hers, “Emily, you can do anything,” he says, kissing her before she leans in to rest her head against his shoulder, “You’re the strongest person I know,” he rubs his hand up and down her back, his eyes flicking to the monitor as she tightens her grip on him, her body tense against him as another contraction starts to build, “And I’ll keep you both safe no matter what. We’ll keep each other safe.” 

She shudders out a breath as she pulls back to look at him, her eyes shining as her lower lip trembles, “I think…I think it’s almost time.” 

He smiles softly, “I’ll get the nurse.”

___

She gasps as her son slips into the doctor’s waiting hands, the relief overwhelming as she collapses back against the bed. She barely pays attention as Aaron kisses her temple and then her cheek as he tells her how much he loves her, how proud he is of her. She doesn’t notice how the nurse on her other side pulls down her gown leaving her practically naked. 

All she is aware of is him. 

Hugo’s cry is loud and sharp, and as the doctor holds him up and passes him to her, letting Emily settle him against her chest, she feels a wave of love rush through her, her breath catching in her lungs as she looks at him. He was bright red and covered in god knows what, his dark hair stuck down to his cone-shaped head, and he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life. 

“Hi Hugo,” she whispers, kissing his head, “Hi. Look at you,” she looks up at Aaron, sure she’d be knocked over if she wasn’t lying down at the strength of the love in his gaze, and she cups his cheek, “Look at him, Aaron.” 

“He’s beautiful,” he says, kissing her head and then Hugo’s, “Just like you.” 

She looks back at her son, smiling as he continues to cry. She shushes him, resting her cheek against his head, “You’re okay, baby,” she says, “Mommy’s here.” 

“Would Dad like to cut the cord?” 

The doctor’s question is what reminds Emily that they aren’t alone, that it isn’t just the three of them in their own little world, and Aaron nods, kissing his wife and son one more time before he stands up. He pays close attention as the doctor tells him what to do as Emily continues to whisper to Hugo, telling him how loved he is, how much they’ve been looking forward to meeting him. 

By the time they are alone, what feels like hours later, Hugo clean and wrapped up warm in Emily’s arms, and her fresh out of the shower, she doesn’t think she’s ever been happier. She’s exhausted, sore in ways she didn’t know was possible, but she doesn’t think she could sleep even if she wanted to. All she wants is to sit and look at her son, to commit every single thing about his sweet face to memory, and enjoy this first night of his life. 

She looks up at her husband as he barely covers a yawn for the third time in as many minutes. He’s sitting on the bed with her, half behind her as he has his arms wrapped around the both of them, his excitement and happiness tinged with the sadness that followed them everywhere. The sadness that, for once, she wasn’t going to address.

“You should get some sleep, honey,” she says, unhooking one arm from around Hugo as she cups Aaron’s cheek, “You’re exhausted.” 

He chuckles, “You’re the one who gave birth, sweetheart,” he says, stamping a quick kiss against her lips, “You should get some rest.” 

She shakes her head lovingly, “I feel too wired to sleep,” she says, “You’ve been awake just as long as I have,” she kisses him again, “Get some sleep. We’ll both be here when you wake up.” 

She knows she’s hit on his fear in one shot, hours and hours of labour not enough to dull her skills, and he rests his forehead against hers, “You’ll wake me up if you need anything?”

She nods, her forehead knocking gently against his, “I promise.” 

It takes some manoeuvring for him to slip out from behind her, but they manage it without waking up Hugo. Aaron kisses them both and tells them he loves them before he settles onto the cot the nurse had rolled in for him. Emily has to stop herself from laughing when he has to curl up to fit on the small bed, at least a foot too tall to sleep on it comfortably. Despite that, he falls asleep the quickest she’s ever known him to, his arms wrapped around the thin pillow. 

“Daddy loves us so much, sweet boy,” she says, turning her focus back on her son. She runs her knuckles up and down his cheek, smiling when his face twitches against the touch. The fear she’d felt earlier that she couldn’t keep him safe returns in full force, stealing the breath from her lungs as she lifts the baby to kiss his forehead, her breath shuddering in her chest as she breathes him in, “I’m going to make sure you’re always safe, Hugo,” she kisses him again, her eyes closed as she rests her cheek against the top of his head, “No matter what.” 

[satansapostle6]

fire and ice | james cook

Cook’s interest is piqued when an old childhood friend moves in across the street.

Warning: Mature themes/language. Drug use. Sexual content.

part five.

part six. tiff and cook.

“Spliff?”

“Right here, Tiffy.”

Tiff was thrilled to find that she and Cook still had drugs left on their chaotic walk about town. They hadn’t seen each other for almost a week now, outside of passing glances at college. Both had forgotten about one another, at least for a short while.

“Tiffy?”

Cook was already far gone, trailing behind Tiffany like a lost dog begging for scraps. And it appeared he still wasn’t done begging for scraps, eyes quickly lowering as she adjusted her oversized T-shirt that had once belonged to her brother, revealing a tiny black thong that went higher than her jeans. Cook gave a toothy grin as he stumbled about.

“Yes?” she responded.

“My willy won’t go down,” he giggled.

“That sounds like a personal problem, Cook,” she sighed, bored.

“Fucking hell, where are we?” he breathed, stopping out of necessity for air.

They were in an alleyway somewhere, with no real distinguishing landmarks to gauge their whereabouts. Cook saw nothing but walls and cement.

“I don’t know, Cook,” Tiff sighed, stopping as she turned to wait for him. “That’s why I’m trying to find the way back to the pub.”

A couple of hours ago, they had been drinking at a pub with a few friends, but had since wandered off on their own in search of excitement, and danger. But so far, all they’d found was dirty smells and deafening silence.

“Hold on. I’ve gotta piss.”

Tiff heaved an exasperated sigh as she instinctively snatched the spliff from his hand and turned around. James Cook hardly had the patience to wait around before Tiff heard the unmistakable sound of a sliding zipper and a stream that was hitting the side of the poor building on the side of them.

Tiff rolled her eyes at him as she crossed her arms, waiting, when she heard a loud voice that interrupted their silence at the most inopportune moment.

“Tiff?! Cook?! Is that you?”

“Fuck,” Tiff muttered under her breath. “Fucking Hachi.”

“It’s me! Katie!”

Cook was still a bit preoccupied as Tiff tried to be as pleasant as possible while smoking the spliff, almost as if to speed up the process.

“Yeah, it’s us,” Tiff said softly.

Whenever Tiff spoke to Katie, she spoke almost as if she was hoping she wouldn’t be able to hear her so that she didn’t have to listen to Katie’s response.

“Oh, what the hell!” Katie Fitch exclaimed, instantly turning away from them so that she didn’t have to look at Cook.

“Had to piss,” Cook reiterated, as if that was what needed explaining.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Katie demanded. “Everyone’s been so worried about you two! We thought you might be dead in a ditch somewhere!”

“We got bored,” Tiff said matter-of-factly.

Tiff thought Katie was dramatic and irritating sometimes.

“So this is what you’re doing?” Katie concluded. “Wandering around pissing in filthy alleyways?”

“Yeah,” Cook nodded pridefully.

“Well, can I at least join?” she asked, crossing her arms indignantly. “Lost my way back to the pub.”

“Sure,” Cook agreed, zipping his pants and continuing on as if nothing had happened.

“Whatever,” Tiff followed him, not bothering to wait for Katie.

How she hadn’t gotten the hint by now, she had no idea.

“Hey, wait for me!”

It wasn’t that Tiff hated Katie; she did think that she had good style, and that she was a bit of a spitfire. But Tiff also didn’t like Katie. Tiff had felt that Emily was the more authentic twin, and Effy was easier to hang out with. Katie tried too hard to be someone that she forgot to be herself, and Tiff had picked up on it the moment they met.

“You want some of this?” Cook slurred as he stole the spliff back from Tiff and hit it hard.

“No, thanks,” Katie said curtly.

She was more of a drinker, but not even as much of a drinker as Cook and Tiff. Cook and Tiff were both notorious for finishing off entire bottles just between the two of them, not to mention, Katie had also seen them both chase their vodka with whiskey.

They were both wild and insane, and this point was reiterated to her as she watched Tiffany decide to finish off the spliff all on her own, feeling the need to catch up to Cook in terms of level of intoxication. James Cook definitely had a high tolerance, but somehow, Tiff would sometimes outlast him and require a bit more sustenance to maintain her high.

That was the thing with the both of them; they were able to drink and do drugs together more often because there was this understanding that they both needed the feeling to last.

“Hey, Tiffy?”

“What?”

“How much would I have to pay you if I wanted you to kill an innocent man?” Cook asked completely out of the blue as they walked along to nowhere.

Katie was certainly thrown off by this new conversation topic. Tiff, however, didn’t seem surprised by it at all. She simply paused for a moment to acquaint herself with the hypothetical.

“Do I get away with it?” she wondered.

“Sure,” Cook decided, curious as to the conclusion she’d come to.

“Then none.”

Cook laughed darkly, while Katie’s eyes went wide.

“You’re telling me you’d kill an innocent man?” she questioned.

“Out of curiosity, yes,” Tiff tried not to roll her eyes. “If I knew there’d be no consequences.”

“But, why?!”

“Because there’d be no consequences!” Cook tried to help her out excitedly.

“That’s all that’s stopping you now?!”

“Yes, of course,” Tiff stated. “What else would?”

“I don’t know, fucking morality?!” Katie exclaimed.

“That’s not a real reason,” Tiff scoffed.

“What do you mean that’s not a real reason?!” Katie cried, not understanding. “It’s fucking very real!”

“The only reason people don’t do whatever they want is because of consequences,” Tiff said.

“Agreed,” Cook chimed in, drunk and high.

“That’s not true,” Katie insisted, “Do you really think that’s true?”

“Yeah,” Tiff said, annoyed.

“Then you’re a fucking sociopath,” Katie remarked almost in disgust.

“Then I’m a fucking sociopath,” Tiffany provided.

The three of them were stuck walking together now in what was a very unfamiliar part of town, the sort of place most people seemed to avoid, especially at this time of night. Cook was trailing a bit behind the girls, and Tiff could hear him intermittently crashing into a bush every now and then.

“Oi! Tiffy! Look at this!”

Tiff turned around with immensely low expectations as she heard his stupid laughter, however, her processing was drowned out by a piercing shriek from Katie.

“Where the hell did you find a gun?!”

Tiff watched, her interest finally piqued as Cook held the potentially loaded gun up to his head, finding it to be the absolute funniest thing on earth.

“That bush over there!” Cook pointed sloppily as he stumbled around, finger dangerously on the trigger. “Someone’s stashed it!”

“What the fuck?!” Katie exclaimed.

Tiff saw Cook flash the gun and laughed hysterically, just as she felt the spliff finally hitting her. She let out a soft but mischievous cackle. Katie Fitch watched in actual horror as Cook, drunk and stumbling, started pointing the gun too far upwards for her liking. Cook and Tiff were both laughing hysterically, too immersed in their childlike play to even remember that they had company.

Cook was grinning like an idiot, slowly pointing the gun in the air, far too close to everyone’s heads as he stumbled from left to right.

“Holy shit, Cook, stop it!” Katie demanded. “You don’t point fucking guns at people!”

“Why not?” he pouted. “‘Don’t even know if it’s loaded.”

“Exactly!” she screamed at him, praying he’d behave reasonably.

“Is this thing loaded?” Cook wondered, staring at the black pistol.

“Only one way to find out,” Tiff smirked. “Point it at something.”

“What the fuck?!” Katie shrieked, quickly panicking. “No! Do not shoot that thing, oh my God! Please, Cook! Please!”

Between Katie’s loud, frantic yelling and Cook’s stupid drunk laughter, Tiff could hardly remain in touch with her own thoughts. The horrid mixture of a rather excessive amount of spliff and different alcohols made the situation rather amusing to her. She could hardly stand still, or walk. She was having trouble keeping her head straight, and her vision was becoming more and more unreliable.

She knew that a somehow, the constant stumbling was a positive. If Tiff were to stop moving, she’d become aware of the fact that everything was moving even when she wasn’t swaying along with her drunken vision. She hardly knew what she was saying when she told Cook to point the gun.

“Come on, Cookie,” she breathed, her breaths slow and heavy from the alcohol, “Point it at me.” she encouraged him.

Katie began to panic even more.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! Oh, God! What the actual fuck is wrong with both of you?!” she yelled at them as she hyperventilated. “What the fuck…!”

Katie watched helplessly from the sidelines as Cook grinned, slowly lifting the gun and pointing straight at Tiff, as she only laughed. He grinned with blackened eyes as the barrel of the gun slowly lined up with her face.

“Go on, you pussy,” Tiff murmured, egging him on in the worst possible way. “Shoot me.”

Cook laughed nervously as he tried to remember what behavior was customary and what wasn’t, but the alcohol and other drugs in his system were corrupting his concepts of right and wrong. Feeling himself growing dizzy, James Cook hoped in a moment of clarity that the worst thing he would do that night was pass out.

“You won’t do it, Cook,” Tiff remarked, playing with fire.

She had nothing to lose.

“Do it. Shoot me.”

“How about let’s fucking not?!” Katie suggested, trembling with fear as she watched the two of them.

In that moment, seeing Cook’s nervous laughter, she genuinely had no idea whether or not she was safe.

“I’m not shooting you,” Cook insisted with a dismissive laugh.

“Why not?” Tiff challenged in a soft whisper. “Wouldn’t it be funny?”

“No!” Katie promised her, trying to drown out the voices in their heads. “It wouldn’t!”

“Come on, Cookie,” Tiff whispered, looking into his eyes. “You’re not afraid, are you?”

Katie was just amazed that this was somehow working on him in that moment.

“Cook’s not afraid of anything,” he insisted.

“Then prove it. Pull the trigger,” Tiffany told him.

“I…”

Cook shook his head as he tried to steady himself, too far gone.

“Don’t you want to know what it feels like to be a man?” Tiff challenged him. “Fucking shoot me!”

Katie stared at her in horror, unable to recognize the humanity in her dark eyes. She looked into them, past her drunkenness and charming smile, and saw nothing but chaos. There was nothing human about her in that moment.

“Okay, both of you, please! Don’t shoot!” Katie sobbed. “Please, this isn’t funny anymore!”

“Come on, Cookie,” Tiff ignored her. “Either shoot it, or put it down.”

Cook laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair as he tried to stop himself. Cook of course had no genuine desire to hurt anyone at all, but something in him loved having the gun in his hand. Cook loved chaos, and he loved unpredictability. He secretly prided himself on being the wildcard. He loved the fact that no one could ever fully predict what he might do next, even including himself.

He usually would’ve never even been tempted to shoot that gun at Tiff. Sober he had no desire to hurt Tiff, or any other girl, at all. But right now, the idea of shooting the gun at someone sounded hilarious to him.

“Don’t shoot, please Cook!” Katie wailed. “Just put the gun down! I want to go home!”

Tiff stared at him from over the barrel of the gun, eagerly awaiting his decision. For a split second, Katie Fitch could’ve sworn she heard the gun go off with a bang, but then she sighed with relief as she heard it first, dropping to the ground as Cook just stood there. He had that hated grin on his face as he laughed, a soft chuckle at first, but then a violent cackle as he and Tiff shared an inside joke no one else was capable of understanding.

Katie’s face twisted into a terrified, appalled expression as she watched the two of them simultaneously breaking down, falling over as they laughed hysterically together. She was genuinely afraid of them in that moment, the way they played with life and death just for their entertainment. At first, Katie would’ve assumed that Cook was the evil in their dynamic, that he was the one always suggesting dangerous and illegal activities while Tiff acted as the voice of reason and said no. But that wasn’t the case.

Katie realized, looking between the two of them, that neither was better or worse than the other. They were the same. Exactly the same, even being polar opposites. Cook might’ve been a raging fire, but Tiff was cold as ice, and the world would eventually end in the two of them.

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?!” Katie sobbed, hugging herself for comfort as she nearly fell over in shock, “What the fuck is wrong with you two?!”

-

part seven.

[cloudlessly-light]

OOOOMMMGGGG!!!!! I can’t get the idea of Emily buying a skims dress and Aaron going absolutely crazy for it. Emily would look drop dead in a skims dress.

A/N: Thanks to @sapphoe-sun for bullying me into posting chapter 3 a few days earlier than I had originally thought. Happy thanksgiving to those of you who celebrate, in my part of the world we do not, so instead I spent the evening writing more filth.

Title:  Seems you cannot be replaced (Chapter 3/7)   Summary: It shouldn’t have happened, but they were drunk. It shouldn’t have happened but it felt right. It shouldn’t have happened but now it has. It shouldn’t have happened now they have to deal with it.   

Or, Emily always leaves before he wakes up, but she always leaves a note. Word Count:  3,6k Rating:  Explicit Warnings: Smut, oral, rough, dirty talk, consumption of alcohol, hint of feelings

It’s more awkward seeing him after the second time. She’s running late that morning, barely paying attention as she parks her car and then rushes to the elevator leading up to their floor. She’s late so she doesn’t expect him to be there, also waiting for the elevator. But when she sees him, she stops so fast she almost trips, frozen to the spot. He freezes for a moment too, eyes locked on her for a second before he clears his throat.

“Hey.” He says just as the elevator door opens and he holds his arm out and waits for her to enter first.

“Hi.” She answers as her heart beats hard enough that she thinks she’ll crack a rib. “I- uhm-.”

“We made a mistake, again.” He interrupts her but his voice isn’t as sure as it had been the first time they had this conversation. “I shouldn’t have texted you.”

“It’s alright.” She tells him, because he might have been the one to reach out to her, but she had been the one hoping that he’d take it there, had been more than happy once he did. “But,” She sighs heavily, more than aware of their limited time before the ding of the elevator would force them to stop this conversation. “Hotch, maybe we should try and stay away from each other for a while?”

He looks away from her for the first time, eyes moving to the lit up numbers that’s showing as they continue up.

“Maybe that’s what’s needed. I’ll pair you with Reid or Morgan for the time being.” He turns completely from her, taking a small step away just as they get to the sixth floor. An appropriate distance, she thinks as he once again waits for her to get out first. Always the gentleman.

They walk the short way to the bullpen in silence that’s tense and uncomfortable and once they’re inside she immediately heads to the kitchenette as he continues towards his office.

She knew it was the right thing to do, knew that they needed some space from each other. So why did she feel disappointment when she looked at his retreating form?

A few weeks passes and just as he had suggested they rarely worked together, she was sent off to crime scenes and he’d be at a station, or he’d be questioning victims and she’d go to the ME’s. If they were in the same room they were never alone but it wasn’t uncommon that their eyes would meet in some sort of silent understanding. They understood each other, that had only become more obvious as they worked apart.

She didn’t want to admit that she missed being around him, didn’t want to be that girl, but she was sure she caught him looking at her from across the room, was certain that he had refrained from reaching for her instinctively and it made things harder. But she couldn’t fall in love with her boss, could not make that mistake. So she ignored the looks and the urges and it worked, for a while.

Then it’s JJ’s birthday and for the first time in what felt like forever, they have the night off.

“I want to go somewhere nice.” The blonde says as she watches the rest of the team pack up. “So I booked us a table at Buon Giorno.”

“Oh I love that place! But how did you manage to get a last minute reservation?” Penelope asked, brown eyes wide as she stared at the other blonde.

“I have my ways, I can be very persuasive.” JJ grins and Emily arches a brow at her friend before putting on her coat.

“If it was Italian you wanted, I could have cooked.” Dave says, cutting off the excited ramble Penelope for sure would start.

“No, I booked us a table, we are drinking wine and eating a nice mean and we are relaxing.” JJ’s eyes moved to Aaron who was just leaving his office. “All of us, I know you don’t have Jack tonight.”

Emily tried to hide the smirk on her lips as she looked at Aaron. He wanted to say no, but if he listened to anybody it was JJ. Behind her she heard Derek chuckle lightly, he too having caught the look of surprise on their boss’s face.

“Fine.” Aaron finally said and looked at his watch. “What time?”

“8,” JJ turned to look at Penelope and Emily. “We should get home and change.”

“It’s 3 hours until 8.” Spencer’s confusion was obvious and while Dave suppressed his own chuckle, Derek patted him on the shoulder.

“You got so much to learn about women, kid.”

*

Emily felt his eyes on her the moment she walked into the restaurant. The black, floor length dress she wore hugged her body tight, the thin straps showing off her collarbones and a bit of cleavage. She felt sexy, confident and the burn from his stare only made her feel more secure.

“Damn Princess. You look good.” Derek was the first one to greet her and she rolled her eyes at him.

“Thanks, you don’t look so bad yourself. All of you.” She looked around the table where everybody except Penelope was seated at. “Happy birthday again JJ.” She smiled and hugged her tightly.

“Thank you.” She smiled back just as widely and sat back down while Emily walked to take a seat in between Derek and Aaron, knowing that Penelope would want the last seat next to JJ.

She looked at Aaron quickly, his jaw slightly tense and dark eyes familiar in the way he was looking back at her. She felt the urge to touch him, her fingers trembling in her lap and she quickly fisted her hand tightly. He looked like he was about to say something, mouth opening just slightly but he was interrupted by the sound of Penelope’s heels.

“Sorry I’m late!” She quickly hugged JJ before sitting down. “I was getting everything ready and lost track of time.”

“Ready?” JJ looked around the table, confusion clear on her face.

“Dinner first.” Penelope grinned while JJ tried to argue but didn’t have time before the waiter came to take their orders.

They enjoyed the food and wine and each other, it was one of those rare nights that they rarely got and Emily loved it. Jokes were told between sips of red wine, stories shared between bites of pasta and by the time the check came Emily had almost completely forgotten about the way Aaron’s eyes on her made her feel.

But then they’re heading to the bar where Penelope had invited the rest of JJ’s friends and she ends up squeezed in between the door and Aaron in the cab. Spencer was beside him and Dave up front, the two lost in an argument that Emily hadn’t paid attention to and definitely couldn’t pay attention to when she felt the heat of Aaron’s strong thigh pressing against hers. He was close, so close that when he turned his head to speak his breathing fell against her face.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he watched the way she pressed against the door.

“Yeah, just a little crowded in here.” She offered him a smile, one that he returned before his eyes slowly moved from her face, down to her exposed neck and then cleavage. When he looked back at her face, her cheeks were tinted in that familiar pink hue and he licked his bottom lip.

“Sorry.” He muttered, his voice low and thick and she felt the pull low in her stomach. The moment was gone as quickly as it had come, like Aaron realized what was happening and he shook himself out of it, facing forward and giving her the time she needed to clear her head.

It wasn’t a long drive from the restaurant to the bar, for which she was thankful as she took a couple of deep breaths of fresh air when she stepped out of the car. She was quick to walk in with Spencer, intent to try and keep some distance between herself and Aaron. If she didn’t, she knew where they’d end up.

It seemed like Aaron had a similar idea, keeping away from her as he drank scotch and talked with Dave in a corner. But his eyes drifted towards her often, like he couldn’t tear his eyes off her and that dress. The thrill of it is impossible to ignore and she wonders if anybody else is picking up on it. But she realizes that no, they’re all too busy talking, playing pool or darts, they’re busy having fun and she knows that they all needed a night like this.

But she can’t concentrate on the conversation around her, couldn’t focus enough because she knew, realized somehow, that he’s going to come to her. And it’s thrilling.

She’s by herself by the bar when it happens. The familiar heat of his body against her back, one hand next to her as he leans against the bar. Her hair is up and that means that his breath falls against her bare neck, making her shiver.

“Did you really have to wear this?” He talks quietly against her ear and goosebumps rise on her arms.

“I like it.” She keeps looking ahead as he lets the crowds of people push him against her.

“I like it too. That’s the problem.” It’s a murmur against the back of her neck, his voice low enough that the slight growl of it vibrates against her skin.

“We’re supposed to keep away from each other.” She turns then, comes face to face with him and is almost taken back by the lust that emanates from him. Eyes blown black, breathing slightly ragged, fingers gripping the edge of the bar as he boxes her in. Emily looks around, can’t see anyone from the team near them and then she looks back at him. “Shouldn’t we?”

“We should.” He agrees and straightens slightly as he lets go of the bar, knowing that they’re on thin ice as it is. “But then you came to dinner looking like this.”

“Aaron, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“It was never a good idea to begin with.” He smirks, lets one hand graze the curve of her hip to feel the soft fabric of the dress. “Should I walk away?”

She knew that she should say yes, knew that every time she went there with him her feelings would blur even more. As much as she wanted to keep lying to herself, it wasn’t just physical between them anymore and that’s the precise reason why she should say yes. But that’s also the reason she can’t.

“No.” She breathes and she sees the way he relaxes and then both his hands are on her hips, pulling her tighter against him.

“My place is closer.”

*

He’s on her the second they’re in the cab, managing to slip away with excuses of a headache and seeing Jack and as Emily sees the lights from the bar get further away, Aaron’s lips are on her neck.

“You smell so good.” He groans as he inhales the smell of her perfume and the scent that is distinctively Emily. Then he’s moving his hand over her body, only stopping once he’s holding the back of her neck and angling her face towards his. Dark eyes dart over her face, like he’s trying to memorize every freckle, count every eyelash.

“What?” She finally asks and he smiles, something soft and almost shy.

“You’re so beautiful Emily.” He doesn’t give her time to respond before his lips are on hers, swallowing up whatever words she was about to say. But for that she’s thankful because she wasn’t even sure what her answer would be. This time it wasn’t words thrown in the throws of passion, but something that felt precious. She forces the thought away, instead her fingers find their way to his short hair and she grips it tightly, wanting to keep him close.

He hums against her lips, pushes his tongue between her lips and pulls her closer, the hand not on the back of her neck fisting the fabric of her dress at the waist. She’s completely lost in him, was already going crazy with desire and then the cab driver clears his throat loudly.

Aaron pulls away with a laugh of embarrassment, he seemingly as lost in her as she had been in him. But he doesn’t move away from her, instead he takes her hand in his and laces their fingers. It felt good, his grip feeling warm and safe and she knows that she should walk away, if nothing else she should pull her hand away. But she doesn’t.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks and she chuckles lightly.

“How large your hands are.” It’s not a lie, not completely and he smiles too. “And how I’m really looking forward to getting out of these heels.”

“Oh really?” His smile turns a little darker as he leans closer to her ear. “And here I was thinking we’d keep the heels on tonight.” He whispers against her ear, making her shiver.

The rest of the cab ride goes by in relative silence, the occasional squeeze from his hand and knowing looks all that she’s able to focus on. When they’re finally outside his apartment Aaron keeps her hand in his and doesn’t let go until they’re inside and he turns to lock the door while she hangs her jacket up.

“Look at you.” He growls as she stands in front of him, eyes moving up and down her body, like he’s done many times that night, but this time the look in his eye is wilder. “I’ve wanted to tear this dress off you all night.”

She takes a step back when he steps forward, a teasing smirk on her face.

“Do not rip it. I won’t have anything to go home in.” She backs up with him following her until she almost falls over the couch, but Aaron is quick to wrap his arms around her.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, this is a dress I want to see again.” He spins her around so she’s facing away from him and his lips ghost over the back of her neck. “But for now, it’ll look nice on this floor too.”

She feels his hands as he slowly pulls the straps down, his mouth soon following to place hot, open-mouthed kisses on her shoulder. He continues down her spine as he keeps pulling the fabric of her dress down, a low grunt of appreciation leaving him as the strapless bra and then matching panties come into view. He kneels behind her, pulls the panties off her and helps her step out of both before gently pushing her forward.

“What are you-”

“Bend over.” He interrupts her, voice so low it’s barely a rumble in his chest as he pushes her down to lean over the back of the couch.

She’s already panting, every breath he takes tickles the back of her thighs, his fingers slowly move from her calves and up her legs and back again. Then he’s urging her to spread her legs wider and she does without hesitation. Her cheeks are burning from being so exposed, but she can hear the way his breathing hitches, can feel his touch turning needier and she relaxes.

When his tongue moves through her it’s without warning and she lets out a sound of surprise that quickly turns into a moan as he pushes his tongue inside of her. His arms wrap around her thighs, keeping her open for him as sucks her clit between his lips. There’s no teasing like it had been the first time, his movements deliberate as he seemed to remember everything she enjoyed.

“Fuck, don’t stop.” She whimpers after only a few minutes, her legs already trembling. She can feel his smirk against her wet folds, and if she wasn’t getting so close she’d use her high heel to stomp at his foot for his smugness, but he’s only flicking her clit faster, grabs onto her harder.

“Aaron.” She gasps, face hallway buried in the pillows as her hips buckle into him, chasing her orgasm.

“Do it.” He groans and then sucks her clit hard and she comes with a scream. Her entire body is still shaking when he stands behind her, one hand between her legs to rub her clit and keeping her orgasm going as he pushes his jeans down his legs.

“Oh fuck!” She cries out when he pushes inside of her before she’s even fully come down, aftershocks still rocking her body when he stretches her.

“Emily.” He grits out through clenched teeth, only taking a second to enjoy her still clenching pussy before he starts to thrust hard and deep inside of her. His hand is still on her clit, the other keeps her down by gripping the back of her neck and she whimpers at the steady pleasure. “Fuck you feel so good.”

She felt her body respond to him too quickly, the tension between her legs already back. Her hands were gripping the couch in a death grip, moans and whimpers fell from her lips louder and louder and she could hear him behind her, groaning and swearing.

“Another one already baby?” It was rhetorical, her center was clinging to his cock, body tensing by every stroke of his hips.

“P-please.” She gasped and he snickered, fingers moving faster over her clit.

“Please what?”

“Make me come.”

“Needy thing.” There was no malice in his voice, only that teasing tone that she had gotten used to when they were together like this. And it only made the tension in her stomach build faster. “Say it again.”

“Say what?” She was so close she could taste it, every muscle in her body tensing.

“Say my name when you come.” He snapped his hips harder and she came again.

“Aaron!” She cried out, body spasming between his and the back of the couch, legs completely giving out as pleasure made her eyesight blur.

Through delicious pleasure she felt him slip out of her, then he was helping her out of the heels and gently pulled her up to look at him. Her eyes were hazy, a lazy smile on her lips and he kissed her.

“Let’s go to bed, you’ll ruin my couch if we continue out here.” He winks when she swats his side with a fake huff.

“Rude.” She muttered but didn’t try to stop him when he pushed her towards the bedroom, arms around her as he kept her close.

“Me? Never.” He grinned against her neck before removing her bra and then pushed her onto the bed.

She spread her legs, let him push back inside of her with a smooth thrust as he kissed the air from her legs. Her arms looped around his neck, her legs wrapped around his hips, clung to him as he started to move, hitting deep inside of her over and over again.

“So good, feel so good.” He whispered somewhere near her collarbone, his lips everywhere he could reach, leaving small marks on pale skin.

Her nails were leaving their own marks on him, little halfmoons dug into his skin, scratches along his back. She knew he loved it, the slight pain that came with it making his groans louder and deeper, until he was fucking her hard enough for the bedframe to slam against the wall.

“Let go Aaron, let me feel it.” She gasped and he groaned in response. His hand moved between them again, fingers finding her sensitive clit.

“Gonne fill you up. But first you’re giving me one more.” He panted and her head fell back against the pillow.

She isn’t sure how he does it, but he manages to drag a third orgasm from her in no time at all, the pleasure rushing through her hard and fast. Her orgasm forces his, the tightening around his cock enough to get him to the edge too. The moan together, bodies locked and breathing heaving as they let themselves enjoy their combined bliss.

“Your neighbors must really hate you” She teased once he’s rolled off her and they’d come down from their respective highs. He laughs, still breathless and reaches for her.

“Maybe.” He said as he rolled her on top of him. They were silent for a moment, his finger gentle as he brushed her messy bangs away. “You know, you don’t have to go.”

“What do you mean?” Her eyebrows furrowed as she studied him.

“Tonight, you can stay.” His voice is gentle, careful and she sighs.

“You know I can’t.” She says but doesn’t move away from him, instead she lets her head lean on his shoulder as his arms wrap around her.

“Yeah, I know.”

Aaron had always been a light sleeper, but Emily had the ability to move around without disturbing him. It’s early when he wakes up, early enough for the sun to barely creak in through the blinds and yet he knows that the space next to him will be empty even before he turns to look.

When he does he finds a napkin from the bar they had been at, Emily’s familiar writing on it and he sighs heavily. He hadn’t want her to leave.

Last night was fun – Emily

[defectivevillain]

hold me like a grudge

pairing: josh/reader

reader’s pronouns are unspecified. 

summary:

“Did you see that?” Josh asks frantically. Your first instinct is to respond, and you quite nearly turn around to look at where your friend is pointing. Just before you can do so, you realize that the fear in his voice is manufactured. You remember the elaborate tricks he set up. Anger boils in your chest and you grab him by the collar to shove him against the wall.

“Don’t even start with me,” you hiss, entirely unwilling to entertain Josh’s revenge plot. The fact that Josh can stand here and joke about everything… knowing damn well that he would inflict so much pain on his friends…

You're given several chances to fix things on that fateful night at Blackwood Mountain. This attempt, you decide not to entertain Josh's foolishness.

[ao3 version, which contains an alternate ending]

word count: around 5k

warnings: canon-typical violence & gore, spoilers, panic attack, hyperventilation

The first time you live through the night on Blackwood Mountain, you’re overwhelmed. Your entire world has been flipped on its axis, as your friends become enemies and your enemies become friends. Josh’s betrayal is difficult to swallow, but his death hits you even harder. Everyone else manages to survive. Everyone else can walk away from the night bruised and bleeding, but still very much alive. Josh, on the other hand… You can’t finish that thought. Right now, above all, you need rest. Once the helicopter arrives and you’re safely strapped in, you feel your eyelids slipping shut of their own accord.

You wake up to find yourself standing on the snowy path leading up to Josh’s lodge. You blink a few times and stare at it in confusion. What’s happening here? Are you lucid dreaming? Surely, that’s the only logical explanation. You walk up the steps and knock on the door. It swings open within a few moments and Josh welcomes you in. You step in warily, only to find that everyone else has already arrived. Dread coiling in your chest, you keep quiet and listen to their conversations. None of this seems right. You subtly pinch at your arm—hard enough to be rather painful—but nothing happens.

It looks like you’re living through the night all over again. You push away your growing anxiety and try to pretend that everything’s fine. Hell, you’re getting a second chance at things—you should be grateful. This time, you proceed with a little more caution. You make sure to keep a closer eye on Josh and, sure enough, the betrayal feels rather obvious once you’re expecting it. Still, you’re unable to get to Josh and interfere with his plans. At the end of the night, you’re alive. Matt, Emily, Chris, Ashley, Josh, and Jessica are all dead. Mike and you are the only survivors. It’s apparent that the two of you don’t know what to do with yourselves once the sun rises. When you’re taken away by helicopter once more, you’re willingly closing your eyes and hoping you get another chance.

Against all odds, you get another chance… and another… and another. Your third and fourth attempts are better, but you’re still unable to entirely prevent death. The fifth attempt is horrible—you’re the only one who survives. The survivor’s guilt stays with you, especially when you consider the fact that you had lived the night multiple times before. You should’ve been able to prevent those deaths. During that helicopter ride, you stare out the window in complete silence. It takes you a long time to find rest.

By the sixth attempt, you’re exhausted. You’ve lived the same horrible night over and over again. You’ve outran Wendigos and narrowly avoided death countless times. Somehow, the exertion is taking a toll on your stamina. You feel slightly slower, clumsier. You don’t respond as fast as you did before, and when a Wendigo throws itself at you, you’re thrown to the ground. The creature’s jaw nearly unhinges as it lurches toward you with sharpened teeth and a drooling maw. You try your best to push it off, but your efforts are to no avail. The Wendigo leans down and snaps your head right off. For a moment, there is intense pain. As soon as it comes, shadows overtake your vision and you’re swallowed by darkness.

The next time you open your eyes, you’re startled. You thought that sixth attempt would be your last—what with you dying and all. A traitorous part of you doesn’t even want to continue. You’ve tried countless times already—will anything really change? Is this night just destined to bring death and destruction?

A bird chirps loudly, breaking you out of your thought process. The brisk mountain air hits your skin and you shake your head, resolutely walking forward and towards the cabin looming in the distance. You have to do this again. You have to save your friends.

When you’re finally on the doorstep of the lodge, you realize you’re one of the first to arrive; thankfully, the rest of your friends arrive in due time. Once all of you are gathered in the common area, you realize that you may have been focusing on the wrong things in your past attempts. You lock eyes with Josh and come to a realization. He is the only person who had the same fate, regardless of your six different attempts. No matter what you did, Josh perished at the hands of a Wendigo. Something about that makes you pause. Maybe if you tried to stop Josh from all of the cruel tricks he planned… Maybe, just maybe… You take a deep breath.

“Josh, I need something from the basement,” you announce, deciding to bite the bullet, “Can you come with me?” You need to talk to him—the sooner, the better. The group seems a little surprised by your request, which only serves to confuse you. You’re closer to Josh than you are to the rest of them. Did they expect you to go with someone else? You don’t get to pursue that thought process too far, as Josh answers.

“Sure,” Josh grins, smirking at you. You refuse to find that attractive. “Eager to go into the basement with me?” His tone is suggestive and you roll your eyes. He wishes, you think to yourself. You decide to remain silent and watch as the rest of the group pairs off. Unsurprisingly, Emily and Matt go together. Chris goes with Ashley and Mike sticks with Jessica. You’re left standing in the foyer with Josh.

“Let’s go,” you suggest, shoving your hands in your pockets and walking towards the basement. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice Josh’s suspicious gaze tearing holes into your back. You bound down the basement stairs and take a few turns, making sure that you’re out of earshot from the others. Josh follows you and comes to a stop next to you, clearly a bit confused about your sudden unfounded confidence. You don’t bother to explore the halls, since you remember everything from your past attempts. You’re about to turn the corner when there’s a hand on your shoulder.

“Did you see that?” Josh asks frantically. Your first instinct is to respond, and you quite nearly turn around to look at where your friend is pointing. Just before you can do so, you realize that the fear in his voice is manufactured. You remember the elaborate tricks he set up. His lighthearted pranks ended up being far more than pranks, though. Josh’s fake death—or, well, Ashley’s real one—was traumatizing for everyone involved.  Anger boils in your chest and you grab him by the collar to shove him against the wall.

“Don’t even start with me,” you hiss, entirely unwilling to entertain Josh’s revenge plot. The fact that Josh can stand here and joke about everything… knowing damn well that he would inflict so much pain on his friends… Safe to say, you’re not happy about this situation. There’s a strange expression on Josh’s face, and it almost looks as if he wants to dissect you before his eyes. You take a deep breath. “Now, you’re going to shut the fuck up and let me speak.”

“Ooh, feisty,” Josh grins, looking entirely amused and interested with this turn of events. You tighten your grip on his shirt, both to get him to stop and to reassure yourself that everything around you is real. This isn’t a dream. You’re living through this hellish night once more. And, this time, you’re not going to die. None of your friends are going to die—you’ll make sure of it. You take a moment to close your eyes and regain your composure.

“I’m serious, Josh,” you sigh, hoping that your tone will convey your sincerity. Josh seems to believe you, as his eyes widen minutely and he falls silent. “I’ve done this before. Your little game? It never ends well.” Josh’s eyes go comically wide at that.

“How-?” He chokes out. You silence Josh with a look.

“It never works out for you,” you continue. “You masterminded all this for revenge, right? You want us to feel the pain, the humiliation that your sisters did? Well, your game isn’t just a game—it has real consequences, Josh.” For the first time, there’s genuine emotion on Josh’s face. There isn’t a fake smile or a flat line. Just as you begin to hope that he’ll believe you, however, Josh continues to speak.

“You wouldn’t understand.” Josh says. You know that he’s in a bad place, that he has struggled with mental illness since long before his sisters died. Even so, that remark is unacceptable. You can’t dismiss the sudden wave of frustration and rage you feel.

“I wouldn’t understand?”  You look at him in disbelief. There’s nothing but sincerity written on his face and it makes your stomach turn. “I lost two good friends that day, Josh.”

“Good friends?” Josh remarks sardonically. “Don’t make me fucking laugh. If you were such good friends with Hannah, then why didn’t you stop that prank?” You freeze. The hollow feeling you’ve grown to associate with grief is returning, and your chest burns. You clench your fists at your sides.

“Josh, I think about that night constantly, and I know you do the same,” you sigh, swallowing past the lump in your throat. You’ve spent the past year regretting every single decision that led to that night, to Hannah and Beth’s disappearances. You’re not going to let Josh guilt you for it, not when you’ve been living with regret and remorse every damn day since then. “Don’t put this all on me; each and every one of us is responsible—including you.”

“I know,” Josh whispers, so quietly that you have to strain to hear it. He seems to finally have given up on arguing, so you let your hand fall from his collar. Josh massages his neck and you pretend not to notice. Instead, you take a deep breath and contemplate what to do next. Josh still looks confused, so you decide to explain what you can to him. You describe how you’ve lived this night over and over, how you’ve seen everyone—including yourself—die in increasingly gruesome ways. “Wow,” Josh remarks, once you’re done telling him everything. You feel inclined to agree with the sentiment.

“If everyone is going to survive, then we’re going to need to work together,” you say, “Are you with me or not?” You extend a hand to him and for a long moment, there is nothing but silence. The lights flicker in the dimly lit hallway and the expression on Josh’s face is far too complicated for you to pin down. It is rather hard to believe—that you’re stuck in some fucked up time loop. Just as you’re about to rescind your offer of cooperation, Josh reaches out and clasps your hand.

“Let’s do this, then,” he agrees. You spontaneously decide to squeeze his hand in a reassuring gesture, before letting your hand fall back to your side. Josh’s eyebrows furrow and he pushes himself off the wall, coming to stand next to you. “So… what now?”

“Honestly, I didn’t think I’d be able to convince you…” You trail off, your confidence from before slowly dissipating. Josh shakes his head in disbelief and you’re quick to defend yourself. “What? I have a plan, sort of. I just… made it under the guise that I’d be alone.” You hadn’t tried to work with someone in your prior attempts. That may have been the problem, though.

“Well, you’re not alone,” Josh reminds you without hesitation. His confidence is reassuring—it pushes your nerves aside. Sure, there’s a million different ways this night could go wrong. Maybe this time, though, you’ll do it right.

“I know,” you eventually sigh.  You pinch the bridge of your nose and try to maintain your composure; the night is far from over. “Hm. Okay, well. Emily and Matt should be on their way back. Mike and Jessica are heading to the guest cabin- Oh shit. Oh shit!”

“What?” Josh asks, evidently startled by the sudden exclamation.

“We need to get to Mike and Jessica right now,” you answer, remembering that Mike and Jessica will encounter a Wendigo if they make it to the guest cabin. You don’t have the time to explain that to Josh. Hell, they could be in danger already. “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, spinning around and racing back to the stairs. Josh pauses for a moment before running to catch up to you. You sprint through the house and down the path outside.

Thankfully, Mike and Jessica didn’t get far; in fact, it looks as if they’re having a snowball fight just off of the path. “Hey, guys. You should come back. We…” You’re suddenly struggling to come up with an excuse. The pair is staring at you with thinly-concealed suspicion and, for some reason, you’re blanking. You ran all the way out here with the fear that they would be in danger. They’re not, but now you need an excuse for them to avoid the guest cabin.

“We’re going to use a spirit board,” Josh interjects, before you can awkwardly stammer through an unconvincing explanation. You send him a grateful glance. Mike and Jessica both squint at you, as if they know something you don’t. “You guys in? It’s pretty cold out here; probably not the best idea to go to the guest cabin.” You’re momentarily amazed by how calm Josh sounds. You then remember that his calm demeanor was the reason you were so blindsided by his betrayal in the first place. You have to make a conscious effort to forget that realization.

“Sure, why the hell not?” Mike shrugs, looking to Jessica for confirmation. She shrugs and, with Josh’s guidance, the two of them walk back to the lodge. You let out a breath of relief once they’re out of earshot.

“I can buy you time,” Josh whispers, despite the fact that Mike and Jessica are now too far away to hear. You turn to him and raise your eyebrows. He looks thoroughly convinced. “I’ll fake the spirit board again,” he explains. How is he going to do that, exactly? Josh must sense your thoughts—sometimes, you swear he can read your mind—and he rolls his eyes. “Relax, I’ll just make it look like a ghost or something.”

“Okay, sounds good,” you nod, already planning out what to do with the time he’s buying for you. The two of you stare at each other in silence. Apparently, the conversation is over. You take a step forward, fully intent on walking towards the cabin, when Josh’s hand falls on your shoulder. You glance at him, only to find a conflicted expression on his face.

“Hey,” You blink at him in confusion, thrown off by the sudden remark. You look at him expectantly. Josh takes a deep breath and looks at you with a rather intense gaze. “How many times have I died?”

Your heart stalls in your chest, and you’re completely unable to hide an instinctual wince. You really hoped he would overlook that part. Josh senses that you’re evading the question and he sighs. “I think I deserve to know.”

You swallow hard. He does deserve to know. You inhale shakily. “Six,” you whisper, averting your eyes. You don’t want to remind him that you’ve lived this same night only… six times. Unfortunately, Josh seems to come to that conclusion on his own.

“My death is unavoidable,” Josh realizes aloud. There aren’t any words that can describe the tortured expression on his face—it’s a horrid mix of fear and resignation. Your eyes are burning and you wipe at them quickly, hoping he doesn’t notice. Josh’s own eyes look glassy in the pale moonlight and your chest tightens. You can’t even imagine how he must feel. You feel the overwhelming need to reach out to him, but you’re not sure if that will help. Instead, you swallow your nerves and muster as much confidence as you can.

“When I said we’re saving everyone, I meant everyone,” you remark. Josh looks at you in confusion. “That means you, too.” You clarify, crossing your arms over your chest. He stares at you more.

“Why are you giving me a second chance?” Josh asks, turning his back to look up at the stars. You can’t see the expression on his face, but the tension strung in his shoulders gives you a hint of what he’s feeling. “After everything I’ve done. Or, I guess, everything I… did.”

“Because I know you,” you respond, once the words start to feel heavy on your tongue. You have to avert your eyes as you say it, for fear of letting Josh see the emotion in your expression. “I know you and… you understand better than anyone.” You understand the grief better than anyone, goes unsaid. At that, Josh turns around to meet your eyes. There’s a complex expression on his face—something between disbelief and hope. The sight hurts to look at. He’s staring at you as if you’re some sort of hero. You choke on a wry laugh and put a hand on your face. If only he knew of the things you’ve done these six nights.

The snow crunches underfoot as Josh turns around to head to the cabin. You hesitate and eventually settle for following behind him, making sure to keep your distance. He seems to be rather rattled by what you told him—an understandable sentiment. You’ll give him some space. Once the two of you are safe within the walls of the cabin, you manage to gather everyone in the foyer.

The next few hours pass surprisingly fast. Josh and you manage to engineer ways to keep the group busy, mostly with silly games like Truth or Dare and Hide and Seek. They’re childish, sure, but they distract the group quite well. Hide and Seek gives you enough time to confront The Stranger and receive some flares to fend off the Wendigos.

Unfortunately, your luck soon runs out. The Wendigos had been lurking outside, but they’re starting to approach the cabin. You can catch glimpses of their shadows in your peripheral vision, and you don’t realize just how close they are until you spot one lurking on the doorstep. Its claws scratch against the door mockingly. Your heart races in your chest and you turn to the group.

“Everyone, go to the basement,” you order, knowing you don’t have the time to explain everything. The Wendigos are far too close now. Your friends all stare at you in confusion and you feel yourself snap. “Go!” The group breaks free of their stupor and races down to the basement, which is more secure than the other levels of the cabin. “Josh, you too.” To your surprise, Josh doesn’t argue. Instead, he gives you a knowing look before turning the corner and heading for the stairs. You try to push aside your betrayal at that—you thought you’d be met with a little more resistance than that. The Wendigo lets out a strange noise and breaks through the window, effectively breaking you from your thought process. You pull one of the flares out of your pocket and freeze in place. Despite your refusal to move, you think you can feel your hands shaking out of fear.

The Wendigo must notice the miniscule movement, and it lunges at you so fast that you don’t get the time to react. You’re roughly slammed down to the ground, hard enough to turn your vision grainy. The flare falls from your grip and clatters along the floor. The Wendigo leans closer, excreting drool from its gaping maw. It leans down further and you’re forced to grab at its jaw and push it away. Unsurprisingly, the creature is much stronger than you and its teeth rip into your hand. You bring a knee up and try to throw it off of you, but it doesn’t budge. You come to one earth-shattering conclusion: you’re going to die. You feel as if you’re watching in slow-motion, as the Wendigo lets out a loud screech and brings its hand back for another blow. You close your eyes and push at it desperately. Memories begin to flash before your eyes and it’s as if time freezes. You wait for unfathomable pain and infinite darkness.

Just as its teeth graze your skin, the Wendigo screeches in pain and moves back. You take the afforded opportunity to scramble towards the flare and throw it at the Wendigo, which immediately scampers backwards at the threat of flame. There’s the loud sound of a shotgun discharging and you turn to the side, only to find Josh with a shotgun in hand. The combination of the flare and the shotgun seems to keep the Wendigo at bay for now.  You know that you don’t have much time, though. You grab Josh’s arm and he seems to get the idea; the two of you sprint down to the basement and race through the winding halls, before finding an isolated corner and remaining still. You’re both breathing hard and trying to remain quiet at the same time. It takes several moments for you to catch your breath.

“Did you really think I’d leave you?” Josh asks breathlessly, still panting from the exertion. You can’t find anything to say. The ensuing silence must speak volumes, because Josh shakes his head at you disbelievingly.  “You alright?” He then levels you with a worried gaze that shouldn’t affect you as much as it does. The thought of being on the receiving end of that concern is enough to send your heart racing out of your chest once more.

“Yes, thanks to you,” you eventually murmur. Josh sends you another heated look and you avert your eyes, instead deigning to walk back through the halls. Josh seems to know where he’s going, so you follow him. Sure enough, before long, the two of you manage to regroup with everyone else in the basement. Your friends seem to be debating what to do for the rest of the night. Josh asserts that you all should stay in the basement. Mike brings up one core fault to that plan—namely, what you’re supposed to do if you need to sleep. Josh motions for you all to follow after him. You’re the first one to do so and, eventually, your friends get over their hesitation and follow you.

Josh leads you to a nondescript looking cabinet and opens it up. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he’s pushing the back of the cabinet back to reveal another room. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. This is a new twist; you hadn’t seen this in any of your prior attempts to live through this night. The others don’t seem to know about this secret space either, as they all have different surprised expressions on their faces. Once everyone is standing in the hidden room, Josh pushes the back of the cabinet into place and turns to look at the group.

“We should be safe here,” he maintains, his gaze wandering across the group before settling on you of all people. He looks over you thoroughly and you feel your skin prickling. You’re not quite sure what he’s looking for, and you don’t have the time to figure it out. “There are four bedrooms down here.”

“That’s convenient,” Matt remarks casually. Emily raises an eyebrow at him and they seem to have a telepathic conversation amongst themselves. Matt then turns his attention back to the rest of you. “Em and I can share a room. Then, Mike and Jessica… Chris and Ashley… That leaves one room, with-”

“You two,” Emily interrupts, pointing at Josh and you. Josh’s eyes widen and he sends you a strange glance. He almost looks nervous, and you’re not quite sure why. There’s a devious smirk on Emily’s face and you can sense that same mischief in your other friends’ eyes. Just what are they planning? You don’t get the chance to find out, as the group splits up and moves to their respective rooms. Josh exhales slowly, before leading you to the bedroom you’re supposed to share.

Your mind is reeling, even as Josh closes the door to the bedroom and takes a seat on the bed.  You had no idea that these rooms existed before. Would you have even found them without Josh’s help? You were adamant on living through this night alone—just how much did that hinder you? Were you really just too prideful to reach out for help before? You’re certainly relieved that you all seem to be safe [for now], but… This all feels like a slap in the face. You feel ashamed, humiliated, remorseful. The guilt is eating you alive.

Trying to remain calm, you kneel down to sit on the floor. Your head falls back against the wall. It’s far from comfortable, but you’re far too exhausted to care. Within the few seconds that your eyes are closed, you’re about ready to fall asleep. At least, until Josh interjects.

“What the fuck?” your friend asks. You open your eyes and look at Josh, only to find him staring at you with a scrutinizing gaze. “Why are you on the floor?”

“Oh, I just assumed-” You break off, not quite sure how to explain your thought process. In all honesty, you assumed that Josh would be the one to take the bed. That thought must be ludicrous, because he looks at you like you’re absolutely crazy.

“Get up here,” Josh says, moving over to leave you ample room on the bed. You push yourself up from the floor and sit down next to him. Silence stretches across the space and it’s both uncomfortable yet welcome. You rub a hand over your face, unable to calm your racing heart.

You’ve never made it this far before, and you can’t rid yourself of the fear that everything will reset again. You’ve already lived this night six times. Each time, you thought your actions would be final. Each time, you woke up to find yourself walking along the snowy path towards Josh’s lodge. This time, you think that you’ve done things right. No one died, and you want things to stay that way.

“I really don’t want things to reset again,” you murmur, unable to hide your fear any longer. You don’t realize that you’re trembling until Josh is reaching out and clasping your hands. There’s a strangely concerned expression on his face.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he reassures you. His gaze burns into the side of your face, but you can’t find the courage to meet his eyes. Josh’s thumb skims over your knuckles and a shiver rolls down your spine. “I won’t let that happen.”

You desperately want to believe him, but every time you close your eyes, you see your friends’ corpses. Each time you blink, you see Josh’s crushed skull, Jessica’s unhinged jaw, Mike’s smashed face, Emily’s broken body, Chris’s twisted neck, Matt’s corpse left to rot at the bottom of the cliff, Ashley’s gouged out eyes. You feel as if the breath is being robbed from your chest. You’ve seen so many horrible things over the course of this night, and none of it really settled in until now. You were forced to watch as each of your friends died—over and over and over again. Hell, you even died once yourself. The realization comes crashing down on you all at once and you find yourself gasping for air.

“Whoa,” Josh remarks. His voice sounds garbled and warped, as if he’s underwater. You watch with blurred vision as he squeezes your hands and stares at you, willing you to meet his eyes.  “Hey, breathe with me. In, out. In, out. Come on.” You take a ragged breath in at his command, and exhale in unison with him. It takes several minutes, but you eventually manage to regain your composure. You’re holding Josh’s hands in a death grip, but he doesn’t show any sign of pain.

“Sorry,” you say moments later, releasing his hands.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Josh shakes his head. There’s worry written all over his face, and it hurts when you know that you’re the reason for it. You adjust your posture a bit and lean back against the numerous pillows behind you. Your body is incredibly fatigued but your mind refuses to slow down. You don’t want to let your guard down. “Hey, why don’t you rest? You look like you could use it, no offense.”

You don’t even have the energy to respond with a witty comment. “Honestly, I don’t think I can.” You stare at the ceiling, pretending not to remember that there are vicious Wendigos still roaming around. The effort is rather difficult. Your eyelids are stinging and burning with the lack of sleep, but you don’t want to rest. You can’t rest—not until this night is over.

“You can go to sleep,” Josh eventually says. He then pauses for a moment, contemplating his next words. “I’ll be right here, keeping watch.” That’s a generous offer. You tell him as much and he chuckles. However, you know he needs sleep too. You remind him of that fact but he shakes his head. “You need rest more than I do. I’ll be fine.”

You bite your lip and look at him, trying to find a trace of dishonesty in his expression. There’s nothing to be found. You eventually give in, pulling the covers back and burrowing under them. Josh moves to turn some of the lights off and before long, you can feel your drowsiness catching up to you. You’re definitely nervous at the thought of sharing a bed with Josh, but your fatigue and exhaustion outweigh any potential embarrassment. Just before you succumb to slumber, you feel a feather-light touch on your cheek and you sink into the darkness.

You’re not sure how long you’re asleep, because at one point, you’re roused awake by an arm around your waist. You open your eyes, only to find that you’re practically trapped in Josh’s hold. He’s clearly sleeping and you don’t want to wake him… However, even your slight movement is enough to jostle him awake.

“What’s wrong?” Josh asks. Despite the fact that he’s awake, he makes no move to stop holding you. He squints at you sleepily and you feel a fond smile growing on your face.

“Nothing,” you say with a shake your head, leaning back into his chest and closing your eyes once more.

there’s a second chapter over on ao3 with a different ending. check it out if you want!

[seramilla]

Oo angst idea

So like some employees of carmine industries turn out to be like traitors or some shit(maybe they were working for carmilla just to get the manufacturing blueprint) so the employees try to corner Clara who is the head of the manufacturing department but unfortunately for them and fortunately for Clara, Odette had happened to be in the department during this event so she quickly heard what was going on and stepped in to help Clara. So Clara runs off to tell her mother who was leading sera and Emily through a tour of the place so she runs to find her mother and eventually she finds her and she is distraught, hardly able to get words out.

But unfortunately by the time they arrive to the scene, Odette is gravely injured with two angelic bullets through her chest with an angelic knife sticking out of her stomach while the employee’s bodies surround her. So obviously they freak out and bring her to the nearest hospital and Clara is inconsolable. Carmilla can’t comfort her, Emily can’t either, neither can sera, hell even Velvette and Kiki can’t comfort her. The posse nor Velvette were informed on what happened but all they know is that Clara is inconsolable because she wants her big sister so bad but she can’t see her.

“MOM!!!”

Carmilla, startled, practically falls out of her chair at the force with which her younger daughter slams her office door open. Clara comes bursting into the room, tears falling down her face, horns and glowing irises on full display as she practically stumbles into Carmilla’s arms. Zestial is also startled, looking up from where he’d been reading on the couch, spider web beginning to form behind his back at what he initially perceived to be a threat.

When their eyes fall on Clara, both overlords immediately stand down, waiting for Clara to compose herself. She’s pointing out the door, hand shaking and barely able to get out the words.

“O-ODETTE!”

Carmilla doesn’t need to hear more, and neither does Zestial. Instinct kicking in immediately, the two of them rush out into the hallway, and down two flights of stairs, where a throng of people have begun to gather around something sprawled onto the floor. Carmilla starts shoving her employees and patrons out of the way, not even caring if she’s a little rough with them. She needs to see what’s beyond this wall of bodies, and when she does, she practically chokes on a shout, holding her large claws up to her face.

Her eldest, Odette, is being cradled in the arms of Kiki, Clara’s partner, who’s trying her best to slow the loss of blood from two large wounds in Odette’s right shoulder with her jacket. Also, Carmilla notices with absolute horror, an angelic blade of her own making still sticking out of her daughter’s side. One of her designs. Who would— How— Who had done this?

“It was one of the lab guys!” Clara shouts, as if reading Carmillla’s mind. “He was coming for me, and Odette—I-I killed him!”

That’s when Carmilla notices the other body in the room, this one dead, torn in half, and pierced through several times in the face with something sharp. She can’t identify him, because he doesn’t have a face left. One of her angelic pistols lays on the floor mere feet from the body.

It’s just like the drone that had tried to attack Sera — someone is using her weapons against her, and they’d actually succeeded this time!

Carmilla’s brought out of her shocked state at a cry from Odette, who’s gripping at Kiki’s shirt like she’s trying to talk through the pain. “Mo-oom!”

Not wasting anymore time, Carmilla grabs Odette out of Kiki’s arms, as carefully as possible, and yells at Zestial, “Zestial! Portal! Now! Sloth ring!”

Zestial nods, and without a moment’s hesitation, he opens a portal to Sloth. Before he and his dear friend disappear through the portal, Clara tries to follow, and Carmilla pushes her back.

“You stay here!” Carmilla demands, almost frantic.

“But…” Clara starts. “What about Odette? I can help!”

“We’ll handle it,” Carmilla insists. “I need you here. Please! Call Lucifer! Tell him to meet me at Belphegor’s! And hold down the fort for me.”

Clara acts if she might protest again, but she doesn’t. She nods, wiping away the snot and tears from her face, and by the time she blinks again, her mother and Zestial are gone.

——————————————

It takes less than 5 minutes between the time Carmilla and Zestial get Odette to Belphegor’s clinic, before she is rushed into emergency surgery. It takes only a minute longer for Lucifer to appear, and once Zestial brings him up to speed on Odette’s condition (because Carmilla has gone verbally catatonic at this point) the king also enters the surgical theater. He’s not a doctor, but he has enough healing magic to be helpful. If she needs a transfusion, Carmilla is present. Thankfully, it doesn’t come to that point. Thank Heaven for that.

When Carmilla is finally allowed to enter Odette’s room in ICU more than 3 hours later, she doesn’t think she’s ever seen Odette in such a critical state. Her face is covered with tubes, there are bandages all over her body, especially around her midsection, and she’s been put into an artificial coma to help speed her healing. Lucifer is also there, covered in sweat, and looking exhausted. He’d worked so hard for her daughter. He just breathes slowly, trying to recover his energy, and smiles when he sees she’s entered the room.

“How is she?” Carmilla asks, trying to keep it together, and not cry in front of her king.

“She’ll survive,” Lucifer says, slumping into his chair. “But it’s going to take a while. You’re very lucky to have brought her here as quickly as you did.”

His wings are out — Lucifer always brings them out when he’s nervous or feeling uncertain. It’s a small quirk of his. Carmilla notes he must really be worried, if that’s the case.

“Can I stay with her?” Carmilla asks, reaching out for Odette with her claw, but not yet touching.

“Yes,” Lucifer says, finally putting away his wings. He takes off his hat, and wipes his brow with his sleeve. “Just don’t touch her. Not yet. She’s full of mine and Bel’s healing energy, but she must NOT be moved or jostled around too much. Hear me?”

“Yes,” Carmilla says, sighing with a small modicum of relief, but only just. Odette has an extremely difficult fight ahead of her. She won’t do anything to sabotage that, no matter how much she wants to hold her girl.

As Lucifer is turning to leave, Carmilla stops him. “Lucifer! Thank you! If there’s ever anything I can do to repay you, please…just tell me.”

Lucifer smiles at her, leaning on his cane to remain standing upright. He’s also trying not to show how tired he is, but it’s not working.

“Of course, Carm. Don’t even mention it.”

As Carmilla is left alone with Odette, a million different thoughts race through her mind. How could she have let this happen? How could she have fucked up and let her guard down so horribly? Who is after her, and what the fuck do they want? It couldn’t have just been the one demon — who wants her dead this badly? All of these questions and more are at the forefront of her mind, and she doesn’t know the answer to any of them.

The only thing she does know, and the thing she keeps whispering quietly into Odette’s ear, hoping her daughter can hear her, is that Carmilla will find out who did this, and make them pay. She will kill them herself, if she has to. She’ll never let anything like this happen again. Odette twitches, as if she’d heard her mother. It’s only at that moment that Carmilla’s composure finally drops, and she openly sobs, not caring who hears her.