#cells to say that shit and completely blank on everyone else

[cherrysnax]

oh ppl are so silly… do they think Gwen is running around with her government name?? ofc she’s spider-woman.. do they think Miguel calls himself 2099?? he’s spider-man, patvir is spider-man, the jesses are spider-women, hobie is spider-man

and miles morales is spider-man

[octuscle]

my asian jock friend, putra made me a card labeling me "good boy"......wtf is this?

Every school has a Putra, right? The one who's the lad everyone's secretly in love with. The lad whose smile melts the freshmen and the seniors, the cafeteria cooks and the teachers. Putra is the star of the swim team. Putra is best gymnast in the school. Putra dances like a young god.

For most, however, Putra is unattainable. He is friendly and polite to everyone. But at the same time completely unapproachable. No one has ever seen him making out and holding hands with a girl. Or with a boy. Putra talks about his dream of becoming a policeman, he talks about the soccer club he is a fan of. And there is hardly a person who pines for him as much as you do. Because you know something that no one else does: Putra would love to hold hands and make out. And that with a man. With the man of his dreams. And as unfortunate as that is for you and also for him: You are not that. You are a couch potato. You are cautious and introverted. You are a aesthete. Hell, you have many good qualities. But you are not the man of Pura's dreams.

And now you hold this card in your hand. "Good Boy." Nothing else. "Good Boy." The back is blank. The card made of heavy black cardboard with gold lettering. "Good Boy." You recognize his handwriting. You've tutored him often enough to recognize it. He's obviously put a lot of effort into it. You need to keep working on your term paper now. The card is stuck in the keyboard. "Good Boy." Damn it, you have to concentrate. The term paper has to be handed in by midnight. With your nose close to the keyboard, you notice that there is a smell coming from the card. The card is perfumed. But with a strange perfume… It smells like a burnt lunch. Strange spices. Rubber. There are lots of smells mixed together… You have to put the card somewhere else. With the smell in your nose, you can't concentrate at all. But the smell is somehow… hypnotizing. You take the card to your nose and breathe deeply. Fuck the term paper. Fuck the report cards. Yes, the card stinks. But still you love that smell, it's Putra's smell. Mysterious, a little wild, a little rebellious. That's who you'd be. That would be a good boy. With one hand you start massaging your cock. With the other hand you move the mouse over the desktop. Fuck, the term paper is good enough as it is. My God, it's about passing. Nothing more. You need porn now. Hot men sucking each other's dicks. As you do so, you imagine working Putra's cock with your tongue.

Your cell phone vibrates. A message from Putra. His cock is so hard and he imagines you licking his balls. Putra is a perverted sow. But you understand each other without words. But with hard pictures. You send him a picture of you jerking your cock. He asks since when you wear a PA. Hehehe, you answer that he never asked. Fuck, jerking off and chatting at the same time is really difficult. The phone rings. Putra. You put it on speakerphone. He asks you moaning if you are a good boy. You answer that you are horny and hard at the moment. But definitely not a good boy. Hehehe, replies Putra. There are already two of you. Fuck, you say, why isn't he here so you can suck his balls. Putra says that it is really difficult when you visit your family in China. Shit, you didn't want to fly. But you are a good boy, family is important. Dude, without you it's a disaster here, you answer. You are bored to death. Putra answers that he feels the same way. He jerks off three times a day to distract himself. Hehehe, you answer, in the future please only together. Fuck, you're almost ready. From the other end of the line you hear only a moan and then a loud "Fuuuuuuuuuuuck". Shit, you blow your load all over your face. Your mother calls from the next room, whether everything is okay. You answer in your best Cantonese that you're just playing a video game. Putra laughs on the other end of the line.

You go into the bathroom, wipe the cum off your face and chest, and switch to video. Honey, you already know I have a paper due. Putra replies that you're both going to college on athletic scholarships anyway, so you shouldn't make such a fuss. You laugh and say that at least you have to send the file. Putra gives you a kiss through the cell phone and says that he has to take a shower now, he has to go to the gym right away. Shitty time difference. You give him a kiss back and ask who is a good boy. He laughs and says that you are a good boy.

Pics found at @2-otoko, @nervousconnoisseursublime and @slutty-milan

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

anyway SO when the universe is reset. the memory loss is a lot more severe than you’d think. it’s not just losing memories it’s also losing a lot of knowledge- it’s not a gentle process, it’s basically taking a scalpel to the brain and cutting out random shit. tommy and tubbo can barely even remember their own names- they sound familiar, but it takes a while for them to figure out why. they struggle to read. they can’t recognise simple concepts. basically, they’ve had their entire brain completely wiped, and the only pieces of knowledge that remain are due to pure luck. (this is the same for everyone, they’re just less relevant to these totally canon facts).

but dream? dream is only pretending that he lost his memory too. he was the one who initiated the incident, to wipe the server back to his intended vision- and if he had to leave everyone as blank slates, well, that just makes it easier! he’d happily do it again. (another fun fact: this includes punz. that’s why dream ignored him by the end bc he knew he wouldn’t remember shit.)

but he pretends to have a little more knowledge than everyone else, so he quickly manages to get the role of leader because no one knows to distrust him. the concept of lying is something most of them have a vague recollection of, at best, and they trust him implicitly, and think of him exactly as he’s portraying himself- a borderline god.

and then we get back to tommy. dream basically immediately kidnapped him under the pretext of building a base (which he proceeded to trap the poor kid in) while using his amnesia to make him believe that everything dream was doing to him was okay and normal for family (which he also convinced him they were) and that everyone else was the problem. so tommy’s completely oblivious to the fact that basically being locked in a glorified cell, unable to speak with anyone but his “big brother”, and heavily abused under dream’s paranoia he’d start remembering if he wasn’t being actively conditioned into obedience at all times isn’t just what happens to everyone else, and thinks that it’s everyone else who is scary. he doesn’t want to leave because he’s been manipulated into believing his own abuse is a privilege he should be thankful for and actual friendship is harmful.

but then, of course, he inevitably starts remembering. and at first he thinks he’s just having bad dreams, but as he gets more and more snippets from his life, he realises that dream did… something, and he could probably do it again. that what’s happening to him isn’t okay. that he’s actually worth something outside of being an emotional support hostage. but as soon as he realises that, he also realises that no matter what he can’t let dream know, because what if he makes everyone forget again? so he has to play along as the perfect pawn in some twisted game of happy families while waiting for the opportunity to fight back and make sure dream can never fuck with anyones memories again and go back to living with his real family (if they even remember him- after all, the only reason tommy realised the dreams were real was because he was remembering stuff about dream specifically…)

anyway since dsmp 2 is mercifully dead we can say with 100% certainty this is canon. c!prime psychological horror always wins 🥰 and since c!prime belong to me i have full authority on this 🥰

[kpopmakesmeweep]

badboy!yeonjun x innocent!reader 

word count: 21k

angst, fluff, smut

when your teacher asked you to tutor in the beginning of the school year, you were hesitant even then. 

you knew that it meant your lunch period and one study hall for the day were gonna be completely booked, helping younger kids grasp the basic idea that the mitochondria was the powerhouse of the cell.

but then you met one young girl desperate to pass her first test in october and knew your teacher had gotten you, sending a small, defeated smile her way as you gave her the okay to put your name on the list. 

you didn’t expect to come back from winter break with the news that the next student you’d be tutoring wasn’t a sweet 7th grade girl but none other than choi yeonjun. 

the overwhelmingly attractive but horribly intimidating boy who was a year older than you and had, quite possibly, one of the worst reputations the school has ever seen.

if he wasn’t getting suspended for fighting or smoking on school grounds, you’d attempt to block out the mindless gossip about him and all the college girls he’d frequently fraternize with. 

he was in your lunch period when you were a sophomore and he was a junior and you couldn’t help but be fascinated by how handsome he was. how he carried himself and how everyone else seemed to be fascinated by him too.

he was always wearing some variation of black, like his closet was just an empty void of black leather, dark cotton and chains. if he didn’t have on a beanie or hat, his then blue hair was a mess of waves that always made you look a few seconds too long.

you’ll never forget the day that he caught you, your nose in a textbook as you studied for a midterm before a loud shout of his name caught your attention. 

you looked up and watched one of his friends playfully punch him in the arm, something about him hooking up with the older girl he had his eye on first and yeonjun only smirking at him devilishly. 

he didn’t look apologetic or regretful in the slightest, more so like he’d do again just because he could and just because he knew the girl would be eager to have another go with him. 

your breath caught in your throat when his deep brown eyes met yours, his head cocked as he held your gaze with all the confidence and smugness you could never have. 

it took his lips quirking into a cocky smile for you to snap out of it, cheeks warming and stomach churning at getting caught before you dropped your gaze right back down to your book.

it was a quick and thorough reminder that this is where you feel comfortable and this is where you belong - with your nose in a book and your mind on your studies. 

you’ve always intended to just get through high school with good grades and minimal distractions, a small (almost non-existent) friend group that left you able to make straight a’s and work a small, part-time job.

you’d done a pretty good job of that thus far, no bad boys covered in all black and sliver chains to show you that, maybe, getting out of your comfort zone isn’t such a bad thing after all.  

you met yeonjun during your 7th period study hall a week later than intended, him not showing up to either of the periods your teacher informed you both last week. 

you weren’t surprised in the slightest but also wouldn’t dare tattle on him, simply dodging the questions from your teacher or giving her a polite smile and cryptic answer. 

but you couldn’t even stop the way your eyes widened when the library door opened and he was making his way toward you, black beanie placed on his head along with a dark shirt tight across his chest paired with gray sweatpants that made you bite down on your lip.

his hair was pink now, long with a slight wave to it that looked all too soft and inviting to touch; the color probably shouldn’t work on anyone but, of course, it works on him. 

devastatingly attractive in a way that doesn’t seem fair nor human. 

he hasn’t said a word to you, he wasn’t even within six feet of you yet, but you were already scared shitless. you already didn’t trust yourself to be around him and not make a bumbling fool of yourself. 

a pretty smirk crossed his face when he stood in front of you, looking down at you with a playful look in his eye that was far too mocking and sinister. 

“hey. y/n, right?”

you never would’ve pictured this man saying (or even knowing) your name, nor him looking at you so willingly and intensely, but you have to quickly snap yourself out of it. 

this was as professional a relationship could be between two students and you really had to get it together. 

“hi, yes... that’s me,” you say softly. 

so softly that you’re not even sure he can hear it but you can, unfortunately, hear the tremor in your own voice and it’s nothing but absolute embarrassment. 

he happens to like it though, if the way his eyes light up and his smirk widens tells you anything. 

“i’m yeonjun.”

“i know.”

you say the statement far too quickly and it causes your face to warm, your mouth hanging open as the amusement continues to build behind his eyes; you can see with your own that the boy is too handsome for his own good but something tells you he’s probably far too charming as well. 

“i mean... we were supposed to meet last week,” you attempt to clarify.

it seems like a good save, something to make, both, your embarrassment lessen slightly and for him to know you’re aware that he missed the two sessions last week. 

but it doesn’t seem to work, the boy sitting down across from you with all the confidence and smoothness in the world. he leans in closer and you hold your breath, horribly lonely and touch-starved heart fluttering in your chest. 

“i know, sorry about that,” he says, a genuineness in his voice that you can’t help but question. “i was busy with some things.”

you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, not even wanting to think about what kind of things keeps a man like him busy.

your teeth sinks into your bottom lip nervously and you can just feel his eyes burning into you, moving across your pink face and down to your soft white sweater; it makes you look every bit as innocent as he’s presumed you to be and he can’t say it doesn’t make him smile. 

“and yet, the teacher didn’t say anything to me about missing.”

you meet his eyes at his questioning tone, so scrutinizing and intense that you feel very grateful about your decision not to blow up his spot; you don’t even wanna know what he looks like when he’s angry. 

or maybe you do, some darker and suppressed part of yourself thinks. 

“that’s because i didn’t tell her,” you say quietly, a lump forming in your throat that you’re trying desperately to push down. “i didn’t wanna....” 

you almost say tattle and you think your face wold turn an unnatural shade of red if that silly word left your mouth in front of him.

so you meekly and sweetly decide on, “i didn’t wanna get you in trouble,” a smile gracing his face that almost makes you feel like you’d done a good job or something. 

and how ridiculous does that sound? you did a good job for the older, delinquent boy - you don’t know what’s gotten into you. 

maybe his smile and his eyes and just the way he’s looking at you is making you feel as if you’re actually something to look at - you’ve never really been observed the way he’s observing you. 

a deep, melodic chuckle leaving his mouth causes you to swallow nervously, watching him with a blank expression because you’re not sure if he’s laughing at you or with you.

your heart stutters when he leans back to stretch, his arm squeezing at the back of his neck; it takes everything in you not to watch his arm flex.

“how’d i know you were a good girl, hm?”

your eyes widen at his words, stomach swooping in a way that’s only ever happened when you watch couples on tv or read about a romance in books. 

because it’s not only his words, it’s the way he carries himself. the way he’s looking at you and speaking to you, the way you never thought anyone would - let alone him. 

he must mistake your utter...shock and fascination for confusion, eyes wide and cheeks flushed and he suddenly wants to place his hand on your cheek. 

see if it’s as warm and soft as it appears to be in this very moment.

“you were in my lunch last year, no?” he hums, looking directly at you with zero ounce of fear and ever bit of confidence. “always with a textbook or writing something.”

he doesn’t remember all the girls that gawk at him but he remembered you immediately. 

caught your gaze early last year and saw something flicker in your eyes, a soft and innocent fascination he wasn’t used to seeing but immediately made him wanna ruin you - he wanted to ruin you and he didn’t even know you. 

he just knew that he’d watch you sometimes, discreetly and quickly, but enough to get his fix.

when he entered the cafeteria and made sure you were sitting there with your your face buried in a book. 

when you’d get up to buy lunch or a bottle of water, pull down your skirt or adjust your hair in a way that made him wanna touch you in a similar fashion.

when you’d leave five minutes early (in what he fantasized was so you wouldn’t be late) and send him one last glance. feel your soft, hesitant gaze on his face and meet it carelessly at the very last second.

just enough to watch you get shy and see the blush so similar to now cross your cheeks. 

he didn’t know your name and he, truthfully, never intended on learning it. because as much as he wanted to truly ruin you, he knew that’s all it was - a dark, twisted fantasy that someone like him shouldn’t act on. 

but then when he walked in and saw you here, the tutor he was dreading to meet in such a familiar position, he knew immediately that you were her. 

the cute girl from his lunch he wasn’t sure was an angel he wanted to protect or someone he wanted to fuck the shit out of. 

you weren’t sure what to think right now, not wanting to get your hopes up or think too much into his question - you were in my lunch last year, no?

think that you were special and he remembers you for reasons far too fantastical so you only nod, figuring he could be taking a guess; there’s only three lunch periods after all. 

“yeah. your hair was blue.”

a smirk crosses his face, chest warming at the fact you remembered him (even though the cocky, confident part inside of him knew you would). 

“yes it was,” he confirms, smiling down at you in a way that makes your heart jump and pound even more. ”i was hoping you’d remember. because i knew i recognized you from somewhere.”

you don’t know how you’re gonna do this. you can barely look at him, how are you supposed to talk to him and teach him twice a week and actually-

“i do wanna ask you something else though.”

your eyebrows pull together at the slight change in his voice, cocking your head to the side as you look at him.

he’s leaning in a little closer now, tiny pink strands hanging from his beanie as his brown eyes bore into yours. there’s still some amusement twinged in his eyes but it all looks very deceptive, unnerving a part of you that your stupid little heart is ignoring. 

he doesn’t allow you to ask him what before he starts talking again. 

“how about we keep these sessions the way they’ve been?” 

your eyebrow raises as confusion continues to plague you; your sessions haven’t even started? 

you haven’t even taught him anything, what could he possibly- but it’s the moment he opens his mouth to speak again, you realize that’s exactly the point. 

“you tell the teacher i’m coming to these and i’ll tell her what a good job you’re doing. how much i’m learning from you and shit.”

a smirk crosses his face when he peers into your eyes, catching the nervous, unsure look in them that only makes his smirk widen - you really are too cute. 

you, on the other hand, don’t know how you feel about his suggestion; you just know how you feel about lying. 

it doesn’t sit well with you and you don’t wanna get in trouble. 

the teacher has a class during this period so it’s not like she’d come down and check but it still makes you incredibly queasy. 

and if he needed tutoring in the first place, he obviously needs help. he’s a senior and needs to keep his grades up so he can graduate. it’d be your fault if he didn’t pass and you’d hate to be the reason he gets-

movement in front of you causes your thoughts to immediately stop, body freezing as you watch him lift his arm and bring his hand to your head. 

he moves a strand of hair from your face before smoothing out the slight crease in your forehead, biting down on his lip when he feels your skin is just as soft and smooth as he suspected. 

“what are you thinking so hard about?”

the deep, low tone of his voice and inquisitive look on his face is dangerous, almost as dangerous as the frantic beating of your heart and the way it’s about to pound out of your chest. 

it’s like he has electric sparks shooting from his hand, making you feel extremely exposed and vulnerable even though his touch is quite gentle and innocent.

“i.... it’s just....” you stutter out, taking a deep breath because you know you need to get it together fast. “you’ve been having trouble, right? that’s... why you needed tutoring in the first place.”

his eyebrow quirks up at your comment and for a split second, you think you’ve offended him. 

“i don’t want you to fail, yeonjun.”

he doesn’t allow himself to dwell on your words, realize that no one has so openly and sweetly said that to him before. or even cared enough to tell him that they don’t want him to fail.

he knows the teachers and counselors get him help because it’s their job. 

he knows his parents bitch and complain about it because they don’t want him repeating high school or wasting their money. 

he knows anyone who says anything to him about it is just doing it to make themselves look like a good person or friend. 

but you just so openly and sweetly said it, a deep concern in your eyes that he knows he can’t dwell on or his similar feelings are gonna arise from last year’s lunch.

where he’s about to throw caution to the wind and do anything and everything he wants to someone as innocent and sweet as you; but he can’t do that and he knows it, he knows that’s why these session can’t happen - on top of the fact that it’s not only you. 

he smokes during lunch and into this period. 

and there’s just no fucking way he’s spending that time suppressing his predatory attraction to you while learning about shit he doesn’t understand and being high as a kite. 

“you don’t gotta worry about me, angel,” he hums lowly, the name falling so naturally and smoothly from his mouth, he doesn’t even realize. “just do that for me, yeah? then you’ll have 7th free.”

you don’t hear much after he calls you angel, just that he’s asking you to do something for him and you’re blindly and dumbly nodding because he just called you that.

and it’s not until he smiles and thanks you deeply, looking over your face once more before saying that he’ll see you around that you realize you’re alone. 

sitting there as you watch yeonjun walk out the door without a glance back and come to terms with the fact you just agreed to lie to your teacher for him.

for almost a month, you were able to keep it up.

it was terrifying and debilitating and it almost sent you into a full blown identity crisis, but you’d somehow managed to do it.

that was until this afternoon, when your teacher cut through the cafeteria during lunch with a cup of coffee in hand and suspicion in the pit of her stomach. 

she saw you sitting there alone, your own books sprawled out around you as you wrote down notes before her short call of your name had your head snapping up. 

her eyes watching you quizzically made your own widen, stomach sinking and heart starting to pound as he she made her way over to you. 

“hi, y/n. where’s yeonjun today? it’s wednesday.”

the period only began ten minutes ago so it wouldn’t be weird for you to say that he wasn’t here yet. that he got held up after class and would be on his way shortly.

but you were just nervous and so bad at lying that you blurted out that he left to go to the bathroom, her eyes roaming the table in what you could only assume was for his books. 

“he took his backpack with him,” you tell her quietly, smiling softly in an effort to hide your guilt and distress. she only hums softly before nodding her head, taking your word for it because why wouldn’t she?

you’re good and studious and wouldn’t ever lie to a teacher.

but then when she comes down to the library next week during 7th period with her class, catching you at the table by yourself, you do it again. 

look her in the face and panic, make a scene of collecting your books as you tell her you forgot you guys were meeting in the cafeteria today - placing the blame on yourself.

you spent the rest of the period in the bathroom, collecting your thoughts and attempting to calm yourself down because you can’t keep lying. 

you haven’t even talked to yeonjun since the first time you met in the library, only seeing him in passing in the hallway or after school. 

he’ll send you a nod paired with his signature smirk and you’ll send him a small smile back, dipping your head before your cheeks flush at the mere sight of his eyes. 

you wish you hadn’t agree to this. 

you wish he didn’t effect you so much and you wish you could tell him you either need to actually help him or tell the teacher he doesn’t want to, because you’re losing your mind. 

you’re anxious and upset and not feeling good about yourself, barely able to look your teacher in the face these days. 

it’s on a friday before lunch, the bell ringing ready to dismiss you from her class, that it all comes crashing down.

she asked you to stay behind for a moment, everything about her face calm and neutral as you made your way over to her desk. 

you were anything but calm as you stood before her, that familiar feeling of dread and guilt rushing in your stomach as you smiled softly at her and asked if everything was okay. 

“yes, i just wanted to say what a great job you’re doing with yeonjun.”

you don’t even know what your face looks like but you know it’s probably the face of someone incredibly guilty, being praised for something you haven’t been doing and taking credit for it even though you know it’s wrong.

the feeling in your stomach confirms all of those feelings, tight and fluttery and buzzing with upset.

“o-oh?” 

“yeah,” she smiles tightly, looking over your face before speaking again. “we just took our third test and he did great. in the low 90s.”

a part of you desperately hopes that to be true, that maybe he started applying himself and somehow started to grasp the material all on his own. you smile at the thought that that’s the case, nodding your head as you, against your better judgment, keep up the facade. 

“i’m happy for him. he’s been working very hard. w-we studied at our last session for it, actually, and he really seemed to be understanding it.”

the contemplative look she gave you should’ve been the first sign that she knew you were full of shit, a quiet hum leaving her mouth. she holds your gaze until the moment you drop it, looking down at your white sneakers until she calls your name softly. 

“y/n... why have you been lying to me?” 

your lips press together as tears prick your eyes, all of the guilt and shame rushing through you at once. 

“he failed his test and i know you guys haven’t been meeting.”

she knows that because you can’t lie. she knows that because yeonjun still doesn’t know anything and all of the students she’s recommended to you have passed with flying colors. 

she knows because when you look up at her, your lip is trembling and it looks like you’re about to burst into tears.

“i... i’m so sorry.”

but even then, even after this moment right here, you’re still not gonna tell on yeonjun. because you don’t want him getting in trouble and you’re not gonna try to excuse your own behavior by admitting you agreed to it. 

you’re just as at fault as the older boy and you’re not gonna pretend you’re not. 

“why have you been lying? you could’ve just told me if you didn’t feel comfortable tutoring him or it wasn’t working out.”

because she knows yeonjun’s reputation. she knows he’s a year older and that you’re one of the shyer students in her class. she was hesitant at first to even put you two together but thought you’d be able to get through to him. 

and because you don’t know what to say, how to make up an excuse that puts neither of you at fault, you don’t say anything. just continue to apologize with teary eyes and a shaky voice before she eventually lets out a sigh. 

“take the next few days to figure it out. try to work on it with him or come to me and be honest that it’s not gonna work. but you didn’t have to lie to me, y/n. i’m a little disappointed in you.”

those words hit you harder than you care to admit, more tears building as you nod your head and quickly leave the room.

you knew from the beginning that it was wrong.

you never felt good about it and you knew it was bad but you still took part in it. she has every right to be disappointed in you and it feels like everything you worked so hard for has been ruined. 

now you look like a liar who can’t be trusted. 

now any time you tell her about another fellow student you’re working with, like the 7th grader you got through to or the 9th grader you helped get an a on their test, she’s gonna wonder if you really did that.

if you really helped them or if you’re just lying about that, too. telling them the answers to their homework or lazily explaining the concepts to them like you don’t work hard with each and every one of them. 

you’re surprised to see yeonjun when you make it to lunch a few moments later, your stomach still in knots and left over tears in your eyes. 

you don’t even realize you’re standing in front of his table until you hear one of his friend’s deep voices, a brash “who are you?” not even filling you with fear. 

you’re only looking at yeonjun pathetically, wide teary eyes and pouty lips in an effort to hold back more tears.

yeonjun’s dressed in his usual attire but you can’t even focus on that, his pink hair flawless against his black shirt and chain hanging around his neck as he adjusts it carelessly. 

soobin’s words catch his attention before your appearance does, looking at the front of the table and taking in the sight of wide, teary eyes and pouty lips; it pulls at something in his chest more than he cares to admit.

“yeonjun, can i talk to you for a second?” 

your voice is wobbly and timid and everything about it so incredibly embarrassing, the tears in your eyes obvious to all the young men around the table. 

you probably look like some girl he slept with and then left on read, begging him for another chance because your heart can’t take not being with him. because you got attached and now it feels like you need him. 

but, really, you just need him to let you tutor him. 

you can’t disappoint the teacher anymore and you had a job to do with him; you should’ve never told him that lying would be okay. 

“who’s this?” his friend asks with a smirk, his hair a bright shade of purple that looks striking next to yeonjun’s. 

“no one,” yeonjun’s quick to snap, looking at you before quickly getting up and guiding you out of the cafeteria by the small of your back. 

he walks down a secluded hallway and out to the garden of the school, looking at the tears in your eyes and feeling himself frown. 

“what happened?”

“i... she found out we haven’t been meeting,” you mumble, feeling silly and childish for crying in front of him about something like this; but you can’t help how you feel, you can’t help feeling sad and guilty about all of this. 

your heart drops when he actually smirks at you, looking over your face with a gaze that’s just as soft as it is amused.

you’re almost positive he’s about to laugh at you, call you a loser for crying over something as juvenile as getting caught in a silly lie and hurt your feelings even more. 

but then you’re quickly stiffening when his hand reaches up, gently brushing at your tears and marveling in just how soft your skin is. 

“that’s why you’re crying?” 

you’re embarrassed to say the least, any words you’d use to justify your reaction caught in your throat - and the smirk on his face isn’t helping either.

“you’re too pretty to cry over stupid shit like that, y/n.”

“it’s not stupid,” you respond, voice shaky and demeanor meek but still able to talk back. 

because it’s not stupid to you. wanting to be nice and studious and a good person isn’t stupid. not wanting to be a liar or someone who goes back on their word isn’t stupid. 

“she trusted me to help you and i lied to her.”

“we lied to her,” he says, voice and eyes teasing as he bends down to be on your level. you think he’s trying to make you feel better, a soft playfulness on his face that does anything but.

because you aren’t like him. 

you aren’t cool and feared and you can’t not care about how you effect other people. 

“why didn’t you just tell her it was my idea?” he asks suddenly, his eyes roaming your face in such a gentle but curious way. “she probably already knows that.”

“i... i didn’t want you to get in trouble.”

he rises to his full height as a small smile crosses his face, your soft voice and sweet words again effecting him far too much. he shouldn’t feel this way toward you and he shouldn’t want to be tutored now.

he shouldn’t be reaching out to touch the smooth skin of your cheek, a few stray tears making his lips fall into the smallest of frowns as you hear his voice the softest it’s ever been. 

“i wouldn’t get in trouble, angel.”

and there’s that word again. making your wet eyes widen and stomach to flutter, wondering how and why that simple word sounds so nice leaving his mouth. 

maybe because you’ve never been called that before. 

could only imagine being called that by someone, let alone him, in such a way. or maybe it’s because it is him, the boy you watched for months on end, forever fascinated by the way he carried himself. 

or maybe it’s because-

“but even if i did, how’s that your problem? why would you care?”

it’s a fair question you suppose but it doesn’t stop you from licking at your lips nervously, an all too familiar (and embarrassing) blush warming your cheeks. 

“i mean... it’s not,” you mutter shyly, not sure if you’re more intimidated by him calling you out or the look on his face. 

but even with those feelings, you’re still able to meet his gaze. 

take in the deep, dark intensity staring back at you in his brown eyes. they’re softer than one would expect, almost soft enough to make you forget what you were wanting to say. 

“but it’s just as much my fault as it is yours. so it didn’t seem fair.”

he smirks so he doesn’t say anything too brash, looking over the blush on your cheeks. his hand itches to move your hair behind your ear, a move he’d always do because he knew it was charming. 

knew it’d get him laid and get a girl’s heart fluttering.

but now he wants to do it just to touch you, feel your hair and skin and watch the blush on your cheeks deepen; but before he can do anything, he’s surprised to hear you speak anything.

“but it’s also not fair to keep lying,” you say softly, a broken little smile crossing your face as you look at him. “i actually really hated the lying... so if you don’t wanna do the sessions, i’m gonna tell her it’s not gonna work for us. but if you change your mind, i’m still free during those periods.”

at that moment, he had every intention of telling you no. 

he didn’t wanna give up his free time and energy to learn about things he’s absolutely sure he’s never gonna need to know after this. 

he didn’t wanna sit through the sessions high or not get high at all, the only way he’s able to cope with the last period of the school day knowing that he could roll a joint in his car with soobin. 

he didn’t wanna resist his obvious attraction and borderline fascination with you, act on it in a way he knows you’re not ready for and in a way he shouldn’t.

but when he walked in the library on monday, the time he told you he’d get back to you, you looked up and smiled at him. it was such a small, quick smile but everything about it called to him.

the twinge in your eyes and the way your hair fell, how even though your smile was small, it lit up your face and made you the prettiest girl he’d ever seen in his life.

at that moment, you were positive he was about to tell you no.

that thanks but no thanks, he’s absolutely not gonna spend his free period being tutored by a younger student who only stutters and blushes in his presence. 

but when he sat down in front of you, a smirk on his face and eyebrow quirked, you couldn’t even hold back your look of surprise. 

a deep chuckle left his mouth when he caught your expression, the sound one of the best noises you’ve ever heard.  

“what? did you think i wasn’t coming back, angel?”

it took you a month to see yeonjun was just as confident and just as much trouble as you’d expected. 

he was far too charming and attractive and funny, a sarcasm and wit in him that made you muffle your giggles like a middle school girl. 

you weren’t used to talking playfully with the people you tutored, always so focused on getting the work done and making sure you were doing a good job explaining the material for them.

but yeonjun always made sure to delay it, attempt to get to know you before you could even discuss his homework or review sheet; and even though it hasn’t been easy, he’s been persistent in breaking down that wall you put up.

“did the flashcards help or do you think you’re more of a-”

“why don’t you ever go out?”

you suppress the urge to let out a sigh as you turn to look at him, his expressive eyes looking over your face.

you’ve gotten used to the feel of his gaze on you, almost like it was burning into your skin and leaving you exposed to the bone, but it didn’t help when you made eye contact.

looked into his eyes and saw him looking back at you so confidently and so easily, you couldn’t help but feel flustered.

“what do you mean?”

you know exactly what he means but it’s the only thing you could think to say.  

you know more than anyone how much time you spend alone in your room, watching tv series and reading books and reorganizing until you don’t even recognize your own space.

but it’s not that you’re bothered by it, that’s what you like going. not going out isn’t something you find bad or upsetting.

“i mean i see people from your grade at our parties a lot,” he hums lowly, his eyes leaving yours only to look at the soft, pastel pink material of your sweater.

“but you’re never there,” he continues, looking at you and cocking his head to the side questioningly. “why’s that?”

“well, i’m not...invited, i guess,” you mumble out, ignoring the way your cheeks warm even more. “i like sticking to myself. and staying home.”

the words and your tone bring a pout to his face, your eyebrow raising at the sight. why is looking at you like that?

“well now you have an invite,” he says, a teasing smile crossing his face. “come to my friend’s party tonight. soobin, do you know him? he has the purple hair?”

his voice is far too sweet and soft compared to the look in his eye, teasing and flirty and reminding you of just how dangerous he is. how he’s capable of having so many different sides, he nearly gives you whiplash. 

he’s the bad boy everyone thinks of him to be, skipping class and getting high and ditching tutoring lessons by smiling too kindly at a mousy little tutor. 

he’s the play boy you see come out when he looks at you a second too long, bringing a blush to your cheeks and stirring something very unfamiliar in the pit of your stomach. 

but then he has a softer side you see sometimes, like when he decided to do these lessons in the first place because you cried to him and made yourself look even more pathetic. 

“i’m happy you decided to do these,” you say to him quietly. 

it was only your second session but you wanted him to know you were supportive of his decision. that, even if your word meant nothing (because, really, who are you to him?), you were proud of him.

it’s not easy for a senior to give up a period or two to learn about things they don’t understand; you probably wouldn’t wanna do it either, if school and learning didn’t come naturally to you. 

but for whatever reason, he agreed to do it.

“oh?” he hums, the trademark smirk on his face causing your cheeks to warm.

“yeah,” you smile softly, nodding your head before looking down at your clasped fingers. “i just... wanted you to know that. i understand why you didn’t want to but i think it’ll be good for-”

“why do you think i didn’t want to?” 

you look at him and for a split second you’re scared that you offended him. you suppose you don’t really know him well enough to make an assumption about him but you just assumed he-

“or, you know what, no,” he says, shaking his head as he pushes his chair closer to yours. 

he leans over the desk the same way he did during your first meeting last month, bringing your faces closer until you can smell cologne and the faint stench of cigarettes. 

“i wanna hear why you think i changed my mind?”

you quirk an eyebrow as you look at him, staring blankly until you realize he just plans on doing the same. 

“well... i guess it’s because you wanted to do good, right?” you ask meekly, unsure why he changed his mind but knowing that you were happy he did. “and maybe you didn’t wanna disappoint the teacher.”

a deep chuckle leaves his mouth that has butterflies erupting in your stomach, watching as he shakes his head and meets your gaze again. 

“is that no it?” you ask bravely, your wide eyes and confused look causing his own stomach to do flips. “what’s so funny?”

but he’s quick to push it down, reach over to ruffle your hair in a way that makes your eyebrows pull together. 

“nothing, angel,” he mumbles, his eyes roaming yours. you see the exact moment there’s s witch behind them, a flirty and darker front he puts up melting into a soft, vulnerable look.

“but thank you for telling me that. because i’m happy i’m doing them, too.”

he has yet to tell you the reason all these weeks later, probably because you wouldn’t dare ask again, but whatever it was, must’ve greatly inspired him.

because over these weeks, he’s really been putting in the work. writing notes and listening to you and asking questions when he’s not making you blush or inviting you out just for you to decline. 

“so...?” he asks, a charismatic smile stretching across his face as he looks at you awaitingly. “what do you say? you wanna come?”

“no, thank you,” you smile politely, feeling bad for downright denying it but the offer feeling far too similiar to cliche movies you’ve watched. where the popular boy invites the nerd to a party and everyone laughs at her, questions why the hell she’s here and pulls some stupid, immature prank on her.

but this isn’t a movie and you don’t think you even have the capacity to show your face there, nor would anyone care that much to target you. 

dismissing him is easier than really considering you hanging out with him outside of this library. seeing him in a different setting and allowing him to see a different side of you.

not you looking at him pleadingly, your eyes moving to the paper in front of him as you ask him to do the next question.

“i’ll do it if you come tomorrow night,” he says, a sigh leaving your mouth as you look at him in frustration.

“yeonjun...”

because if there’s another thing you’ve learned about yeonjun, it’s that he knows you have trouble saying no to him. it could because he sees the naivety in you, seeing something good in him at times and thinking you’ll really be able to help him.

but maybe he hopes you can help him, too. be a person he can lean on and know 100% is gonna be there for him. 

“c’mon, y/n, don’t you wanna have a little fun?”

“i don’t think i’d find it fun,” you mutter honestly, a pout forming on your lips that has him swearing he’s never wanted to kiss someone as much as he wants to kiss you in this moment.

just brush his lips gently against yours, hear the little sounds and see your reactions that he knows will be the best thing he’s ever had. hold your waist and feel your skin against his that while it’s juvenile to him would be so much to you. 

“you don’t know until you try, y/n,” he mutters lowly, looking up at him and seeing his gaze is, as usual, unrelenting. “have you ever been to a party before?”

of course you’ve been to parties before; birthday parties, graduation parties, wedding parties - but you’ve never been to a high school house party. 

and are you about to tell him that? absolutely not. 

“of course i have,” you mumble, a smirk on his lips because he can tell by the way you avert eye contact that you’re lying. “but it’s just... especially with kids from school who i don’t know? i don’t think it’d be fun, yeonjun.”

“but i’d be there?” he whines, something very uncharacteristic of someone who is known to be a bad boy. “isn’t that fun enough?”

you let out a groan as you frown again, tapping the notebook in front of you lightly as you meet his close gaze. 

“your test is next week, yeonjun. can you please focus on that right now?” 

it’s not until the next session that he thinks to use that to his advantage, supposing he can stand one more party without your presence as he smiles over at you. 

“let’s make a deal, angel.”

you know when he calls you that that you’re not about to talk about school or his test, looking over at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“if i get 100 on my test next week, you come to one of soobin’s party.”

you have to suppress a groan at the way he’s not letting up on this damn party, biting down on your lip as you do your best to give him a serious look.

“you should get the 100 because you want to, not because you’re trying to-”

his finger on your lips is the next thing you’re only able to focus on.

not the pounding of your heart or increasing anxiety at the thought of a party or  the fact that there’s more people in the library than usual today. 

you’re only aware of him touching you, a quiet “sh,” leaving his mouth that has your stomach fluttering far more than you care to admit. 

he meets your wide-eyed gaze and smirks at the look on your face. his finger presses down on your bottom lip gently, dragging it slowly and watching as it pops back up. 

there’s an almost pained look in his eyes that you can’t make out, his eyes never moving from your lips before meeting your gaze again. 

“i want a lot of things, y/n,” he says, his voice deep and gruff and making your heart pound even more as he looks to your mouth again. 

you feel your lower stomach swoop at the way he bites down on his bottom lip, his other hand ghosting over to rest of your knee. 

your uniform skirt comes just above your knees, becoming higher when you sit and perfectly exposing your tight covered legs. his large hand rests on your knee like it completely belongs there, like he’s gonna dare anyone to tell him it doesn’t belong there and to take his hands off you.  

“things i probably shouldn’t tell you yet so your pretty little face doesn’t become beat red,” he mumbles in your ear, his warm breath fanning onto your skin and making a shaky, embarrassing sigh leave your mouth.  

but just him realizing that makes your cheeks flush. everything about his closeness and his words and the way he’s just saying these things to you right in the middle of the library. 

the way his hand is slipping inside of your knee, fingers resting on the inside of your thigh that has some dirty, repressed part of you desperate to spread your legs just a little bit more for him.

feel more of his skin on you and heighten the feeling building in your lower half. 

“but i can assure you, none of them are an on my test. but if that means getting you to spend time with me outside of this fucking hellhole, i’m gonna do it.”

just as fast as his hand was on your thigh, it’s gone and cupping your face. holding on to your jaw as he makes you look at him and has a look of softness and amusement but also darkness and arousal. 

it probably has every bit to do with the fact you let out a tiny squeal when he did so, your eyes widening and legs now spreading apart ever so slightly. 

“do you understand now?” 

you should have the power here being his tutor but you don’t. you’re the cat and he’s the mouse, you’re the prey and he’s the predator and you’re not about to do anything to stop it. 

“ye-yes yeonjun,” you say, a groan almost leaving his mouth at you how compliant you are already. 

and it’s that reaction right there that has him skipping the party on friday and spending his weekend doing something he never thought he’d do his senior year - making flashcards and studying his ass off. 

you remember being incredibly proud when, two weeks later, yeonjun came to your session with his graded test paper in hand. 

he looked happy and accomplished and ready to take on the world, a warm feeling blooming in your chest at the look on his face.

“how’d you do?” you smiled up at him, your eyes soft and expression excited.

when he flipped the test over to reveal his 100% test, your first instinct was to raise your hand for a high five. it’s what you always did with the younger kids, praising them and sharing their excitement over a test that they worked incredibly hard on.

so when you did the same thing to him, quickly realizing he’s not one of your 7th grade students but an absurdly attractive man, your cheeks flushed and you stuttered out a “sorry.”

but he only chuckled lightly and high-fived you immediately, lacing your fingers from across the table before you could pull away. the action caught you off guard more than your nerdy high-five, eyes looking down to your conjoined hands before you gave him an incredulous look.

“what are you doing?” you squeak out, fearing that your hand’s about to get clammy and your heart may explode.

“don’t tell me you don’t remember our deal?”

you realized before you even entered soobin’s house that you made a grave mistake. 

music was pounding through the open windows of the house and a few people were littered across the lawn. a drunken couple sloppily making out while another one fought about someone dancing with a stranger all before ten p.m.

you truly intended on never coming, telling yeonjun you seriously could not go through with this and had to flake out on your deal. 

but he’d been so proud of his test. not just because it meant you were coming but because it showed him he was actually capable - or at least, that was the story he told you.

and whether you were silly and naive to believe him was on you since now, you’re walking into a party looking like someone’s holding a weapon to your back. 

“so i’ll see you tonight, right?” 

you were still hesitant even during 7th period this afternoon, looking at yeonjun with a pained expression. 

“yeonjun... i really don’t know if i can do it.”

“why not? i’m gonna be there, just for you.”

you swallow down a bold, sassy remark that he’s gonna be there anyway, probably to remind your fluttering heart not to think too much into his comment. 

but is him being there enough to make you go? or is that scaring you more? seeing him outside of school, around his friends, in an environment where he can be even more bold and daring. 

after all, being in the school library didn’t stop him from creeping his hand up your inner thigh.

“i don’t just wanna follow you around all night and bother you like a lost puppy,” you whine quietly, knowing this was part of the deal but seeing just how impossible it is. 

“how could you think you’d bother me?” he asks, his head cocked to the side just as the bell ringing interrupts you. 

you let out a sigh as you stand to gather your books. you can feel his watchful eyes on you, attempting to ignore it as you silently get ready to go to next period. 

he mistakes you walking away from the table to throw out a stray sheet of paper as you leaving, quickly rising from his feet and pulling you back into him. your body collides with his before he presses you against the table, the library nearly empty as the loud chatter of students can be heard from the hallways. 

“were you gonna leave without answering me?”

his voice is deep and has a certain dominating darkness behind it, your eyes raising to his just in time to see him cock an eyebrow up. 

“i... i was gonna throw this out,” you answer dumbly, raising the crumpled up paper behind your back. 

he hums thoughtfully before taking it from your hand, crumbling it up and tossing it in the nearest garbage can. he misses but makes no attempt to pick it up, keeping you pinned between him and the table with no qualms about it. 

“you missed,” you point out obviously. 

a smirk crosses his lips as he lets out a hum, bringing his hand up to smooth out a piece of your hair. 

“i’m gonna ask again,” he mumbles lowly in your ear, his large body and deep voice quickly making your breaths quicken. 

“how could you think you’d bother me when i spent my entire weekend studying for that test?” he asks, his hands snaking down your body before gently resting onto your hips. 

him pulling you closer causes another shaky sigh to leave you, your low, warning mumble of his name only making him smirk. he shouldn’t like this so much, how you sound so sweet and flustered and are allowing him have you like this. 

“that was all for you, angel. not for me or the teacher or my parents or anyone else. just you. because i wanna hang out with you.”

you swallow the nervous lump in your throat as you raise your eyes to meet his, the playfulness that was in them turning the slightest bit dark. something in them making you lick over your lips as you try to calm your racing heart.

“you won’t even know when i’m there. how am i gonna find you?”

it’s the worst excuse you could have ever thought of but you’re not surprised since yeonjun was pressed against your body and breathing down your neck the way he was. 

he chuckled lowly like he also knew it was the worst excuse you could’ve thought of, taking your phone from the table. he slides it open and looks to you, his eyebrow raised when you just continue to stare at him blankly. 

then you remember, like every other teenager in the world, you have a lock on your phone.

“0319.”

he smirks at how easily you give it up, tapping a few buttons on the screen before handing it back to you.

“i put my number in there. text me when you’re there, 

so even with a pit in your stomach and anxiety coursing through your veins, you go to his new contact name and type out “i’m here.”

you’re faintly aware of the fighting couple’s voices growing louder, his deep groans mixed with her higher pitched whines causing you to look over. 

“i saw you touch her waist!” the girl yelps, her hands on her hips with a very obvious look of distaste. “so obviously you didn’t mind! maybe you should dance with her the rest of the night!”

“maybe i will, since you’re so god damn annoying,” he yells back, your lips falling into a frown. 

the girl meets your gaze and it’s then you recognize her as a girl in your grade. she’s from the popular group but is one of the nicer ones, always smiling politely at other students and listening to teachers during their lessons. 

she almost looks embarrassed to be caught in this scenario, a broken smile crossing her face before her boyfriend notices your gaze; you don’t recognize him, so you think he must be in yeonjun’s grade. 

“what the fuck are you looking at?”

your cheeks flush as you immediately snap your head away, quickly becoming scared and uncomfortable. you can hear her chastising him but just want to be away as soon as possible, the prospect of this drunk man cursing at you somehow worse than a house full of strangers.

yeonjun hasn’t answered your text but you still take a deep breath as you walk toward the front door, immediately hit with the scent of alcohol, b.o. and weed. there’s loud music blaring from the speakers and making the house vibrate, bodies littered throughout the house as they all talk loudly and dance.

your eyes scan the room for his pink hair, stomach sinking when you see no sign of him. 

is he even here yet? he told you he was coming at nine but could he be running late? or did he forget entirely, ignore your text as a joke and now you have to-

“hey. how do i know you?” 

the first thing you see is purple hair and you’re immediately thrown back into the crowded cafeteria all those months ago. when you so boldly went up to yeonjun with tears in your eyes and he was quick to pull you away. 

you remember the boy in front of you asking who you were, the same curiosity in his eyes now as you stand in his house looking extremely uncomfortable and out of place. 

“i... my name’s y/n,” you begin quietly, the boy barely able to hear you over the music and loud chatter. “i had to talk to yeonjun during lunch once so i went up to your table and-”

“well shit, so you’re her.”

there’s a smirk on his face and gleam in his eye, like he knows something you don’t. you cock your head to the side in confusion, watching as his smirk widens and he nods his head approvingly. 

“his tutor, right? he told me about you.”

“oh... yeah,” you say quietly, because yeah, that would make sense - his friends probably wonder where he goes during his free period now; there’s a few beats of awkward silence before he speaks up again.

“so what are you doing here?”

your cheeks flush and you wish you could blame the stuffiness of his house, looking to him as you stutter out that yeonjun invited you. 

“did he now,” he hums, his eyes roaming your face and stopping on your cheeks. he doesn’t know what exactly yeonjun wants from a girl like you but he has to be honest in saying he sees the appeal. 

“follow me then, sweetheart. you want a drink?”

you shake your head before following behind him, making eye contact with one too many intimidating boys and girls before landing on your feet. everyone’s in pretty heeled boots and crop tops, dancing and singing and grinding like they don’t have any cares in the world. 

like they’re not terrified and dreading being here, even with the knowledge that the attractive boy they may or may not have developed a crush on is lingering  around.

“oh, yeonjunnie,” you hear soonbin whine sarcastically, your eyes shooting up just in time to see his familiar black attire. his pink hair is poking out of his black beanie, the chain around his neck hanging low as he turns to look at his friend. 

“i found someone for you,” the boy says before yeonjun can respond, bringing you around to the front. 

you’re in the middle of both boys who tower over you and you’re not sure if you’ve ever felt more threatened; especially because when yeonjun looks at you, you’d think he didn’t know your name. 

because he doesn’t give you a hi or a smile or even a flicker of recognition in his gaze.

he looks at you and simply says, “well, shit, i didn’t think you’d actually come,” with such a handsomely conniving smirk, you’re not sure what to think in that moment. 

because it seems as if all your silly, irrational fears are coming true in this moment. very much like the movies you’ve seen and scenarios you’ve pictured where you’re humiliated at a party or by the popular boy. 

but his smile and his words seemed so genuine. he’s seemed so genuine getting to know you these past few months, how could he have faked it so well? 

the way your face drops and cheeks warm cause his heart to break a little, still all too aware of the questioning eyes and lingering looks thrown your way. 

“didn’t you invite her?” soobin questions, looking between you and him and noting how embarrassed you look.

“i did,” is all yeonjun responds. no rhyme or reason or answer as to why he did. just that he did. so it could very well be a joke. 

“well then, welcome, y/n,” soobin responds, reaching his hand out to you. “i’m soobin, in case we weren’t formally introduced.”

you give him a tight smile, yeonjun’s piercing gaze on yours as you take soobin’s large hand in yours. 

“nice to meet you.”

your voice is soft and shaky and brings more heat to your cheeks, wanting to die when soobin rips up one of his friends for you to sit on the couch.

“i don’t mind standing,” you insist, shaking your head and offering a small smile to the other boy.

“no, no, pretty girls shouldn’t stand,” soobin says with a smirk, catching the way yeonjun’s eyes roll and jaw clenches; it all goes unnoticed to you, though, too busy sitting down and looking at your hands nervously folded into one another.

“so y/n,” soobin says, sitting down across from you and leaning forward the same way yeonjun does during his tutoring sessions. “what’s it like to tutor this idiot?”

his words are laced with affection, as are his actions as he ruffles yeonjun’s beanie playfully, but they still make you frown. still make you wanna defend him in front of others and ensure that he’s not an idiot. 

“he’s great actually,” you say softly, lips pulled up in a soft smile. “very smart and learns fast. definitely not an idiot.”

you look to the boy to see him staring blankly at you, heart sinking in your chest; you’re becoming increasingly uncomfortable in this environment and a big part of it as to do with his attitude. 

you weren’t expecting him to be overly excited, kiss your feet upon seeing you arrive or proclaim an irrational excitement. but it kind of seems as if, right now, he could care less that you’re here.

“ahh, that’s cool then,” soobin smiles. “you’re a year younger than us, right?” 

you can only hum a small “mhm,” yeonjun’s gaze burning into your face causing you to look at him. 

it’s the same soft, wide-eyed look you give him during your sessions but right now, it’s making him feel far too unsettled. like people seeing him with you are gonna show them a different side to him he has yet to acknowledge. 

“why’d you decide to come?” he asks, not being able to stop the words; he already knows the answer, he basically begged you too. 

and because you’ve been nothing but sweet and soft to him, he’s not surprised when you don’t throw it in his face that he’s the one who enforced this. that he studied for nights to pass that test so you’d feel inclined to come. 

“i thought it’d be fun,” you say sweetly, i thought we’d be able to have fun outside of school like you claimed to have wanted. “i don’t really come to parties a lot.”

“i can’t imagine why, you seem really sweet and funny,” soobin says, a flirty smile on his face that makes a blush creep up on your cheeks; he’s so bold and confident, you don’t know both of them do it. “you should come to more.”

seeing that shade of pink on your cheeks from someone else angers yeonjun more than he cares to admit, throwing his friend a dirty look before growling at him to shut up. 

“why? she’s sweet, isn’t she? maybe i need to be tutored too,” soobin says, throwing a smile your way as he plops down in the spot next to you. “what periods are you free? maybe we can go out for lunch and have a session.”

“i... i’m not allowed to leave for lunch.”

that’s a school rule - only seniors are allowed to leave for lunch. but with the way soobin laughs and yeonjun hold back a smirk, the other people littered around also letting out soft chuckles, it appears that’s something not many people follow. 

“you can with me,” soobin assures, patting your knee softly as he sends another charming smile your way. “i’ll make sure you don’t get in trouble.”

you smile in an effort to downplay your embarrassment and discomfort, an annoyed sigh leaving yeonjun as he rises from his seat. he looks even more big and broad surrounded by these people for some reason, in his element where he fits in like a glove.

it’s even more evident that you don’t fit in here - at least in the library, that’s a place you belong. the quiet, the smell of books, the solidarity, a keen sense of-

“i’m getting another drink.”

yeonjun’s words are short and deep as he quickly gets up, hauling ass to the kitchen before anyone can even respond to him. his friend must see the look on your face too, a small pout on your lips that has the boy frowning next to you.

“don’t worry about him, he’s grouchy tonight,” soonbin says reassuringly, wrapping his arm around you affectionately. “some girl stood him up.”

the first thing you feel is a blow to your chest, an unfamiliar pain right in the center as you register soobin’s words; he begged you to come tonight but was waiting for another girl.

probably one of the many college girls, who are prettier and funnier and more charismatic than you.

so, really, you can’t be surprised. you were silly to think he liked you in the way you thought, in the way you’ve come to discover you like him because he makes you smile and laugh and feel warm inside.

but even so, you’re hurt.

you’re hurt and embarrassed and feel humiliated even though no one knows the real reason you came here and stepped way out of your comfort zone. thank god for that, you think, because it’d be even more horrible if people knew you came for yeonjun, all while he was waiting for someone else.

“oh,” you manage to squeak out, a soft look on your face despite the pain and embarrassment inside of you. “that’s too bad.”

“yeah,” soobin says, looking at you with sympathetic eyes you know you can’t trust. “he’ll be good, though.”

you bet he will, you think, because that’s just who choi yeonjun is. he doesn’t care who he strings along or makes believe is special - he’s gonna do what he wants when he wants it with no regard for how it effects other.

even a sweet little meek tutor he was able to get under his thumb the first day he met her.

when yeonjun returns, he can tell immediately that something is wrong with you. your hands are clasped together and you’re biting the inside of your cheek, fiddling nervously as you listen in on the conversation around you.

you meet his gaze and he’s quick to look away, one because he got caught and two because he doesn’t know if he can handle the look in your eye right now.

you’re always almost about to make him crack, break down into being someone worthy of you, and he doesn’t wanna do that tonight. doesn’t wanna show everyone here that, if he wants to, he can be a worthy person.

you’re a second away from breaking before soobin asks if you wanna dance, a tight smile on your face as you shake your head.

“i... i’m actually gonna go outside for a sec,” you say, knowing full well you’re gonna book it to your car and never return. “it’s hot in here. i need some air.”

“there’s plenty of air in here, angel,” soobin remarks, your eyes widening at the term.

it sounds different coming from his mouth, not as deep and melodic and it doesn’t let off a bunch of butterflies in your stomach. you’re too busy giggling softly as you shake your head that you don’t hear the deep, low noise of distaste leave yeonjun’s mouth.

you only see him grab soobin’s arm when he tries to get up to follow you, a lowly growled “let her go,” that makes your eyebrows pull together; you don’t know if he’s trying to hurt your feelings on purpose but he’s certainly doing it a lot tonight.

it feels like you can finally take a deep breath when you get outside, no one around except the chilly air and starry sky. it makes you feel a bit better, sinking down on the stairs and humming contently when your hands meet the cold concrete.

you passed by the dancing people and laughing, smiley couples inside and felt silly for coming here. silly for thinking yeonjun wanted you in his life without him getting something out of it.

what would he want from you anyway? what could you possibly give him when he’s already had so much better?

tears prick your eyes and you bury your face in your hands, taking deep calming breaths so the harsh winter air doesn’t feel like it’s burning you.

you avoided boys and feelings like this for so long and with good reason; you’re too sensitive and naive and always try to see the good in people.

you’ll put your feelings aside in order to spare someone else - you saw it in the beginning, pushing down your qualms about lying to the teacher to further appease a boy you found cute.

and when you put it like that, it sounds really fucking stupid. it sounds like, maybe, you’re just-

“didn’t i tell you you’re too pretty to cry over stupid things?”

your first instinct is to turn around when you hear his voice, his tall, dark figure looming behind you. 

you should probably smile shyly or say that you’re not crying but you can only stay silent, turning back around to avoid his intense gaze and your own humiliation. 

the same way he should probably go inside and carry on with his night the way he usually would. drinking and flirting and dancing before he probably brought someone home or into the bathroom. 

when he moves behind you, that’s what you think he’s about to do. 

but then he’s walking around your sitting frame and bending down to you, looking up at you from his crouched position. his hand reaches out to touch your face, forcing it up so you can only stare at him with teary eyes and flushed cheeks.

there’s a frown on his face as he runs his thumb across your cold cheek, his gentle touch a shocking contrast to his harsher appearance. 

“what happened?”

what happened? you think, not used to feeling so snarky and hurt. what happened was that he got your hopes up, was nice to you and invited you and kept making you feel special, just for them to come crashing down.

but then the more you think about it, the silence between you getting longer and longer, the guiltier you feel - because your feelings aren’t his fault.

you taking his looks and kindness and lingering touches for something deeper was a mistake. you know the kind of boy he is and have still been foolish enough to fall for him.

“nothing,” you grumble, a wet, humorless laugh leaving you as you shake your head. “i’m just being silly.”

but you can’t look up from your feet, your eyes roaming the cracks in the concrete, and that’s how he knows you’re lying; that, and because he knows he was being a fucking dick. 

but seeing you in this environment was weird for him. seeing people look at you and look at him, specifically soobin who got it out of him that he might like you, was unfamiliar for him.

the same way this was unfamiliar for you - which is why he wants you to talk to him. 

“what happened, y/n?” he asks, voice a tad bit harsher and deeper as he cranes his neck down. he hears your harsh, nervous intake of breath and resists the urge to reach out and touch you. 

you need to answer him before he can touch you. 

but you never do. not after ten seconds and not after a minute, prompting him to let out a sigh and pop his neck to the side. your face pulls into a grimace at the crack that sounds through the air. 

his cold hand touching your face causes you to jump, your eyes meeting and a lump forming in your throat; his eyes fool you too much and that’s exactly the problem here.

“talk to me, angel, c’mon.”

your eyes start to burn when a harsh wind passes, tears stinging your eyes and coldness rushing over your face. why does he have to keep calling you that? why does his voice have to sound so sincere and why does he have to look at you the way he is right now?

like he cares so much and hopes those tears aren’t because you’re sad.

“there’s nothing to talk about, yeonjun,” you blurt out, anger and humiliation seep into your tone before you can stop it. you let out a sigh as you try to get it together, taking a few calming breaths before shaking your head. 

“just go back inside, okay? i’m going home. t-thank you for inviting me but i-”

“i don’t want you to go.”

he blurts the words so loud and fast, it even sounds a little awkward to your ears. but he sounds and looks almost desperate, your eyebrows pulling together and heart sinking as you take a deep breath.

because you know you can’t stop the next words from tumbling out of your mouth.

“well, it doesn’t seem like you want me here.”

your words are soft and quiet but they still physically pain his chest, his eyes roaming your face as he brings them to your cold cheeks. he wipes under your eye when wetness forms, the cold biting wind rushing around you both. 

“i want you,” he reassures quietly, his voice just as low and gravely as he speaks hushly to you; he thinks it’s the most honest and true thing he’s ever said to someone. “i want you more than you know.”

“then why are you acting like that?” you question sweetly, the pout on your lips nearly making him groan and cover them with his. “you were being... mean. i felt like... you didn’t want me here at all. or didn’t want people to know you invited me.”

your words break his heart but he also knows they’re true, his fingers caressing your face gently. he notices then how freezing and red it is, looking you over and rising from his feet.

you look disappointed that he’s gonna leave, your face falling and eyebrows furrowing before he reaches his hand down to you. 

“let’s talk in my car,” he clarifies, nodding his head toward his vehicle. “it’s freezing out here.”

you bite down on your lip, contemplating it for a few seconds before another harsh gust of wind passes. you let out a sigh as you take his hand, grateful to enter his car the moment you sit down. 

he turns it on and the engine roars to life, his fingers reaching out to turn on your heated seat. 

the next few moments only consist of the car’s engine warming up as you wait for the heat to kick on, you and yeonjun stealing glances back and forth at each other; you both miss the others gaze by a few seconds and if anyone were to be watching, it’d be obvious you both were nervous right now. 

dancing along the line you’re both nervous to cross for entirely different reasons - you because you somehow don’t think he reciprocates those feelings and him because he knows you deserve more. 

but in this moment, he decides he has to be selfish. watching you with a flush in your cheeks and your lip drawn into your mouth.

“i like you, y/n. that’s why i wanted you here,” his voice says, breaking the silence in a way that almost seems more terrifying. “but that’s also why i didn’t... want people knowing.”

your eyebrows pull together and immediately your mind goes to him being embarrassed. embarrassed that you’re younger and quiet and that no one really knows who the hell you are.

he’s infamous and cool and a senior, obviously he should be with someone similiar. like a popular girl in his grade or a college girl or maybe even a the girl who stood him up.

“not because of you, angel, but because of...”

“you?” you interrupt, a snark in your tone neither of you except; but you’ve heard this line one too many times, not expecting to ever ever hear it real life, let alone toward you. 

“it’s not you, it’s me?” you ask, a gentle, faux smile on your face as you shake your head at him. “is that what you’re about to say?”

he clenches his jaw so he doesn’t smirk, resisting the urge to laugh as he looks you over carefully. it’s obvious your smile’s fake because it doesn’t meet your eyes, the teary glint in them every bit sad as they are frustrated. 

but of course, you’re too sweet to treat him as he deserves. 

his hand reaches out to grab your chin, his thumb and pointer finger on either side as he forces your gaze to his. his smirk comes through when he hears your sharp intake of breath, tongue peeking out to lick at his lips. 

“if you let me talk, angel, you’d know what i was about to say,” he hums quietly, his breath fanning into your face at his closeness. it smells of mint and beer, it should probably be gross but surprisingly isn’t.

his words successfully stir you into silence, partially from fear and partially because the look in his eye has caused you to grow warm all over; and once he sees that, he begins to speak again.

“i didn’t want people knowing because i didn’t want anyone fucking with you, y/n. because if they did, i’d have to ruin them and then everyone would see it.”

“see what?” you ask quietly, the air between you thick and buzzing as you hold his gaze. 

hold it so adamantly and intensely, you’re barely able to register him leaning closer. inch by inch by inch, until his lips are pressed against yours and you’re kissing choi yeonjun in the front seat of his car. 

you’re stiff and awkward and don’t really know what to do but it’s fine because he laces his fingers in your hair and pulls you closer. parts your lips with his tongue which causes you to kiss him back with a slow, unsure pace.

but it only causes him to smile, retracting his tongue and keeping it sweet before he pulls back and rests his head on your forehead. 

“why i decided to spend my free period during senior year getting fucking tutored, angel,” he chuckles lowly, his hand running through your hair gently. 

the soft look in his eye causes you to swallow nervously, words caught in your throat as you stare at him wide-eyed.

“i... i thought you... you said it was...” you let out a shaky breath as you try to get your thoughts together, completely unable to remember your conversation from weeks ago. when he cryptically asked you your thoughts about just why he agreed to stop lying to the teacher and do the sessions; 

so instead, your cheeks warm and you’re hit with the reminder that you just had your first kiss with him. and that you were probably absolutely terrible at it. 

“that was my first kiss. i... i’m sorry if it was bad.”

a small smile crosses yeonjun’s face as he shakes his head at you, thumb dragging down your cheek gently to feel the warm, smooth skin of your cheek. 

“it was perfect, angel, you’re perfect.” he mumbles, your eyes widening and heart stuttering as a ball forms in your throat. “so perfect that i thought you stood me up and weren’t coming. so let’s go on date. a real date, this time.”

in the beginning of the school year, you would’ve never imagined your study sessions with yeonjun would be turning into dinner dates; but as you sit in your room and get ready, your heart pounding and palms sweaty, that’s exactly what’s happened. 

it’s the fourth date you guys are going on and you can officially say that you really, really have feelings for yeonjun. you’re still shy and nervous around him but it’s only because he’s more comfortable with you too.

he takes your hand with ease and laces your fingers together that he was meant to do that.

he’ll shamelessly peck a kiss to your lips and deepen it at any given time, your cheeks burning and embarrassed voice telling him to stop when he did it in the middle of the bowling alley last week. 

he’ll watch you and smile at you and just touch you with the softest of intentions, you almost can’t believe this is the bad boy everyone claims is so mean and heartless. 

you say almost because you still don’t do it in school. it’s still a somewhat... secret fondness you have for one another. he’ll play with your fingers under the table during sessions and wink at you in the hallway but that’s about it. 

he’d probably never kiss you in the hallway or cafeteria but you also wouldn’t want that. it would draw way too much attention and probably leave your face with a permanent, embarrassing flush. 

“are you going out?” you hear your mom ask, her head peeking in before a smile brightens her face. “aw, you look beautiful, y/n. yeonjun must be coming soon.”

the topic of dating had been undeniably embarrassing with your parents, mostly because they couldn’t believe you were showing an interest. but they welcomed yeonjun with open arms, insisting to meet him at the front door to ensure he was a nice boy.

and oh had he really showed you just how charming he could be. 

“mom,” you whine in embarrassment, her laugh echoing in your room as he throws her arms up defensively. 

“you guys be careful. it’s supposed to rain soon.”

you nod your head as you finish getting ready, smoothing over your hair once more before your phone vibrates against your desk. he texted you that he was on his way with a smiley face and heart, sending one back before looking at yourself in the mirror. 

you don’t know what the hell he sees you or why he likes you but you know if you dwell on it, you’ll talk yourself out of everything. convince yourself that this is all a joke and he’s gonna turn around and say he pities you. 

even though, when you brought this up to him, he was quick to calm those worries. 

“c-can i ask you something, yeonjun?”

you were walking home from the movies with your hands intertwined.

the cold, harsh winter had blossomed into spring, the night air growing less frigid; there was a still a bit of a chill but it was nothing a jacket and yeonjun’s warm body couldn’t fix.

“of course, angel,” he mumbles lowly, a small smile on his face as you stop in your tracks. he’s quick to follow, eyebrow raising and body turning so he can look down at you. 

he cocks his head to the side when you don’t speak for a few seconds, his lips falling into a pout as his hand tightens in yours.

“you okay?” he asks quietly, thumb tracing small circles into your skin. 

you lick over your lips nervously, feeling silly for the need to ask this question but it’s one you can’t help. it wracks your mind over and over again and it feels like you’re about to-

“why do you like me?” you blurt out, unaware you even said the words until you notice yeonjun’s face morph into one of surprise. 

his mouth opens and closes for a moment, brows pulled together as he tries to make sense of your words.

“i mean, what’s not to like?” he asks softly, taking you by the hips and pulling you closer to him. 

you’re in the middle of the sidewalk but there’s no one around, the sky dark and streets desolate as you both meet each others gazes - yours full of doubt and his full of confusion. 

“i... i don’t know,” you mumble sheepishly, looking down at your intertwined hands. “i just... it doesn’t really make sense.”

“why? because i’m older? because you’re smart and i’m not?” he teases, your panicked eyes immediately meeting his.

“no! more like the exact opposite,” you clarify as you shake your head. “because you’re popular and attractive and charming and i’m just.... not.”

his eyes roam your face and his heart sinks when he sees the doubt and nerves continue to grow. how you really feel this way about yourself and are pondering the idea that someone like him would want someone like you, when really, it should be the opposite. 

“y/n, i’m lucky that you’re settling for me,” the pink-haired boy laughs out, squeezing your hips reassuringly. “you’re good and sweet and so fucking beautiful. i wanted you the second i saw you, you know, but knew i shouldn’t.”

your eyes widen at his words, shock behind them that has a laugh bubbling from his chest. 

“in lunch. i noticed you the first day and thought you were an angel,” he says, the nickname he always calls you particularly getting the butterflies going tonight. 

“i could tell that you were good. you just have this.. aura, y/n, and i knew that i would taint it. i knew you deserved someone way better. because i’m not good like you.”

"yes you are,” you respond immediately, a frown appearing on your face as you shake your head. “you pretend not to be, but you are, yeonjun. i can see it.”

“you can see it because i wanna be good around you, baby. i wanna be someone good for you.”

tears prick your eyes as a lump forms in your throat, overwhelmed and unsure of how to respond to that. he smiles softly as he takes in your face, leaning forward to press his lips against your forehead. 

he inhales your sweet, vanilla smell while you take in his cologne and faint scent of cigarettes, swallowing down the lump and praying you don’t burst into tears on the spot. 

“don’t doubt yourself, angel,” yeonjun mumbles against your head, puling you closer until your flush against his warm, broad body. “i’m the one who got lucky here.” 

even though it meant wasting away in the fucking library. 

“the library isn’t that bad, yeonjun,” you whine ten minutes later in his car, heat blasting and music low as he drives to the restaurant. one hand’s on the steering wheel while the other’s laced with yours, your body turned in his black leather seat to look over and chastise him. 

he confessed to you that your sessions were the first time he’d ever stepped foot in that library; he hadn’t even been positive that school had a library until he walked through the door that day. 

“it smells like dust and the librarian’s a bitch.”

“she is not!” you squeal, smacking his arm lightly as you throw him a chastising look. “she’s just a little... misunderstood. people don’t respect her space.”

even you can admit sometimes she does go a little overboard; you saw her once lecture a younger student for a half hour because they mistakenly put a book on the wrong shelf. 

“you’re too nice, baby. maybe even a little biased, since you’re the only one she seems to tolerate.”

“probably because i’m there every day,” you tease lightly, your eyes widening playfully before a loud crack of thunder causes you to jump in your seat.

your mom hadn’t been kidding when she said there was gonna be a storm tonight. you’d ran to yeonjun’s car shielding the top of your head, rain pelting down and wind howling as your mom’s “be careful!” got drowned out.

and right now, it only seemed to be getting worse. 

“you scared of thunder?” 

you hear the smirk in yeonjun’s voice and resist the urge to stick your tongue out, not about to admit that, yes, you’re nearly an adult but still terrified of rain and thunder. 

“no, of-of course not,” you grumble, snatching your hand away from his. “it just surprised me.”

yeonjun looks over at you and sees the nervousness all your face, not commenting as he silently snatches your hand back. he intertwines your fingers as he raises your hand to his mouth, pressing his lips against it while he drives through the rain.

it’s getting considerably heavier by every second, his foot pressing off the gas every time he drives past a puddle. 

“i used to be scared of the rain, you know.” 

you look over at him and see him looking peacefully at the road, pink strands of hair hanging in his face. 

“oh, yeah? when you were like five?”

“twelve,” he corrects with a smile, doing his best to distract you from the chaos outside. “i used to wake up crying, sometimes. i know that’s hard to believe now. because i’m so cool and what not.”

“oh please,” you giggle out, the sweet sound filling the car also distracting him from the pounding of rain and crackling of thunder; he’s outgrown his fear of storms but even he can admit this one is a little bit scary right now. 

“what, you don’t think? i’ll have you know-”

the skidding of his tires mixed with your frightened screams is the next thing he hears, a strangled “yeonjun!” in the background as he attempts to take control of his car.

there’s the boom of thunder and lightning and loud blares of horns before everything goes still, his body acting on auto pilot as he safely pulls off on the side of the highway.

his first concern isn’t damage to his car or the heightening storm outside - it’s you in his passenger seat, eyes closed tight and tears on your face. 

“are you okay?” yeonjun’s voice frantically asks, barely able to feel the sensation of his his warm hands on your face. your heart’s pounding and your hands are shaking and for a moment, you thought you were about to die. 

your eyes pop open to meet his and the concern in them only makes your eyes water more, bottom lip trembling as you nod your head. 

but even though you’re nodding he sees you’re not. he sees you trying to catch your breath and your eyes looking back and forth nervously outside.

“hey, hey, angel. it’s okay. i’m here,” he hums lowly, his thumbs running over your face soothingly. “i’m here and you’re okay.”

you attempt to catch and slow your breaths as your eyes never leave his, his only leaving you to quickly assess you for injuries.

“i know that was scary. i’m sorry. i should’ve been more careful.”

“it wasn’t your fault,” you squeak out, swallowing the knot in your throat as you shake your head. your eyes roam his and you pout when there’s guilt and sorrow in his eyes, your own hand snaking down to hold his hand. 

“are you okay?”

his eyes soften as he cups your face and brings you to closer to him, a quiet “yes, baby,” leaving his mouth before he places his lips on your forehead.

you breathe in his scent and he breathes in yours, not allowing himself to pull away until he feels you relax under him.

“i’m gonna drive us to my house, okay?” he says, his eyes back on you looking cautious. “we can order food. i just don’t want us driving in this if it’s gonna get worse.”

you nod your head before reaching down to grasp one of his hands tightly, his small smile meeting you before he carefully pulls back onto the highway. 

the storm gets substantially worse as he makes his way to his house, hand grasping yours tightly as he drives slow and steady. 

he’s flooded with relief when he finally pulls in his driveway, running around the passenger side door to help you out. his hand doesn’t leave the small of your back until you’re in his room, a big space with white walls and black furniture that doesn’t surprise you in the slightest.

contrary to most teenage boy’s rooms, his smells really good. like a mix of his cologne, laundry detergent and a distinct smell you’ve just deemed as his natural scent.

it’s comforting and makes you feel at ease, licking over your lips nervously as you realize this is the first time you’ve been in a boy’s room.

“you want anything to drink?”

“i...i’m good,” you say, sitting on his bed as you look around.

there’s no decor on the walls except for a large flat screen tv across from his bed and above his dresser, a pile of clothes off to the side. 

“sorry, i didn’t expect to have anyone over so it’s a little messy.”

you look over at him sitting beside you, a sheepish smile on his face. you think it’s the first time he’s ever sounded somewhat... nervous and out of his comfort zone. 

maybe because he knows you’ve never been in this situation before. 

“it’s okay, i like your room,” you smile, spreading your fingers out across his soft, dark comforter. “it’s very fitting.”

“oh yeah?” he smirks, inching closer to you and making your heart speed up. “and why’s that?”

there’s that dark playfulness you’re so used to seeing swarming behind his eyes, just as teasing as it is intense that makes you hold back a squeak. he quirks his eyebrow as he moves closer, pink tongue peeking out to roll over his lips.

you can’t help when your eyes fall to them, missing the feel of them on yours. 

you two haven’t gone past making out, a clash of tongues and teeth that have you quietly moaning into his mouth. but when your body acts on its own accord, pushing yourself closer to him or grasping at the bottom of his shirt, he always stops you.

“what are you doin’ baby?”

you were in his car after a tutoring session, the parking lot of the school completely deserted. your cheeks flush and you immediately draw your hands back, lowering your head slightly as embarrassment took over. 

“i...i thought that was...don’t you wanna...”

because clothes come off, that’s how it starts - you know that much.

and you can feel how much he wants to go further, the hardness under you that scared you at first now the thing begging you to go further.

you feel wanted and desired and even though you’re scared, you want to go further.

“we don’t have to do anything, baby. this is fine,” he says softly, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. 

“but i want to,” you mumble, not even sure if he can hear your words because of how quiet you are. 

you know he must though because he draws his fingers under your chin to lift your face, eyes heavy of fondness and arousal making your stomach flutter more. 

your first instinct is to assume he doesn’t want you - why else would he stop you? but you can see in his eyes that he does...right? because it really does look like that.

what other reason would he have to stop you though? maybe he just doesn’t-

“whatever you’re thinking is probably wrong,” yeonjun mutters, tightening his hold on you and bringing you closer to him. “i don’t wanna go further with you while we’re in the car, angel. you deserve more than that.”

“hm?” you hear him hum, ripping you from your memories. 

you look from his lips to his eyes watching you with lust, the beginnings of your nonsense words cut off when he kisses you. 

your heart flutters and stomach swoops immediately, kissing back with an embarrassing amount of fervor. he smirks against your lips as he pulls you on his lap, your arms circling around his shoulders.

his tongue traces your bottom lip before you feel it in your mouth, daringly meeting his back in a way you’d never done before. it causes him to bring his hands to your hips, squeezing and massaging them with his large hands. 

“look at you,” he mutters almost condescendingly, falling back onto his bed and causing you to squeal. you’re holding yourself above him and his eyebrow is quirked, red lips puffy and pink hair messy causing your heart to flutter mercilessly.

“if i didn’t know any better, baby, i’d think you’re real eager tonight.”

you bite down on your lip as you adjust yourself on him, your hips straddling his and brushing over him. your building heat is right under him and it takes everything in you not to moan at just the thought, his hands strong and firm.

and just as you’re about to answer, tell him that, yes, even though you’re not familiar with.... any of this, you’re eager and ready, your stomach growls and ruins the moment.

it causes a smile to light up his face, a deep chuckle leaving him before he flips you over. he’s hovering above you now, no parts of your bodies touching except for his hand a few inches away from your head. 

“or you’re hunger, my mistake, angel,” he says with a smirk, pressing a peck to your nose sweetly. “what do you want?”

you spend the next hour laying in his bed waiting for the pizza, the storm just as wild outside as it was when you were in the car. you bit down on a squeal threatening to leave your mouth every time there was a terrifying boom, your body shimming closer to yeonjun’s.

he smiled against your head and welcomed your body closer, bringing your head to his chest.

“you’re cute,” you hear him mumble, the swooping in your stomach causing you to feel warm.

you look up at him and smile shyly, tucking your head closer into his chest. you have to hide your growing smile when you feel his lips brush your head, deep content hums leaving his chest.

the doorbell ringing rips you two apart, his mumbled “i’ll be right back,’ causing you to sit up. you brush your fingers through your hair as you sit up, looking around his dark room and feeling something brewing in your stomach.

you feel every bit as nervous as you do excited and eager in his room with him right now. 

it’s still scary because you’re new to this. because you’ve never done anything like this before and you know you don’t know what you’re doing. 

but a part of you wants to kiss him on his bed. go further than he’s allowed you to because if he only didn’t want to be with you in the car, this should solve that problem, right?

you’ve never felt as desired and warm as you have with him these past months. no one’s ever looked at you the way he does or have made you feel the way he does. 

you’re usually too scared or uneasy to talk to people or form a connection; but from the moment you met him, you were able to do that. a part of you just felt inclined to help him, be a person that he knows would be there for him even if it meant in the form of helping him study or motivate him.

you never would’ve expected for him to reciprocate your feelings. nor would you have expected to be in this current situation, want and need bubbling in your stomach at the thought of yeonjun doing-

“pizza’s here,” yeonjun says, popping his head through the door holding a box of pizza. 

you smile upon seeing it, your stomach growling at the smell; if he hears it, he doesn’t say anything. just walks over and places the box on his bed, offering you a slice that you take immediately.

“thank you,” you squeak, bringing the food to your mouth.

he watches you for a few seconds, suddenly all too aware of him looking at you. you raise an eyebrow as you chew, a shy look coming over your face that causes him to smile. 

“what?”

“nothing,” he says, shaking his head as he takes out his own slice. “my mom called me and said they can’t come home tonight because of the storm.”

you take the time to chew your food as you take in his words, the fluttering in your stomach a mix of nerves and excitement. 

“oh.”

“yeah...” he hums, his eyes roaming your face; he doesn’t want his next suggestion to make you uncomfortable but he also thinks it would be best. for both of you. 

“and i don’t know if i should drive you home, angel. it’s supposed to get really bad. do you... wanna stay over?”

there’s a lump in your throat for all the reasons there shouldn’t be. 

not because this is your first time sleeping over a boy’s house or the fact that his parents aren’t home. or because you’re gonna have to call your mom and say you’re sleeping over a friend’s house.

or even because you don’t know what to expect tonight.

it’s only there because you know, in a new form of acting on your deeper desires and not suppressing yourself to just being some innocent girl, you wanna get railed.

“i... i guess i can do that,” you say, some nervousness still behind your voice because when it comes down to it, you’re unfamiliar with this situation. 

“well yeah, but do you want to, baby?” he asks with a small smirk, his hand reaching up to toy with your hair. 

his long fingers run through the strands before tucking them behind your ear, his hand slinking down to rest on your neck.

“if you don’t feel comfortable, i’ll take you home later,” he says, thumb running across your skin slowly. breath catches in your throat when he leans closer to you, his lingering scent and broadness causing you to bite down on your lip.

“i just thought it’d be nice to lay with you tonight. or wake up with you.”

“or let us go further since we’re not in the car.” 

you don’t know who’s more shocked by your words but you know you’re definitely more embarrassed, a rampant blush crossing your cheeks as you attempt to hide in his shoulder.

he’s quick to pull you away with a small “tsk,” the smirk on his lips quickly widening despite the soft look in his eyes. 

you bite back the noise threatening to leave your mouth when he wraps his hand around you hair, the slightest of stings ripping through your scalp when he pulls you forward.

“go further?” he asks lowly, his eyes peering down at you only making you feel more warm and flustered. 

words are caught in your mouth and you can’t find it in you to say anything. not only because you’re too embarrassed but you don’t even know what to say.

you know you want more than kissing and that there’s always a building pressure between your legs when he pulls you on his lap. 

you know on more than one occasion, you’ve wanted his hands that’d rest on your hips to go just a little further down. slip in the waistband of your pants and meet the wetness and heat through your underwear.

you’ve wanted to see his pink hair between your legs as you experience getting eaten out of the first time, holding back moans in the crease of your elbow as his tongue explores every inch of you. 

you know you want to look up at him with tears in your eyes and a heaving chest, ask if you can please suck him off because you’ve also never done that before. 

he can see the arousal and lust clouding your eyes the more the silence elapses, his cock quickly hardening as he takes in the sight of you on his bed ready for him to take you. 

it’s just a matter of how and when he’s gonna. how and when you tell him like the good girl he knows you are. 

“how much further are you thinking, angel?” his deep voice finally asks, successfully breaking the silence and building the thick tension. 

you let out a breathy exhale when he pushes you on your back, the knot in your stomach tightening as he looks down at your body. 

“what do you want me to do, huh?” he asks, the smirk and feeling in his chest growing when he sees you start to breathe heavily on his bed. your legs are nearly shaking from the build up in pressure, your tongue licking over your dry lips. 

“i... yeonjun...”

he bites back the groan threatening to leave his mouth at you moaning his name, holding himself above your body as he hand spays out against your stomach. 

“why are you moaning my name baby? i haven’t even done anything.”

“but... but i want you to. so bad.”

your voice is whiny and pathetic but it’s all it takes for him to snap, his hand moving from your stomach to between your legs. 

he can feel the heat and pulse of your pussy and has to suppress his own groan again, completely getting off on the feeling that you, the innocent little tutor he’s been wanting to ruin since he saw you last year, is laid out on his bed and dripping just for him. 

“please, yeonjun,” you whine again, completely out of your mind with lust when you feel his hand on you. 

he bites down on his lip before he starts gently running his hand over you, barely putting any pressure on you. he’s just relishing in the how only that makes you spread your legs immediately, hips bucking up closer to his hand. 

he pulls his hand away and pins your hips to the bed, his face hovering above yours before you can even whine again. 

“be patient, angel. or this isn’t gonna work,” he growls lowly, his thumbs running over your pants gently. 

“i- i’m sorry,” you gasp out, tears pricking your eyes because this feeling is so new and foreign and overwhelming. “i just... i’m so...”

“you’re so what?”

“i want you,” you say immediately, thinking back to your conversation with him outside of soobin’s house. when the words you’re telling him now are the same ones he told you. “i want you more than you know.”

a scoff leaves his mouth when you say that, remembering those words leaving his own mouth that night.

but the difference here is, he thinks, is that you really didn’t know that.

you didn’t know how just sitting there and smiling at him and talking to him so sweetly was making him want you. your soft smiles and vanilla scent and the wide-eyed look you’d always innocently give him.

but he’s aware of how much you want him, in this moment. he can feel it, smell it, see it. he knows just how much you want him because he wants you the same way. 

your pants and underwear are off in one shot, a gasp leaving your mouth when you realize you’re completely bare in front of him. 

he’s quick to look at your face to see if you’re okay, that teary wide-eyed look and teeth sinking in your lip greeting him; another whiney and mumbled “touch me,” leaves your mouth before he can ask.

a smile lights up his face that makes your heart jump even through this all, a teasing look in his eye even through the arousal and painful hardness in his pants.

“say please, angel.”

“please touch me, yeonjun. please.”

his fingers are on your clit right after the words leave you, your mouth hanging open and legs spreading when you’re immediately filed with a sense of some relief. 

“you’re so wet for me, angel. how long have you wanted this, huh?”

you babble out something you can’t even hear through your pounding ears but it must be something good and polite enough because you feel a finger enter you a few seconds later.

he hisses at the tightness around his finger and has to remember to be gentle with you, fingering you slowly and sweetly as he toys at your clit. 

“you’re doing so good, baby. so good for me.”

you cry out a moan that has his fingers moving quicker, curling them just right before you scream out his name; you’ve never ever felt anything like this before.

“yeonjun, oh, my god.”

“i know, baby, it’s okay,” he says, allowing his fingers to work over you and in you for a few seconds before he forces himself to remove them. your head shoots up and the sight almost makes him smile, a frustrated look in your teary eyes that has him cocking his head.

“why did you-”

the fingers just inside you are below your chin, the slickness of his fingers on your skin making you widen your eyes. is that... is he about to make you...

you hold back another moan when you watch him raise his fingers to his own mouth, his eyes rolling back when he tastes you. you don’t know if you’re a little grossed out or even more turned on but you think it must be the latter if the way your legs start to shake again and your lower stomach tightens. 

“you taste so fucking sweet, angel. can i eat your pussy?”

he could tell how scared you were when you first got here, not seeing a hint of that fear now but still needing to check before he pulls you on his face and has his way with you.

“y-yes, please, yeonjun, oh my-”

you can’t even get the words out before his hands are taking off your shirt, removing the straps of your bra and pushing them down until your boobs pop out. 

perky nipples spring into the air and he can’t stop the groan that leaves him, circling his tongue around each of them before he tells you to unhook it. your eyes meet his for just a few seconds before you reach out to take it off, quickly throwing it on the floor before you, without thinking, cover yourself. 

his eyes flash and he immediately snaps out of his trance, placing his hands on your arms but not attempting to move them. 

“what are you doing, angel?”

and it’s at this moment, something as silly as him seeing your chest completely naked, that you’re feeling insecure. 

you know he’s been with girls before this, college girls who definitely have bigger boobs than you and know what they’re doing. girls who are prettier and sexier and don’t blush or whine at the slightest hint of his touch of them. 

“i... i know you’ve been with prettier girls before. an-and i don’t think they’re that nice.”

“angel, i don’t know if i’ve gotten this across enough but you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever met,” he says, the sweetest words to ever leave his mouth not even making him blink.

because he needs you to know in this moment that you are. he can’t stand the insecure, fearful look in your eye that he’s not gonna find you desirable because you’re comparing yourself to other people. 

“that’s a lie,” you weakly mumble out, tears stinging your eyes because this is so stupid. now you’re ruining the moment and he’s not gonna wanna do this with you. you’re proving just how inexperienced and unfamiliar you are with-

“i don’t lie.”

your eyebrow raises and he can’t help but smirk, the realization that your whole relationship started off lying to your teacher making him let out a deep chuckle. 

“i mean i don’t lie to you, angel, i would never lie to you,” he says, reaching down to press a long kiss on your lips. it’s the most intimate kiss you’ve ever had with him, mouths parting on one another like you’re trying to get all your worries and reassurances out on one another.

him that you’re just as desirable as he knows you are and you that you really don’t know what you’re doing but you wanna do this with him. 

“you’re beautiful, baby, and if anyone’s not worthy of the other, it’s me.”

his words make your eyebrows pull together, the look in his eye one you’ve never seen before. probably the most vulnerable and honest you’ve seen him look at you. 

“but i’m gonna do my best to be, angel, so please... don’t think that,” he says, pulling your arms away from your chest. 

he feels relief flood through him when you allow him to do say, his head dipping again to place small pecks on your chest before taking another nipple in his mouth. 

he moans around you at the same time you do, throwing your head back against his pillow. your fingers lace through the back of his pink hair and you feel your pussy clenching around nothing, moaning out his name when his tongue carefully and slowly licks around the other neglected one. 

“you also have the sweetest pussy i’ve ever tasted,” he mumbles around your nipple, swirling his tongue around it one more time before grabbing your hips and throwing himself on his back. 

“so sit on my face, angel. now.”

you have no time to feel hesitant or insecure because, one, he pulls you up before you can do anything else and two, you’re far too eager to feel this for the first time. 

his tongue latching onto your clit causes you to moan out his name, trying your best to not buck your hips against his face. but his tongue feels like it’s everywhere, flicking at it your clit and up inside you and quickly making your legs shake around him. 

your hazy eyes look down and you see his own looking up at you, a hot arousal in them as you cover the rest of his face with your body. pink strands stick to his forehead and you bite down on your lip so you don’t scream, your eyes rolling back when he eats you out like a man starved.

he’s moaning against you and pulling you closer to his face, your hips bucking into his mouth as you whine out his name over and over. 

you’re so out of it and dazed with arousal and need that you don’t even think twice when an idea pops into your head. 

you buck your hips a tad harder than usual that he disconnects his mouth from you, about to ask if he hurt you somehow before you flip over on his face. your body leans over his stomach until your mouth is by the tight groin of his sweatpants, clumsily slipping down his boxers until his cock springs free.

it’s hard and red and looks completely neglected, screaming to be relieved by you.

so even though you have no idea what you’re doing, only guided by works of fiction and things you hear in the hallway, you wrap your mouth around the head of his cock.

you hear him growl at your name but only continue to suck him off, your tongue circling around him as your mouth moves up and down. you smile when he moans against your pussy just so moan around his a few seconds later, like he knew you were smiling against him at hearing that noise leave him.

he didn’t think he could get any harder than he already was but you continue to impress him and prove him wrong, his mouth working quicker on you to aid in his growing arousal. 

a loud moan of your name leaves his mouth when you deep throat him, a growled “fuck,” against your wetness that makes you whine against him. 

“i wanna fuck your mouth so badly,” he growls against you, wrapping his tongue around your clit just as you let out a strangled “please.” but he only shakes his head and continues his vigorous assault, sticking two fingers inside you that causes your scream to be muffled around his cock.

“you’re gonna come first, angel. i want you to come on my fucking face.”

and even though he already seemed to know it from the moment he met you, he sees that what he wants from you, he’s always gonna get. 

your lower stomach tightens before a feeling of euphoria consumes you, your legs shaking and hips bucking before an orgasm rips right through you. your head is leant against his head as you try to catch your breath, whining slightly when he pulls you off of him.

he lays you down gently on the bed before placing a kiss to your cheek. 

“you did so good, angel. how do you feel?”

“mmm.. that was the best thing i’ve ever felt.”

a deep laugh leaves him at your sleepy, dazed look, taking his shirt off so he can dab at your wet legs. you wince a little at the sensitivity and he mumbles an apology, laying on his back and opening his arms to you.

“lay with me, baby.”

a small smile crosses your face as you fall into his bare chest, sighing contently with your head resting over his chest. you can hear his heartbeat against your ear and feel his lips against your head, his fingers running over your arm slowly.

you’ve never been more comfortable and at ease than you are in this moment. even with the storm raging outside and the unknown parts of your relationship still coming, you feel happy. 

happy and safe and so stupidly content.  

“angel?”

you look up at him when you hear his voice break the silence, your chin against his chest as you meet his gaze. 

he smiles upon seeing you, his hand coming up to pat down your messy hair. 

“i like you. a lot.”

you bite down on your lip to hide your growing smile, daringly taking the first move to press a sweet peck on his lips.

“i like you, too. a lot, a lot,” you giggle out, the pink on your cheeks making his heart squeeze in his chest. “but i think you already knew that.”

“i was hoping,” he hums lowly, bringing you back into his chest. you smile against him as you inhale his scent, moving your body closer to him until you feel your leg hit a hard, fleshy piece of skin. 

your eyes widen and pulse quickens when you see he’s still hard and aching, the content look on his face completely disregarding it. 

“yeonjun...” you mumble, shamelessly staring at his dick a few inches from your leg. 

he peeks an eye open and sees you staring down at it, a sheepish smile crossing his face; he looks a tad embarrassed and you shouldn’t find it as endearing as you do. 

“sorry. it’ll go down eventually.”

eventually being when he gets up to go to the bathroom and jerks himself off. because there’s no way in hell he’s gonna go flaccid with you all naked and cuddled against him.

“you mean you’re not gonna fuck me?”

his eyes widen and cock twitches when those words leave your mouth, his hand falling to your jaw so you can look at him. his eyes roam your face when he sees the heavy desire building in your wide-eyed gaze, the perfect contrast of sweet and lustful that has him holding back a groan. 

“where did you learn to talk like this?” he hums lowly in your ear. 

you smirk against him before you bring your hand up to his mouth, his eyes searching yours. but you’re only staring back just as intensely, rubbing yourself against his leaking cock laying between you. 

“spit on it, please.”

he can’t even stop his groan from leaving him this time, painfully hard and ready to bust. you learned so fast what he likes and that’s when you’re both polite and eager.

“baby girl,” he moans, bringing his face down to place a messy, dominating kiss on yours. he pulls your mouths apart after allowing his tongue to explore your mouth, a string of spit connecting your lips. 

his eyes fall to your mouth before he’s tipping your head back, your hand clutching onto his shoulder and tightening when, suddenly, he spits in your mouth. 

your eyes widen but he smirks before you can say anything, wordlessly bringing your hand to his mouth and spitting on it as you so requested. you let out a shaky sigh, eyeing him warily before he gives you a nod.

it’s only then that you wrap your hand around his cock, watching as his eyes flutter shut and he leans his head back. 

“there u go, angel,” he hums lowly, your hand twisting over the tip before exploring down. 

he can feel your hesitance and unsureness but it only makes it that much more enjoyable for him, knowing this is the first time you’ve done this - although he does wonder how you knew to spit on it first. 

his words spur you on and you wet your hand again, twisting and turning on every ridge of his cock. his moans of your name cause wetness to gather between your legs, your eyes meeting his to see them right on you.

“please fuck me, yeonjun.”

you didn’t have to ask him twice before he pushed you on your back. he fumbled to take his sweatpants off fully, discarding them on the floor before pulling you toward the end of bed.

you look down at him with furrowed eyebrows before a loud gasp leaves you, his mouth back on your pussy before he slides two fingers in. he preps you again until you’re coming around him, his mouth hot around you while his fingers are curled and relentless.

“p-please, yeonjun. i wanna- feel you.”

“and you will, angel, i promise,” he says, pressing one last kiss to your swollen, wet clit before going up to your face. “you’ve never done this before, right?”

he knows it and you know it but he still needs to ask. needs to know he’s gonna be the first person to take you and ruin you. 

“no,” you immediately respond, shaking your head as tears well up in your eyes. 

he responds by smiling, placing one last long kiss on your mouth before cupping your face gently.

“it might hurt, okay? i’ll go as slow as you need.”

you nod your head as you relax on your back, looking down to see him positioning himself between your legs. he swirls the tip of his dick around your wet clit and opening, watching as your dripping hole tries to suck him in.

“holy fuck,” he growls out, “you’re so wet, baby. it’s gonna feel so fucking good.”

you whine unintelligible words but he knows to just soothe you. bring his hand to your waist and rub slowly as he promises to be in you soon.

the stretch at first in painful and unfamiliar, your face pulled into a grimace despite the deep groan leaving him.

“oh, angel,” he growls lowly, his dark eyes meeting yours to see your face twisted in pain. “are you okay? does it hurt?”

“y-yes, but it’s okay. just... slow,” you say quietly, nodding your head reassuringly. 

he hovers over your face as he inches himself in further and further, your breaths shaky and body tense as the pain worsens. 

“i’m sorry, baby, you’re doing so good.”

you nod your head and he kisses away the tears, a sigh of relief leaving you when he stops moving. he’s still inside you for a few seconds, allowing your tight walls to adjust around him before he starts moving.

it takes a few thrusts for the burning pain to subside, replaced by a full, warm feeling that had you moaning quietly into the air. 

“does it feel good now, baby?” you hear yeonjun ask, his thrusts speeding up as his body lays over you. “do you like my cock in you?”

“y-yes,” you mumble out, throwing your legs around his waist. 

he growls lowly as he starts fucking into you, keeping his pace steady and just hard enough to make you lose your mind; because he doesn’t wanna hurt you but you also feel so good, he can’t help but chase after his orgasm.

“tell me you’re mine.”

“i-i’m yours, yeonjun,” you whimper out, his hand coming down to your clit making you cry out again. “i’m yours. yours, yours, yours,” you repeat dumbly, having no sense of control over yourself as an immense pleasure builds inside you. 

he thrusts into you hitting a certain spot that has a scream leaving your mouth, a sadistic smirk on his face.

“that’s right, angel. you’re mine. you’ve been mine ever since i saw you last year,” he growls lowly, remembering the first time he saw you and knew you were gonna somehow effect him like this. 

“i wanted to ruin you then, baby, because i knew you’d be mine.”

“yeonjun,” you whine, thrusting your hips into him at his words. remembering all the times he caught you staring at him. all the times you’d watch him and thought about how handsome he was.

how someone like him would never want someone like you. 

but he wants you and you want him and it’s still something you can’t quite believe. you know you’re both different but it seems to be something that works, him bringing you out of your comfort zone and you making him wanna be someone better.

“i’m gonna come, angel,” he grunts out, “i’m gonna fucking come. come with me.”

you feel the knot in your stomach unravel before you’re both moaning each other’s names, chests heaving and his breathing harsh as he holds himself lazily above you. 

he drops his head into the crook of your neck, attempting to catch his breath despite the feeling of your post orgasm spazzing around him.

the pounding takes a few seconds to subside, a final moan leaving him before he pulls out of you. 

he’s quick to collapse onto his back, hanging his arm off the bed lazily as he searches for his shirt. 

he cleans you up a few moments later, watching you with a small smile before he pulls you down onto him again.

“how was that?” he mumbles quietly, his eyes closed and head resting atop yours. 

“really good,” you mumble back, your own eyes closed as you attempt to catch your breath. you still feel a little sticky but it’s not something you mind in this moment, your post orgasm daze leaving you content. 

it could be the post orgasm daze making you say the next words that leave your mouth. on such a high of emotions and endorphins and utter contentment that the warm feeling in your chest if confused.

or maybe it’s the months of getting to know the boy beside you who had such a bad reputation. who you were terrified of at first and thought was mean an scary, thought for sure he was gonna find you weird and nerdy.

but you’ve never felt more wanted or desired by another person. no one’s ever looked at you the way he’s looked at you before or made you feel the way he’s made you feel. 

“i... i think i love you, yeonjun.”

love had always scared yeonjun and especially hearing a confession like that after sex - it had always been his worst nightmare and, truthfully, an embarrassing moment.

but he’s never felt as listened to and comforted by someone else ever in his life before. someone who, from the second he met them, trusted him and thought of him to be good and smart and capable. 

he didn’t know why and he didn’t know what he did for you to think of him that way but he knows he’s never gonna take it for granted. because from the second he saw you, he really did know you were gonna be his.

“i think i might love you, too, angel.”

[dontcallmecarrie]

Hi! I love stark industries company antics, do you think it would be possible for the company to pull something ridiculous plot wise (like taking over the world lol) that would accidentally lead things down a better road? Or any ideas you have about outsiders reacting to the absolute insanity that is SI (I absolutely get writing as an escape, and I often do that as well as just daydreaming. Sending the best of wishes your way, I hope it gets better and easier to deal with soon <3)

thanks, friend. I appreciate it.

.

To be fair, it is very, very hard to beat "that one time we took over the world lol whoops", and I'm assuming we're talking about the TWiFFON universe here so apologies if you had something else in mind. I'm kinda drawing a blank in regards to anything that could compare...

Unless, say, we get a Relay Race Incident: Electric Boogaloo situation going on. Hypothetically speaking, of course.

Last time, the rivalries had been between military veterans messing around during the annual company picnic's relay race. Had been all in good fun, but still ended up in quite a few policy changes that meant a line-item for property damage was mandatory for events that one would not ordinarily expect, and was the unofficial reason R&D is no longer allowed to go unsupervised. HR also ended up teaming up with PR afterwards for damage control, making sure that nobody outside of SI so much as heard a peep about the shit some of their employees got up to when they were messing around.

Last time, SWORD wasn't around.

Whoops?

Okay, to be fair, everyone involved had looked at them and thought, "hey, these guys used to be part of a super-elite government agency, they've got their act together!" and "there's no way anyone can mess up as badly as last time" and completely forgot that brain cells =/= common sense.

Mistakes were made.

...a lot of mistakes were made.

And footage went viral, because of course it did, this was Murphy's law at its finest and HR was out for blood even as PR did its best to try and convince everyone that yes, actually, Stark Industries was a very professional company, really, pay no attention to the purple smoke in the distance.

Of course, then R&D does a thing, or Legal, and everyone's reminded that Stark Industries is very much the "work hard, play hard" company of the business world.

End result: the secret's out, now everyone knows SI's minions employees have basically zero common sense but it's okay because they make up for it with all the brain cells and are terrifyingly hypercompetent to boot. So. There's that.

.

Bonus points if it happens after the Realization, which just hammers home the ridiculousness of the situation because everyone was going “ah yes, supervillain with his minions taking over the world, don’t like it but makes sense” to “...an oblivious idiot, surrounded by his fellows and how did these guys take over the world??? If some of them can barely tie their shoelaces???”

[sinner-as-saint]

King Of My Heart.

Devil!Seb x Reader AU

Run-through: You always used to joke about how if one day you die and go to hell, you would most likely just follow the King of Hell around, annoy him, flirt with him and just be a brat and push his buttons, maybe even sit on his throne for the hell of it. It was always such a funny thought. And then one day, it actually happens…

Themes: devil!seb, somewhat bratty!reader, fluff, smut, mention of death by car accident, grumpy!seb

a/n: yeah, it’s a long fic… many apologies. Also it’s just a fic, don’t take it too seriously :)

Darkness engulfed you. And that was it. Stillness, tranquility and just nothing at all.

You woke up feeling nothing, not even your own weight. As though there was no gravity pulling you down anymore. You blinked a few times, trying to re-orient yourself and figure out where you are. Your mind seemed blank, void of memories.

Think… what’s the last thing you remember?

Fear. Speed. Danger – car crash. You had been in a car crash. So you must be in a hospital. But since when do hospital have vintage furniture, and marble flooring and such nice color themes. You cleared your throat and supported yourself up on your elbows, checking to see what hurt.

But nothing did.

“What kind of a hospital is this?” your memories might be all over the place, but you were sure hospitals didn’t have extravagant chandeliers.

Then a reply came. “It’s not a hospital.” A male voice spoke up, and you turned your head to look at him. He was sat in the corner of the room,.

Ignoring whatever he just said, you shamelessly checked him out. “Oh, you’re the most handsome nurse I’ve ever seen. Damn.” You were a very confident, somewhat inappropriate and shameless person.

He frowned at you, still sat at the velvety cushioned chair in the corner of the room. “I’m not a-“ he cut himself off and sighed loudly. “Look, you died. And you’re in hell.”

“What?”

He groaned and rolled his eyes. “You had a car crash. You didn’t make it. You died in the ambulance, and now you’re here. In hell.” He said it almost monotonously, like he had said it before a million times.

You looked around. Well shit.

“I had low expectations but this is actually kinda pretty, not gonna lie I-“

He cut you off, frowning again in disbelief. “You find out you died and are now in hell and the first thing you have to say is that it’s pretty?” he couldn’t believe it. He was kind of broody to be honest.

You shrugged, sitting up. “You expected me to scream and shout?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, signaling that that was actually the reaction he was expecting. How were you so calm? He could not understand.  

You scoffed. “I’m dead, there’s not much I can do. Besides, I won’t even ask why I’m in hell because let’s face it, I’m-,”

He cut you off again. “Okay.” He said rather bitterly, to shut you up and he stood up and closed the button of his dark suit. He was tall, and really, really handsome. Although, dealing with the fact that you had died seemed like it was no big deal. You couldn’t figure out why.

“Are you like, do you… who are you?” you asked, looking him up and down.

He finished securing his button and turned to face you with a smirk which could kill. “I’m the King of hell.” He said, and walked over to the door, opened it and walked out without another word.

Wow…

“Wait!” you called out as you jumped out of bed, realizing you were still wearing that tight red dress from the club. That’s what you were wearing when you were drunk driving back home. But you didn’t make it home.

The beautiful stranger was tall, so he took longer steps than you did. So you had to jog to catch up to him. You looked around as you did, this place was definitely not what you expected hell to look like. It was all very clean, and well-maintained. Marble flooring and antique furniture, a perfect balance of lights and shadows. It was, like you said earlier, pretty.

“Who takes care of this place? Do you have demon maids who dust and stuff?” you asked, once you managed to catch up with his long strides.

He groaned under his breath and kept walking, without even looking at you.

“Also where did you get all this furniture, you-,”

He finally spoke up, cutting you off.

“Why are you following me?” his tone was just as cold and monotonous as before. He didn’t turn to look at you, nor did he slow down. So you just kept walking beside him along the long hallway.

You shrugged, “I don’t know anyone else here.” You said like it was nothing. He was so tempted to stop and ask you to go back to the room but he didn’t. He wasn’t used to having company. This was all very new to him.

“You don’t know me either.” He spoke, grumpily. Clearly annoyed.

“No, but you were there when I woke up. Were you watching me while I slept?” you asked, genuinely curious.

He sighed, embarrassed at the actual reason why he was in the room when you woke up. “I was just making sure you don’t run off to someplace you aren’t supposed to be. You are reckless as it is” He answered, just as cold and bitter as before.

You smirked. “So you care about me? Didn’t know the Devil has a heart!” you were undoubtedly annoying him.

“I don’t.” he said, still grumpy and broody.

“Don’t care or don’t have a heart?” you asked, really beginning to push his buttons.

“Shut up.” He shut you up and kept walking.

And you kept following him.

“Where are we going?” you asked. And not much to your surprise, he didn’t answer. Well, maybe if you’re the King of Hell, you have the right to be so cold and plainly rude.

So you spoke up again. “Also, what should I call you? Lucifer?”

“No.”

“Satan?”

“No.” he sighed in annoyance.

“Luci? I like Luci.” You were talking to him as though he was your friend, and he wasn’t used to that.

“Stop.” He said, bitterly.

“Choose one then, or I’ll keep going. How about Prince of Darkness? No that’s too long, it’s-“

“Stop it.” he chided.

“Papa Goat? Seriously, tell me w-,”

He cut you off by stopping dead in his tracks and grabbed you by the shoulders, stopping you as well. “Go back to the room. And stop talking to me.” He said, sharply. He stared into your eyes and you were blown away by how pretty his eyes were.

You had spent your whole life thinking the Devil would have horrible red eyes, and red skin, and horns. Yet, here he was. Handsome as hell.

But you weren’t done questioning him yet. Ignoring his furious words, you spoke up again. “Speaking of which, why am I kept there? If this is hell, shouldn’t I be kept in a cell and tortured by your little minions? Or is that all just a myth?”

He stared at you in disbelief. “How dare you question my orders?” part of him was blown away by the confidence and audacity you had.

You maintained his icy stare, “Same way you dare watch me sleep. Now answer me.” You sassed. He frowned and let go of your shoulders, letting his hands drop back to his sides.

“I am the King, I don’t have to answer to anyone. Let alone a human soul. Now keep your little mouth shut, and get back to your room.” he spoke, slowly and bitterly.

You scoffed. “Fine, your Majesty.” You mocked him by doing a little bow. And he immediately started walking away. “But this conversation isn’t done yet.” You shouted after him, but he walked away as fast as he could, pretending he couldn’t hear you.

What would he say to you? He would be a little embarrassed to tell you the truth, but even he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it from you for too long. You sure were a brat, but you weren’t stupid. You were catching on already.

He tried to set the thoughts of you aside as he went about his duties as the King of Hell, yet each time, the image of you asleep on the bed would force their way into his mind. He has never felt like this in… forever.

He almost smiled to himself at the thought of you and how you ran that little mouth of yours. You were entertaining. A brat, but entertaining. He hadn’t meant to be so cold, and so rude. But he was the Devil, being gentle wasn’t his forte.

 You thought of him too, as you laid in the soft bed, looking up at the chandelier right above the bed. For a moment, you thought if this drops down on me, I’ll probably die on the spot.

Then you realized, well good thing I’m already dead.

You tried hard to feel bad for not being alive anymore, but there was no sense of sadness. You just felt light. You weren’t necessarily happy about being in Hell, but if this is it then you weren’t complaining.

You thought of the handsome Devil, and immediately a smirk formed on your face. You remembered how you would always tell people that you were sure you had the talent to annoy even Satan. And today, you proved it.

There was something about him which, surprisingly, didn’t make you want to run away in fear and hide from him. You remembered how he had held you by the shoulders earlier, and how warm his touch had been – a complete contrast to his bitter words and icy blue eyes.

You drifted off to sleep with a faint smile, and the thought of broody blue eyes on your mind; mindlessly concocting ways on how you could pester him more.

 -

The King was on his throne, barking orders and watching over his dark kingdom when you showed up, at the stairs which led to his majestic throne. You stood at the end of the stairs, looking up at him with a smirk and mischief in your eyes.

He looked down at you and raised an eyebrow, silently asking you to behave and not make a scene in front of all those in the room.

You looked around the spacious room and spotted many smirking faces. All dressed in black, guess that was a code here in Hell. And here you were, in your little red dress. The room was everything one can imagine how the Devil’s lair would look like. Quite dark, and shadowy. Shades of red here and there, but mainly just black. And there he sat, high up on his throne. Looking as arrogant and handsome as yesterday.

Without a second thought, you started walking up the stairs which led to him. Seeing you were coming up towards him, the King flicked his hand slightly and ordered everyone to leave the room. He didn’t want them all to endure your antics.

You stopped right in front of him and smiled. “Scoot over.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, confused and surprised. “Pardon?”

You chuckled. “Oh, a Devil with manners! I said scoot over, I wanna sit.” You repeated and he blinked a couple of times, frowning at your words.

“You want to… sit on my throne?” he had been around for so long, but no one – until today – had ever asked him to scoot over so they could sit on his throne. He was very much surprised at your audacity.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Would you like me to shout it out? Because trust me, I can d-,”

He cut you off by reaching out, grabbing your hand and pulling you onto his lap. He secured one arm around you and sighed. He figured it would be less embarrassing to have you on his lap rather than scooting over and sharing his beloved throne.

You were the one who was surprised this time. “Well, you know I usually wait a while before getting on a guy’s lap, but oh well.” You shrugged and made yourself comfortable on his lap. “You’re so warm.” You pointed out and snuggled closer to him.

He gently pushed you away. “Behave.” He muttered, still grumpy as yesterday.

You scoffed, smirking. “Or what? You’ll punish me?” you asked, forgetting for a moment that you were talking to the Devil. The King of Hell, and not some guy you met at a club.

He groaned. “If you keep behaving like this, yes. With pleasure.” He answered, unintentionally staring down at the low cut of your dress, before quickly peeling his eyes off you.

You giggled. “Ooh, kinky. I like it.” you commented and he groaned again.

“Stop it.” he muttered under his breath; as though he was so done with you. But he wasn’t pushing you off his lap yet, so maybe he wasn’t that annoyed. Not yet.

 For the next while, you bombarded him with questions. Questions he had answered many, many times before. So all of his replies were monotonous, and he sounded like being here with you was the last thing he wanted to do. But even in his grumpy mood, he wasn’t asking you to leave.

He didn’t know why. He had been alone for so long, that having the company of someone else seemed like the kind of luxury he could rarely afford. Even if it was the company of a brat, who wouldn’t behave at all.

“So if you’re the King of Hell, then does Hades exist?” you asked, curious to know. Despite being somewhat annoyed, he had been answering all your questions without complaining.

“Yes.”

You got all wide eyed and excited. “And Cerberus?”

“Yes.” Came the monotonous reply.

“Have you met them?” you asked, not dropping the topic.

He sighed and leaned back in his seat, with you still sat up straight on his thighs. “I’ve been around for millennia. I have met everyone and everything.” He answered, closing his eyes momentarily.

You were genuinely amazed.

“But how do you and Hades exist at the same time? I don’t get it.”

He groaned, “Like how you are a grown woman, yet act like a child at the same time.” He sassed, opening his eyes to give you a smug look.

You gasped at his reply and got off his lap abruptly. “You, sir, are rude.”

He smirked at your reaction. “Are you going to leave me alone and let me do my job now?” he asked, sounding like he was enjoying this.

You didn’t answer him. You just turned around and walked down the stairs and disappeared into the long corridor which would lead you to the room where you slept. Guess that was your room now. During one of your many banters earlier, you had brought it up again; asking him why you were being kept there and treated rather nicely. And as expected, he didn’t answer.

But you knew you were going to get it out of him sooner or later.

 Once in your room, you realized that there was nothing to do here, even in this grand bedroom. You weren’t alive, so you didn’t feel hunger or thirst. You inspected the bathroom, and found a large tub. Well, might as well take a bath.

You rummaged through the wardrobes, and drawers. You found everything a woman could need in there. And you were beginning to wonder, was your arrival pre-planned?

You could ask the arrogant, handsome King. But you knew he would never tell you. So you pushed all those thoughts aside and took a nice, long and warm bath.

-

On his way to his room, at the end of the day, the King thought of you. He walked down the long corridor, and heard nothing but the echo of his footsteps as he went. He hated it; the loneliness. He caught himself smiling faintly as he thought of you, and how perfectly you fit in his lap earlier.

He wanted to hold you close for a while longer, but then a sense of guilt washed over him. Because he wasn’t too sure that you would still act the same around him if you knew the whole truth. He figured perhaps that was the reason he was always so unintentionally cold towards you.

His smile slowly diminished as he entered his room.

He closed the door behind him and heard a giggle. He closed his eyes for a moment and groaned. “What are you doing in my room?” he asked, turning around slowly to find you sat on the edge of his bed. Wearing his clothes. “And why are you in my clothes?”

You rolled your eyes at him pulled your legs up, sitting criss cross on his bed. “Relax, your Majesty. I’m just borrowing a shirt and sweatpants. Which, by the way, you don’t seem like a sweatpants kinda guy. You look like you sleep in your dark suits.”

He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking at the ground for a moment before looking back up at you. “Well, if you’re done judging me. Do you mind getting out of my room?”

You shrugged. “Nah, I’m comfortable.” You spoke and let your body fall back onto his bed. You heard him walking around, but you couldn’t see him. “We need a name for you.” you said after some moments of silence.

“No we don’t.” as expected, he argued back.

Ignoring him, you searched for a name mentally. “See, if I saw you in the streets I would think that you were an Adrian, or maybe a Josh. How about Christopher?”

“No.”

You supported yourself up on your elbows and watched him as he poured himself a drink. “You also look like a Sebastian.”

He didn’t say anything, he simply turned around and glared at you. You smirked.

“Sebastian it is then.” You made that decision all on your own. “Hey Seb, make me a drink as well.”

He rolled his eyes at you and turned back around to the mini bar he had in his room. Although grumpy still, he made you a drink and brought it over to you. You remained sat in his bed as he handed you the glass.

You were about to thank him rather sarcastically when your gaze fell on a closed door, right beside the mini bar. You pointed towards the door, “What secrets are you hiding in there, your Majesty?” you asked, and took a sip of the liquor while he turned around to look at the locked door.

He turned to look at you again. He bent down a little and gently, but firmly, held your chin between his thumb and forefinger. He stared into your eyes with his stormy blue ones, and you immediately ran out of things to say. His stare was intense, and it pulled you under his spell.

“I know you’re not good with rules. And you hate being obedient with a passion. But I need you to understand one thing, never go beyond those doors. Break this one rule, and there will be consequences. And they won’t be pretty.” He spoke calmly.

With no ounce of anger or authority in his voice. Just overly calm. His words embedded into your brain and his tone was so low that it sent a tingle dancing down your spine.

“Did I make myself clear?” he asked, still staring into your eyes.

You nodded.

He gave you a faint smile. “Good girl.”

And then you had to pretend that him calling you a ‘good girl’ didn’t sent your mind straight to the gutter. It took you a few seconds to recover from his words and his brief touch, and once you did; you went back to being your bratty, borderline annoying self.

“Hey Seb?”

He hadn’t gotten used to the new name yet, so it took his a few seconds to process and answer. “What?” he spoke up from a couch, not far from his bed. Which was where you were sat, comfortably as though it were your own.

“Did it hurt?” you were about to use the cheesiest pick up line ever created on the Devil himself.

“Hurt when?” he asked with a frown, as if he was also preparing himself for whatever bullshit was about to fall out of your mouth.

You smirked. “When you fell from Heaven.”

And you laughed at the disgusted face he made.

 You ended up spending quite some time in his room. Annoying him with your useless questions, and nonsense talks. He put up with it though, he put up with you. He gave you faint smiles at times, whenever you said something funny. But overall, he remained his grumpy self.

You eventually left his room, and turned in for the night; giving him a goodnight kiss on the cheek. And he wasn’t expecting it so he remained frozen for a while.

You giggled at his reaction. “You totally like me.” You sassed as you walked out of his room.

 He thought about what you said to him, before you left, as he laid in bed at night. Another faint smile formed on his face.

He did like you. He just had a terrible way of showing it.

 -

For you, the greatest temptation was to do what was forbidden. It was just naturally embedded in you; the urge to do something you’ve been strictly told not to.

And although for the next few days, or who knows how long because time worked funny here, you hung out with Seb, and annoyed him and got most of your entertainment by pushing his buttons. You followed him everywhere, like a lost puppy basically. And he made you feel tingly and warm at times. Yet, you couldn’t get rid of what he had said the other day.

What could be behind those doors? What did he not want you to see?

Besides, you were really beginning to wonder about why you were here, and what your purpose was. Sure, you had been no saint on earth. And it wasn’t a big surprise that you were not here in hell. But why were you being treated differently? Why weren’t you in a dark, damp and cold cell?

 Then one day, you set off to find the answers to some of your questions. Seb was sat on his throne, in the dark, majestic room. And you sneaked into his room. You knew it was a terrible, terrible idea. But you had nothing to lose, right?

You were dead, and in Hell. What’s the worst that could happen?

You entered his room, and walked over to the door beside the mini bar. There was no locks, nothing. Perhaps, his orders were enough to keep people out of his room. But of course, you had the reputation of never being able to abide by the rules.

You pushed open the door and it creaked a little as it opened. You peaked inside and couldn’t figure out what you were looking at. You turned around and took one good look at his empty room, and turned back around to enter the forbidden room.

It was much more shadowy than there was light. As you stepped further in, you were amazed at what you were looking at. It seemed like a dream, but there was a pair of large, feathery wings enclosed in a glass cage. Some of the white feathers were on the bottom, some stained; brownish in color. You pressed your palm against the glass and admired the wings.

Was this why he had asked you not to step in here? Because of the cut off wings?

You looked around, more intently – desperately trying to find out why he asked you to stay out of this room. And then you saw it.

There were pictures. Of you. Pinned to the wall.

Pictures of you at university parties; getting wasted, pictures of you and your group of friends smoking weed and having edibles. Pictures of you at the strip club, and basically every bad things you’ve ever done in your life. There were even pictures of you taken at the club, on the day of the accident.

You were frozen in place. Only your eyes moved from picture to picture. He had been watching you? But why? And who even took these pictures?

You were trying to take in all of this, trying to process and understand it all when you heard a voice speak up from behind you.

“I thought we agreed on one rule.” He spoke up.

Speak of the Devil…

You turned around slowly, still in somewhat of a shock. “Why do you have my pictures?” you asked, ignoring what he said.

He sighed and looked down for a moment, before looking back up at you. “Why are you in here, when I strictly told you to stay away? Is it so hard to listen?” his demeanor changed. He wasn’t grumpy or pretending to be annoyed like always. He was angry. But something told you there was something else he was hiding beneath the anger.

And you were a little scared of the look on his face at the moment. But you persisted. “Why are my pictures here? Even on the day I died, I…” you trailed off and involuntarily, a thought flashed in your mind. “Did you kill me? On purpose?” you asked.

He frowned. “What? No!” he was getting more and more irritated. “I told you there would be consequences if you stepped in here.”

You couldn’t believe him. “Screw you! Why do you have my pictures? Who took them? You psycho-,”

He cut you off by grabbing you and backing you against the wall and pinning both your hands above your head. He leaned in dangerously close to you, his eyes began changing color; getting either dark red or black.

“Enough! You will not disrespect me, I am the King!” his voice wasn’t velvety smooth anymore, it was gruff and scary. His grip tightened around your wrists. “One fucking rule, why don’t you ever fucking listen?” he growled.

Your eyes watered at his tone. “Just because I treat you well, and let you do what you want doesn’t mean you won’t be punished when you overstep a line! Would you rather I send you to the dungeons, huh? Where they’ll rip you apart and put you back together over and over again?!” he was frantic, growling in his gruff voice which made you tremble.

This wasn’t the grumpy man who liked having you on his lap while he sat on his throne. This wasn’t the one who had been indirectly complimenting you these past few days, making you feel all warm and tingly. This wasn’t the one who would actually take the time and answer all your questions, even when they got repetitive.

This wasn’t him. This was the Devil humans were scared of. This was the Devil in all the folklore and myths.

You tried hard to hold back the sob, but it escaped your lips anyway. The hot tears fell down your cheeks as well. “No, please.” You sobbed.

He let go of you abruptly. Lowering his eyes to the ground. “Get out of here. Go!” he yelled again and you took off running.

 The minute you left the room, sobbing on your way out – he felt terrible. So terrible. He hadn’t meant to be so rude, or scare you away. He just didn’t want you to see all this, and hate him. But he was short tempered. And he couldn’t help it.

Fuck…

 You didn’t stop running until you reached your room. You slammed the door shut behind you and leaned against it, sobbing with your face into your hands. He was the Devil, for fuck’s sake. You should have never thought that he would ever be your friend.

He was the King of Hell, he was incapable of warmth. You should’ve known that. Yet, somewhere deep within you, you felt something for him. You didn’t know what it was, but each time he’d pull you onto his lap, or brush his hands against yours, you felt something. And you couldn’t understand why. You couldn’t understand anything. The pictures… your pictures, why were they here?

-

 He couldn’t sleep that night. Not when he had been so mean to you earlier. Not even alcohol was helping. Technically, he could never get drunk but he liked the taste. But even that wasn’t helping today.

So, after much overthinking and cursing himself for how he acted earlier, he set off to find you. He couldn’t deal with the burden anymore, so he decided he would just tell you the truth today.

He found you in your room, because there was nowhere else you could go. He knew you weren’t sleeping because the shape of your body moved under the covers upon his entrance. He sighed, this was his doing.

You were always so bubbly and talkative, so silence from you really hurt him. But he realized he was wrong, and he had to apologize. No matter what.

He cleared his throat, awkwardly. He didn’t know how to apologize to someone. He never had to, never wanted to. He never actually cared enough before. But now he did.

“I know you’re not sleeping.” He said, walking further into the room.

But all he got as a response was silence. He sighed, he was indeed expecting silent treatment from you. He deserved it, he had been ruthless earlier.

“I came to apologize.” He spoke up again, and took a seat at the edge of your bed. He had his back to you so he didn’t see when you lowered the blanket just a little and peaked at him with a frown. The Devil was apologizing? But before he noticed, you hid under the blanket again.

“Go away.” You said, as bitterly as you could. Your voice sounded muffled by the blanket, but he didn’t move an inch.

He sighed and shook his head at himself, and his stupidity and his lack of control over his anger. “I know you’re mad at me. You have every right to be. I just… I need you to hear me out. Please.” He sounded genuinely sorry.

Your silence suggested that you wanted him to go on. So he did. “I’ve been watching you. Since way before the accident.” He confessed.

You were shocked, under the blanket. “You creep.” You commented; your voice still muffled by the blanket.

He scoffed under his breath. “I’ve been called worse things.” He said, a faint sense of melancholy in his words. You caught it immediately.

You pulled the blanket down a little and saw that he still had his back to you. “So you’ve been stalking me?” you asked. And since the sound of your voice was clearer this time, he turned to look at you immediately. And he found you frowning at him.

At least you weren’t crying like earlier.

He lowered his eyes for a moment. “I’ve been… tempting you to sin. In every way I could.” He chose his words carefully, he didn’t want to ruin this anymore.

You scoffed, loudly. “Did you kill me as well?”

He groaned. “No. No I would never do that. Your… accident was predestined from even before you were born.”

You were quiet for a little while, looking at him and thinking how the hell you even ended up here, in this exact situation. “Why are my pictures in that room? And why were you stalking me?”

He was quick to correct you. “Not stalk, watch over you.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Okay, guardian freaking angel. Why though?”

He sighed. “I’m… I’m lonely.” He replied, finally voicing out the feelings he had tried so hard to conceal.

And you didn’t mean to, but you couldn’t help it. At his words, you wheezed uncontrollably. And he turned to give you a look which only made you laugh harder. He sighed and waited for your laughter fit to be over.

“So, you want me to be your little girlfriend? That’s why you have my pictures in your secret room?” you smirked. And just like that, your mood switched back to how you usually were.

He shook his head in disbelief. “Are you ever serious?”

“How can I be? I just found out Satan has been watching me all my life and probably has a little crush on me.” You raised an eyebrow at him, smirking still.

He playfully glared at you. “I needed you here with me. So I made sure you committed enough sins to… earn a place in hell, but not enough so that you would be kept in a cell and tortured.” Now that he said it out loud, he realized how selfish he was. “I know that sounds wrong, but I… I needed someone.” He lowered his eyes again, unable to face you. “I’m sorry.”

You took a few moments to process what he said to you, and took it all in. Were you mad? Not really. Did you wish he’d just tell you that from the start? Yes.

“You think I’m selfish.” He stated.

And you were quick to give him an answer this time. “No.” he looked up at you at the sound of your voice. “I know what it feels like to be lonely.” And just to clarify, you added, “I’m not mad at you.”

When he gazed into your eyes after that last exchange, something shifted. Something changed, in a good way. That warm and tingly feeling was back again.

You did have another question though, “Why did you act like you hated me in the beginning then?”

He thought over it and eventually told you the truth. “I thought, like everyone else, you would be scared of me. And that you would push me away, and I’d have to earn your trust and affection.” He paused for a moment, then continued, “But you were… absolutely shameless. I didn’t know how to act.”

Your eyes widened at his confession. “Ouch.”

“Not that it’s a bad thing, really. You’re perfect.” He truly thought so.

Meanwhile, his mood swings were giving you a whiplash. “So you liked me so much that you paved my way to hell, so I could be with you?” you asked, all of a sudden with a serious face. “You’ve been impatiently waiting for me to die, huh?”

He groaned. “Don’t say it like that. I-,”

You cut him off, smirking. “Chill, I’m kidding. Life wasn’t sunshine and rainbows on earth either. I’m not saying I’m glad I’m dead. I’m not saying I’m mad. I just wished you’d tell me all this on the first day.” You paused for a moment, then added, “Were you scared I would reject you?” you had a smirk on.

He muttered something under his breath. And closed his eyes momentarily, smiling faintly at how easily your mood switched to a better one.

“Why me?” you asked, another burning question of yours.

He nearly broke into a full smile at that question. Why you… he had asked himself that very question so many times now. But he never got an answer. It was always unclear, and it’s not like he needed a reason to like you. He just did.

“I don’t know. I knew you weren’t going to be on earth for long, and I’ve liked you since the moment I first saw you.” he gave you a cheesy reply and smirked softly. So soft that one might mistake it to be a smile.

You chuckled. “Yeah? And when was that?” Part of you was all cocky and confident at what you were hearing. Most girls would run away if they found out Satan has a crush on them, but not you. You were slightly twisted like that.

“When you went skinny dipping on your 21st birthday.” He answered like it was no big deal.

Your jaw dropped. “Dude… gross. You’re such a perv!” you said, smiling up at him. For some reasons, you didn’t mind it.

He shrugged. “Well, I am the Devil.” He said with a smirk.

You noticed how the tension which was present when he first walked into the room, had now disappeared. Unknowingly, both of you had inched closer to each other. You were within arm’s reach from him. You felt warm. You felt sparks flying between the two of you – ones that you had hoped to feel with another person your entire life, but never did until now.

“Still, you watched me while I was naked? Disgusting.” You said with a playful smirk on your face.

He scoffed. “Am I now? What about all those times you scrutinized my pictures and discussed my anatomy in complete details with your friends? Who was disgusting then?”

You almost blushed at the tone he used. He sounded like he knew he had full power over you.

“That wasn’t- I didn’t know you were real. Besides, that’s eavesdropping. Very rude.” You argued, like always.

He turned his body some more, facing you better. He reached out and gently caressed your face. His knuckles lightly grazing your skin. “No, not eavesdropping. Just making sure my girl is alright at all times.” He answered, softly looking into your eyes.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Your girl, huh?”

He smirked. “Why, won’t you be mine?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. You were mean to me earlier.” You said, purposely just to mess with him.

He groaned. “I’m sorry. I truly am. I mean it.” he sighed. “I… I got scared. I thought you would hate me.” He confessed.

You lifted the blanket off you and scooted towards him. You wrapped your arms around him from behind and placed your chin on his shoulder.

“Anything else you’re hiding from me? Any weird satanic ritual you conducted to summon me? Any goat sacrifices?” you asked, nuzzling his neck.

He smiled.

“No, none.” He replied, gently placing his hand on top of yours around his torso.

“And get rid of the pictures. It’s a little weird.” you said, pushing your face into the side of his neck.

“I will. I promise,” he turned his head to look at you. “I only kept them because I missed you.” he murmured softly.

You chuckled. “Still. Creepy.”

“You’re in Hell, what do you expect?”

 The banter went on for a while. And he sometimes got grumpy and groaned at your words, but he always had the perfect comeback.

“So… you like, like me? For real?” you asked, teasing him. Mainly because you liked how he looked anytime he tried to fight back a smile.

Only this time, he didn’t fight it. He genuinely smiled. “I more than like you.”

You giggled. “You’re a dork.”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “That, I’ve never been called before.” He gave you another faint smile and stared into your eyes with his icy blue ones.

His eyes momentarily glanced down at your lips, then back up to your eyes. He began leaning in, without thinking much about it. You leaned in as well, and your lips met in the middle. And they felt just like you expected them to; warm and soft. Irresistible.

His kiss was gentle at first, he waited to see if you had any objections. But seeing you had none, he tilted his head to the side and deepened the kiss. He lifted his body off the bed slightly, turning around and lowering your body down on the bed and hovered above you.

Your hands reached out to cup his face while one of his warm hands mindlessly slipped under your shirt and caressed your skin along your side. He kissed you feverishly; pushing his tongue past your lips and stroking the top of your mouth. You moaned quietly and he pulled away for a second, letting you breathe before he leaned in again to kiss your skin.

He kissed along your jaw, and down to your neck. His lips were warm and soft as they peppered your skin with kisses, making you instinctively tilt your neck to give him an easier access to your skin. He smirked against your skin when he felt you squirm under him.

But then he stopped abruptly, pulled away and stared into your eyes again. “I… you’re really okay with this, right?” he sounded not so confident anymore.

You smiled and gently caressed his face. “You’re a little weird, a little broody and a bit of an arrogant prick. Not to mention you stalked me and made me a shrine in your secret little room.” you pointed out and he groaned in shame and hid his face into the crook of your neck. You laughed. “But that’s alright. I’ve been shameless, inappropriate and annoying as well. We’re one hell of a pair, you know like the King and Queen of Gotham city.”

“Like who?”

You sighed and muttered a ‘never mind’ under your breath.

He chuckled against you skin and then kissed his way back up to your lips. A soft, unexpected moan left your lips as he slipped his hand under the oversized shirt you were wearing (his shirt which you stole) and inched higher and higher up your leg, and caressed your inner thigh. He smirked when you moaned and he kept going. He leaned in to kiss your jaw and down your neck; his stubble brushing against your skin gently.

His knuckles brushed against the front of the underwear you were wearing; flimsy and serving no purpose because he could feel how wet you were through it.

“You really want me, huh?” he spoke against your skin, cocky as always; his lips hovering over the corner of your mouth.

He slipped his hand past your underwear and touched your wet folds, his two fingers circling around your clit for a bit. He smirked as you moaned when he pushed a finger past your entrance. Then another and started gently pumping them in and out of you. He placed his thumb on your clit and brushed it occasionally while he pumped his fingers in and out of you; your wetness dripping and smearing all over his hand.

You moaned out loud when his fingers touched you in all the right places; curling just right and massaging your walls perfectly. He searched your eyes again for any negative signs.

You whimpered and moaned each time his fingers brushed against your walls, and the sounds you made alone were enough to make him want to ravish and devour you even more. He reached out and wrapped his hand around your throat; squeezing just a little. His breath was just as ragged as yours; his lips inches away from yours.

He sped up again; his fingers stroking your walls perfectly and increasing the sweet, almost agonizing pressure forming in between your hips. You felt a rush and a warmth washing over you; you felt his lips kiss down your body. Each feathery touch of his mouth drove you wild, and the only thing you could focus on was his hands and mouth on your body.

You felt him dragging his lips across your skin and down until he reached your core. He kissed his way around it and eventually pulled his fingers out of you and pulled down your underwear; getting rid of them and placed his mouth right where his fingers had been.

He slipped his tongue past your wet folds, teasing your entrance relentlessly. Occasionally, he’d bite and tease the skin around your clit but he’d eventually get back to where you wanted him the most. He wrapped his hands around your thighs, locking you in his tight grip, leaving you no other choice but to endure his sweet assault.

The wet sounds his mouth made against your dripping core was downright filthy, and so was the moans coming out of you. Your hands slid into his hair, and you tugged on it gently as he ate you out like his life depended on it.

His tongue lapped up all that you gave him and he pushed his fingers into you again; slowly pumped in and out of you as his tongue flicked your sensitive clit.

You soon felt the familiar pressure forming in between your hips. He flicked his tongue over your entrance rapidly and soon, you came undone with a loud moan. A series of cuss words left your lips like a chant as your back arched off the bed. You squirmed under his touch and he watched in awe how your pretty face frowned in pleasure.

You gently cradled his face in your hands as he kissed his way back up your body. You noticed the dampness on his face and how it coated his chin and his lips. The sight of it was filthy enough to make you come again. He kissed you again, hungrily.

You sensed it then, the change in his demeanor. His kiss was slightly more rough and demanding than earlier. And while you focused on his lips against yours, he grabbed your shirt at the neckline and ripped it open. You gasped through the kiss, but he just smirked and threw the torn fabric somewhere behind you and ran his hands down your back; cupping your ass and pulling you closer.

His hands touched you wherever he could; your breasts, your waist – leaving trails of goose bumps wherever his fingers touched your skin. The cold tip of his nose ran along your throat and up to your ear, where he whispered all his obscene thoughts, making you blush. And you couldn’t help but notice how many times he mentioned how much he needed you.

He did indeed, need you. With you, he didn’t feel cold and alone. He felt warm and alive. He felt powerful with you by his side, yet he knew that he was ready to drop to his knees and surrender to you, if you ever just asked him to. He would do anything for you.

“Hey,” he gently grabbed your chin and looked deep into your eyes after he got rid of his clothes, and after you were done admiring the work of art his body was. “Tell me if it hurts.” He whispered, lips dangerously close to yours.

With a slow, steady push, he inserted his length into you. You shuddered as you felt all of him, his beard tickled your skin as he kissed your lips repeatedly and told you how good you were doing. You hissed when he fully penetrated you, the thickness of his length stretched you to your maximum and you were gasping as he filled you to the brim.  

He gave you a quick moment to get used to his size, you whimpered and whined and felt your walls clenching around him. When you kissed him, slowly brushing his lower lip with your tongue, he took it as a sign which meant it was okay for him to move. You heard his ragged breaths as he removed himself out and pushed himself back into you again.

He sped up just a little, rocking his hips against yours and his hand reached up to wrap around your neck gently. He stared into your eyes, speeding up into you again. “Fuck… you feel so good...” his voice cracked by the end and he closed his eyes and bit down on his lip as he slipped in and out of you with ease. He leaned in to kiss your open mouth, shamelessly shoving his tongue past your parted lips and stroking the top of your mouth.

You felt all of him; his warm mouth against yours, the prominent vein along his cock, and his throbbing red tip and it brushed against your walls each time he rocked into your wet heat. He moved faster; your clit occasionally rubbing against the hairy base of his abdomen and adding to the pleasurable sensation.

He tapped your thigh, letting you know that he wanted your legs around his waist because that gave him a better angle. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he pounded into you relentlessly. You moaned again as he bit and licked the skin beneath your jaw, all while slamming into you relentlessly; stretching you out and pounding into you like his life depended on it.

His toned body rubbed against yours; your breasts pressed against his torso and he placed his forehead on top of yours. The simple gesture was so sweet and so intimate that suddenly, you didn’t want to let him go. You wanted him, here, with you.

You felt your walls clench around him, and tightening around his thick member; making him swear out loud. He panted against your lips, occasionally kissing you as he gripped your jaw with his hand. He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, he kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came – hard.  

You whimpered at how he kept pounding into you even after you came, and your face burned as you felt the knot forming again right at your core. Seb growled and bit down on your shoulder to keep himself from making any loud noises while he fucked you. He grabbed both your hands and pinned them down on the bed, above your head.

He was relentless, as though each moan, each mewl which left your lips only encouraged him to get more and more rough. He panted and groaned at how good you felt and shamelessly told you about it; whispering against your skin about how perfect you felt around him – wet and warm all for him.

You moaned as you felt your second release approaching while the first was weakening. Your legs were numb, and your body moved along with his like a rag doll; yet, you wanted more of what he had to give. You craved him. And he craved more of you.

“Cum for me,” he murmured at the side of your mouth as he very gently squeezed the side of your throat. But hard enough to make you lose your mind. A rush coursed through your veins as you felt your mind clouding with lust again. His large frame hovering above you as he tightened his grip around your throat just a little more.

He bit down on your lip as you lifted your hips to meet his thrust; chasing your release. Your body trembled under him as you came again; gushing out around his cock while he still pounded relentlessly into you before slowing down again. You felt him quicken his pace as he chased his own orgasm.

He groaned and whispered your name quite a few times before coming undone; buried deep within you – growling and mumbling swear words under his breath. His warm cum shot at your walls and trickled out of you when he carefully removed his length from your entrance and laid down next to you on the bed.

“I need you. I need you here with me.” He mumbled, pulling you closer and kissing your forehead.

You smiled and snuggled up to his side, his body heat wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. He wrapped his arms around you again and tucked your head under his chin; none of you minding the nudity.

“I want to be here with you.” you replied, then added, “I mean it’s not like I have much of a choice really, just don’t get all bat shit crazy on me like earlier, and get me some clothes and I need some m-,”

He cut you off by grabbing your face and pressing his lips to yours; shutting you up with a kiss. He deepened the kiss, pulling you closer and caressed your face softly.

“Don’t start already. We have all of eternity to argue.” He mumbled and rolled on top of you, pushing his face into the crook of your neck.

You giggled and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and kissing the top of his head.

Well, who knew your love story would begin in afterlife? And that the King of Hell would end up stealing your heart…

---

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[thesightstoshowyou]

Re: milestone event, maybe a continuation of your Tommy fic where one night the reader wakes up all hot thinking of him and finally seeks him out in the middle of the night to take care of it seeing as unfortunately he has yet to bust into the room to take them? Your fic for Tommy and Jason are my FAV just *mwah* fantastic I didn't realize I was into Tommy until you

I like the way you think anon ;)

Sweet Dreams

Thomas Hewitt x F Reader (NSFW)

Part 3

Read Part 2 here

Summary: You wake in the night burning with need. You seek Tommy out, earn his trust, and he repays you in kind. RIP to other guys but Thomas Hewitt is different.

Warnings: FLUFF holy shit, so much fluff, oral, praise kink, squirting, creampie

             Hands, thick, strong hands caress your thighs, spreading you open as you cling to burly shoulders, sweat spilling from your brow until you taste salt on your lips—

             Your eyes pop open. Moonlight spills through the curtains, the only light illuminating your dark room. It’s starting to feel less like a prison cell with every day that passes, but this thought does not bring you comfort. Very little comforts you here, in this house, in this rotting town. Only one thing, one person, prevents you from actively trying to escape….

             You’d dreamt of him again. You grind your thighs together, trying to relieve the deep ache these excruciatingly vivid dreams bring. You have no idea how late it is, or how early. A sigh rushes past your lips. There’s no way anyone is up at this hour and you’re locked in your room until morning. God, you long to go to him.

             The stomp of heavy footfalls coming down the hall reaches your ears. You’d recognize those steps anywhere. Thomas….

             Ripping the covers off your sweaty form, you leap from the bed and cross the room in a flash. Gently, you knock on the door, not wishing to wake anyone else.

             “Tommy?” You ask quietly, praying he hears you. The footsteps abruptly pause just outside your door. You hold your breath as you hear rustling. The lock clicks.

             You step out of the way, letting the door swing open. Thomas fills your doorway, hair still damp from a shower, wearing nothing but a pair of slacks. And the damn mask, of course. It looks as though he’d just thrown it on so he could open your door, one of the straps half-clasped. He’s watching you closely, furrow in his brow, most likely worried something is wrong.

             “Hi,” you whisper with a small smile, “I’m okay. Just wanted to see you.” Thomas glances shyly away at your words and you take the opportunity to drag your gaze over his brawny shoulders, shoulders you’d just been dreaming about digging your nails into. You flush at the memory, suddenly nervous to ask for what you want.

             Instead you close the distance between you, hesitantly reaching up to run your fingers along the slit in Thomas’ mask, brushing the digits over his lips. He tenses, hands coming up to settle timidly on your hips Do you dare…?

             “Tommy,” you whisper, meeting his anxious stare. This is such a sensitive topic. How do you broach the subject without upsetting him? You swallow, “Tommy, I want to kiss you…without this.” You lay your hand against his cheek, thumb stroking the leather of his mask.

             As you’d guessed, his eyes widen and he immediately steps away from you, shaking his head and turning to leave. Anxiously, you bite your lip, slipping your hand into his to keep him from fleeing.

             “Tommy, you have no idea how bad I want you right now. All the time, actually,” you say quickly with a breathy laugh, “How bad I want all of you.” Thomas meets your gaze over his shoulder and you can see he’s frowning again, like he can’t believe you. Your heart breaks, chest constricting painfully.

             You move to him again, pushing up on your tip toes to press your lips to his shoulder before moving to his neck. Deeply, you inhale the sharp scent of his soap as you nuzzle your nose just under his ear. Your hands roam across his chest, fingers tracing all the scars littering his torso. Thomas shudders, arms wrapping around you and pulling you tight against him. He clings to you like a lifeline, just like he had that first day in the cellar.

             “You’re not gonna scare me away. I need you, Tommy, so, so bad. I love the way you make me feel. You…you don’t have to show me right now, but I hope that, someday, you will.”

             Thomas moves to cup your cheeks, cradling your face in his huge palms. He searches your expression, your eyes, looking for a lie, for any hint of teasing. You meet his gaze, willing him to feel your sincerity. Blue eyes drop to your lips and he frowns again. You can see him thinking, weighing the pros and cons.

             He must not find what he’s looking for because you see his eyes soften. Tommy lets out a tremulous breath and you give him a small, reassuring smile. Slowly, so slowly, as though his hands weigh a thousand pounds each, he reaches up to unbuckle the strap of his mask. You grip his shoulders to quiet his trembling.

             Finally, Thomas lowers the mask from his face. You are hyper-aware of your expression, knowing Tommy will miss nothing. You keep your face passive, blank as you examine the missing nose, the lesions and scar tissue along the side of his mouth, his cheek. You wonder what caused it; a deformity? A disease?

             Truthfully, you’d expected much worse. You’d been imagining the potential horrors under that mask from day one. It’s anticlimactic, really.

             Thomas isn’t looking at you. He’s so tense, shoulders bunched under your hands, his eyes fixed on a spot past your left shoulder. You tip your head to the side, cupping his cheek and gently forcing him to meet your gaze. You smile warmly, bringing your other hand up to trace his bottom lip with your thumb.

             “Can I kiss you now, Tommy?” you whisper. Thomas blinks, astonished. He lets out another huge breath and you realize he’d been holding it this hold time. You nod, assuring him you mean the truth, and pop up on your toes again to meet him halfway.

             Shaking, Thomas wraps his arms around you again and presses his lips to yours. You sigh into his mouth, glad to have the barrier gone. You sigh becomes a squeak and a giggle when Tommy lifts you off your feet. You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips, clinging to him like he does you. The mask lays at his feet, forgotten.

             “Take me to your room?” you murmur, brushing his hair out of the way to kiss the shell of his ear. You don’t have to ask twice. Tommy carries you down the hall, moving as silently as he can so as not to alert anyone else in the house.

             Once safely inside his room, dark but for the moonlight bathing the room in soft light, Thomas gently sets you on the edge of his bed, hurrying across the room to close the door before promptly returning to you. You spread your thighs so he can kneel between them and you pull him flush against you, peppering his bare face with kisses, ending at his lips so you can slip your tongue in his mouth.

             He’s clumsy at first, but Tommy once again proves to be a fast learner, lips and tongue matching your earnest movements. You break away to catch your breath, grinning wide. Biting your lip, you tug your shirt over your head, slowly, so you can make a show of it.

           Reverently, Thomas smooths the palms of his hands up your abdomen, cupping your breasts and timidly leaning in to capture a nipple with his lips. He gives the hardening flesh an experimental suck and you release a hushed moan, fingers tangling in his hair to encourage him.

             He moves to the other side, repeating the action until you buck your hips into him, a whispered, “Oh fuck,” spilling from your parted lips. Eagerly, Thomas eases your shorts off your hips, tossing them away and scooping up handfuls of your ass to pull you to the very edge of the bed. He wastes no time before burying his face between your parted thighs.

             You must clap your hand over your mouth to stifle the surprised moan when Tommy drags his tongue through your folds. He remembers what you like from your teaching session that first day in the cellar. Shockingly fast, he finds your clit and teases it with his tongue. He sucks, licks with the tip and then the flat of his tongue, experiments with different techniques until he finds the ones that makes you squeal behind your hand.

             You cum like that, hand in his hair, Thomas’ fingers digging into your hips while you buck into his mouth. You shudder, legs quivering, toes tingling, cunt dripping onto the floor. Dazedly, you wonder how long he’d been waiting to do that, as enthusiastic as he was.

             “Oh my god, Tommy,” you gasp, sitting up and pulling him into another heated kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, swallow his needy whine. Hastily, you urge him to stand, popping the button on his pants and shoving them off his hips.

             You scoot back on the bed, pulling him by the hand at the same time until he’s hovering over you. You’re worried you’re going to burn up, your skin ablaze everywhere he touches you. He lifts your hips off the mattress and begins the measured process of pushing his maddeningly thick cock past your soaked folds.

             Your hand returns to your mouth and you wrap your legs around his waist, arching your back when Thomas stuffs you completely full of him. You twitch, free hand fisting in the sheets when he rolls his hips, the incredible stretch now more addictive than painful. You meet his gaze as much as you can in the dark, nodding your head to urge him on.

             “Yes, Tommy, please, so g-good, oh god, just like that,” you whisper, quickly biting down on your lip to stifle a cry when Thomas’ grip tightens and he bucks his hips forward. The hand in the sheets flies to the headboard to keep you from sliding up the mattress as Tommy starts pummeling your insides, using his grip on your waist to pull you into each thrust.

             It’s so hard not to scream, not to wake everyone else in the house when every nerve in your body is alight with sensation, pleasure coiling so intensely in your gut you wonder if you’ll burst. Tommy groans at the feeling of your slippery muscles fluttering around him and that is enough to send you plummeting into ecstasy.

             You come undone, unravelling at the seams, back arching, cunt gushing around the cock that fills it so completely. You bite the palm of your hand to quiet the euphoric shriek that erupts from your throat. Thomas emits a strangled moan as his hips stutter before slamming forward, hilting himself as he fills you to the brim.

             Tommy lowers you back to the mattress before tipping forward, hands braced on either side of your head. You crane your neck, bringing your lips to his, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down so he rests between your trembling thighs. You chuckle quietly when he sets his forehead against yours, his panting breaths washing over your sweat slicked face.

             “You’re getting too good at that,” you murmur, giggling when he huffs out a laugh. Thomas rolls to the side, pulling you to his chest and resting his chin on top of your head. Gradually, his breathing slows, the deep, rhythmic inhales and exhales lulling you, making your eyelids droop.

             It’s easy to fall asleep in Tommy’s arms. You’ve never felt more secure. You let your eyes fall shut and, before long, you join him in sleep.

[criminalmindzjunkie]

The Reward of Suffering (Part Six)

previous chapter

Summary: Spencer comes face to face with a ghost from the past.

A/N: Hey... how y’all doin? Long time no see, huh? Sorry about that - hopefully this extra long update will make up for my absence. This has definitely been my favorite part thus far, and I had so much fun writing it. I hope you guys enjoy reading it. You guys know the drill by now: SPOILERS for season 12. Also, shoutout to @zhuzhubii​ for posting the absolute best set of gifs right in time for this update - you’re the coolest.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: cursing, mentions of death, mentions of rape, mentions of mental illness, kidnapping, choking

Word Count: 10.3k

           With every clack of my heels on the concrete floors, the nervous feeling in my gut grows into full blown nausea. It’s been nearly two months since I last walked these halls, but somehow it feels like a lifetime has passed. Considering everything that transpired in the last forty-eight hours, it makes sense that I feel that way.

           I hadn’t been on the team when Lindsey Vaughn first came into the picture ten years ago, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t familiar. At the time, I thought nothing of the kind neighbor that I sometimes passed in the stairwell on my way to Spencer’s apartment. I mean, why would I? I had no reason to be suspicious. Our interactions never went beyond the usual pleasantries – polite smiles and the occasional greeting – and I never gave her a second thought.

           Maybe if I had, Cassie wouldn’t be dead, and Spencer’s mother wouldn’t be missing.

           I shake my head at the thought. Now isn’t the time to ruminate on what ifs. I would have plenty of time to blame myself when all of this is over. Instead of torturing myself, I focus on trying to steady my breathing as I come to a stop just before I reach the interview room of the Milburn Correctional Facility.

           I know what lies beyond that door, and I’m equal parts excited and worried. Excited, because I’d finally be able to see Spencer after two long months of daydreaming about when I’d finally hold him in my arms again. Of course, it was very possible that Spencer wouldn’t want to see me. After all, I promised to keep his mother safe, and instead of doing that, I let myself get swept up in moving in to my apartment, and now Diana was God knows where.

           I was so sure that he wouldn’t want to see me that I’d initially suggested that Emily be the one to go to the prison and get him. My idea was met with a sad smile and a pat on the shoulder.

           “I think that if it was anyone but you standing there when they open that door, it’d break his heart.”

           Her reassurances did little to assuage my nerves. I spent the entire ride here running over every possible scenario that I could imagine, scrambling to form some kind of game plan. But now that I was here, any semblance of preparedness left me the second the guard reached for the door handle.

           “You ready, ma’am?”

           Yes.

           No.

           I don’t trust my voice, so I settle on nodding my head. The door opens with a groan, rusty hinges creaking in protest, and with shaky legs and a heart that threatens to beat out of my chest, I step into the doorway.

           It’s like the world stops turning on its axis when his eyes meet mine. Those familiar pools of caramel stare back at me with such an intensity that I force myself to look away, petrified at the prospect of seeing disappointment in them. 

           I trail my eyes over his frame, drinking in every inch of him - every bruise and every scrape feeling like a dagger to my heart. My eyes linger on the bandage adorning his left arm, before trailing down to the one on his leg. Emily had warned me about happened, about Spencer injuring himself in order to secure his safety. It was smart of him - that I knew - but that didn’t mean that I wasn’t horrified. 

           His hair has gotten longer, and his curls hang limply around his face. The usually clean-shaven Spencer I once knew was a thing of the past - replaced now by a more disheveled, scruffier version.

           Clean-shaven or not, he still looks just as breathtaking as always. 

           I hesitantly raise my eyes up to his again. He’s staring at me still, mouth parted in shock. He doesn’t look angry, just confused, and that fills me with a tiny sliver of hope.

           “Hi, Spence,” I murmur, voice thick with emotion. It’s not until I speak that I realize I’m crying, and I hastily wipe at my cheeks with my shirtsleeve.

           The dazed look in Spencer’s eyes washes away when he hears my voice and he blinks hard.

           “What… H-How are you…?” he trails off, eyes moving up and down my body.

           It feels so fucking good to hear his voice again, and I find myself unable to hold back a sob.

           “M’ here to take you home,” I choke out.

           It’s like all the tension in Spencer’s body is expelled at once and his shoulders slump in relief. I open my mouth to elaborate, to explain how Emily had managed to pull this off, but I’m stunned into silence when Spencer’s body collides with mine. I hadn’t even had time to process that he was moving before his arms snake around me, tugging me forward until there’s no space in between our bodies. Spencer’s hands collect fistfuls of my shirt, clinging desperately to the fabric as he nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck.

           Once I get over the initial shock, I’m hugging him back, arms locked around his torso in a vicelike grip. He doesn’t smell the same – the usual fragrance of cinnamon and vanilla is long gone, replaced with that of some generic detergent – but the way his broad shoulders feel underneath my palms is something so familiar that I can’t help but smile against his chest.

           This is still my Spencer.

           Spencer lets out a shaky breath against my skin and I let out an involuntary shudder at the feeling.

           “Missed you so fucking much,” Spencer whispers. “I-I can’t believe you’re here. Thought I was imagining it.” Spencer takes a shaky breath in, nuzzling further into my neck. His next words are muffled from the way his lips press against my skin, but I’m still able to make out the quiet ‘I’m sorry’.

           “You’re sorry?” I hiccup, eyebrows scrunching up in disbelief. I attempt to pull away so that I can look at him, but Spencer only tightens his grip on me. Something about it makes my chest feel incredibly warm, but I push that feeling aside for now. “I’m the one that’s sorry. I should’ve done more – I should’ve visited more often. I let myself get busy, and if I’d just been more careful, then your m-mom… she wouldn’t be-”

           “Stop that,” Spencer interrupts, and this time he’s the one that pulls away. He holds me at arm’s length and those beautiful brown eyes lock with mine. “This is absolutely not your fault.”

           Spencer’s hands come up to cup either side of my face and his thumbs wipe away at the tears on my cheeks. “You’ve done so much for me – for her. I’m sorry that I took you off the list. Things were getting so bad here, and if something would have happened to you…” Spencer pauses, closing his eyes and leaning down until his forehead rests against mine. “It was never because I didn’t want to see you, I promise. And… And your letter - I can’t even begin to explain how much that helped. I’m sorry that I couldn’t write back. I didn’t know what to say. Especially not after…”

           He doesn’t elaborate, but I’m able to fill in the blanks myself. I bring my hand up and rest it on top of his.

           “S’okay, Spence. I know,” I whisper. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I understand.”

           Spencer hums and a ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

           “Time to get you out of here, Doc.” I remove his hand from my face and give it a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s go get your mom back.”

           Spencer opens his eyes and for the first time in two months I’m on the receiving end of my favorite smile in the whole world.

           I lead him from the room, never once removing my hand from his. Now that I have him back, I don’t ever want to let go.

--

           For the second time today, the clacking of my heels against the concrete floor is the only sound that can be heard. Spencer moves silently beside me, his face pulled into a somber expression as we stalk down the long corridor. His hand brushes against mine, and I long to reach out and intertwine our fingers like I had only hours before. I suppress the urge, stealing one last, poorly concealed glance at him before I settle my gaze on the door at the end of the hall.

           In the last several hours, the entire case had been flipped upside down. We’d been wrong all along – Scratch wasn’t to blame for the shit show that had transpired over the last three months. It’d been an easy enough mistake to make. After the incident with Tara’s brother, Scratch was the obvious choice. Pair that with the fact that Spencer had been drugged and we had no reason to suspect anyone else.

           Cat Adams was the last thing on everyone’s mind when Mexico happened. It’d been over a year since Spencer outsmarted her in that restaurant, and she was very much out of sight and out of mind. She was in a maximum-security prison, for fuck’s sake. That alone should have rendered her unable to carry out a scheme this convoluted.

           But apparently that meant nothing, because Cat had somehow managed to be the mastermind behind this whole ordeal, perfectly orchestrating the entire thing from her cell in solitary confinement – using Lindsey Vaugh as her metaphorical puppet on a string. We’d sorely underestimated Cat, and our arrogance had come back to bite us all in the ass.

           A guard that stands at the end of the hall opens the door for us, and I feel an intense rush of foreboding as we step into the room. The sound of the guard closing the door behind us brings a sense of finality to the situation; there is no turning back now. Either we walk out of here knowing Diana’s whereabouts, or we miss the mark completely and loose Diana in the process.

           I cast a worried look at Spencer, whose eyes are trained on the double-sided glass. The tension has returned to his shoulders, and his fists are clenched tightly at his sides. There’s a sort of fiery determination in his eyes – a sort of menacing resolve that I’d never seen in him before.

           Spencer looks intimidating, and nothing like the Spencer that was led from the courtroom three months ago. I pull my eyes away in favor of looking through the glass.

           Reid had been able to see through Cat’s mind games the first time, but the Cat that sat on the other side of that door is a far cry from the one he encountered a year ago. If she’d looked cold and calculating before, she looks downright deranged now.

           “Are you sure you want to go in there alone?” I ask after a moment. “I could-”

           “No,” Spencer cuts me off. His tone is hard and definite, warning me not to argue. “I can’t ask you to do that. Emily shouldn’t have made you come in the first place.”

           “Emily told me to come with you because she knew that there was nothing she could do to make me stay.” I pause long enough to shoot him a weak smile. “Hope you enjoyed your three-month break from me, because I’m going to practically glued to your side from now on. You’ll be dying to get rid of me in a month’s time.”

           Spencer’s lips twitch, threatening to turn up into a smile.

           “I sincerely doubt that.”

           “We’ll see,” I breeze. “But I’m serious, Spence. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here the whole time – I’m not letting you go in there alone, and I’m not going to leave you.”

           “Promise?” Spencer asks, finally pulling his eyes away from the window in favor of looking at me. There’s a sadness in his eyes that wasn’t there before, and the weight of his gaze is so heavy that I worry I might buckle under it.

           I reach for his hand and hook my pinky finger around his, lifting our intertwined hands to eye level.

           “I promise.”

           Spencer’s pinky finger squeezes mine and he closes his eyes.

           “I don’t deserve you.”

           “You deserve the world, Spence.”

           For a moment I think he’s going to say something else, but then Spencer’s lips press into a tight line and he only nods in response. He releases my hand and I let it fall limply at my side. Spencer rolls his shoulders back, and that stony expression returns to his face. He reaches out and pulls open the door, and I follow closely behind him at he steps over the threshold.

           It’s as if I’m invisible; Cat doesn’t even spare me a glance when I enter the room. Her eyes, narrowed and sparkling with amusement, hone in on Spencer immediately.

           “Spencie,” she greets, smiling deviously up at him.

           “Where’s my mother?” Spencer asks, completely devoid of emotion.

           “I missed you.”

           “What did you and Lindsey do to her? How did you-”

           Cat raises a hand, effectively cutting him off. She points a finger at him, and the smile that she previously wore is replaced by a grimace.

           “Now, stop. You don’t get to walk in here and hiss at me like I’m the criminal. No – we’re going to do this my way.” Cat kicks the chair that sits on the opposite side of the table and Spencer reaches out to grab it. “Have a seat.”

           Spencer complies and Cat’s smile returns.

           “How was prison? Did you like it?”

           “No.”

           Cat hums.

           “It’s not fun, is it?”

           “Unlike you, I didn’t deserve to be there,” Spencer retorts.

           Cat leans forward, crossing her arms before resting them on the metal table.

           “How did you stay sane? A brain like yours needs stimulation in such a gray place.”

           “I worked in the laundry room and I played chess.”

           “That’s three, maybe four hours, tops. What about the other twenty?”

           “I read.”

           Cat shakes her head. “That’s still not enough. You have to… go someplace.” She taps the side of her head. “Up here. Or else you go crazy. Do you want to see where I go? I’ll show you.” Cat crooks a finger at Spencer, and I tense at the gesture. The idea of that psychotic bitch getting any closer to him makes my skin crawl. I clench my fists together and the feeling of my nails digging into my palms is enough to ground me.

           Spencer leans forward, mimicking Cat’s relaxed position. She reaches a hand out towards him, and before I can think better of it, I speak up.

           “Hands off,” I warn.

           Cat halts her movements and fixes me with an irritated expression, looking me up and down distastefully before turning her attention back to Spencer.

           “Close your eyes,” she instructs him. Spencer complies. “Good. Now keep them closed. Sit back and relax. When you open your eyes, I want you to look at me like I’m the first woman you’ve seen after being in prison for three months.”

           I clench my jaw at that. Something stirs in my chest – something foreign and possessive that has me bristling. I tense, watching closely as Spencer opens his eyes and smiles that beautiful smile at Cat. My stomach turns painfully at the sight.

           “Hello, Cat,” Spencer greets her, and all the contempt his tone previously held is gone – replaced with a neutrality that bordered on happiness.

           Cat lets out a pleased laugh.

           “You’re here!” she exclaims, throwing her arms out as she gestures about the room. “You’re really here.”

           “There is nowhere else I would rather be,” Spencer replies, sounding startlingly genuine.

           This is all an act, I remind myself. Spencer’s just playing a part. None of this is real.

           Cat crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow at him.

           “You’re good at this. You’re so good at this that I almost believe that you don’t want to kill me.”

           “I don’t want to kill you,” Spencer says with a shake of his head.

           “No?”

           “No.”

           Cat narrows her eyes at him.

           “What if I let your mother die?” she inquires. “Then would you kill me? Or would you just…” Cat trails of as she leans forward. “… Hurt me? Would you pin me down and leave bruises that don’t go away?”

           I swallow hard against the bile that threatens to crawl its way up my throat. Spencer might not want to kill her, but I do.

           “Is that what you want?”

           Cat shrugs her shoulders.

           “I guess I just want to know if you would – if you could.”

           Spencer gives a small shake of his head.

           “No.”

           “No?” Cat taunts, cocking her head to the side.

           “It’s not the kind of man I am.”

           Cat’s face drops and her eyes narrow into slits.

           “Do me a favor and tell your little chaperone over there to step aside, because we’re going to play another game. And this time, we’re going to find out exactly what kind of man you are.”

           Spencer’s eyes flit to me and he nods towards the door. I open my mouth to argue, but the pleading look in his eyes has me clamping it shut. It’s okay, his eyes seem to tell me. I know you promised, but I’ll be fine.

Cat waves at me as I reluctantly move towards the door. When the door clicks shut behind me, Spencer takes it as his invitation to continue.

           “Let’s play,” his voice sounds through the speaker to my left.

           “Let’s!” Cat exclaims before resting her head in her hand.

           “So, is it the same game as last time?” Spencer inquires. “I answer every question you ask honestly?”

           “No,” Cat sighs out. “This time you get to ask the questions.”

           Spencer raises an eyebrow at her. “About what?”

           “Well, I know a secret about you. And you can ask me as many questions as you like to figure it out. But you only get one guess as to what it is. If you guess correctly, I take your phone, I call our friend Lindsey, and I tell her to release your dear mother unharmed. If you don’t…” Cat trails off, before mimicking bringing a gun up to her mouth and firing.

           Crazy fucking bitch.

           “Is there a clock?”

           “There’s always a clock.” Cat holds out her hand, eyes flicking down to Spencer’s watch. “Give it to me.”

           I cringe when Spencer hesitates – I know what he must be thinking. That’s Gideon’s watch. The only thing he has left of him. I’d never seen Spencer without it in the two years I’ve known him.

           Spencer reluctantly slips the watch off of his wrist and hands it over.

           Cat smirks and slides the watch onto her arm.

           “Now, you’ll have four hours.”

           “Do you want to give me a hint before we start?”

           Cat chuckles. “Do I look like a girl that gives hints?”            “Actually, you do.”

           Cat takes pause, looking Spencer up and down before speaking.

           “Okay, how about this; it’s a secret you’ll never admit to.”

--

           “I know what the secret is.”

           Cat quirks an eyebrow up at Spencer.

           “You do?”

           He nods. “Why else would you put me through all this?”

           “Ooh, phrasing it in the form of a question that way it doesn’t count as a guess. Very smart, Doctor.”

           “I’m gonna walk you through a scenario, and your face is going to tell me how close I am,” Spencer murmurs, an amused smile on his lips. He leans forward to rest his elbows on the table. “From the moment I arrested you, you watched and waited for the right time to take your revenge. When you learned I was going to Mexico, you took it. You and Lindsey framed me for murder so I’d be put in a prison and treated like a criminal, and then you kidnapped my mother so I would know how it feels to have a parent manipulated, because you want to prove that you and I are the same. Am I right?”

           Cat feigns a yawn in response.

           “Mm. Sorry, I couldn’t hold that in any longer. What were you saying?”

           “Psychopaths tend to get bored easily.”

           “You’re right. Let’s speed this up,” Cat sighs with a roll of her eyes. She pushes away from the table, standing up and walking over to Spencer’s side of the table. I fight the urge to barge in when I see her take a seat on his lap. Cat runs a hand down Spencer’s chest before she continues. “Shall we? What do you think about all the pain you’ve suffered in your life? What would I capitalize on, do you think? Is it… the death of your mentor, SSA Jason Gideon?”

           I can see the way Spencer’s jaw clenches and it makes my heart lurch painfully in my chest.

           “No, because we caught the man who killed him.”

           “What about Agent Morgan and your guilt over not visiting his little boy?” Cat whispers in his ear as her hands fiddle with the collar of his suit.

           “I was in prison.”

           “Yeah, but you had time before that. Why didn’t you go?” she presses as she grazes her nails down the length of his throat. I see red when her hand loosely circles around his neck. Spencer absolutely loathes being touched by anyone other than those closest to him, and I’ve no doubt that he’s horribly uncomfortable.

           “Truthfully, I got distracted. I was trying to figure out a way to help my mom. She didn’t have time. Morgan, Savannah, and little Bobby did. So, there’s absolutely no shame in admitting that. Morgan would understand.”

           “I agree. That’s why that’s not the secret,” Cat divulges, brushing her nose against the side of his face before pulling away and standing up. I let out the breath that I’d apparently been holding and allow myself a moment to run a shaky hand through my hair. If I was getting this frazzled from being a bystander to this conversation, I can only imagine how Spencer must be feeling.

           When I look back up at the mirror, Spencer’s looking over his shoulder at me through the glass. I know he can’t see me, but I can’t help but feel guilty for losing my cool.

           “Good job, Spence,” I murmur to myself as I pull out my phone. After a few rings, Rossie answers.

           “Go ahead, Y/N. You’re on speaker.”

           “Cat has an extremely deep background on Spencer. She knows about everything – Gideon’s death, Derek leaving the team, his mom’s condition,” I inform them, tapping my foot nervously against the concrete.

           “She’s throwing him off-balance.”

           “Yes, but Spencer also purposefully gave the wrong name of Derek’s son and she didn’t correct him,” I point out.

           “She must’ve gotten her hands on Reid’s confidential FBI file,” Emily chimes in. “It would mention pertinent team information but it wouldn’t name Morgan’s son for confidentiality reasons.”

           “We were thinking she’s been getting help from someone inside the prison. This goes deeper than that,” Rossi sighs.

           “Call us if she says anything else of any importance,” Emily signs off. I mumble a quick goodbye before pocketing my phone and turning my attention back to the window.

           “Working deductively, the secret wouldn’t be any of the topics you’ve already volunteered, because you wouldn’t want to make it easy on me,” Spencer reasons. He clasps his hands together and sits back in his seat before raising an eyebrow in challenge.

           “Genius, truly,” Cat taunts sarcastically as she twirls the watch around her finger.

           “So, what is left that I wouldn’t want to admit?” Spencer muses, eyebrows drawn together in contemplation. Cat shrugs her shoulders at him and another moment of tense silence passes.

           “Love,” Spencer utters, and Cat’s incessant twirling of the watch comes to an abrupt halt.

           Got her.

           “Is that what this is all about – love? For my mother?” Spencer whispers, and when Cat fails to respond, he shakes his head. “No, not for her. For you. You want me to admit that I’m actually in love with you.”

           Cat purses her lips together.

           “Don’t get me wrong – I love my fairy tales as much as the next girl – but I’m not delusional,” Cat says as she crosses her arms.

           “Are you sure about that?”

           “Very sure. So sure, in fact, that I had Lindsey leave a clue for you in that little scrapbook in your apartment.”

           I scrunch my face up at that. The clue in question had been a message inscribed on the back of an old photograph;xx-xy. We’d originally deduced that the message, the female and male chromosomes, was to confirm that Lindsey was working with Scratch. But now? Now I didn’t have a clue what Cat was talking about.

           “I couldn’t have you come all the way down here and make a guess until I was positive. That is…” Cat pauses for dramatic effect, a sly smile on her lips. “… until I tested positive.” Cat punctuates her words by placing both hands on her stomach, and the action makes me raise a hand up to my mouth in shock.

           No. There’s no fucking way.

           “What, you’re pregnant?” Spencer asks, confused.

           “No, we’re pregnant.”

           I feel my knees buckle upon hearing the admission and I blindly reach for the chair to my left.

           This cannot be happening.

           “No,” Spencer says, shaking his head adamantly.

           “Oh, yes,” Cat replies. “Mazel tov.”

--

           “Here you are, ma’am.”

           I reach for the file, my movements stilted and awkward.

           “Thank you,” I mumble to the guard, who gives me a peculiar look before leaving the room. I waste no time in flipping through the file, heart pounding wildly in my chest as my eyes skim over the page until –

           Positive.

           I slam the file down on the table.

           “Fuck!” I yell out in frustration. I’m thankful then for the thick, concrete walls, because neither Spencer nor Cat show any sign of having heard my little outburst. I place both palms down on the cool metal of the table, my breaths coming out in haggard puffs as I try to rationalize it all.

           “- not possible,” Spencer’s voice coming through the speaker snaps me out of my thoughts. I cut my eyes to the window to find Spencer pacing the room. “Even if you are pregnant, the baby’s not mine.” Spencer comes to a stop behind his chair and shoves his hands in his pockets.

           “Except for the part where it is.”

           “That’s completely preposterous. You’ve been in prison,” Spencer points out as he once again takes a seat across from her.

           “So have you.”

           “And we’ve never-”

           “I know. We’ve never…” Cat trails off with a suggestive waggle of her brows. “Ask me how I did it. Come on, ask me.”

           Spencer rolls his eyes, but he indulges her nonetheless.

           “How did you do it?”

           “I had Lindsey dose you in Mexico. You lost time. And I gave her very specific instruction on how to get you in the mood,” Cat admits.

           “What?” Spencer snorts cynically. “Did she pretend to be you?”

           “Why, would that have worked?”

           Spencer leans forward and shoots Cat a cruel kind of smile.

           “No.”

           For a split second Cat’s face falls, but only for a moment and then she goes right back to smiling that wretched grin.

           “Yeah, I know, I know. Believe me, I know exactly where I stand on the Spencer Reid hot or not list,” Cat sighs. “So, ask me again.”

           “How did you do it?”

           “I told her to pretend to be Y/N.”

           For a second I think that I misheard her – the blood rushing in my ears almost overpowered her admission – but the way Spencer’s entire body tenses before he looks back at the window tells me that I didn’t.

           Why me?

           Spencer gulps hard before he turns back around. I find my way to the chair nearest me and collapse into it.

           “How do you know about her?”

            Cat gives him an unimpressed look.

           “It wasn’t hard, seeing as she’s your very best friend in the whole wide world,” Cat teases as her eyes wander from Spencer to the glass behind him. She waves at me, endlessly amused, before turning her attention back to Spencer. “But that isn’t all that she is to you – is it Spencie? At least, Lindsey didn’t think so. At first, she thought the two of you were tangled up in some kind of sexy little tryst. But then I had Lindsey do a little digging, and, well, that’s when we found out about the boyfriend.”

           “Stop.”

           “Oh, it seems I’ve struck a nerve!” Cat trills gleefully. “Shall we call her in here to join us? I know she’s just on the other side of that glass. I’m sure she’d love to hear all about how pathetic little Spencer Reid pines after her like a school boy with a crush.” She pouts her bottom lip out in mock sadness. “There’s just something about unrequited love that really tugs at my heart strings.”

           Oh.

           For the second time since arriving here, my hand comes up to cover my mouth as I struggle to process Cat’s words. She can’t be right, can she? Spencer had never done anything that eluded to him seeing me as any more than a best friend. Perhaps she got it wrong. Lindsey saw me come and go and she just assumed it was something that it wasn’t. There was no way that Spencer -

           “I said stop.”

           The underlying plea in his voice is enough to make tears well in my eyes. If what Cat is saying is true, that means that Lindsey . . . 

           “All it took was Lindsey saying she was Y/N for you to crumble like a house of cards. You really made it too easy.”

           “You’re lying.”

           Cat chuckles. “Listen to you, you’re not even trying to deny it.”

           “It didn’t happen,” Spencer argues, voice so quiet that I have to strain to hear it.

           “Hey, I was thinking, if it’s a boy, we should definitely call him Spencie Jr.”

           Spencer pushes back from the table so abruptly that both Cat and I flinch, and he’s almost out the door when Cat delivers one final dig.

           “-But if it’s a girl, I think we should call her Y/N. I mean after all; she played such a huge role in in her own conception!”

           The sound of the door slamming behind him as he trudges into the room is enough to make me bolt up from my seat. Spencer comes to a stop at the center of the room, eyes wide and full of remorse as he looks over at me.

           “I-I… I’m…”

           I try my best to muster up a smile but I worry that it comes out more as a grimace.

           “Later,” I murmur, and Spencer winces before nodding his head in defeat. I walk over to the table and open up the file. “She’s not lying about being pregnant.”

           Spencer joins me at the table, eyes skimming over the document.

           “She’s three months, and the timeline matches, but that doesn’t mean-”

           Spencer yanks the file off the table and hurls it at the window, shoulders rising and falling rapidly as he runs a hand through his disheveled hair.

           I take a step back and Spencer curses under his breath.

           “I’m sorry. It’s not you,” he sighs. “I just… need a minute.”

           I press my lips together and nod.

           “Take all the time you need. M’gonna go call Emily,” I murmur.

           Spencer closes his eyes and lets his head hang low.

           “Yeah, okay,” he whispers dejectedly, and the despair in his voice is enough to stop me in my tracks.

           “Spence?” I call out. He looks up at me from underneath his lashes, more than a little bit timid and scared. “I’ll be right back, okay? I’m not leaving you.”

            I open the door and step out of the room, but it doesn’t close before I hear the quiet ‘thank you’ drift from within.  

--

           Spencer waits until the door clicks shut behind her to push away from the table and head back into the interrogation room. He couldn’t bear the thought of her overhearing any more than she already had. As far as Spencer was concerned, Cat had just singlehandedly ruined the one good thing he had going for him, and at this point, he had nothing left to lose.

           “Let’s pretend you’re telling the truth,” Spencer starts. “That means I guessed it, right? The secret, the one I don’t want to admit to? It’s my child?”

           Cat looks up at him with bored eyes and Spencer feels his unease begin to give way to rage.

           “Is that your guess?” Cat asks. “You only get one, remember?”

           Spencer takes pause, before shaking his head.

           “No. It’s too easy,” he decides.

           “Believe me, getting pregnant with your baby was not easy,” Cat mutters, and Spencer’s lips press into a tight line. The implication of it is enough to make his skin crawl. He feels violated and absolutely disgusted, but still he tries to school his impression into one of indifference. Spencer thinks about his mom, scared and confused, and that’s enough incentive to make him focus on the task at hand.

           “You misunderstand. It’s too easy emotionally,” Spencer explains in a clipped tone as he sits down. “Because I can take your child from you. The child I had absolutely no role in creating, but a child that I would care for better than you.”

           “That’s rude,” Cat seethes as she slowly lifts her head from off of the table.

           “It’s true. You can’t be a mother, Cat. I’m not trying to insult you – it’s your psychological makeup. You literally do not have the emotional skills to care for another human being. You’d lose interest in your own baby the way a six-year-old loses interest in a pet hamster. This baby is simply a means to an end, which is to keep me here and playing your game, guessing like a fool and assuming something that I never should have assumed in the first place.”

           “And what would that be?”

           “My mother’s already dead,” Spencer says, and the words taste positively foul in his mouth. “She was dead before I walked in here”

           Cat’s lips pull into a frown.

           “She’s not dead-”

           “Yes, she is,” Spencer reiterates as he rises from his chair.

           “No, because that would be cheating and I don’t cheat. You cheat!” Cat panics, voice growing louder the closer Spencer gets to the door.

           “I’m done playing,” Spencer says as he turns away, reaching for the door knob.

           “Get back here!”

           Spencer pulls the door open. “Goodbye, Cat.”

           He has one foot out the door when;

           “I’ll let you talk to her!” Cat yells out as she slams her fist down on the table.

           Spencer lifts his eyes up from their spot on the floor, and it’s with a jolt of surprise that his eyes meet Y/N’s. It feels to him like it always does when he sees her – like some great relief that floods through his entire body in an instant. He feels guilty for it, now that she knows, but that doesn’t stop him from basking in it. The feeling grows when a triumphant smile graces her lips, one that says you’ve got her, Spence. You’ve got her right where you want her.

           Spencer is positively rejuvenated by that smile.

           He reluctantly pulls his gaze away from her and focuses back on Cat. He’s come too far now to fuck it all up.

           Spencer pulls his phone from the depths of his suit pocket and hands it to Cat. He watches on as she dials the number, and his heart beats so fast that he wonders if she can hear it. The sound of the dial tone ringing fills the room, and Spencer can only hope that the call will be long enough for Penelope to trace.

           “You’re early,” a voice that’s unmistakably Lindsey’s calls out. Spencer lets out a shaky breath of relief.

           “Yeah, I know.”

           “Did he guess?”

           “No, not yet,” Cat sighs. “We need proof of life.”

           “All right, hold on,” Lindsey says, exasperated, and her words are followed by several seconds of muffled rustling and what Spencer deems as some sort of liquid being poured.

           “Spencer!”

           His heart practically bursts out of his chest as he lunges forward, yanking the phone out of Cat’s hand and bringing it up to his ear.

           “Mom - mom, are you okay?”

           “I don’t… know-”

           Spencer opens his mouth to reply when the gut-wrenching sound of an explosion rips through the tiny phone speakers, distorted and so loud that it makes Spencer’s ears ring.

           “Mom!” Spencer desperately yells into the phone, but all he gets in reply is a ‘gotta go’ from Lindsey before the line goes dead. Spencer growls out a string of swears, throwing his phone down on the table before leaning over the table.

           “What the hell was that?” he yells, and he’s vaguely aware of the sound of the door opening, but he can’t focus on anything other than his own rising panic.

           “I don’t know,” Cat replies, opening her mouth to continue but Spencer cuts her off.

           “Lindsey said you were early. Was that a signal?” he bellows.

           “Spence, come on,” Y/N tries to interject. Spencer feels her hand on his shoulder but he shrugs it off before bringing his fist down on the table.

           “Was that a prearranged signal to kill my mother?!” Spencer snarls, eyes wide and teeth barred. He feels positively feral, images of his mother in all sorts of terrible states of distress flashing through his mind like some grotesque picture show. “Tell me the truth!”

           “No! I am!” Cat shouts back.

           “Tell me the truth!”

           “I am!” Cat spits out, eyes flashing angrily. “You wanna know the truth? Your mother is an Alzheimer’s-ridden moron who’s getting dumber by the day and if she’s dead, it’s your fault!”

           Something comes over Spencer then, and in an instant, he’s shoving the table out of the way and pushing Cat against the wall. His hands find purchase on her throat, not dissimilar to how hers had on his hours before, but instead of dragging his fingers against her neck, Spencer’s clamping down on it as hard as he can, taking great pleasure in the way she gasps for air as his hands tighten. Everything around him fades away until all that he can focus on is that way that her pulse feels under his hands – the way it starts off strong, before tapering, slower and slower until he can barely even palpate it anymore.

           “I’m going to kill you,” Spencer hears himself whisper as he presses down hard on her windpipe. “M’gonna fucking kill you.”

           Cat’s eyes are fluttering closed now, and Spencer shouldn’t enjoy the way the light in her eyes starts to dim. He shouldn’t but he does – in fact, it prompts him to press harder and harder and –

           A harsh yank pulls Spencer away from Cat, and as soon as his hands begin to loosen Cat splutters in an attempt to catch her breath.

           “Spencer, she is pregnant,” Y/N yells in his ear, and just like that his tunnel vison fades away and Spencer feels the adrenaline leave his body. He only realizes that his hands are still on Cat’s throat when Y/N yanks at his arms again. “Fucking let her go, Spencer!”

           His entire body goes limp and he allows himself to be drug away from Cat and out of the room. Spencer’s heart still pounds and his blood is still roaring in his ears, but the satisfaction has given away to shame. He steals a glance at cat as he’s being pulled from the room, and despite her ruffled appearance, she’s grinning at him – smiling as if to say see? I told you that you were just like me.

           Spencer stumbles into the other room, steadying himself on the wall to keep from faceplanting onto the cold hard floor. Now that the adrenaline has expelled itself from his body, he’s left shaky and panting and ashamed.

           The feeling of Y/N’s eyes on him as he braces himself on the wall only exacerbates his mortification. What will she think of me now? Will she think me to be some kind of monster? Spencer wouldn’t blame her - he’s held that same opinion of himself for months now.

           Spencer stands there, face turned downwards as he catches his breath, and when he can take the weight of her gaze no longer, he darts out of the room and down the corridor.

           Being alone is preferable to being a disappointment, Spencer thinks as he flees the room.

--

           It doesn’t take long for her to find him sitting in the floor, knees to his chest with his face downturned. Spencer hears her before he sees her, and he prepares himself for the yelling that’s surely to come.

           She surprises him when she slides her back down the wall until she’s sitting beside him, legs sprawled out in front of her. He doesn’t look up – fearful of what he might see when he looks into those beautiful eyes of hers. There had been love there, before all of this happened. Not the kind of love that was reflected in his own, but it was love just the same and Spencer thinks that it might kill him to see that love replaced with disgust. So he doesn’t look. Instead, Spencer just sits there, slumped over and pathetic, hoping that she doesn’t pick up on the fact that his hands are shaking.

           “Richmond County police just reported a gas station explosion. One victim – male. Whatever Lindsey did, we have to assume that your mom’s still alive,” Y/N murmurs. Spencer lets out a shaky breath and his grip on his knees tightens. It’s good news, and he’s grateful, but it does nothing for the overwhelming guilt that’s eating away at him.

           “Hey,” she whispers when he doesn’t reply. “Can you look at me, Spence? Wanna see those pretty brown eyes. Please?”

           Spencer chokes down the sob that threatens to come out. He shakes his head. 

           “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened in there. That… That’s not me. At least, I don’t want it to be,” Spencer whispers. “Emily should’ve sent someone else with me. I never wanted you to see me like that.”

           Her small, incredibly soft hand comes to rest on his own and Spencer closes his eyes at the feeling. Y/N flips his hand over and intertwines their fingers and Spencer can’t help but think that’s she’s showing him way more kindness than he could ever deserve. But he’s selfish, unable to deny himself of the feeling of her hand in his, so he clings onto her hand for dear life.

           “I’m so scared that this is who I am now,” Spencer mumbles, prompting her grip on his hand to tighten.

           “No, Spence. Don’t say that,” she chastises him. “You’re the best guy I know. Everyone has a breaking point – Cat just knows how to bring you to yours, is all.”

           “You… You don’t know…” Spencer trails off, still unwilling to look her in the eye.

           “I do know, Spence. I may not have been able to visit, but I asked about you every day,” she says as she shuffles closer to him. Spencer can smell her perfume now, subtle and sweet and comforting. “I know that two inmates, Frazier and Duerson, killed your friend in front of you. I know that they wanted you to move heroin for them, and I also know that if you didn’t, you would’ve been next. Anyone in your spot would’ve done the same.”

           “You wouldn’t have.”

           “Hell yes, I would have,” Y/N persists, and Spencer can’t help but to look up at her from behind where his unruly curls fall into his face. “I would have, Spence. If someone was threatening my life, you bet your ass I would have done the same thing. It doesn’t make you a bad person – doing whatever it takes to survive does not make you a bad person.”

           She must pick up on the hesitancy that lingers in Spencer’s eyes, because she decides to continue.

           “You know who does think like that? That – that in you doing what you had to do in order to survive somehow makes you a psychopath?” Y/N pauses long enough to point her thumb towards the direction of the interview room. “She does.”

           Spencer watches the realization wash over her face, and for a split second he’s terribly confused. It isn’t until a ghost of a smile pulls at her lips that he catches on, and when he does, he has to stop himself from doing something terribly stupid like kissing her.

           “She does,” Y/N reiterates when she sees that Spencer finally caught on. “Because she knows.”

           “That’s the secret,” Spencer thinks aloud. He pushes himself to his feet and begins to pace down the corridor. “The one that I don’t want to admit about myself.”

           “Hold up, Spence. Let’s talk through this, because she will not lose to you twice. She already said that this wasn’t about the two of you being the same.”

           Spencer scratches the back of his next, nodding to himself.

           “Then she’s all about the game. She thinks that I cheated the last time because I lied about her dad, so it’s integral that she beats me by following the rules.”

           “But, Spence, she’s the one that makes the rules. She can change them to ensure that she wins.”

           “-Which means that I’m locked in-”

           “Like she is.”

           “She needs me locked in, playing by her rules, a game I can’t win, so she-” Spencer pauses then, and an actual, honest to God smile creeps its way across his face – the kind of smile that was only reserved for Y/N. “I got it.”

           Spencer doesn’t elaborate, because he doesn’t need to. He can tell with one look that she understands, because somehow, she always does. Spencer offers her a hand and hoists her to her feet. 

          Spencer almost laughs as the two of them step back into the room. Of course, she would be the one to figure it out. It seems like she’s always saving him, these days.

--

           “Guess that’s one way to get you to put your hands on me.”

           Spencer feels a twinge of guilt, but he pushes it to the back of his mind as he holds a hand out to Cat.

           “Dance with me.”

           Cat lifts an eyebrow at him.

           “Why?”

           “Because I don’t want the people watching to hear what I’m about to say.”

           Cat is still suspicious, but she takes his hand and lets him pull her to her feet anyways. Spencer puts his arms around her and the two of them begin to sway back and forth. Spencer suppresses the urge to pull away when her hand lowers and intertwines with his own. It’s rough and calloused and cold – a direct contradiction of Y/N’s – and Spencer positively loathes it.

           “You had eyes on me while I was in prison, didn’t you?”

           “Spencie, don’t ruin the moment,” Cat groans.

           “I don’t want to, but I’m on the clock. Answer my question, am I right?”            Cat places her head on Spencer’s chest, her hair smelling of some generic bar of soap, and Spencer wishes more than anything that he was smelling the familiar notes of honeysuckle and vanilla instead.

           “Yes, you’re right. I wanted to make sure things were just as uncomfortable for you as they were for me.”

           “That’s how you timed everything so perfectly. Like sending my mom and Lindsey to visit me when I thought I was at my lowest.”

           This piques Cat’s interest and she lifts her head up until her eyes meet Spencer’s.

           “Thought? You’re sure you weren’t?”

           “No, I wasn’t. Because I didn’t feel bad – I felt scared at how much I enjoyed poisoning the other prisoners. I had a hundred ways of getting myself out of that situation, and I picked the one that would cause them the most pain.”

           “Well, look at that,” Cat hums. “You might end up saving your mother’s life after all.”

           A moment of silence passes as Spencer contemplates his next move. Before he can get the words out, Cat breaks the silence.

           “They won’t get there in time. They must be on their way, right? Your team is too good to wait around, but you know me. I always have a contingency plan,” Cat murmurs, hands dipping under Reid’s suit jacket. She rubs her palms across his chest in slow circles and Spencer tries hard not to squirm. “They’re walking into a trap, and the only way out is if you give me your phone and you guess – right now.”

           Cat removes her hands from Spencer’s chest, crossing her arms and fixing him with a pointed look. Spencer reaches down and pulls the phone from his pocket, passing it to Cat who wastes no time in taking a seat at the table once more.

           Spencer’s skin tingles, half from anticipation, half from fear. They’ve come too far for him to misstep. He thinks of his mother – of how the next two minutes will determine her fate, and Spencer clenches his hands into fists at his sides.

           Here comes the moment of truth.

           “When we first sat down, you said you were going to show me what kind of man I am. And you have.”

           “Every time I dial a number, you’re getting warmer.”

           “At first, I was furious, because the secret had to be the baby inside you. How could it be anything else? But then I realized that somehow, you knew I liked hurting those men.” Cat dials another number, prompting Spencer to continue. “Now, I know it’s both things.”

           “So, which is it, Spencie? Come on, don’t fumble it now. You’re at the one-yard line.”

           “You’re not pregnant with my child. You got pregnant with Wilkins to put me in as compromised a position as possible. But it should be mine – I wish it were mine. Because you and I… we deserve each other. That is the real secret.”

           By the time Spencer finishes speaking, tears are steady falling down Cat’s cheeks. With a shaky hand she presses the call button, and Spencer watches on with bated breath as the phone rings.

           “Kill her.”

          When Cat receives no reply, she pushes out of her seat and begins to pace around the room. “Lindsey, I said kill her.”

           “You bitch,” Lindsey curses, sounding positively heartbroken in the way only a jilted loved could. “You’re pregnant?”

            “Lindsey, sweetheart, it’s complicated, okay?”

           “No, it’s not,” Lindsey whispers, and then the sound of the dial tone is all that’s left.

           Not a second later, Y/N bursts through the door; the figurative light at the end of a long, dark tunnel.

           “We’re clear.”

           Spencer snatches his phone from Cat’s hand before turning to face Y/N.

           “Is my mom okay?”

           “Yeah. She’s fine.”

           “We do deserve each other, by the way,” Cat calls out, prompting Spencer to pivot and face her. She slides back into the seat and shrugs her shoulders. “You guessed right.”

           Spencer falters for a moment, but then a voice in his head is reminding him that he deserves the world. And that voice sounds a lot like Y/N.

           “You lied, by the way. You were going to kill my mother regardless.”

          “Yeah, I think you really liked hurting those men. Once you cross that line, you can’t ever go back. And you’ll never get her to love you, either. You and I are too fucked up to be loved.”

           Spencer takes two steps forward before he bends down, reaching out and clutching Cat’s forearm in a tight grip. Without breaking eye contact, he slides his watch off her wrist and back on to his own.

           “Watch me,” Spencer whispers, and without so much as a parting glance at the broken women sitting at the table, Spencer walks towards the light.

--

           The elevator ride up to the bullpen is a quiet one, not unlike the jet ride before it. I had about a million questions that I was dying to ask, but I thought it best to let Spencer stew in silence. The poor guy had been through enough in the last twenty-four hours – he didn’t need me hounding him on top of all of that. Besides, I wasn’t entirely sure where to start in the first place.

           So, Spence – how was prison?

           I heard you got the shit kicked out of you. How interesting, so did I! Wanna trade war stories?

           I hate to put you on the spot like this, but was that little tidbit about you being hopelessly in love with me true? Just curious.

           As wonderful as all of those conversation starters were, I didn’t really think that now was the time to breech any of the aforementioned subjects. So, instead, Spencer and I communicated in stolen glances and shy smiles, and that more than sufficed for the time being. We had all the time in the world to talk later - there was no need to rush.

           I can practically feel Spencer shaking with anticipation when the elevator ride comes to a close, and the two of us share one last, longing glance before the doors open and Spencer steps out and into the arms of his mother.

           There’s not a dry eye in the house when Spencer and his mother reunite, and it takes Emily ushering us all away to keep us all from devolving into sniveling messes right in front of the elevator. We all scatter about the bullpen, and after a quick trip to the bathroom I meander to Emily’s office.

           “Derek Morgan – you are a sight for sore eyes,” I whistle as I walk into the room, not stopping until I’m pressed up against two-hundred pounds of rock-hard abs.

           “Ah, little bit. I sure have missed you,” Derek laughs as he presses a kiss to the top of my head.

           “To what do we owe the pleasure? I’d be hard pressed to believe that you just decided to drop in at three o’clock in the morning.”

           Derek lets out a sigh and the smile drops from his face.

           “I wish I was just here to say hello, but we may have bigger problems. I got a text from Penelope saying that Reid was out of prison and that he wanted to see me. And that he was staying in an FBI safehouse where he was putting his mother up for the night.”

           I cast a glance at Emily, who shakes her head.

           “I didn’t approve of that,” she explains, and just like that, a weary feeling settles over everyone in the room.

           “I think we all know what this sounds like,” Derek says.

           “A trap.”

--

           “I know we’re all tired, but we may have a new lead on Scratch.”

           “Somebody did a bang-up job of cloning my cellphone to send Morgan a text luring him to a nonexistent safehouse. And whoever that somebody is has mad skills,” Penelope explains.

           “The kind of skills Scratch has,” Stephen mutters, earning a round of murmured agreeances.

           “Were you able to trace where the hack came from?” Luke inquires, earning an affronted glare from Penelope. She shakes her head at him before turning to Derek, who’s watching on with a shit-eating grin on his face.

           “Do you see what I have to put up with?”

           Derek chuckles and gives Luke a pointed look.

           “Alvez, you’ll always get a location with this one.” Derek reaches forward and rubs Penelope’s shoulder, and it’s impossible to miss the way Luke’s eyes zero in on it.

           “Down boy,” I whisper at him. “Green isn’t your color.”

           “Shut up.”

           I roll my eyes good-naturedly before turning my attention back to Emily.

           “Obviously, Morgan can’t come with us. He’s a civilian now.”

           “We’ll miss you out there,” JJ chimes in.

           “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it out there in the field with you guys. I think about it every day. But between my old friends and my new friends, you guys are gonna go out there, you’re gonna handle your business, you’re gonna make people feel safe, and then you’re gonna go home. And that’s all that matters.”

           “Civilian life has turned you into a sap,” I tease.

           “Is it just me, or has this one gotten mouthier since I left?”

           Penelope pats him on the arm.

           “Someone had to fill the silence.”

           After everyone has the opportunity to tell Derek their goodbyes, it’s a mad dash to get everything we need to roll out. I pull my hair into a ponytail and shuck off my blazer, only to replace it with my Kevlar. I’m in the middle of securing the last strap as I hurry down the hall when I come in harsh contact with the front of someone’s chest.

           But it’s not just someone – it’s Spencer.

           “I thought you left already?”

           Spencer lets out a strained chuckle.

           “Uh, yeah. I was on the way out when Penelope texted and said Derek was here. Mom’s sitting with Anderson while I go talk to him.”

           I nod in understanding.

           “Good ole Anderson,” I manage to say, trying hard not to cringe at my awkward choice of words.

           “Yeah,” Spencer mutters, shuffling his feet as he looks anywhere other than my face. “There’s a case, I’m assuming?” he says, gesturing to my vest.

           “We think we have a lead on Scratch, actually.”

           Now, that gets Spencer’s attention. His eyes finally settle on me, and his brows furrow.

           “Why didn’t anyone tell me? I need to go with you-” Spencer makes a move to brush past me, put I stop him with a hand on his chest.

           “Back it up, Spence. There’s absolutely no way Prentiss will sign off on that, and even if she did, I’m still saying no.”

           “And I’m supposed to listen to you?” Spencer tries to keep his face neutral, but his lips twitch as he fights back a smile.

           “Mm. What I say goes, and I say that you need to go home and not even think about work for at least a month. You certainly could use the break.”

           “A whole month, huh?”

           I nod, looking up at him with a faux serious expression.

           “I better not see you around here for at least that long, or there will be repercussions.”

           Spencer finally does smile at that, and I can practically see the way he’s mulling over his next move in his head.

           “Does… Does that prohibition extend only to the work place?”

           I tilt my head to the side.

           “I’m lost.”

           Spencer scrunches his nose up and his eyes dart across the hall before eventually settling back on me.

           “It’s just that, well, I don’t really know where this leaves us. Will I still see you outside of work, or is that all messed up now?”

           “Why would that be messed up?”

           Spencer closes his eyes and he lets out a haggard breath.

           “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

           Even though he can’t see me, I smile up at him anyways.

           “On any other day I absolutely would, but things are a little… hectic right now. How about we put a pin in this conversation until things slow down a bit?”

           Spencer slowly opens his eyes and they roam over my face, searching.

           “You’re not uncomfortable? Considering everything that, uh, she said about me? Especially the part that pertained to you?” Spencer asks, meek and unsure.

           I shake my head.

           “I think you’ll find that I am very much the opposite of uncomfortable,” I reply. We stand there for a moment longer, just basking in the fact that after three long, miserable months, we’re finally together again.

           Spencer opens his mouth to say something, only to be cut off by Emily calling my name from further down the hall.

           “Duty calls,” I chuckle, pulling away from Spencer. “Tell you mom I said hi, and I’ll be by to visit once you have time to get settled in,” I call over my shoulder.

           I make it a good ten feet down the hall before Spencer’s tugging at my hand and pulling me flush against his chest. He hesitates for a moment, and a flash of uncertainty clouds his eyes, but then he’s pushing it down and pressing his lips to mine.

           Spencer’s lips are slightly chapped, but so, so warm as they move against mine. My response is instantaneous – I don’t hesitate for a second before I’m kissing back. The kiss is slow and tentative, as gentle and tender as it is intoxicating. It’s everything that a kiss should be and it ignites a fire in me that has me grasping at Spencer’s shirt, desperate for more. The hand that isn’t cupping the side of my face presses firmly against the small of my back, urging me forward until absolutely no space is left between us.

           Every drag of his lips against mine acts as gasoline to a flame, and I can’t help but think that Ray Bradbury said it best. It is a pleasure to burn.

           I’m the first to pull away, but it isn’t because I want to. What I want is to stay just like this – entangled in Spencer Reid – until not an inch of our bodies lay unexplored by the other. But when Emily calls out my name yet again, I force myself to stop.

           “I really need to go,” I murmur regretfully, and Spencer nods.

           “Yeah, I know.”

           But that doesn’t stop him from going in for one last, delicious kiss. This time when we break away, it’s his doing. I don’t have the self restraint to pull away twice.

           “Pinky promise you’ll come back to me in one piece?” Spencer says as he lifts his pinky finger up in offering. I link mine with his, and I smile a dopey grin at him.

           “Of course, I will,” I reply. “After all, you and I are due for one hell of a conversation.”

           I shoot him a wink before I’m running down the hall and slipping into the elevator just before the doors close. My teammates all shoot me curious looks, but I pretend like I don’t see and I lean against the wall, trying and failing to slow the rapid beating of my heart.

           It’s Stephen who approaches me when we all file out of the elevator and into the parking garage.

           “Spencer Reid wouldn’t have anything to do with that love-sick look on your face, would he?”

           I attempt to school my expression, but one pointed look from Stephen has me devolving into a fit of giggles like I’m a goddamn school girl.

           “Possibly.”

           “Possibly my ass. When we get done with this case, I expect a full explanation,” Stephen chuckles as he climbs in the back of the SUV.

           “You gossip like a teenager, Walker,” I tease as I climb in after him.

           “What can I say? You kids keep me young.”

           I let out a loud laugh at that.

           “Best shrink a girl could ask for.”

-

-

-

If suffering brings wisdom, I would wish to be less wise.

           - Unknown

taglist: @90spumkin, @wave0fg00dvibes, @bartlebyreid, @goldenxreid , @crubbycrab, @djreid , @waywardswain, @anotherr-fine-mess , @shadyladyperfection , @memoriesfornobody , @fakeauthor , @easygoingtheatre , @haylaansmi , @criminal-minds-reider , @leavesofgrass-stark​ , @anitazut​, @reidspurplescarf​ , @xoprincessmel, @pinkdiamond1016​, @eldahae​, @itsametaphorbriansblog​, @ziggystardustxo​

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 12

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary: It’s sort of funny though, to imagine Din being defeated by Gideon’s sword. 

It’s sort of funny, except...

Well. 

It isn’t really funny at all.

Rating: T

Word Count: 4,704 (good lord I’m tired...)

Warnings: angst, swearing, one brief moment of sexual harassment, lots of assumptions made, Dark Din returns and some familiar characters make themselves known

Author Note: Believe me I want Din and Cupid reunited as much as all of you do, but my dark side keeps saying just stretch it out a little bit longer 😈 All the love to each and every reader out there, the support you give me keeps me sane and happy each week ❤

Links to Part 1 and Part 11 and Part 13

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

You wipe furiously at your face, smearing tears across your cheeks, while inwardly cursing yourself for showing weakness in front of Gideon. A lump forms in your throat as you replay the last sixty seconds on loop in your head, imagining exactly how Din will react to each sentence, especially those last two words: let go. This will be the one and only time you’re thankful you can’t feel Din’s half of the bond. If he’s feeling even a smidge of the throbbing, torturous pain you’re feeling right now, experiencing both sides would have overwhelmed you. Of all the commands Gideon could have chosen, why would he choose to taunt Din with that one? It’s as if the Seraph is purposefully trying to piss Din off.

Maybe he is insane, you think, not for the first time, just as he starts to clap his hands together in applause.

“Well done,” Gideon says, almost in admiration. “You’re a much better actress than I imagined you’d be.”

“It wasn’t an act,” you snap back.

“Regardless, you’ve served your part well.” He reaches forward to pat your head, and you honestly deserve an award for not giving into the urge to break his hand. “If it would make you feel better, I could make you forget this moment ever happened. Should I require you to send a second message, it would certainly make it all the more bittersweet for you to think it was your first attempt.”

His words make no sense at first, and you merely sit there in the chair blinking back at him, some distant part of you aware of how your eyelashes are still wet and stuck together. Involuntarily, you find yourself recalling Din’s reaction to your memory loss, how he had muttered under his breath he thought someone was responsible for the blank spots. Your mouth falls open in shock as Gideon’s meaning clicks.

“You...You tampered with my memories?” you whisper.

“It wasn’t personal. There are holes in every Cupid’s head.”

Why would he use his powers so cruelly and invasively? How does he choose which memories to erase? These questions and more run through your head, but you don’t voice them aloud. Everything you’ve heard about and actually seen in person about Gideon has solidified your opinion he is a certifiable control freak. Of course he would use his memory-erasing ability to further establish his position of authority amongst the Cupids.

Your eyes drift to the Cupid twi’lek behind him. “Is that why she’s here? You brainwashed her into joining you?”

“I made my own choice,” she replies, tone as sharp as the knife she twirls with nimble fingers. It doesn’t gleam like metal, instead faintly sparkling just like your arrows do. Kyber crystal, you realize with a chill of uneasiness. “You don’t see me in a collar, do you?”

“Indeed, I cannot alter memories, only erase them. It was free will that brought Xi’an to me, not manipulation,” Gideon says with a smile, but his eyes glimmer in a way that makes your throat close up with fear. “She has become a loyal and valuable ally.”

Valuable. One word and your suspicions are confirmed. Collared or not, Xi’an is just as much a toy for Gideon to play with as you and Din are. The only difference is she doesn’t seem to realize she is one. Or, and this is a dangerous possibility, she does know and simply doesn’t give a damn.

“She’s your ally?” you echo, nervously licking your lips. “What does that mean?”

“She has dedicated herself to the achievement of my goal.”

You know he’s purposefully baiting you, but still you find yourself asking, “And that goal is?”

Gideon leans forward, invading your personal space even as you jerk backwards in your seat. The smile has been wiped from his face, replaced with narrowed eyes and a twisted scowl. He deliberately presses the unlit laser sword against the middle of your chest in the space between your breasts, thumb teasingly hovering over the activation button.  

When he answers, you’ve never heard anyone else speak as seriously as him.

“To finish what I started.”

The words linger in the air the same foreboding way Din’s reapers linger around hospitals. You don’t realize you’re not breathing until Gideon steps back after several pounding heartbeats pass and your lungs are on fire. You suck in a breath of relief, but your body remains tense, recognizing the dangerous situation you’re still stuck in.

“Mayfeld,” Gideon addresses the man armed with three guns who immediately straightens. “Take her back to her cell.”

You don’t resist as Mayfeld grabs you by the upper arm and tugs you out of your seat. It’d take a miracle to incapacitate him and everyone else in the room before they subdued you. No, you can’t make any rash decisions. The right moment will come, you tell yourself. It has to.

...Right?

“So, what’s it like being Death’s soulmate?”

You’re jerked out of your thoughts by Mayfeld’s voice. You side-eye him, keeping your mouth firmly shut.

“I mean, I’ve heard he never takes off the helmet,” he continues, unbothered by your silence. “But surely you must’ve seen what’s underneath there. If it were me, I’d definitely wanna know the face of the guy I’m allegedly destined to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Allegedly?” The question slips out before you can stop yourself.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not so much a believer in fate or destiny or true love. And now that I know the guy who’s the boss of Cupid operations?” He huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “Forget about ever trying to convince me the universe has a mortal’s best interests in mind when it allows a Seraph as bat-shit crazy as the Moff to have the power he has.”

“If you think he’s insane, why do you work for him?”

“The pay’s good,” he answers with a laugh. “Plus, if he really does pull off this plan of his, well...let’s just say I’d rather be in his corner than anywhere else.”

“You do realize though that anyone in Gideon’s corner is an enemy of Death’s?” you say, half-taunting him half-genuinely curious about his reaction.

“That thought has recently crossed my mind,” is all he replies.

The conversation comes to a halt when you arrive back at your cell. Mayfeld pushes you inside, but the force is noticeably gentler than the thug who had manhandled you earlier. Standing near the pallet, you watch as he digs a remote out of the pocket of his pants and activates the laser grid with a single press of a button.

Interesting.

You expect Mayfeld to immediately return to Gideon’s side, so you’re surprised and more than a little confused when the man continues to linger. A minute of silence ticks by and your confusion changes to frustration. What does he want?

Just as your mouth opens to snidely voice the question, the baby chooses that precise moment to sneak back into your cell. Your heart leaps into your throat as you rush forward to grab him, torn between forcibly shoving him back into the hole or foolishly attempting to hide him behind your back.

“There’s the little green guy,” Mayfeld says, and you pause at the audible note of cheerfulness in his voice. The baby coos in your arms, waving his hand in the man’s direction.

They kriffing know each other?

Mayfeld notices your bewildered expression. “What? You think none of us noticed he doesn’t like staying put? We might be mercenaries, but we’re not complete idiots.”

“You’re a heartless bastard,” you spit, holding the baby tighter against your chest. “He’s a baby and you’re doing nothing to get him out of here.”

“First of all,” he counters, holding up a finger. “Ouch. And second,” he points that same finger directly at the baby, “that little guy is older than me so calling him a ‘baby’ isn’t exactly fair.”

Your eyes sweep over Mayfeld, estimating him to be at least forty. You then look at the green face smiling back at you. Yeah, there’s no way he’s telling the truth.

“You’re a liar.”

“Maker, the hits just keep on coming.” Mayfeld rolls his eyes. “Why would I lie about his age?”

“I…” you trail off, unable to come up with an excuse.

“Exactly.” He nods smugly. “Look, he fooled me, too, with those big brown eyes of his. If I hadn’t witnessed what he can do when that collar’s off, I might have been suckered into releasing him. He’s cute, sure, but he’s also secretly a menacing gremlin.”

You frown. “What do you mean you’ve seen what he can do?”

“I mean he’s got powers. He can lift things with his mind, throw men against walls five times his size like they weigh nothing. What’s worse is he uses those powers to steal. I had a pack of cookies I was saving and he levitated them right out of my pocket.”

Your disbelief falters at that last bit. You had already surmised the baby had stolen the cookies, but not like this. Looking down at him again, the collar stands out more prominently than ever before. Xi’an told you they were purposefully designed to prohibit the use of powers. Why else would the baby wear one if he didn’t possess some type of special ability?

“You really have some serious trust issues, don’t you?” Mayfeld says, almost sounding impressed by your stubborn reluctance to believe him.

“I’m currently being held hostage by a psychopath,” you retort. “I think I’m allowed to be suspicious of a mercenary who says everything that pops into his head.”

His lips purse. “Alright. That’s a good point.”

“Isn’t it risky?” you ask, stepping closer to the gate. “Sharing all this information with me?”

“Only if you don’t appreciate the value of it all.”

Your brow furrows, not understanding.

“Look,” he lowers his voice meaningfully. “One way or another, Gideon and Death are gonna face each other and only one side will win. Gideon wins, great. Status quo unchanged. But if your soulmate wins?” He grimaces at the prospect. “By talking to you, I’m trying to cover all my bases here.”

Your brain works rapidly to fill in the blanks. “So, let me get this straight. You think that by getting on my good side, Death won’t murder you?” A wide grin stretches across your face, not the least bit friendly. “Oh, honey, you’ve got to do so much better than that. With what you’ve given me so far, the only kindness he’ll spare you is ripping your throat out quickly so you don’t suffer long.”

Take the bait.

“Oh, yeah?” A flicker of nervousness flashes across his face. He shifts his stance, arms crossing over his chest. “What would I have to do to not have that happen? I’m, uh, open to suggestions.”

Good, good, good.

“You get me the keys to these collars, I can guarantee you’ll walk out of here with every limb attached and not one drop of blood spilt.”

A long beat passes wordlessly. It would be completely silent if not for the baby’s quiet whining as he cuddles against you, unsettled by the tense atmosphere.

“You’re not the only one with trust issues,” Mayfeld says at last. “Maybe you can guarantee Death won’t kill me, but how do I know you won’t kill me with your bow yourself?”

You say nothing, not because you’re guilty of thinking of that specific scenario, but because you don’t know how to convince him you haven’t considered it. Anyone else in your same predicament would undoubtedly shoot him the first chance they got. He is an enemy after all. A minor one, true, but nevertheless contributing to the effort of keeping you separated from Din. He also clearly only has his own self-interest in mind, making him unpredictable and untrustworthy. Who’s to say he won’t attempt to double-cross you somehow?

All these reasons are valid and should make you hate him, but something inside of you isn’t allowing you to commit wholeheartedly to the feeling. And as much as it pains you to admit it, you know that ‘something’ is fear. You’ve never killed anyone before. Shot someone with an ichor arrow? Yes, several times, but not once was the wound fatal. As your list of escape options continues to dwindle though, you’re terrified of the possibility you’ll have no choice but to personally be responsible for ending someone’s life.

“There’s my answer,” Mayfeld says. His words are distressingly ambiguous, but it’s the way he bobs his head in a decisive manner and turns his back on you that causes your stomach to tie itself into knots.

Throat suddenly dry, you struggle to choke out, “Wait, I—”

He starts whistling an upbeat tune as he walks away, ignoring your attempts at reclaiming his attention. You listen hopelessly as the sound gradually grows farther and farther away, until eventually all you can hear is silence.

And once more, it’s just you and the baby alone in the cell.

~~

You lie on the pallet, staring up at the ceiling with the baby sleeping on your stomach. You reflect on everything that has happened since you left Arvala-7, taking every moment apart piece by piece to figure out what you know.

From what you’ve witnessed, you don’t think your superiors are involved in or even aware of Moff Gideon’s plans. Lang, Hess, and Morgan were his associates, not allies like he’d called Xi’an. The difference is subtle, but profound in meaning. You wonder if the three of them have had memories erased too, if they know Gideon was responsible.

He had told them you were being hidden away to prevent other Cupids from knowing you had a second soulmate, but that wasn’t the whole truth. Gideon wants you as his hostage because you’re Din’s soulmate. He wants to use you as leverage to get Din to do what he wants. Initially, you assumed that meant kill those who Gideon considered enemies, but that assumption was proven incorrect when you sent the message to Din without naming even one potential target.

Unfortunately, you think that is not the only wrong assumption you’ve made recently. Gideon had forced you to tell Din to let go. The bond had cried out with agony when you’d said the words out loud as it had thought you were telling Din to let go of you. But looking back at the incident with a clearer head, you find yourself wondering why hadn’t Gideon included those two extra words if that was what he meant? It’s not like there wasn’t plenty of space left to write them on the paper.

If he didn’t mean for Din to let go of you, then logically that would mean he wants Din to let go of something else. Something important enough that Gideon is taking advantage of your relationship in order to convince him to release it.

But what could Din possibly possess that Gideon wants this badly? Din doesn’t own anything valuable except for the Crest and his armor, and you doubt either of those will further progress Gideon towards his goal.

To finish what I started.

Hours later and you still can’t figure out what the kriff he’s talking about. No matter which way you twist or turn the phrase over in your mind, it’s incomprehensible. What did he start? When did it happen? How does he intend to finish it?

Considering how your previous assumptions were both flawed, you really shouldn’t be making another one, but you can’t get the moment of when he’d pressed the sword against your chest out of your mind. The action itself screamed intimidation as well as sexual harassment, but when you think about how he did it at the same time he revealed his goal, your gut instinct is telling you to definitely assume the two are connected to each other.

And then there’s Mayfeld’s comment about there being an inevitable clash between Din and Gideon. He had sounded so certain there would only be one victor, but, unlike you, he hadn’t immediately placed his bet on Din. Which makes no sense to you. Everyone knows it’s an indisputable fact Din is the most powerful entity in the universe, second only to the Maker. The chance of Gideon winning their fight is so slim it’s infinitesimal.

It’s sort of funny though, to imagine Din being defeated by Gideon’s sword.

It’s sort of funny, except...

Well.

It isn’t really funny at all.

~~

Over the span of Din’s existence, he had witnessed entire civilizations wiped out by war, genocide, disease. No matter the reason behind the tragedy, the universe always called him there in the final moments to walk amongst the ruins left behind, to watch those last to die mourn those who passed before them. In those moments, he felt powerless, knowing there was not one thing he could do to change any of it.

He realized the universe was trying to instill a lesson in him: what is meant to happen, will always happen. Regardless of who is hurt in the process.

And maybe he would have surrendered to the harsh teaching if his angel hadn’t been stolen from her rightful place at his side. No one, not even the fucking universe itself, is going to stop him from getting her back.

From their first meeting, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. Then when she asked him question after question about his likes and dislikes, his hobbies, his favorite sights in the galaxy—he made the risky decision of trusting her. He revealed his face to her, allowed her to know every part of himself, and was stunned every time she didn’t fear or run away from what she discovered. He didn’t know whether to consider her stupid or brave, but the moment he first heard her laugh at one of his sarcastic quips he knew it was a sound he wanted to hear everyday for the rest of eternity.

When she showed him her marked hand, claiming they were each other’s soulmates, he swore to himself he’d dedicate himself to her happiness. Anything she wanted or asked for, he would give to her without question.

Except now she has asked him to do the impossible: to let go.

He replays the transmission enough times every word, every quiet hitch of breath, and every subtle twitch of her facial features is embedded in his mind. Bo-Katan heaves a sigh after the eighth loop, squeezing the bridge of her nose as if a headache was forming, but he can’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from the hologram long enough to glare at the reaper. She doesn’t have a soulmate, therefore she can’t even begin to fathom how it feels when his half of the soulmate bond slams itself against the invisible wall separating him from his angel with all the unhinged ferocity of a feral beast.

If Din didn’t know his angel as intimately as she knew him, he might have believed those were her own words coming out of her mouth. However, throughout the entire length of the message he notices how her eyes nervously flick to the side every few seconds, as if she needs to reassure herself someone offscreen isn’t making any sudden movements. It’s all the confirmation he needs to know she’s being used as a mouthpiece against her will to demand Din gives up searching for her.

Din refuses to yield to the whims of an enemy who doesn’t have the balls to face him directly.

He channels his seething anger into steadfast determination as he stretches his powers out across the galaxy for a second time, this time searching for the twi’lek Hess so graciously identified for him. Her being the one to have dragged his soulmate out of Cupid headquarters couldn’t have been a random circumstance. If she has even the slightest notion of who the elusive immortal is that is responsible for shielding his angel from him, he’ll beat the name out of her just as he had her Cupid superior.

Bo-Katan, never one to stand still when she can be doing something useful, sends a message out to her fellow reapers to fill them in on the developing situation. Only Din can give them orders to follow, but she strongly recommends they interrogate any Cupid they come across for information about Xi’an.

Transmissions start flooding in an hour later of reapers reporting what they’ve learned. Turns out Xi’an is the type of person who finds joy in antagonizing others. No one claims her as their friend nor do they know what region of the galaxy she usually operates in. The most interesting tidbit learned from the interrogations is that several Cupids have admitted they often saw the twi’lek in the archives at headquarters, studying datapads and flipping through holobooks.

“She was searching for something,” Bo-Katan murmurs, brow creasing thoughtfully.

“Or she was gathering information on someone’s behalf.” Din’s eyes remained closed, focus split between the conversation and the search. “Only Cupids are allowed at their headquarters. She’d have no issue slipping in and out without anyone giving her a second—”

Every soul has a unique aura that can only be sensed by power-sensitive beings like himself. No two are the same, similar to fingerprints and snowflakes. Having a specific target in mind hastens the search of detecting them amongst the trillions of other beings inhabiting the galaxy, but it is not the fact that Din’s powers have just locked onto Xi’an’s soul that has his eyes snapping open. It is her location.

She’s on Umbriel.

“Stay with the ship,” he tells Bo-Katan.

Din teleports before the reaper responds, arriving at the front entrance of his soulmate’s apartment in the next blink. The front door is wide open and his jaw clenches as he recognizes the gesture for the taunt it is. Rolling his shoulders back, he enters the apartment, purposefully shutting and locking the door behind him.

“About time you showed up.” As soon as Din hears her voice, he’s reminded of a loth cat screeching when its tail is grabbed. The anger he’s been forcibly holding back starts to simmer beneath his armor, fingers twitching at his sides with the desire to wrap around her throat and squeeze.

He finds a purple-skinned twi’lek Cupid standing in the center of the living room. Or, what used to be considered the living room at least. Every piece of furniture has been broken and torn apart. The pile of newspapers kept in the corner are shredded and scattered across the floor. If he didn’t know how precious they were to his angel in her quest to reclaim her memories, he wouldn’t have cared about the mess, but he does know and his wrath increases exponentially.

“Xi’an,” he says, the name bitter on his tongue like a curse.

“The rumor mill says you’ve been looking for me,” she drawls, looking coy and fluttering her eyelashes. “I gotta say, I’m flattered by the attention.”

“Tell me where my soulmate is and you won’t meet the same fate as your boss.”

Her head tilts, tapping her fingers against her chin in mock thoughtfulness. “Are you referring to Hess? I heard no one’s been able to reach him lately, but since I report to someone of much higher ranking I could hardly bring myself to care.” Her lips curl into a wicked smirk, revealing the faintest glimpse of her fangs. “You’ve piqued my interest now though, what’d you do to the bastard?”

“I ripped out his soul and crushed it into dust.”

She giggles, unpleasant and shrill. “How scandalous.”

His patience snaps.

“Enough of this.” He steps forward. “Tell me who you work for and where is my soulmate.”

A pair of knives appear in her hands, summoned in the same quick manner as his angel had drawn her bow.

“My answer to the first part is no. And as for the second, you need to be more specific.” She sneers. “Which part of her are you looking for?”

The noise that tears itself out of Din’s throat is one never made by another entity before. It is an outburst of ravenous fury, a promise of bloodshed and carnage, and a predator’s roar before they consume their prey all blended into one deafening war cry.

Xi’an maintains a brave face as she throws knife after knife at him, but as each one harmlessly deflects off his beskar and dissolves into a flicker of light, he sees her mask begin to crack, revealing her nervousness.

She resorts to throwing punches when he’s close enough, but there is no finesse and each one is sloppy. He catches her fist mid-swing with his own hand and twists, shattering her wrist. She gasps out a curse, but the unexpected reappearance of her mischievous smirk manages to catch him off guard.

“Are you gonna do it?” she asks, voice tight with pain, but the intent to provoke him is clear. “Unleash that beautiful darkness I can sense writhing around inside of you?”

He pins her against the wall harsh enough her teeth audibly clack against each other. Still she keeps smirking, still her voice drips like poison into his ears.

“You know you want to, sweetie, so just let go.”

Din’s powers lash out, incensed by those two words he’s sick of hearing. Latching onto her soul, she starts to choke, but the deranged glimmer of glee in her eyes makes him think she’d be laughing if she could.

Darkness starts to ooze out of his armor, resembling thick, black smoke. He can feel the sinister energy emanating from the very core of his being, as if the box it’s been trapped in has been unlocked and is seconds away from bursting open.

Some distant, far part of him is ringing every warning alarm and urging him to stop. But he ignores that voice of reason when he sees Xi’an’s soul start creeping up the back of her mouth, glowing brightly as it squirms in a futile attempt to free itself from the hold of his powers.

He grits his teeth, impatience prompting him to tug at it again, and—

The world lurches and transforms in a blur. When his vision adjusts, he’s no longer standing in his soulmate’s apartment, but instead surrounded by an abundance of scorched trees. Chest heaving, he struggles to clear his head of violent thoughts and make sense of what just happened.

Someone suddenly calls out from behind him, “I summoned you here to speak with you.”

Din recognizes the speaker’s voice before he actually turns to see the female togruta. She wears her usual blue-and-silver tunic and a brown headpiece embedded with a gem over her montrals. The ground is green beneath her feet, the only glimpse of flourishing nature for miles.

“I was in the middle of something, Ahsoka,” Din answers, stalking forward until they stand nearly toe to toe. He’s lost count of how many encounters they’ve had with one another over the years, but no matter the number he remains reluctant to consider her a friend since the Oracle has the irritating knack for disrupting his life when he least desires her presence.

She stands tall, but her hands move to rest on the hilts of the two sabers attached to her belt. “Have you forgotten your creed? When the universe needs you, you listen to it.”

“My soulmate needs me!” he shouts, trembling as another pulse of dark energy discharges from his body. It washes over Ahsoka like a harsh gust of wind, but while she remains unaffected, the patch of grass withers instantaneously.

“The universe recognizes that,” Ahsoka says, and while her calmness does nothing to ease his frayed nerves, her next words have him freezing in place. “And I’ll take you to her so long as you promise me one thing.”

Tentative hope slices through the erratic storm of frenzied emotions in his chest like a beam of sunlight. He searches Ahsoka’s face for the faintest hint of deception, but finds only sincerity.

“What is it?”

“You cannot kill Moff Gideon.”

Tag List: @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee​, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives​, @eleinemk​, @captain-jebi​, @aerynwrites​, @promiscuoussatan​, @stilllivindue2spite​, @coaaster​, @lin-djarin​, @oh-no-a-whovian​, @over300books​, @chibi-yuki​, @becauseican2, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @nicotinebirds

[driima]

Caught | Dabi x Captured! Pro Hero F!Reader

Title: Caught

Pairing: Dabi x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Dubcon, kidnapping, mild depictions of injury, brief depictions of blood, intimidation, biting, fingering

Note: aaa brain go brr, just enjoy some Dabi, idk

It was loud.

There were screams - terrified screams - all around you. Rubble was crashing down to the ground, creating loud explosions. Footsteps were pounding on the ground, reverberating against the city buildings, but the worst of it was the fire.

The flames burned with abnormal colors, not their typical orange, but instead a deep blue. With each flare they incinerated everything they touched, alighting everything in their path. It was chaos.

Your mind was snapped back into reality when someone fell before you. You crouched down, your gloved hands reaching for their trembling body, and you helped them to their feet.

“You’re okay,” you assured the young man, his wide and frightened eyes searching your masked face. “Keep running that way,” you pointed down the street. “Get as far away from the fire as you can. The heroes are here to help.”

The man nodded and began running in the direction you pointed, following the other scared citizens. You turned back to the fire, your brows furrowed. There wasn’t much you could do to tackle the fire. Your quirk, Cell Manipulation, allowed you to control and change the cells within any living organism. It was powerful, as it allowed you to regenerate faster by simply creating more cells. However, it was difficult against the flames as fire nuclei were cells you couldn’t touch. You frowned.

“(H/n)!” someone called out, causing you to turn your head. It was one of your fellow pro-heroes, Big Shot. He ran towards you, a worried look in his eyes.

“We have backup arriving in a few minutes,” he said. “Have you evacuated all of the citizens from the vicinity?”

“Everyone has been moved out of the streets. I cannot say for sure for those who are within the surrounding buildings, though,” you said. Internally, you didn’t believe anyone would still be alive in the buildings. The blue flames seemed to disintegrate anything they touched, and if it weren’t that that got to them, it would be the overwhelming amount of smoke. You turned back to Big Shot. “Do we have eyes on whoever started this mess?”

He nervously scratched his head. “We haven’t located them yet. However, our intel believes it’s the arsonist that’s affiliated with the League. The same one who is responsible for those smaller crimes involving cremated human remains. Be on the look out for anyone suspicious.”

You nodded. “I’m going to look for them. Judging by how the fire started from the left,” you pointed to a jumble of burning stores and alleys. “They must have come from around there.”

“Be careful,” was all Big Shot said before you ran off, your feet pounding against the ground.

You squinted your eyes, the ash thick as it wafted through the air. Blue flames licked at your hero costume, threatening to singe the suit, but you maneuvered around them easily. You paused momentarily, leaping out of the way of a melted traffic light that was falling from its post. You threw up your hands as it slammed against the sidewalk, narrowly missing your body. The force sent a slew of burning coals into the air, most of which nearing your body, and you backed up to avoid them.

Panicked, you spun on your heels, attempting to run down the alley behind you to escape the advancing flames but you were stopped as your body slammed into an obstacle that you swore wasn’t there before. Stumbling, you lost your balance and your body teetered backwards. You braced yourself as you crashed to the ground on your back, a pained groan leaving your lips as your head roughly smacked into the concrete.

You bit your lip, attempting to bite back the pain as your eyes cracked open. Your vision was swimming and your head throbbed from the impact. Above you, you made out a blurry figure. Panic ebbed at your heart as you felt yourself slipping in and out of consciousness, your vision blinking, your body unable to move.

Before you clocked out, the last thing you saw was a blurry hand reaching down for you, blue flames dancing from their palm.

•••

It took you several moments to come to. Your eyelids felt heavy. Your heart pounded in your ears. Your mind felt completely and utterly empty. It felt as if a hypodermic of adrenaline was emptied into your bloodstream but you could do nothing against it as you were still swimming in darkness.

That is, until it felt like someone had doused you in a cold bucket of ice water.

You shot upward without warning, eyes flinging open so wide each iris was a perfect orb of (e/c). You took in your surroundings, your eyes blinking rapidly as you tried to clear the fogginess from your vision.

You were in a room. A small, dirty room. The four surrounding walls were painted an ugly dark gray, some bits chipped here and there, other bits splattered with substances you didn’t want to know the origins of. To your left there was a tiny window, however the glass was intentionally blurry and it was tiny. Not to mention it had thick steel bars wedged between the window frame. Directly in front of you was a blank steel door, one that was probably locked. You frowned. Where exactly were you?

Shaking your head, you placed a hand on the wall and went to push yourself up but immediately ceased your actions when a wave of dizziness hit you like an incoming truck. You were still disoriented. Not to mention when you moved your leg, a small clank was heard, and you realized after glancing down at your ankle that a thick metal bearing was wrapped around it. You followed the rusting chain with your eyes and realized you were trapped against the wall with only several feet to move. The anklet, you realized, was cutting off your quirk. You let out a shaky breath.

“Think,” you told yourself, glancing down at your hands that were now in your lap. “Think.”

Your short attempts to create a plan were cut off as there was a painful buzzing in your ear, so loud that you groaned and brought your hands up to knead your forehead. Just how hard did you hit your head?

Your brows furrowed as you slowly brought your knees up to your chest, your head burrowing between them.

You didn’t know what to do.

•••

You didn’t know how long you stayed in that position. It felt like days. Your stomach was curling in on itself with hunger and your throat was dry. Your bladder felt numb as you had long forgotten about having needed to use the bathroom and your limbs felt stiff from not having moved in so long.

You were tired. Confused. Distressed.

However, you managed to push your emotions down to keep calm. There was no use in freaking out. It would only waste energy. You were busy trying to get yourself to fall back asleep, your eyes closed and your arms slack. You were just about to grasp that peaceful sensation when the sound of the door scraping against the floor filled the room and a light briefly flickered onto your balled-up form before it disappeared as the door was closed. You stiffened.

Part of you didn’t want to look up. You wanted to be defiant - to ignore your captor entirely - and stay in your ball. The bigger part, however, forced you to look anyway.

Standing above you was a man. He was tall, overbearingly so, and though he was slender, his body looked to be riddled with lean muscle. His hair was black and spiky. His clothes, a torn jacket overtop a white t-shirt and a dark pair of pants, were baggy. His skin, in most visible places, had a purple look to it, almost as if it was burnt. The scars ran along his body, held to his normal skin by shiny surgical staples. The most striking feature, however, were his deep blue eyes. They shone even within the darkness of the room, a deep aqua color that rivaled any blue moon.

“Well, well, well,” the man said, his lips pulling up into a smirk. “It looks like the big, tough hero didn’t save the day.” His voice was deep yet cool. It had a gravelly tone to it that you would have taken for attractive in any other circumstance.

You scowled, your gaze hardening into a glare.

He chuckled at your look, taking several slow steps towards your huddled form. He crouched down once he was close enough, the smell of ash and cheap men’s cologne filling your senses as he stared at you intensely. He had a full view for he, or someone else, had removed your hero mask and most of the armor on your costume. You were left in your underclothes, a plain black shirt and matching black tights.

“Do you know where you are?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. When you didn’t answer, he continued, “The League of Villains wanted to have a lil’ bit of fun but you bull shit heroes, if you can even call yourself that, got in our way. In order to commence with our plans, we need a bit of information and you just so happened to have fallen right into our hands. Now be a good little hero and answer some questions for me.”

Your lips curled back into a sneer. “If you think I’m going to answer a single question that comes out of your burnt, charcoal lookin’ ass mouth, you are mistaken,” you spat out.

He stared at you, seemingly processing your words. You were about to bark out another remark when he leaned forward ever so slightly, a hand coming up dangerously close to your face. Your eyes widened when his hand was suddenly engulfed in familiar blue flames, the fire so close to your skin that you could feel the baby hairs that coated your cheek being singed away.

“That wasn’t a request,” he said in a low voice and you made note of the threatening tone he had.

He was the one responsible for the bonfire in the city. He was the one responsible for all of the arsenic murders. He was the one the heroes have been tracking for months. And you walked right into his hands.

Your jaw locked in anger but you bit your tongue to hold back from anymore snarky remarks. You held his gaze as he drew back his hand, deactivating his quirk. He stared at you for a moment longer before he spoke again.

“If you do anything funny, I’ll kill you,” he continued. “The boy, the one in Class 1-A, the one with the explosion quirk. Do you know where his residence is?” he asked. You frowned.

Class 1-A? How were you supposed to know? It had been forever since you completed your hero training at UA High.

You shook your head.

It was his turn to frown. “It would be in your best interest not to lie to me,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I’m not,” you shot back heatedly.

You barely registered his next movements. Suddenly there was a large hand wrapping around your throat tightly whilst another was forcing your knees apart. He moved quickly, shocking you, as he was now kneeling between your legs, his face dangerously close to yours. You could feel his warm breath fanning down against you, causing you to involuntarily shiver.

“You’re making this difficult, princess,” he said darkly. “If you just tell me what I want to know, we wouldn’t be having this problem. If you just complied, I could make you feel a lot more comfortable.”

He relaxed between your legs, his thumb tracing lines along your neck. He stared at you, momentarily letting down his guard, and that’s when you saw your chance.

You whipped your head forward, your skull connecting with his harshly, knocking him backwards. Your teeth clanked against each other and he grunted in pain as he fell back. You used your feet to get a good kick in, though your assault was immediately halted when he grabbed your unchained ankle roughly, his eyes reconnecting with yours. You gulped as he moved towards you in an aggressive manner, his eyes aflame with anger.

You fucked up.

He kneeled before you, back between your legs, but this time a lot closer. His chest roughly pressed against yours, his hips pinning your body against the wall. One hand slammed against the concrete next to your head, the sound making you flinch, whilst the other gripped your chin painfully tight. He brought his face in close, too close, his hand tilting your head so that your eyes stayed connected with his.

“You know, I enjoy a good challenge,” he mused, tilting your face slightly to the left so that your neck was exposed to him. “But there are other ways to get what I want.”

Before you could question him, you felt a pair of warm lips against your neck and you let out a startled gasp. He left a trail of harsh kisses along your skin, something that would usually make you swoon but in this circumstance, it made your stomach churn. Your breath hitched when he sank his teeth into a particular spot against your neck, an action that nearly caused you to moan aloud. He chuckled as he heard your panicked breaths, his lips moving further up your neck until they were dotting along your jawline.

He paused, moving upward until his lips were ghosting yours. He stared into your eyes, a smirk on his face. “Tell me what I want to know,” he said sensually, the hand he had on the wall moving to rest tightly against your waist.

“I already told you,” you snapped back. He simply hummed in response, and before you could protest, he had slammed his lips against yours and had whisked away the air within your lungs.

His lips worked feverishly against yours, not in a kiss of passion or romance, but in a kiss of lust and hunger. He pressed his tongue along the seam of your lips, asking for entrance. When you denied him, he dug his nails into your waist harshly, causing you to involuntarily whine, and he took the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth. It was a sloppy kiss, the smell of burning logs exchanging with each breath. You were the first to pull away, an action that caused him to groan in frustration and arch against your chest.

Your eyes were wide and you panted, heaving for air. You stared at him incredulously as he licked his lips, smirking at your flustered state.

“You taste good, princess,” he purred, enjoying the red hue that was spreading across your face.

He returned his lips to your neck, moving further and further down. His teeth grazed along your skin, sinking into your flesh here and there as he trailed bites along your collarbone. You squirmed under his ministrations, letting out a breath of air as your hands tightened into fists.

“Enjoying yourself?” he whispered against your skin, an edge to his voice.

You grit your teeth and snarled, “You wish.”

In return, he bit down on your collar hard, his teeth digging into your flesh. You let out a pained whimper as his teeth broke your flesh, hard enough to draw blood. You trembled as he lapped it up with his tongue, his being sighing contently when you winced in pain whenever his tongue brushed against your wound.

He trailed his tongue upward, bored with the trail of blood that dribbled from your collarbone, until his lips brushed against your ear.

“Are you ready to tell me what I want to know, princess?” he murmured against your ear.

“There is no way in hell I’d- Ahh-“ you were interrupted by him when his hand swiftly snaked under your shirt, his palm tightly pressing against your chest.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you,” he whispered into your ear, all whilst he was palming your left breast. You shut your eyes tightly, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip to keep you from letting out any embarrassing noises.

His fingers hooked between the middle of your strapless bra and he went to forcefully pull it down when you shot your hand to his wrist, stopping him. He glanced into your eyes, pausing his movements.

“No,” you told him through a shaky breath. Your hand was trembling against his wrist, your nails digging into his skin through the material of your shirt.

He smirked, moving his face closer to yours. “No?” he mused. “But it seems like you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

You went to retort when suddenly your hand began to heat up and you hissed, yanking it away from his wrist quickly. His palm lit up like a torch and you could only watch in horror as both your bra and shirt crumbled to ash atop you. His smirk widened as he brushed away the ruined remains, his eyes lazily raking over your exposed top. You moved your arms to quickly cover yourself when he caught your wrists with his hands, pinning them against the wall on either side of your head.

Your lip trembled as he shuffled his body downwards, his eyes taking in every inch of your skin. You could feel his breath fanning against your bare chest, the sensation giving you goosebumps. He leaned forward, his lips grazing over your skin, and he said quietly, “Tell me what I want to know.”

You choked back a whine as you breathed out, “N-No.”

He grinned, moving forward so that his lips could wrap around one of your rosy, pink nipples. He sucked gently, his tongue flicking against the bud. Your head tipped back against the wall, your body stiffening as he gently bit down. Your mouth fell open and you moaned softly at the action, something your stomach twisted at when you realized what you just did. He chuckled against your skin, his lips detaching from your nub with a loud, wet plop.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he murmured quietly, his tongue dragging over his lips as if you savor the taste of your skin. His hands dropped your wrists, landing on your waist instead to toy with the hem of your pants, his eyes boring into yours.

“Don’t,” you pleaded with wide eyes.

He smiled as he admired your trembling lip. He brought one hand up to cup your cheek, a gentle move, his thumb brushing gently back and forth as if to soothe your nerves. He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours as he stared into your eyes.

“It can all be over if you just tell me what I want to know,” he said gently, his voice laced with false reassurance.

“I already told you,” you whimpered out.

He clicked his tongue in disdain before he pushed his lips onto yours once more. It was a softer kiss, not as forceful as the first, but the only reason he was doing it was to distract you whilst he hiked down your pants.

You could feel them growing. The tears. They were building up in your eyes, threatening to spill, and you let out a feeble sniffle. He shushed you against your lips as he helped your legs out of your pants, leaving you in nothing but your plain underwear.

You didn’t want this. At least, you thought you didn’t want this. Your mind was running wild, and though your brain was screaming for this to stop, your body was heating up with want. You couldn’t suppress the growing slick between your thighs, as sick as it sounded.

Almost hesitantly, he moved his hand away from your cheek and you found yourself missing the warm, tender sensation. He dragged it down your body, tracing your neck, skimming over your chest, resting against your stomach before it landed on your inner thigh. He traced circles there with his fingers, moving higher and higher towards your clothed core.

He paused, his fingers skimming the fabric of your panties, and he glanced at you. You held his stare, his eyes trained into yours. It was almost as if he were searching for something.

“Do you want this?” he asked after a moment.

What?

No.

You don’t know.

You stared at him, your lips parting slightly. Did you? Did you want this? It was wrong. It was entirely wrong and you know it. You were a hero. A pro hero. He was a villain. He was with the League of Villains. You couldn’t possibly want this.

“Yes.”

His bright blue eyes clouded over with unadulterated lust. His fingers pressed against your clothed core, your breath catching in your throat, and he smirked devilishly.

“I may be a villain, but I won’t take you unless you want me to,” he mused. “I’m shocked, hero. Saying yes and all. But I shouldn’t be. This wetness between your legs explains everything.”

He hooked a finger into the fabric of your panties and pulled it to the side, revealing your glistening heat to him. He admired you for a moment, his eyes raking over your lower half, before he pressed two fingers against your folds. He spread them easily and you shivered, embarrassment flooding through you as you realized just how exposed you were to him.

He caught wind of your flustered state and he chuckled before a finger dipped between your heat, sinking into you swiftly.

Your head tipped back and you moaned in pleasure, your eyes screwing shut tightly. He kept his finger buried in you for a moment before he began to move, pistoning it in and out. With each movement he went deeper and deeper until your walls nearly enveloped his knuckle.

You shuddered. You shouldn’t be doing this. You knew that. But it felt so good.

Your eyes shot open when you felt another finger being pushed into your core. You whimpered as it was even tighter than before, his long fingers stretching you out. He waited a moment for you to adjust before he began to pump them again, his pace faster than before.

Your breaths were becoming more and more labored as he worked his fingers within you. His pace was quick and he smirked when he looked down at you, admiring your flushed cheeks and the sweat that was beginning to form along your forehead.

The hand around your waist tightened when he added yet another finger. He grit his teeth when he realized just how tight your walls were, your heat constricting around him as he pumped his fingers within you. You moaned, your legs beginning to shake as pleasure shot through your body.

It felt good. It felt so good.

After a few moments, you gasped out when he curled his fingers within you, your eyes squeezing shut. “So close!” you whined, your words being followed by a sensual moan.

“Come on. Come undone on my fingers, little hero,” he purred.

Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as your body convulsed, your walls tightening around his fingers. Your orgasm washed over you in pleasurable waves, your body going numb for a few seconds, all the while he pumped lazily into you to help you ride it out to the fullest.

As you slowly came to, your half-lidded eyes watched as he retracted his hand. He studied the fluids that coated his fingers, his eyes briefly flickering to yours. He stared back at you as he brought his fingers to his mouth, his lips wrapping around them. His eyes never left yours as he sucked on them loudly, making sure to give a loud ‘pop’ once he was done. Your mouth gaped open as he smirked at you.

There was a moments silence, albeit your loud breathing. Finally, he shuffled, and you watched as he got to his feet, his lean form towering over you. Despite your recent euphoria, your pleasurable state was soon replaced by an uncanny sense of fear as his blue eyes bore into yours.

“Dabi,” he said.

You blinked in confusion.

When you didn’t respond, he said, “My name is Dabi. Remember it, princess. You’ll be screaming it next time I visit.”

With that, he sent you a wink and turned around, his boots clicking on the floor as he opened the door with a loud creak. You could only watch in stupidity as he left you alone, naked, and confused in the room.

Shit.

[hyrule-kingdom-updates]

Neither of them said anything for a long minute. Murky water dripping carelessly into a puddle somewhere. 

Asivus looked Astor up and down, taking him in. He then nodded, before kicking his legs back out and resting his arms behind his head, resuming his entertainment of staring at the wall. This time he put on the smile.

“Welp! I was kinda hoping a couple decades imprisonment would do the trick, but execution is fine too, I guess. Swiftness and punctuality and all that.” He let out a fake yawn. “Though you’re wasting your time if you’re looking to give a prayer. I intend to go out without asking the gods for anything.”

“I’m not a priest.” Astor said bluntly.

Siv cocked an eyebrow. “Uh…...n...nun—?”

“What happened to you, Assivus?” 

“Ahhhh…And interrogation…” He nodded up and down again. “Then I’ll tell you what I told the other guy—you can goooooooo suck my dick.”

Siv turned to the side, fiddling with something metal in his right pocket, the rattling echoing on the stone floor.  He finally pulled out an old flask, shaking it back and for, the sound revealing a little less than a third of alcohol left in the container. He shook it again and looked at the seer. 

“Snuck this bad boy in, earlier! I know my way around a pat down or two, heheh…” He took a swig before gesturing towards Astor again. “How ‘bout you, choir man? Got any sorrows to drown?”

“A kind offer, but I actually value my health,” he replied. “You got any other contraband keeping you company, then?”

He tensed, but recovered so quickly Astor nearly thought he imagined it. Asivus then let out a laugh before taking another drink and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand—which despite the grime, was probably the cleanest part of his person. 

“So they took the nearest homeless looking pal and sent them down to ask me shit...that’s certainly new.” He studied the seer again. “What? We supposed to bond over our greasy hair? Lack of fashion?” Another beat of silence. “...I’ll admit, it’s working a bit!” He laughed, leaning back against the wall. 

Astor sighed silently, before cutting to the chase. “You’re being charged with manslaughter—the rampaging Guardian that destroyed part of the castle. But I know it wasn’t you.” Water dripped in the back end of the cell. “I want you to tell me about the malice.”

One of the cells down the corridor rattled, some Lizalfo shifting in it’s sleep. The echoing metal left a sense of unease in the air. 

“Listen…” Assivus’s voice dropped to a dangerously quiet tone. “I’m not looking for a defense attorney, and I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. So you should probably get on your way before you miss your sermon.” He glared at Astor, blue eyes seemingly a shade darker. 

“There were timelines where the world ends today, you know.” He stepped closer to the cell bars. “The princess far too weak to awaken her powers, the Calamity having grown just strong enough to erupt around the castle, infecting stone and flesh alike.” 

“Well whatareya doing here, then, Mr. Doomsday?” Assivus cocked his head to the side. “If the world’s supposed to end, shouldn’t you be...out there? Maybe holding an ‘End is Nigh’ sign or something?”

“It doesn’t end for us, though. I’ve spent my life studying the endeavours and feats that await this world and the next. We’ve luckily still got a few years before hell starts to walk.” Astor stepped closer again, unwavering to Assivus’ gaze. “I’m merely curious about how your little disturbance—or perhaps, failure of a disturbance—coincides with the Calamity’s potential return.”

“I fucked with some Sheikah Tech. Guardian got funky. Brat nephew saves the day. I get arrested. Don’t remember running into any ancient evils on this little joy ride.”   

“You and I both know the official report is made-up bullshit. I imagine your spite is derived from the unfairness of the situation.” He tucked his hair behind his ears. “Guardians can’t be corrupted through mechanical means. They’re forces crafted to take on ancient magical forces, and as such are engrained with magical components. They don’t just break out into violence over a broken gear, much less be purposefully made to go against their ancient purposes.” He scoffed at the smirk on Asivus’ face. “Especially not by some idiot like you.” Asivus placed a hand on his chest, pretending to be offended. 

“In addition,” Astor continued, “I imagine your father didn’t have purple and gold slitted eyes. So that trait you occasionally have is certainly suspect.”

Assivus blinked, and the creeping colors in his eyes faded along with his confident smirk. He rubbed his blue eyes and sighed. 

“Hey well that’s just rude,” Siv said, playfully. “Maybe I got it from my mom.”

Astor clicked his tongue, before clenching his jaw.

“Welp, you’re certainly a smarter cookie than I gave you credit for, purple man.” Asivus crossed his legs—criss-cross-applesauce—and turned completely too Astor. “But the fact of the matter is, I don’t really care anymore. And I don’t know why you care. Knowing doesn’t change anything for your little predictions, does it?”

The prophet’s face remained unreadable. Siv started scratching his head. “You know I do remember you now...I’ve seen you around. You used to pester the Dick-Rhoam a bunch. Walking around with your little maps and star charts or whatever...yeah, yeah. The weirdo that would tell the rich bastards around here that they were useless. Very bitter insults, I respect it! Suppose some heroes wear robes over capes.”

“It’s not about insults, it’s the truth.” Astor narrowed his eyes. “I’m trying to help you, but rest assured, we all are doomed to be consumed by the Calamity.”

There was silence between them again, but the slight smile on Siv’s face didn’t fade.

“You know, this whole dark and edgy doomsday act is great and all, don’t get me wrong. But since it’s just us alone here there’s no need to keep up the act. I mean, I’m pretty sure I saw you left that anonymous gift of exotic bird encyclopedias in Larc’s office last year.” Astor’s jaw tightened and Siv winked. “And I know because he claimed he saw me leave it—and I don’t buy books, ever. Might wanna change your wardrobe, you wouldn’t wanna be confused as the homeless orator—”

“The Malice.” The seer cut in. “How’d you get it?”

“Ah, it all started when I was born in Rauru Settlement to Lord Ligero Arist—”

“I mean how did you manifest it?” He articulated.  “Everyone has malice, yes. But it takes something else to make it a physical power. Much less enough to infect Sheikah Technology.”

Asivus tapped his chin for a moment, before shrugging his shoulders. “Can’t I just perish in peace? The ol’ axe seems for sharper conversation.”

“Look, I just want...I want to…” Astor shook his head, restarting. “Any information I get is something I can use to make our future demise just slightly more bearable for whatever unlucky generation lives. Don’t you care about that?”

“Nope! Got no kids. Larc and his brats either didn’t care to look at me, or Larc’s too much of a spineless brother to care about me over the rules. Soooo, I’m all for looking out for me, myself, and I, thank you very much.” He tapped his foot against the stone floor. “Plus, I had an ex that used his kids to scam me of 6k rupees in a pocket monster match a while back, so I’m still recovering from that.” 

“Can I trade you then? What do you want? If I come back here with a good wine, will your lips loosen?” Astor was already mentally planning who he could buy a bottle from without a paper trail, already expecting Siv to say yes.

Water continued to drip and drip and drip. Asivus sighed.

“...Nah.” Astor raised an eyebrow. “I’m good...you can’t get what I want, anyhow…”

The seer looked at him for a long moment. Siv had gone back to staring into blank space, deep in thought about something that had caused his smirk to fade.

Let’s see...What would a dead man value? He’s got a rough relationship with his family, he’s got no friends, he’s tainted by a crime of his past…

“Are you interested in the past?” The prophet finally asked. “I know stuff about your mother. If the material doesn’t mean much to a dead man, then I’m all for a trade of information.”

Siv’s eyes suddenly shot up, specks of gold appeared in his pupils before disappearing.

“Wh..*What...?*”

“I’ll start. We’ll both trade details bit by bit, alright?” It was his turn to smirk at the look on Asivus’ face. 

“I’m a bastard child.”

Asivus scrunched his eyebrows. “The fuck does that have to do with my…” His eyes suddenly widened, his mouth opening and closing. He quickly checked his flask to see how much was left, and took a swig. He stared back at Astor. “Explains a bit but...What the actual fuck.”

“Her name was Serenity. Serenity Lior Astor, from Deya Village. There, I think that’s adequate, yes?” Astor gestured down to him. “Your turn.”

Asivus scratched his chin, before standing. He drank the rest of his flask, before dropping it to the ground. “How’d she die?”

“Your father is Lord Ligero. You know how this game works.”

Siv bit his lip, for a moment, before shrugging. Suddenly, purple started to creep at the edges of his eyes, pupils thinning to gold.

“OK, magic man. But don’t be a snitch, alright?” Assivus raised one of his hands open in the air, and for a moment, Astor wondered if he was supposed to take it in a weird sideways handshake. 

Then, the air swirled, a sensation of mixed euphoria and misery tainting the corridor. Cell occupants were rustling.

A glow of magenta swirled up Assivus’ forearm, before swirling in an orb hovering over his palm. The sound of it forming was like the thick, suffocating scream of hot metal as a smith plunges it into water.

The malice left as quick as it came, and hovering in Assivus’ palm was a strange, and beautiful astrolabe. It’s alluring faint glow nearly made him reach out between the bars to touch it.

“Your turn.”

[raineydaywrites]

Parent Trap(ped in an Umbrella)

hey friends. working on a new fic. blupcretia parent trap au, and here is a bit that may or may not eventually be the first chapter of it!

When Barry got a message from Lucretia, he had absolutely no idea how to respond. He was so angry with her, and he didn't understand why she was reaching out. Didn't she understand that he would have no part in her plan?

But then he listened to the message she left on his Stone- and she was in danger. And from the sound of her voice, she was in pain. And he just- he couldn't leave someone he loved in danger and in pain, even if he was angry with her. It went against his very nature. And besides, if she died, then he might never find out where she'd put the others or how to trigger their memories again. He still wasn't really sure how she'd remembered the information she'd fed to Fischer.

So he went to the location she'd contacted him from, and as soon as he laid eyes on the people who had taken her, he saw red. It had been... difficult to keep control of himself recently, and in front of these people who dared to touch someone he loved? He barely wanted to maintain control.

But he did- enough to not destroy himself anyway, and he killed the people who had hurt her, and he hurried back to the place where they were keeping her, afraid and angry and upset- a real coleslaw of emotions- and when he reached the door to her cell, his mind went absolutely blank as a new emotion swarmed him, overwhelming all the others for a second- shock.

Because Lucretia was chained to the wall on the other side of the cell, exposing her stomach- her very obviously pregnant stomach.

His mind whipped up a new coleslaw of emotions at the sight, but before he could react in any way, Lucretia spoke.

“Barry!” She sobbed his name more than said it, and that made a sharp pain lance through his heart.

“Lucretia,” he responded, hurrying to her side now that he’d gotten his wits together enough to realize that he needed to get her out of here.

Another flash of rage as he broke her chains because who tied up a pregnant woman? It was just barbaric really.

“What’s wrong, Lucretia? What do you need?” Barry asked, because he couldn’t talk about his anger at her actions when she was in this state, so it was better to focus on what he could do instead of staying frozen.

“I- I think the baby’s coming,” Lucretia said, sending a jolt of adrenaline down Barry’s spine.

“Shit, okay. Um, do you have a healer or something? Someone who can help?” he asked.

Lucretia shook her head, breaths coming fast and harsh.

“Breathe, hon,” Barry said, the endearment slipping out without him meaning to say it. It was just- so hard to see his loved ones in pain, even when he was angry with them. It had always been that way for him and it was still true now.

The words seemed to help anyway, Lucretia's breath slowing marginally. He helped her to stand, but when she was up, she wouldn't let him walk her away from the cell, which he didn't understand for a moment until she made a pained noise that turned into a scream and he realized that she was having contractions.

She was having contractions because she was pregnant. His (ex?) girlfriend was pregnant. And judging by the fact that she was already in labor, then she must have already been pregnant the last time that he'd seen her, though it would have been pretty early in.

Which meant that this was his and Lup's baby too. He was going to be a father soon.

Once the contraction was over, Barry picked Lucretia up- they weren't going to get out of here very easily if she could hardly walk, and he had no idea how long she'd been in labor or how close she was to actually having the baby, so they needed to get a move on.

"We'll have to find a healer then," Barry said, trying to remember where the nearest town was from here, and if it would be large enough to have a decent selection of healers or if he should try to seek out a different nearby town.

Lucretia just nodded, teeth gritted, and Barry tried to be gentle as he carried her out of there. She'd been through some shit recently, if the fact that she was in a cell was any indication, and the shit wasn't over with yet, because she still had to push a real, actual human, or potentially, half-elf out of her body, which was not going to be a fun or easy time.

He made it to town, and ignored the way that everyone reacted in fear to the sight of him, shouting that they needed a healer. It helped that Lucretia broke her silence to assure the people around them that he wasn't a danger to her or anyone else. It didn't completely stop the fear, but it calmed it down a little, especially seeing as how he was assisting a heavily pregnant woman get to a healer. Not exactly common evil spectre behavior.

Still, the person who offered them directions seemed wary of him, watching him carefully as he brought Lucretia over to the healer’s hut. He ignored that. It didn’t matter because they’d gotten him where he needed to go.

The healer apparently specialized in pregnancies and births, and therefore was perfectly used to being woken up in the night to assist with labor, though her calm expression did falter at the sight of Barry.

She didn’t let it stick though, directing him to lay Lucretia down on a nearby cot.

“How long have you been having contractions?” she asked Lucretia, brisk and business like as she gathered supplies.

“I’m not exactly sure. A few hours?” Lucretia guessed.

The midwife nodded, and asked a few other basic questions, before moving over to Lucretia and inspecting her with her hands and eyes, getting a feel for the situation.

“And is this the proper time or are they early or late?” she asked.

“They’re a bit early,” Lucretia said, which prompted Barry to shoot her a worried look. That wasn’t good. 

Lucretia met his gaze as she continued to answer the question. “But no more than a week or so,” she assured them both.

“Can you walk? It will go easier if you can walk a bit, but if you can’t, we can handle that just fine too,” the healer said.

Lucretia nodded, leveraging herself upward and Barry moved to help her automatically because Lucretia could be too stubborn for her own good sometimes, and he didn’t want her to hurt herself or the baby because she tried to do something she actually couldn’t handle.

The baby. They were going to have a baby. There were so many things to think about with that, but for the moment, all he could do was feel.

And what he felt was his heart aching and soaring at the same time. It hurt to think about the fact that they could have had the rest of their family around for this if Lucretia hadn’t wiped their memories. It hurt to think about the fact that Lup should be here for this too, and yet she wasn’t. It hurt to think about the fact that he wasn’t sure what his relationship to the baby would be- if he would ever be able to see them, if their plans failed and they had to leave this plane and their baby behind, then what-

But at the same time- he was going to be a father. Someone he loved was giving birth to their child and that was so, so good. A tiny little life that they’d made together, with Lup. How could that be anything but happy?

He stayed with Lucretia as the labor progressed because he couldn’t leave without seeing his child. He even let her cling to him when the labor pains got too intense, because even though she’d hurt him with her actions, seeing her scream in pain with no comfort hurt too.

And eventually, the midwife announced that she could see the baby, and the end was in sight.

Lucretia focused on getting them out, and she screamed and clung to his form- one benefit of being in lich form for this was the fact that she couldn't actually hurt him like this, because she was definitely squeezing hard, not that he could blame her for that.

And then the baby was out of her and into the world and they were screaming in displeasure at being there, but the two of them couldn't be happier about it.

The midwife promptly plopped them into Lucretia's arms, which, right, Barry had read something once about skin to skin contact being important when a baby is born, so he wouldn't complain about her getting to hold their baby first. Also, she'd done significantly more work to get them here, so she'd probably earned that right, even if he hadn't been feeling very charitable about what she deserved recently.

Besides, surely she'd let him hold the baby at some point, right? Even with his currently fractured trust in her, he didn't think she'd be so cruel as to refuse him a chance to even hold his child. He wasn't sure- he didn't know how things would work with the child from this point onward, but she couldn't deny him the chance to hold them even once.

He tried to shake off the gloomy thoughts, leaning in closer to Lucretia and the baby. The baby had warm brown skin closer to Lucretia's tone than either his or Lup's, though they were still a fair bit paler than her. Barry wasn't sure how much of that was down to genetics and how much was down to the fact that they had never been exposed to sunlight before, but he hoped he'd get a chance to find out.

They were so small. And like, he knew that newborns were small, obviously, but that didn't stop his brain from working overdrive trying to just understand- how a living person could be so small? It was so far from what he was used to that he would have sworn his brain was playing tricks on him, but no matter how long he looked at them, they stayed the same. Tiny and precious.

And finally, he looked to their face, eyes closed and expression slack with relaxation now that they'd had a moment to get used to the world. He couldn't say he really saw any recognizable inherited traits in their features, but he'd always kind of thought that those comments after a baby was born were just a social nicety anyway.

Or rather, he did notice one inherited feature. The baby had tiny but recognizably elven ears. So biologically Lup's child then. Not that it mattered, because they were still his either way.

"Barry, look at them," Lucretia murmured in awe, even though he already was. It didn't bother him, really. Nothing could bother him right now, honestly.

"I know," he whispered back. "You did so good, Lucy. Job well done!"

He was still angry with her, of course, but it was buried for the moment under everything else he felt, and he had never been the kind of person to try and hold onto anger when he could avoid it anyway.

"It doesn't feel done," Lucretia said, exhaustion lining her tone. "It still hurts so much?"

"Yes, ma'am, that's gonna keep happening until you get the placenta out, and you'll certainly be sore for a while after. It'll be easier now though," the midwife assured. "Though, of course, there is always the possibility..."

She ducked back down to inspect Lucretia again, and a thought occurred to both Barry and Lucretia in the same moment. This was biologically Lup's child. And Lup was a twin. Was there any chance that...

Lucretia made another long, pained sound, her body clenching tight, and when she finished, she shoved the baby into Barry's hold to avoid accidentally squeezing them.

Despite his earlier certainty that he needed to hold his baby at some point, Barry still felt a jolt of absolute panic at suddenly having them in his arms. Irrationally, he was afraid his form would shift and he would drop them, even though accidentally letting his body phase around things and then dropping them wasn't a problem that he'd had since his earliest days of lichdom.

Still, unable to ease the fear, he sat down on the floor, figuring that at least from there, they couldn't fall very far.

It didn't take long for the midwife to confirm that yes, there was another baby arriving here today, and they repeated the process from earlier, except with Lucretia now holding tightly to what passed for a shoulder on Barry's lich form, since his hands were no longer within reach.

And then the second baby was here, and they cried, which prompted the baby in Barry's arms to cry too, and then the second baby was being held by Lucretia, and Barry stood up to take a good look at this one as well.

He still didn't like standing to hold the baby, and he wanted to make sure that this one got the actual, proper amount of skin-to-skin contact, instead of just what they'd been able to squeeze in before their twin started demanding attention, but he also didn't really want to stop holding the baby either, so he nudged Lucretia gently to the side, now that she was no longer actively in labor, and settled onto the cot beside her.

There was a decent amount of room, so he didn't feel too squished in, even while trying to give Lucretia a bit of distance, but there wasn't a lot of extra space, and he still didn't have skin to offer their child, so he curled himself closer, positioning the baby to be able to lay on him while still touching Lucretia as much as possible.

The second baby looked almost identical to the first, though Barry couldn't identify whether that was because they were actually identical, or just because they were siblings and babies don't have many particularly reliable ways of being distinguished from other babies at the best of times.

It didn't really matter, because they were here, and they were his, and he loved them so much, and how was he supposed to think to ask questions like that when he'd just experienced something so amazing?

The midwife brought over some soft strands of fabric, offering them out to the two of them.

"These will help you keep them straight in your mind. You can tie one on the left arm, one the right, on the leg and arm, write names on them when you decide, whatever helps you keep track," she explained.

"Thank you," Barry said, taking both strands because Lucretia seemed to be much too tired to offer much in the way of conversation.

Barry followed the given advice, carefully wrapping one strand around the left arm of the baby he was holding, then reaching over to swap them out and tie the other strand on the right arm of the second baby.

Lucretia didn't protest the switch, looking like she was halfway to falling asleep, and really, that was absolutely reasonable. Her arms still held the baby closely, but even that grip was softening slowly as she drifted closer and closer to sleep. That was okay. Barry would make sure she didn't drop them when she finally dropped off fully.

When her arms eventually went slack, the baby didn't move, safe in the middle of her chest, but Barry still picked them up and held them to himself anyway.

"Hi there," he whispered softly, an almost reverent quiet overtaking him. "I'm your dad."

The babies certainly couldn't understand him, though their ears twitched slightly at the sound of his voice. Mostly though, they seemed content to lay there in his arms, comfortable and certain of their safety. Not understanding the complexity of the situation that they had been born into.

Barry looked over to Lucretia, sighing softly. Today's truce would be nothing more than temporary. It couldn't be anything but, when they were both still so certain that their own plan was the best option.

Which left him wondering what would happen with the babies. Lucretia would take good care of them, he was sure, but he didn't want to leave them. He wanted to be a part of their lives, even if he couldn't go along with Lucretia's plan.

It occurred to him, briefly, that Lucretia couldn't stop him if he just took the twins and ran- but he shook the thought out of his mind before it even fully formed. He couldn't do that- couldn't steal his children's chance to know their remaining mother, and couldn't steal Lucretia's children from her just because he was scared.

They'd figure something out. For the kids, they could make something work.

[iknikblackstonevarrick]

Red Lightning (Part 2)

(Part 1)

---

Honestly, this one was on The Director.

Lup doesn’t know what she was expecting when she told Lup’s brother and friends she had been sent on a secret mission without notice in the dead of night, but Lup could have told her it’d end with something like this.

This being Taako Magnus and Merle set up in the three cells on the wall across from Lup and Pringles after a botched jailbreak attempt, and the Director standing in the hall between them, a look of deep disappointment on her face.

“I really don’t know what I’m going to do with the four of you,” The Director said, looking between the former Reclaimers gravely.

“You could start by letting us out of the pokey?” Taako said like it was obvious.

“And telling us what the hell is going on,” Lup added, glaring at her.

“You- None of you understand the gravity of this situation.”

“Because you haven’t fucking told us the gravity of the situation!” Lup said, exasperated. “You can’t keep going on about how we can’t comprehend your dark purposes or whatever when you haven’t even tried to explain!”

“You want to know what’s going on?” The Director asked, her not-mad-just-disappointed facade cracking into what looked suspiciously like panic. “The- The Grand Relics have the power to destroy the entire world as we know it, and I have been working non-stop for a very long time to make the world safe from -them once and for all. I was so close, and now the only people in the entire world who can help me have decided they’d rather play spy and search for clues than deal with the impending apocalypse!”

“Whoa, whoa,” Magnus said, holding up his hands. “I know the Relics are really devastatingly powerful and all, but no one said anything about the apocalypse.”

“No one’s said a lot of things, lately,” Taako said.

The Director choked on a laugh. Then, she took a deep breath, and straightened herself.

“You’re right,” she started. “This… is one of the several things I have been hiding from you and the other fine people of this organization, for your own good. But if you must know, we have less than a year.”

Even Pringles, sitting in the corner of his cell trying to mind his own business, was left agape at that one.

“The four of you are the only ones in the world who can help me,” The Director continued when she was met with only stunned silence. “If we collect and destroy the three remaining relics before the Midsummer Festival next year, then the world will be safe. Please, whatever you think of me, this world needs your help. I implore you to consider it.”

“Director, that’s real flattering and all, but…” Merle glanced away from her then looked back. “I think you’re giving the other people in the world too little credit!”

“I tried for years to make any of the Reclaimers I sent out work,” she replied, shaking her head, “Nobody could do it. Nobody except the four of you. This is the only option.”

“If I may, Madam Director, I think he means keeping all these secrets,” Magnus chimed in. “We’re great and all, but you’ve gotta admit your sample size is really tiny. Maybe if you let the people of the world know the kind of danger they were in, they would step up to help!”

“You saw what happened when the people of this world knew the danger they were in,” The Director said, turning on him. “They made it worse. They let their hunger for power consume them until there was almost nothing left. No one in the world can be trusted, Magnus. I have to do this by myself.”

“Then do it by yourself,” Taako said, leaning up against his cell wall and checking his nails. “We’re not gonna do your goddamn dirty work for you while you sit up here all high-and-mighty thinking about how you’re the only one who’s good enough to handle the truth.”

The Director’s shoulders fell. He didn’t meet her eyes. She looked from him, back to Magnus, then to Merle, not seeing what she wanted in any of them.

“Lup?” The Director asked, a sliver of hope in her voice.

Lup looked into the Director’s eyes, her face not revealing anything.

“Four.”

The Director blinked, looking behind herself and then back at Lup.

“Forgive me?” The Director prompted. Lup laughed.

“You said there were three relics left to retrieve,” she said, “But there are four. We’ve collected three so far, and we started out with seven, so there’s four.”

“Of course,” The Director said. “I misspoke. You’ll forgive me for getting my numbers off, I’ve had a pretty long day today.”

Lup nodded along as The Director spoke, stopping only when she stopped. She looked her dead in the eye for a long moment. “Unless.”

“Unless…?” The boys spoke in perfect unison.

“There really are only three grand relics left to retrieve, because you have the last one right there!”

She motioned with her eyes to the staff The Director held in her hands. “These shields you keep putting up are pretty impressive. Stupid powerful. I’ve never seen-” she cut herself off and gasped dramatically. “Oh wait, I have seen something like this before!” She rolled her eyes.

“Oh shit,” Magnus said.

“You’re kidding me,” Taako said, narrowing his eyes at The Director.

“How- how dare you,” The Director said, clutching her white oak staff even harder.

“Oh, give me a break,” Lup said, “You go on and on about how people need to resist the temptation of the relics or they need to be erased from existence, but you’ve been using one the entire goddamn time!” She laughed humorlessly. “The audacity. Of you standing there when we gave you the Oculus talking about how ‘relics can’t be used for good’. What is it then? Can the Relics be good, or are you evil?”

The Director stood staring at her with wide eyes, so she continued, “You haven’t even been destroying the relics, have you? You think you’re the only person in the world who can handle their power. I bet you’ve just been fucking stockpiling them while you trick everyone else here into doing exactly what you want. Well not me, Madam Director. Not anymore. ‘Apocalypse’? My ass. I don’t trust a word you say. I don’t see why anyone would.”

And just like that, Lucretia knew she had lost.

Hours later she was in her office, writing. Paving the way for what would be her most excruciating redaction yet. Her hand pulled across the paper as she laid out the lives of two of her best friends, her family, before her.

They haven’t left me any choice, she insisted to herself, but the feeling of dread still welled up in her chest. Magnus and Merle were capable adventurers, but sending them after the final relics alone- into Wonderland, and everything in between then and now- she wanted to have faith in them, but she’s braved that place with only one person by her side, and that person will never see the light of day again.

But I don’t have a choice. The twins were the inciting factor in this pointless revolt. Without them, Magnus and Merle would have no reason to question her story. If it weren’t for the fact Taako knew his sister so well, she might’ve kept all three of them on her side.

Lucretia’s pen stilled. She looked down at the paper- two lives woven so irrevocably in tandem. She reached down and tore it in half.

“So what’s the big plan this time, Ocean?” Taako called out. “Bagging the boys outside sure did turn out great!”

“Hey, I figured out she was in here!” Magnus said. “You wanted to go straight to the Director’s office!”

“We do need to go to the Director’s office,” Lup cut in. “I- I can’t know the specifics, but that’s where she keeps all her secret shit, in a back room off of there. Isn’t that right, Robbie?”

Pringles looked up. He was swaying back and forth, looking at the four of them woozily.

“Does he still have the goods in here?” Merle asked.

"Hey, are you okay?" Lup said, craning her head to look at him even though their cells were next to each other. "Is it- you guys have gotta tell me, is it the Red-Robe-guy again? Does he looks possessed?"

"Don't sound too excited," Taako said.

"I don't want him to be possessed I just- I need to find-" What? "Wait. Where are we?"

"What?" Magnus said.

"Where- I needed to-- I need to find someone, right, that's what I was... thinking... what did I do? Why am I-?"

Lup felt like she was losing her mind, in the most literal sense, her thoughts, her memories, but not her feelings, and this feeling was frustrating and terrifying but above all else, familiar.

"Fuck!" She clutched the sides of her head. More and more of her thoughts were consumed by the static until it felt like it was down to what it was every night, the same vision of blue sky and cracked glass and blood, "No- Please-!"

Something inside her knew this feeling and it was clawing at the inside of her soul trying to stop it from happening.

"Whoa there sparky! I don't think that's safe with your hands on your head," Merle said as the red sparks flew from her hands, arcs of it crackling just above her face, but she was well past recognizing his voice. He was well past remembering her name.

“Taako, what’s going on, is this- this isn’t normal, is it?” Magnus asked, watching the blank look on his face.

“What, being in jail?” Taako shrugged. “Eh.”

Magnus furrowed his brow. “No, Taako, your-” he stopped. “Your….” He looked between the two of them frantically, mirror images with one coming apart at the seams and one completely blank-faced, trying to find the word. “She’s….” These people were his friends. They were friends. They were….

“She’s going to be fine, Magnus.”

His eyes lazily found the figure of a short human woman in an imposing blue-and-white robe. The Director? Yes, that was the Director of the Bureau of Balance, that was his boss.

"You- who..." Lup's eyes narrowed on the other woman.

"It will be easier soon," she said to Lup. "You should lie down." She tapped the white oak staff she held towering above her three times, and the cells holding Magnus, Merle, and Taako swung open.

"You," Lup said through grit teeth, confused and in pain. Her legs gave out after that, but she refused to crawl over to the prison bed.

“Follow me, boys,” The Director said. Taako swept up to her without hesitation, and Merle waddled behind. It was only Magnus who paused, holding his head in his hand.

“I-” He shook his head, looking from Lup’s prone form to the Director. “Help her.”

“I will.”

She took Magnus’s arm, and lead the three of them carefully back to the surface.

[stressisakiller]

Nothing is simple, Sunflower

Bucky Barnes x Reader Soulmate AU

(Hello Sunflower Part 7)

Summary:  Moving into Avengers tower should have been simple. But when a forgotten memory comes to the surface everything becomes a lot more complicated

Warnings: Death, Murder, referenced child abuse This one is a bit dark. If you want to skip over the dark part then skip over the flashback in italics.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Flashbacks are in italics.  Lot of new information in this one, but not as much Bucky x reader. There is also a couple of twists in this one. Let me know what you think and if you have any requests for future chapters! Thank yall for reading!

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Stepping out of the car, equal parts nervous and excited you stared at the extravagant building in front of you. Even after living here for a year you still couldn’t get over the sheer size of the Avengers tower. It would be different this time around. This time the avengers already trust you, this time you won’t be a prisoner, this time they actually wanted you here. Your eyes landed on Bucky as he stepped out of the car, a look of nervousness in his eyes. His eyes slid from the building to you, and you gave him a smile, reaching out you grasped his hand, giving it a small squeeze to reassure him that everything would be ok. He was not alone, you were there. 

Hearing the digging of the elevator informing you that you had reached your destination, Bucky and Steve stepped out in front of you. Stepping out to follow, you were met by Tony Stark. Every muscle in your body tensed as you stared wide-eyed at the man in front of you. A memory surfaced, one that you had completely forgotten, one that you had been forced to forget. After receiving the serum you were thrown into training and by the time that a year had passed you had excelled and they decided to send you on a mission. A very special mission with the Soldier, in America. 

You gasped and backed away from the man in front of you, images flashing before your eyes. It couldn’t be, how could you have been there, you’re only 24. You weren’t alive back then but the memory was clear and unmistakable. You killed this man’s parents. Every inch of you was shaking, you had to escape, you couldn’t stay here. They weren’t safe, what else could you have forgotten, what else had Hydra wiped from your mind. Tony, Steve and Bucky were staring at you a mixture of confusion and concern on their faces. Saying nothing, you slammed your hand on the lobby button, the doors closing before they could react. As soon as the doors opened you were running, away from the elevator, away from the memories and the man who triggered them, and away from Bucky. 

Running until all you could see were the trees of central park around you, running until you found a quiet place to collapse. Gulping breaths were all that could be heard in the clearing as you stared up at the branches above you. Your head reeling as you tried to make sense of the thoughts and images that swirled around in your head. Your life was a lie, everything that you thought you knew about yourself was a lie. You had always believed that you were impervious to their mind games, how wrong you were. What else had they programmed into you that you were helpless to fight. You closed your eyes, trying to block out the world around you. The blackness of your eyelids was comforting until you were pulled into the memory that you only saw glimpses of the moment you saw Tony. 

Waking from a dreamless sleep you looked at the white walls around you. Your home as your dad would say, more like a cell you thought to yourself. There was a banging as the door was thrown open revealing one of Hydra’s scientists. 

“Up, soldier. It’s time for you to go on your first mission.” you stood and followed the scientist, not understanding what was about to happen to you. He led you to a chair that looked more like a tilted table with cuffs attached. The sight of it was familiar although you couldn’t seem to remember why.

 “Sit.” he ordered pointing towards the seat. You immediately obeyed, reaching it you were immediately strapped down. Your heart was pounding, a rubber mouthpiece was shoved into your mouth, your whole body began to tremble in fear. What were they going to do, you hadn’t done anything wrong, You followed every single rule no matter how much you hated them.

 You could feel the tears welling in your eyes start streaking down your face. You wanted your dad, where was he, he would save you, wouldn’t he? They would never do anything to you without him there, would they? A headpiece was brought down and wires were attached to your temples. Your world came crashing down when you heard the voice that you hoped would save you, instead condemn you. 

“Wipe her,” came the commanding voice of your father, “We need her ready for her first mission.” 

Then there was pain, white hot and agonizing, you felt as if your brain was being scrambled. Your thoughts growing farther and farther apart, being replaced with nothingness. When the pain stopped your hearing was muffled as if your ears were filled with cotton. 

“Perfect, a blank slate,” the voice sounded far away, “say her trigger words.” \

The voice didn’t register, you felt as if you couldn’t understand anything that was happening around you. Then you heard the first word. Every muscle in your body pulled taut at the word. Panicking you tried to move, to fight what was happening but you had no control over your body. And then came the second word. You could hear screaming, you wondered where it was coming from. You wanted to help whoever it was, they sounded as if they were in agony. Wait, was that screaming you? And so the next seven words passed each one causing you to lose more and more of yourself. When the words stopped you felt as if you were watching yourself from behind a piece of glass. Another version of you stood on the other side, hard and cold, no emotions on the little girls face. You heard the orders but couldn’t refuse, you watched as the girl in front of you spoke

 “Ready to comply.” 

It sounded like your voice. You screamed in your mind, you couldn’t stop from moving on command. The little girl listening to her orders with determination, she would not let them down. You watched helpless as you were introduced to the asset that you would be accompanying on the mission. The little girl and the Asset were dressed in all black with a cacophony of weapons strapped all over them, the girl had wicked looking knives that she was partial to, strapped to each of her thighs. There was no fear in the girls eyes as they headed towards their objective, that and every other emotion had been stripped from her. 

Their motorcycle pulled up to the car that carried their targets. The tech genius Howard Stark, his wife Maria, and the load of super soldier serum in the trunk. Bucky slashed their tires with his metal arm. Your bike tires screeched as he brought it to a halt. The girl stalked forward, coming upon Howard trying to crawl out of the wreckage. She heard him plead for the life of his wife. You screamed and banged on the prison of your mind, watching in horror as she reached down and snapped his neck. Heading over to the passenger side as Bucky pulled the serum from the trunk, she pulled out a syringe full of liquid and stabbed it into Maria’s neck. Maria’s eyes widened as she tried to fight, before her whole body went limp. Bucky dragged Howard back into the car, making it all look like an accident. 

You sprang up from your place on the grass, eyes searching the area around you. Your shoulders relaxing slightly as you realized that you were in Central Park, not on a dark street in Washington DC. Dropping your head into your hands, you allowed yourself to cry. All of the emotions that Hydra had taken from you in your memory coming out in a torrent. It was dark before your tears subsided, you slowly stood, brushing the grass from your pants. You took a deep breath, squared your shoulders, and began the long walk back to Stark tower. As much fear as you had at the prospect of facing Tony and Bucky and the rest of the team you didn’t know where else to go. You would have to tell them what you just discovered eventually and with this sort of information, the sooner the better.

The tower was right in front of you when a black shadow rushed up to you pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. Tensing at the unexpected feeling you ran through different ways to defend yourself before realizing that you recognized the arms around you. You leaned into Bucky for a moment before he pulled back, 

“What the hell?” he shouted, “What happened? Why did you run? You scared the shit out of me!” His voice softened on his final words. 

You stared at the ground, not able to look him in the eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” your voice came out broken, “I have something I have to tell you,” you can hear steps coming up to your right, “and him.” you state pointing at Tony. He looked at you confused,

 “Why me?” You shook your head, you didn’t want to talk about it here on the street. 

“In fact” you said, “It may be best if we gather everyone together, I don’t want to have to explain what happened anymore than I have to.” They nodded at you, still confused at why you ran away. You headed towards the building, dreading the conversation that was about to occur. 

You stared at the group of people before you, people that you knew and loved. People who were about to hate you. 

“I’m sorry for running away earlier. I know that you were all worried and it was wrong of me.” you could see the forgiveness in their eyes, as you paused before continuing. 

“When I walked in and saw Tony’s face I remembered something, something terrible. I know that I have explained to you how my father experimented on me with the super soldier serum. What I didn’t tell you was he started these experiments when I was 10.” you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “But something I didn’t realize was that it didn’t happen fourteen years ago like I thought it was, it was twenty-four.” They looked a little shocked at that wondering how the hell a twenty-four year old turned ten, twenty-three years ago.

 “I turned eleven in 1991 and was given my first mission. After the mission they put me in cryo sleep to help keep me in their control. But that wasn’t the first time I was placed in cryo sleep, I was actually born in the 1970’s once they gave me the serum at ten they put me on ice. For some unknown reason they took me out again in 1990, they trained me hard that whole year to prepare me.” You took a deep breath, steeling yourself before continuing. 

“One morning I was woken up and taken to a machine that I had seen them use on Bucky when I was five although I didn’t understand what exactly it did at the time. They hooked me up and all I could feel was pain, and when the pain ended, I had no control over my mind or body. They used trigger words on me and I was helpless to resist. They gave us our mission and next thing I know Bucky and I were in America. We caught up to our mark, Bucky slashed their tires causing them to crash. He got the serum but I, I was the one who took care of the marks.” 

You couldn’t look at any of them ashamed in what you were admitting and wishing that you had been stronger. You knew they were looking at you expectantly, you felt Bucky’s hand grab yours and a soft hand on your shoulder, glancing over you saw Nat’s signature red hair. She spoke softly to you, urging you to continue 

“Who were the targets, Y/n/n” 

You clasped your hands together, squeezing your eyes closed. Bile rose in your throat at the thought of saying the names. A sob ripped past your lips as you fought with yourself. You let your eyes drift up to look at your friends, momentarily taking in their worried expressions before moving to stare at the ceiling. Breathing in your eyes found Tony, the concern in his eyes killing you. 

“Howard and Maria Stark.” your voice came out small, breaking in the middle of your words. 

You watched the emotions that crossed Tony’s face. Pain, hurt, grief, anger, settling on betrayal. His eyes cut through you as he collapsed into his seat. You watched as he dropped his head into his hands and took deep breaths. Abruptly standing, he walked out of the room, leaving silence in his wake. You felt as if you wanted to cease existing and save him the pain of your past. Natasha pulled you into her arms, cradling your head to her chest, rubbing your back with her other hand.

 "Shhh, little one, you are not to blame for this, and Tony will realize this. Give him time." You nodded against her, a sob making it's way past your lips. Once it started, you couldn't stop, shoulders shaking as you cried onto the assassin. Her hold firm but her hands soft as she comforted you. You finally slowed your tears and pulled away, you looked over at Bucky, his hand still in yours. He looked absolutely stricken, he had known Howard, had been good friends with him and yet he had had a hand in his death. 

You were pulled out of your thoughts by Tony's rough voice coming from the doorway. 

"You said you were 11 when they forced you to do this?" You nodded slowly noticing his use of the word forced.

"And you said that you were born in the 70s, do you know what year?" You looked over to him confused, 

"I'm not a hundred percent sure but I remember seeing a birth certificate once when I broke into the file room. I think it said 1970, I know that my birthday is on May 29th, since that is the day I received my soul mark, but I'm not sure of the year." His face became white as a sheet at your words.

"No," he said in disbelief, face crumpling. 

"No, it can't be" his voice came out as a whisper this time, he stood and walked over to you. Taking in your features, tears shining in his eyes. 

"Give me your hand," he spoke with urgency, you complied, still wondering where this was going. Pricking your finger on one of his medical tools he addressed Jarvis.

"Jarvis, run the sample I just took and check familial matches." He called, confusing you even more. He waited impatiently for Jarvis' report, pacing back and forth in the middle of the room. Everyone's eyes were on him, wondering what exactly he could be thinking.

"Sir, I was able to find a direct familial match to the sample." Jarvis answered 

Tony nodded staring at you as he asked the next question

"Who did the sample match?"

"The sample was a 100% match to you, Sir"

The room seemed to spin at his words. You grabbed Nat’s hand to steady yourself. 

"What does that mean?” your voice came out as a squeak, as you tried to wrap your mind around the information that Jarvis had just shared.

 “What is he saying?" you were more desperate this time, stepping towards Tony as you spoke. He took a deep breath looking you straight in the eyes as he turned your whole world upside down. 

"He is saying that Hydra forced an 11 year old girl to kill her own parents. He is saying that my parents were lied to at the hospital. He is saying, sweet girl, that you, Y/N, are my twin sister."

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Ten) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual​

Request: None.

Warnings: Mentions of getting shot. Mentions of blood. Explosions. Mentions of kidnapping. Mentions of stalking. Literally the whole shabang.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 11066

Timeline: Season 2 Episode 01. Right after part nine.

HOTCH’S POV

Morgan came into my office just as the sun was rising over Quantico. The rest of the BAU, and really all of the FBI, was just starting to pour into the building for a long day’s work. He told me that Y/N went to get donuts and coffee for everyone, and offered me the chance to order something if I wanted. I stared at him with a blank face for a moment. No one went with them? We had an Unsub stalking us, and no one left Quantico with them? What the hell were Reid and Morgan thinking? Gideon made JJ hold a press conference almost two hours prior— which was a bad idea on its own— and now Y/N left without anyone with them? I didn’t doubt that they could handle themselves. I knew that they could. But this guy knew everything about us. We could afford to take such a risk.

“No. I don’t want anything,” I responded calmly. Morgan shrugged and nodded, patting the door frame before leaving. The second he was out of sight, I picked up my cell and started calling them. They picked up after the first ring.

“Morgan was supposed to call me with your order, Aaron.”

“I know, I know. Why did you leave without someone else?”

I could hear the annoyance and defiance in their voice, “It’s not that big of a deal, Hotch. I’m just going to Leonard’s for donuts and coffee, and then I’ll be right back. You won’t even miss me.”

I already missed them, though. And I was already worried about them. They should have just gone home or stayed at the office. They knew better. But they were also reckless, and they didn’t like to listen to me. It was fun for them to push my buttons, but this simply wasn’t the time.

“Leonard’s and right back. I’m serious.”

“You promised to not worry so much about me,” they sing-songed.

I couldn’t help it. They sprang the “I love you” on me just the other night, and it awoke something in me that I hadn’t felt since Haley. Actually… to tell the truth, it didn’t even feel this way with Haley. All my life, I thought I was going to spend it with Haley; but she got tired of waiting around for me, and I couldn’t blame her. Then Y/N came along, and something changed. I didn’t have to pretend or settle for them. This job was just as important to them as it was for me. Making it work rather than putting unfair pressures on each other made me feel comfortable and loved. And now they were telling me to not worry about them as if I hadn’t said “I love you” back to them the other night and in Jamaica yesterday. I loved them with every inch of me and I worried about them every second of every day. I earned that right when I saw them playing with Jack and getting along so well with him. I earned that right when we said “I love you” to each other. I earned that right when they became my partner. I knew our rules, I knew our dynamic… But none of my feelings just washed away whenever I would get to work, contrary to popular belief.

“I'm not worried,” I lied. “I love you.”

I could practically hear them smiling through the phone. “I love you, too.”

We hung up our call and I sighed. They would be fine. Leonard’s was just a few blocks away— not even a ten minute drive. They would be around people, in the public eye. No one would be able to take them if they were being careful. And then they would be back before I could even say their name.

I stood and exited my office to check on the rest of the unit who was just now appearing for work. They all seemed busy, yet entirely ignorant of what was really going on. They only knew what everyone else had seen on the news, and that was all they needed to know. Everything was going to be fine. Like Y/N said, I had nothing to worry about.

And then I spotted Anderson at the copy machine.

My brows furrowed as I hurried down the ramp outside of my office and called his name. He looked up from the machine and fixed his posture to stand at attention like a soldier would for his commanding officer. I asked him where Elle was, and he only responded with a confused look. I asked him why he was back already, and he still looked confused.

“You told me to take her home, sir.”

“I understand that, but taking her home is not the same thing dropping her off. We have an Unsub who’s stalking our unit. He knows all of our personal information, including our addresses. You can’t just leave her there. Get back there now.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but I glared and he silently retreated out of the building. I picked up the nearest phone, which happened to be on Y/N’s desk, and tried calling Elle’s cellphone. When she didn’t pick up, I figured that she must have let it die or left it in her purse when she fell asleep. So I tried calling her house number. Still, nothing. Shit. I kept trying to reach her. I wasn’t about to give up. Soon, she would finally get annoyed by the constant ringing and would get her ass out of bed long enough to pick up the phone and let me know that she was alright. Either that or Anderson would get there on time and he’d call to let me know that she was safe. But until then, I wasn’t going to stop calling.

“Agent Hotchner,” one of the secretaries approached me. I raised a brow at her while still dialing Elle’s number. “The delivery man from the news last night is on his way up. He just turned himself in.”

Shit. I put the phone down. “Thanks for letting me know. Do me a favor, keep calling Agent Greenaway for me until she picks up her phone.”

“Which Greenaway, sir?”

“Elle.”

“Right away.”

We separated in opposite directions. She returned to her desk, while I headed up to Gideon’s office to let him know about the delivery man. Reid was in his office with him, which saved me some time from running around to tell everyone on the team. Gideon was up on his feet the moment I mentioned a delivery man, he didn’t even need to hear the rest because he already knew. That was why he had JJ hold the press conference. It wasn’t to snuff out the Unsub, but our only living witness thus far.

I was the first one into the interrogation room where the witness was waiting. He matched the description that Jessica gave the sketch artist perfectly. As we entered the room, his terror filled eyes looked up at me. People only looked like that when they had something to hide, but I didn’t think that a guy like this could be our Unsub. He was too shaky and shy for that— Not to mention that our Unsub wouldn’t’ve turned himself in when we still had some kind of quest to complete.

I decided to be up front with him. No dancing around it. We needed answers and we needed them fast. “You delivered a packing to my ex-wife’s house yesterday, and it was addressed to my son—”

“Do I need a lawyer?” he questioned.

I continued, trying to move past the idea of calling a lawyer because that would only slow us down. “It was late in the day. You told the woman you gave the folder to that it was imperative that it get to me because a girl’s life depended on it. Ring any bells yet?”

“I— I guess I could check my logs, yeah,” he stuttered.

“No, you already know which one I’m talking about.”

“Listen, all I know is that a guy came up to me, asked me if I could drop off this package a mile down the road, and that a girl’s life depended on it. I was headed that way, anyhow, I figured what could be the harm?”

“And you didn’t find it at all suspicious that this guy mentioned that a girl’s life was at stake?”

The witness shifted in his seat uncomfortably, a telling sign that he was about to lie. “No, I didn’t think anything of it. I heard that a girl was in trouble, so I knew that I just had to help. Does that make me a bad guy?”

I chuckled, “So you’re a humanitarian, then?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“How much did he pay you?” Gideon asked.

The witness looked at him and shifted again. “I… I don’t know what you mean…” He looked back at me, but I didn’t budge for him. He swallowed hard. “A thousand dollars in cash. Gave it to me when he gave me the folder.”

“What did he look like?”

“I don’t know. He had a big coat on and a big hat covering his face. All that I could actually see was his neck and his hands, and they were all fucked up. It looked like he had been burned everywhere.”

I looked over at Gideon. That was everything we were going to get out of this guy, and it was really all we needed. We silently left the interrogation room, but we didn’t release the witness yet in case we decided that we would have more questions for him later.

“Burn scars would explain why he seemed uncomfortable in the video,” I told Gideon.

“It’s also how we’ll find him.”

Reid smiled ear to ear after I complimented his good work— rightfully so, too. Together, him and Garcia had cracked a huge problem in the case. While we had earlier hit a wall with the numbers on the letter Jessica gave us, they had figured it all out finally.

Garcia opened her mouth like she was about to say something, likely to apologize again for her mistake. She knew that she had fucked up, and she knew that Gideon was the most upset about all of it. But as she was about to begin, a secretary joined us in the hallway to deliver a message.

“Agent Gideon, there’s a call for you on line 2.”

Garcia closed her mouth and let her shoulders fall as she hugged her files over her chest in order to put her guard up again. What little bravery she had mustered only seconds ago immediately disappeared and she was back to being silent and self-loathing again. Gideon sighed at the interruption, however, and asked who was calling and if it was really all that important. When the secretary responded that it was urgent and that the man calling had named himself “The Fisher King”, we all knew that something was wrong.

We all rushed to the door that led to the BAU wing. Gideon and I were the first to the phone; Reid, Garcia, and the secretary chased after. Gideon unmuted the call, put it on speaker, and introduced himself.

“I didn’t have any other choice,” the Fisher King said. It was the same voice which called me the other night when I was with Y/N. This was our Unsub. “It was distasteful and barbaric. But it had to be done. You forced my hand, Agent Gideon. I told you that there were rules, and you blatantly ignored me. So I had to make sure that you would never break the rules again. Agent Greenaway didn’t have to die like that, Agent Gideon, just remember that. If you would have listened, I wouldn’t have done it. Not like that. Remember the rules or there will be more consequences.” And then the call ended.

I looked up at Jason, my heart racing in my chest. Both Elle and Y/N were out. Anderson had just gone back to Elle’s place, which meant… No. I immediately reached for my phone and took a step away from the group as I began to dial their number. Straight to voicemail. I cursed under my breath as I dialed again.

Behind me, Gideon was instructing Reid to reach out to every nearby hospital in search of a patient with the last name Greenaway. The whole office was set in motion as everyone went to do their assigned jobs for when an agent was to go missing. Garcia hurried to her office to check the computers and Gideon went to grab his things— including his car keys. By the time he returned, I had called Y/N three times, and every time it went directly to their inbox. Either they were being an asshole and not picking up, or something truly did happen to them. I prayed that they were just being an asshole again.

“Hotch!” Reid called from the balcony. I looked over. “It’s Elle! She’s at Sentara Northern Virginia Medical Center!” He retreated back into the boardroom to sort things out while Gideon threw his keys at me as we both turned to the exit.

I immediately turned on the lights and the sirens after we pulled out of Quantico. I was speeding down the roads, trying to avoid all of the cars who weren’t moving to the side for us, while also trying to call Y/N to let them know what had happened. They still weren’t picking up, and I remembered that they told me not to worry, but I didn’t end up worrying about Elle, and look at what happened. So I just kept dialing while Jason watched me out of the corner of his eye.

Please just be an asshole and not dead. That was all I wanted from them. I wanted the excuses, I wanted the fighting back, I wanted the sass and bratiness that all came with dating them. I wanted to know that I would get to see them again, to just hold them in my arms and tell them that I love them again. If I could have, I would have never stopped saying it because I wasn’t about to let them get away like I had with Haley. They weren’t going to win that easily. But they just had to pick up the fucking phone first.

I slammed my hand against the steering wheel. “Fuck,” I cursed under my breath.

“I’m not going to say it…” Gideon said, looking out the window to avoid my glare.

“Good. Then don’t.”

I knew what he was going to say. He didn’t like the idea of me and Y/N dating. He didn’t like the idea of anyone dating on the team because he knew what potential distractions it could create. But I didn’t care what he thought. At least not then when I just needed to focus on literally anything positive. So I tried to focus on how happy it made me to see Y/N with Jack. They were so good with him, and he took to them immediately. I had never seen him connect with anyone like that before. It was such a relief to me that they liked each other.

And then my phone started ringing.

I briskly flipped it open and brought it to my ear.

READER’S POV

I was busy juggling a box of donuts and a cardboard cup holder carrying four coffees when my phone started ringing again. Morgan had called me just before I started ordering inside at Leonard’s to tell me that JJ wanted a cup of cold brew, and that Hotch and Gideon turned down coffee, but Gideon would love a donut. So I ordered a dozen donuts— just to make sure there were plenty extra— and four coffees. Yes, four. I heard Morgan tell me that Hotch didn’t want anything, but I knew him better than that, and I knew that he would want it later, so I got him one anyways. I figured that even if he didn’t end up drinking it, someone else would. Maybe Elle would take it when Anderson would bring her back to the office.

My phone rang again on the way to the car, but I still couldn’t reach it with both of my hands full, so I just tried to hurry up to the car. It rang a third time and I groaned. It was probably just Aaron again, all worried that I wasn’t back yet. It wasn’t my fault that I got caught in the morning traffic outside of Quantico, and I didn’t realize that Leonard’s had some kind of deal on Sunday mornings which always drew in a huge ass crowd. It wasn’t like I made my trips to Leonard’s a common occurrence. I hardly ever went there, so I sure as hell didn’t know about any discount deal that somehow brought in half of Virginia.

The damn phone rang again and I cursed Hotch for making me practically run to the car. He was too worried about me since the other night. Granted, I basically had a breakdown yesterday when I saw my jewelry box, but we had our rules for a reason. I just needed him to calm down and wait until I could call him back. He had already called me three times while I was ordering, which I couldn’t answer any of those calls since I was already busy. Now he had called me at least four times on the way to the car, which meant that he wasn’t even waiting for it to go to voicemail every time.

I put the cupholder on the roof of the car so that I could have a free hand to open the car door. I reached into the car and set the box of donuts on the passenger’s seat, then went back to grab the coffees. They wobbled in my hands as one of the cups managed to slide out of the grip a little too far. I managed to catch it on time, thankfully, before it could spill all over me, and let out a sigh of relief before making sure the cup was put back all the way.

I slid into the car, closed the door, and put the coffees next to the donuts on the seat. When that was settled and I was fairly sure that nothing was going to fall over or spill everywhere, I reached for my phone to see what the hell was going on. Aaron had called me seven times. Seven. Either he was dying or they caught the guy and I could go home. Either way, I was going to kill him.

I dialed his number and called him back. It rang twice before he picked up. “I’m on my way, Hotch. Did you guys find something?”

“Why the fuck weren’t you answering your phone?”

“My hands were full. I couldn’t reach my phone. What’s going on?”

“The Unsub shot Elle.”

I stopped worrying about turning the car on and getting out of the parking lot in a rush but also satefly as he said it. I froze for a moment, just staring at the building in front of me. I tried to wrap my brain around what he said, and almost went to deny it, but I knew that he wouldn’t lie to me like that. So why had he said it? Maybe this was Gideon’s next ploy to try to weed out the Unsub, but they had to make it real, so they had to make me believe it. That had to be it. Elle was fine.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?” I hummed into the phone.

“She’s alive,” he clarified. My gaze fell from the building and to the car’s emblem in the middle of the steering wheel. I was slowly starting to come back to reality. “She’s at Sentara North. Gideon and I are headed there now. I can have Reid pick you up.”

“No,” I insisted, my eyes falling shut. “I’ll… I’ll meet you there.”

“Y/N—”

“I’ll be fine.”

I hung up before he could say anything. He didn’t want me driving. I understood. But what else were we going to do? I put the car in reverse and started backing out of the parking spot I was in. I was just trying to come to terms with how the hell this could have happened. Aaron sent Elle home with Anderson. She should have just been resting in her bed while he kept watch. So how the fuck did the Unsub manage to break into my sister’s home and shoot her? Where was Anderson?

I thought about how Hotch wanted me to go home, even if it was with Elle or Morgan. He just wanted me to get some rest since I hadn’t slept in nearly forty hours. But I turned him down selfishly because I wanted to focus on the case. I knew that there was an Unsub out there who had it out for my sister, and I chose to stay at the office with Hotch. If I would’ve just listened, I could have been with Elle, and maybe I could have stopped the Unsub. Maybe she wouldn’t be in the hospital at all.

Sentara Northern Virginia Medical Center was only a twelve minute drive from Leonard’s, I made it in nine. One of the Bureau’s vehicles was parked directly out front, and I knew that it had to be Hotch and Gideon, so I parked Hotch’s car next to it and hurried out the second I turned the ignition off. I left my purse, the donuts, and the coffees all in the car as I just hauled ass inside and ran up to the front desk.

The nurse at the front desk was taken aback by my panic and the way I was flashing my badge in her face, demanding for the floor number that Elle was on. After likely having just dealt with Hotch and Gideon perhaps a few minutes prior, the nurse already knew the floor to give me, and I was running again to the elevators where I kept pressing the up button like it would somehow make it arrive faster.

My foot tapped against the bottom of the elevator anxiously as I counted the floors I passed and the seconds it was taking to get there. For all I knew, Elle could have already been dead. Every second spent trapped in that elevator was one less second that I would get to be by my sister’s side when she needed me most. And I absolutely hated it. I hated not being able to make the elevator go faster. I hated that I didn’t pick up Hotch’s calls sooner. I hated that I didn’t just go home with Elle, instead I chose to get coffee and donuts like an idiot. Gosh, I was so fucking stupid.

The elevator dinged before the doors began to slowly slide open. The second the gap was wide enough, I squeezed past and ran into the bright white hallway. Ahead of me was a glass wall that divided the waiting room from the hallway I was standing in. Behind the glass, I could see Hotch sitting across from Gideon, who was working on a crossword puzzle in today’s newspaper. Hotch looked up from his hands like he could sense that I had just arrived. When our eyes met, he pushed himself to his feet and hurried to meet me halfway. I ran up to him and jumped into his open arms. My arms wrapped themselves around his neck and I cried in his shoulder. He tried to soothe me by rubbing small circles on my back with one hand, and whispering that it would be okay in my ear.

“She’s alright,” he told me. “She’s in surgery still, but she’s going to be alright.”

“I should’ve gone with her.”

“You didn’t know.”

“I should’ve been there. It should’ve been me.”

“No,” he shook his head. “No.”

“How did this happen, Aaron?”

I felt like I was going to be sick again. The whole car ride over, I was convinced that it was some kind of sick joke. I didn’t want it to be real, so I tried to pretend that it wasn’t. But standing in that hallway, wrapped in Hotch’s arms as I sobbed and he tried to calm me down, I knew that it was real. I could feel it. My sister had been shot. The Unsub promised that the other one was being taken care of, and we thought that it was over when we got Elle out of jail in Jamaica. But the Unsub was only just getting started. He saved his big moment for when we least expected it. When we were all exhausted, hungry, separated, and our anxieties had actually calmed down. It was the calm before the storm, and none of us saw it coming.

Hotch was trying to find the best way to explain without hurting me. He was treating me like a victim of a case rather than his partner, because that was all he knew how to do. With Haley, he thought that he knew what he was doing, but she shattered his idea of love, comfort, and romance when she left him suddenly. Now, he didn’t know anything about how to comfort me in the way I needed most. And it made me sad. I was trying so hard to help him. We had gotten so far together since he first asked me out, but this was the one thing that we hadn’t prepared for. This was the one thing we never wanted to be ready for because we didn’t want to imagine that it could happen. So now he wasn’t prepared and it broke my heart.

He did what he understood, though, and that was explaining it to me like a stranger in a case who just lost a loved one. “He went in through the back door, caught her by surprise, and shot her.”

“Where?” I begged him for more details. As both an agent and her sister, I needed to know more than just that.

“The living room. He went through the kitchen and into the living room, and shot her point blank in the shoulder.”

I squeezed his neck tighter and he pulled me closer. “Why didn’t we know sooner?”

“The Unsub took her badge and gun.”

I pulled from Hotch and he let me, but his touch didn’t leave me. His left hand trailed up my side and up my neck before he cupped my cheek. He wiped away one of my tears with his thumb.

“The crime scene— I’ve got to go look at it,” I said desperately, trying to make a move for the elevator.

Hotch made sure to hold me still as gently but as assertive as he could. “No,” he insisted. “You don’t need to see it. Trust me. Anderson’s there and he’s sending me photos. You don’t want to know, Y/N.”

“I can find this asshole. I can do it if you just let me.”

“You need to be here for when Elle gets out of surgery and wakes up. She’s going to need you.”

I wiped another tear that was falling down my cheek. “That’ll be hours from now. I have to go—”

“I’m not letting you go anywhere,” he whispered with more harshness to his tone. “He called us after he did it…” Hotch pressed his forehead to mine. “He said that ‘Agent Greenaway didn’t have to die like that’ and I thought that he meant you.” His eyes fell shut as he tried to stop himself from crying. “I thought it was you and I nearly died.” He kissed me tenderly yet eagerly, just wanting to know that I was still there with him and that he could still kiss me. He didn’t want to think about losing me and the opportunity to love me. “So you’re not going anywhere until we find this guy.”

My fingers found the back of his neck and slid under the ends of his short hair. I grabbed slightly, not enough to hurt, but just to be affectionate. “Okay,” I gave in. He didn’t want me to leave, and I wasn’t going to fight him on this one thing. It made sense and I didn’t need to get under his skin when there was already so much happening. “I’ll stay.”

He let out a sigh of relief, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

It felt good to say it again to his face. It was the first time since the other night at his house. Just the difference between saying it against his lips compared to saying it into a phone made my heart flutter in my chest. Every time he said it, every time his face was so close to mine that I could feel his breath, and every time he looked at me like he loved me more than anything in the world, my day brightened just a little more.

Hotch escorted me to the waiting room where Gideon was pretending to still be focused on his newspaper, when, in reality, he had likely been watching Hotch and I in the hallway to get a feel for how serious our relationship was. I wondered what he thought about us. Gideon was always a softie deep down, and he was just another hopeless romantic like the rest of us; but he also held his own bias against coworkers dating, which made him view us differently. But I wondered that if after seeing us in the hallway and how we needed each other, he decided that maybe it was alright after all. Maybe he wouldn’t try to convince Hotch that it was a bad idea.

I sat down in one of the seats across from Gideon and Hotch let go of my hand. He wiped his face with both of his palms as he tried to recollect himself before turning back to Gideon. “Any luck reaching Morgan and JJ?”

Gideon shook his head, writing in another word on the crossword table. “They’re still out of cell range.”

“Keep trying.” He turned back to me, “Did you leave the drinks and food in the car?” I nodded. “Okay, I’ll go get them. You need something to eat.”

I whispered a thank you and slumped against the seat I was in. I watched him leave and step into the elevator. As the elevator doors began to close, he sent me a short, small smile. My head fell back gently against the back support of the seat I was in and I let out a heavy sigh. All I wanted was to be with Elle at her house, her asleep with me watching over her to make sure that she was alright. Maybe I just needed food and sleep like Aaron kept telling me. This whole time, while I had been fighting against him to make sure that I was constantly keeping up to date with the case, I had forgotten that I needed to take care of my body in order to keep pushing. And without having eaten anything in hours and I hadn’t slept in almost forty hours, I felt so weak. Even if Elle woke up or they found the Unsub, I felt like I would be of no use in the state I was in. It made me feel utterly powerless.

Gideon was still paying no attention to me— or at least pretending as such. He was purposefully doing it. No one could actually focus on a crossword puzzle like he was when one of the teammates was up in surgery and it was his fault. Yeah, I said it. This was all his fault. The Unsub gave specific instructions that we weren’t allowed to go to the media or any outside resources. He knew that there were rules, and he broke them, and I was sure that it had to do with Elle getting shot. Not only did the Unsub want Elle out of the way for some fucked up reason, but he wanted to make sure that we understood that there were consequences to breaking his rules. So he won by getting rid of Elle and proving a point to us. Two birds, one stone.

Gideon should have been more careful. He should have listened to Hotch about not holding the press conference. And that was likely why he wasn’t looking at me. He knew that I would be upset with him for letting this happen to my sister. He also knew that I wasn’t going to blame Hotch, even though he was the one who sent Elle home. He knew that I couldn’t do that, but I’d be looking to point fingers, and it all pointed to him. He was ashamed, and as much as I hated to think it, I was glad that he felt that way. I wanted him to regret his decisions. Because if he had just stopped to consider instead of going on a personal witch hunt, then Elle wouldn’t have been lying on a surgical table with doctors trying to pull a bullet out of her chest.

When Hotch came back with the donuts and coffee, I pushed myself to sit back up again. He took the seat next to me and handed me one of the coffees, another to Gideon, and one for himself. I knew that he would want it. I tried not to smile behind my cup. It didn’t feel like the time to smile about such a silly thing, but I couldn’t believe that I had him pegged like that. It felt good knowing him that well.

“I called JJ and Morgan, told them about Elle, but they're still heading out there,” Hotch explained to Gideon as he handed him a donut.

I raised a brow after accepting my own donut from Hotch. “Where are they?”

“They’re checking up on a lead about the victim and her family. They’re going North to talk to her family.” He relaxed in his seat beside me, “Anderson called as I was about to get in the elevator. He told me that they found a partial print at the crime scene.”

That was the best news we had all day. While we had been falling short of any real leads since finding the jewelry box yesterday, the Unsub leaving a partial print in Elle’s house meant that we were one step closer to catching him. One step closer to me looking at my sister’s attacker in the eyes as I got to read him his Miranda Rights and put him away for a very long time. That was a reason to smile.

“How did they get the partial?” I asked.

Hotch looked at me with soft eyes that spoke volumes. I didn’t want to know, according to him. But him not telling me only confirmed any suspicions I might have had about the crime scene. I saw what happened in Jamaica, I saw what happened with Frank Giles. Our Unsub liked to write messages in blood. “SAVE HER”, “IT’S BEEN HANDLED”, and “HERE THY QUEST DOTH TRULY BEGIN” were all apart of his M.O. He wouldn't have left Elle without completing his ritual.

So I wanted to know the truth. “What did it say?”

Hotch scratched his stubble and shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He knew that I wouldn’t stop pressing for answers, especially when it came to Elle. His choices were to either tell me or find a way to travel back in time and stop himself from ever saying anything else about the crime seeing. Seeing as the second option was neither logical nor possible, he had to give me something. He knew that I had seen all of the other crime scenes first hand, and if he reused to tell me, I would just walk right out of the hospital and drive over there to see it for myself. It didn’t matter what promises I made to him. If I didn’t get answers, I wasn’t going to stick around long enough for him to start an argument about it.

“It said ‘RULES’... In Elle’s blood.”

“I’m going to kill him, Hotch. I swear, I’m going to kill him, even if it kills me.”

I was right about the Unsub and his reason for attacking Elle. Gideon broke the rules and the team had to pay.

“We still don’t have enough for a profile yet, though,” Gideon said quietly. “At least not a good one.”

Hotch picked up my free hand with his and held it tight. Even with Gideon in the room, Hotch was going out of his way to make sure that he was with me, that I understood that he wasn’t going anywhere. We had our rules. We knew that we weren’t supposed to touch at work— especially not like this. But something had happened to Hotch while I was at Leonard’s. He said that the Unsub called them to tell them that he had killed Elle, but he used our last name, and Hotch’s first worry was me. The fact that he called me on my way out of the parking lot to give me crap about leaving on my own, then all of the calls at Leonard’s, and his persistent need for touch all told me that the Unsub had really gotten under his skin by using me. The call when we were together the other night was the first step, and it kept escalating from there. The Unsub wanted us to be together at all times, for some reason, and he found a way to ensure that it would happen. All it took was stalking us, sending something to Jack, and scaring the crap out of Hotch about losing me on a thousand separate occasions.

Hotch’s hand squeezed mine. “Once JJ and Morgan finish up with Rebecca’s family, we’ll hopefully have another lead. Until then, there’s not much we can do. I think we should all get some rest.”

Gideon shook his head and flipped the newspaper pages to a sudoku puzzle now. He was really trying not to face me, and I didn’t blame him. I was sending him the worst death glare I could throw at him for what he did. But Hotch was at least right about the sleep idea. I was done with my donut, and the warm coffee was starting to lull me to sleep, even though the caffeine should have knocked me back on my feet. I guessed that I just was so tired that even caffeine couldn’t save me. And there wasn’t anything to do with the case or about Elle in surgery. Hotch had the right idea, and sleep was the one thing I couldn’t argue with at that point.

I peeled my hand from Hotch’s so that I could push myself to lean forward and put the cup of coffee on the table in front of us.  When I reclined back in my seat, I shifted to the side so that I could rest my head against his shoulder. My eyelids were already heavy to the point that they fell shut without any effort. Sleep felt so natural, I didn’t have to fight to keep my eyes shut or quiet my thoughts.

Everything was oddly peaceful in that hospital waiting room. The lights were gold and dim in order to comfort those who would be waiting around, just like we were. All of the newspapers and magazines that Gideon had collected in front of him just reminded me home and how my dad would lay them out the same way. The air conditioning was right above my head, blowing cool air that helped my heart rate slow down and find peace. It was just so quiet as though the room itself were inviting me to sleep for once. I didn’t mind the feeling at all.

“The press conference was the right thing to do,” Gideon said quietly, assuming that I was already asleep and didn’t want to wake me up. Hotch’s hand fell to my knee and his thumb started to draw slow circles over the fabric of my pants. “I mean, it forced the Unsub to come out, forced him to make a mistake like leaving a partial print. If I hadn’t done what I did, who knows if we would have that information. I did the right thing. I know I did. I was just doing my job. Elle will understand that and Y/N will forgive me.”

“Jason…” Hotch whispered, trying not to move the shoulder I was resting on. “It’s no one’s fault but the Unsub.”

“I know.” He sounded so unsure about himself as he stood to leave. “I know.” He carefully put the newspaper back down on the table. “Let them sleep. I’ll be outside if you find anything out from Morgan or JJ.” He patted Hotch’s other shoulder gently on his way out.

When Gideon was gone, Hotch kissed the top of my head clemently, “I love you.”

I nuzzled against his shoulder and picked his hand up to intertwine our fingers again. “I love you, too,” I whispered. He kissed my head again and I let out one last breath of relief and tranquility before I managed to fall asleep.

Hotch gently shook me awake about an hour later. I woke up carefully, rubbing the side of my neck where it was sore from being crooked against his shoulder for so long. He massaged my shoulder in an attempt to help with my tight muscles, but also to help me wake up from my nap. I didn’t think that I would be out of it for so long, but if I were just being woken up by Hotch, it meant that something had only just happened. Whether it was about the case or Elle, I didn’t know until Hotch was sure that I was entirely awake again.

I reached out for my coffee on the table, which was now cold, but it was better than nothing. I chugged the rest of it before setting it back down. Hotch threw his arm over my shoulders as I leaned back.

“The team identified the Unsub,” he finally said.

“How?”

“I don’t know. Gideon’s sending me to oversee the arrest.”

I jumped out of my seat. “I’ll go with you.” I was already fixing my hair back out of my face and making sure that my gun was prepped in its holster on my hip. I knew what Hotch was going to say before he even said it, and I already knew what my response was going to be.

“No. Stay here and wait for Elle.” Like I said, he was being predictable.

With my response already prepared, I grabbed my purse from the floor. “I’m coming with you, Hotch. I want to be there when we get this guy. I want to see his face when he realizes that he lost.”

Hotch stared at me for a moment before nodding, “Okay.”

He wasn’t going to win this one. I had gotten some food, coffee, and sleep. I was now at the top of my game, perfect for arguing with him. And while he usually enjoyed playing along, we were on a time crunch. So he gave in and we headed for the elevator. As we waited, I asked what we knew since I fell asleep.

Hotch told me everything the team had told him. Our Unsub’s name was Randall Garner. We stepped into the elevator. He was Rebecca Bryant’s biological father who had been severely burned in the fire that burned their family home down and killed everyone but Rebecca and Randall. When she was sixteen, Rebecca had been kidnapped by her father after he was released from a mental institution. He had been keeping her for two years before finally contacting us. Hotch wasn’t sure why yet, but he was sure that Spencer would have answers for when we would get to the office.

And answers he did have. From the moment we stepped into the office, everyone started bombarding me with questions about Elle, while Reid was trying to catch Hotch up with everything he had learned about the Unsub and the profile he had created single handedly while everyone was gone. Morgan and JJ were following me around with endless questions, even though I really didn’t know much more than them about Elle’s condition or the crime scene since Hotch refused to take me or tell me much of anything about it. I apologized for not having answers, and they seemed upset that they were just as helpless as I was. 

“He thinks that we’re modern-day Knights of the Round Table,” Reid explained to us as the group of us walked into the boardroom. There was a woman sitting in the corner, biting her nails, but I was the only one who seemed to take notice. “He thinks that he’s in a fantasy world where Rebecca is a grail that we need to rescue in order to save the day.”

“Do we know where he is?” Hotch asked, refusing to take a seat at the table.

Reid, Morgan, and JJ all looked through the files they had pulled and the notes they had taken, but there was nothing. His last known address was his home before it burned down in the fire— then, technically, the mental hospital. That was it, though. When he was released, he went off the grid. No one had any clue as to where he was.

“I have something,” the woman in the corner spoke up.

Reid leapt from his chair and hurried over to her, “No, mom, it’s okay—”

He came to a sudden halt when his mom pulled a photo from her purse and handed it to him. Spencer examined both sides before turning to all of us with wide eyes that told us that he suddenly understood so clearly. He handed it off to me and I took a look at it myself. One side was an address and the other was a picture of a large house in the middle of the woods.

Reid’s mom had this the entire time and she never said anything. The Unsub gave her another clue— the last clue— because he knew that Reid would send for her. To make sure that she was safe. He knew Spencer and the rest of us like he was us and could guess what we would do before we could even think of it for ourselves. He was ten steps ahead of at all times when he never should have even been a single step ahead of us in the first place.

I handed the photo over to Morgan. “Shiloh, Virginia?” he read the address. “That’s only ten miles from here.”

“Gear up quickly,” Hotch ordered, already heading for his office.

We all jumped to our feet and headed for our desks. Hotch was up in his office, calling the SWAT team for back up and giving them the address of where to meet us. Morgan tossed me another flashlight after I tested mine to find that it had died after Reid used it yesterday to find the jewelry box clue.

The five of us— me, Hotch. Morgan, JJ, Reid— all hurried to one of the FBI company black SUV vehicles and stuffed ourselves inside. Hotch turned on the lights and sirens before we even made it out of the parking lot and started hauling ass down the streets towards Shiloh. None of us said anything. We were all just focused on getting there and finally taking this guy down. We wanted answers and we wanted him to pay for all of the suffering he caused. It was high time he met his modern-day Knights of the Round table, just like he wanted.

The SWAT team Hotch had called in was already parked in front of the house when we arrived. They were all huddled around the trunks of their cars as they put on their gear and loaded their weapons. While we drove up the path with all of the lights off, they looked over to make sure that we were a friendly vehicle and not the suspect or otherwise.

Gravel crunched under my shoes as I jumped out of the car and walked around to the back where Hotch had popped the trunk for us to grab our bullet proof vests. I threw mine over my head and worked in silence as I connected all of the straps. Everyone was silent. The only sounds that echoed were from everyone’s boots compressing the gravel under us. If the Unsub were near a window or door, he likely would have heard us, even though we were all trying to be quiet.

When everyone was ready, Hotch traveled to the front of the group to lead us in. He gave a silent signal, and the SWAT team split into three small groups. One headed to the left, another to the right, and the one Hotch and I went with went straight for the front door. Our team split up, too. JJ and Morgan went to the left, Hotch and I down the middle, and Reid to the right.

We were still quiet as we ran up to the door and Hotch messed with the doorknob to see if it was unlocked. When the door opened easily, he gave us a silent signal to be careful because the Unsub was likely expecting us. This was his game, afterall. He had to know where the players were at all times.

Hotch and I went together towards the dining room while the SWAT members of our group branched off to check the kitchen. With our guns raised, Hotch and I ran into the room. We checked every corner, hiding spaces behind doors, cabinets, etc. but there was nothing. Rebecca had to be somewhere in the house, we were sure of that much, the only question was where?

I dragged a finger over the dining room table before bringing it up to my eyes. The table was caked in dust, just like everything else in the dining room. Around the table were six chairs, each covered by white sheets. From the other end of the table, Hotch whistled quietly to catch my attention. He was holding Elle’s badge and gun. So we did have the right guy’s house. That was some consolation.

“It’s Morgan. We’re clear on this side,” he said over the comms.

“Kitchen’s clear.”

“Living room clear.”

“Nothing in the parlor.”

“Dining room’s empty,” I said.

“I’ve got movement upstairs,” Reid said.

Hotch and I gave each other a nod before traveling together towards the staircase. Reid was halfway up, his gun and flashlight pointing at the hallway that diverted to the right of the stairs. He gestured with his flashlight that he saw someone heading that direction, and we followed him up.

The SWAT team ran past us, taking the lead in order to clear the upstairs rooms while we followed Spencer’s hunch. Reid, Morgan, and Hotch were in front of me, JJ behind me. She tapped my shoulder when we reached the top floor and she pointed towards the left, letting me know that she was going to look for Rebecca on the left side of the house with the SWAT team. I nodded an acknowledgement and continued to the right.

Reid jumped across the entrance to another hallway that turned to the left. He hid on the wall opposite Morgan, Hotch, and I. Morgan took point on that wall closest to the new hallway, meanwhile Hotch and I backed up for support. Down the new hallway that we had discovered, there was a room all the way at the end. The door was half open, and I saw a man pass by it. My blood ran cold as I gestured to Hotch that I saw Randall Garner.

“Cover me,” Morgan whispered to us.

“No, no, no,” Spencer insisted. Morgan stepped back from the corner. “Give me a second.” He raised his voice, “Mr. Garner? My name is Dr. Spencer Reid. I’m with the FBI. You were in the hospital with my mother. I think she may have confused you about who we are and what we do. All we want to do is help Rebecca— which is what you want to do, too, right? That’s why you sent us the puzzles and the clues. That’s why you wanted to see us.”

“Did you bring her?” Garner asked from his room down the hall. The sound of leather creaking echoed in the hallway just after I saw him taking a seat at a desk inside.

“Bring who? Rebecca? We don’t have her. You do.”

“No. No. The one Arthur loves. Guinevere.”

Hotch, Morgan, and I all exchanged confused glances. Arthur and Guinevere? We knew that he saw us as the Knights of the Round Table, but we didn’t know that he had assigned us to the specific character.

“We didn’t bring any Guinevere,” Reid played along.

Randall Garner huffed angrily from his office. “I was very specific that Agent Hotchner and Agent Greenaway were to be together the entire time. Did you not learn your lesson about obeying the rules?”

I suddenly realized that Aaron was Arthur and I was Guinevere. That was why he wanted us together. He saw our relationship and wanted us to recreate how he imagined the characters behaving in his delusion. We were only confused at first because he said “she” and that wasn’t what any of us were used to. The only “she” we brought with us was JJ, and she was off searching the other side of the house. 

“We brought Agent Hotchner and Agent Greenaway, yes.”

“Ask the question, dear Guinevere.”

I looked across to Reid for an answer because I didn’t know of any question. Was it in one of the clues that Spencer solved? It had to be. “He believes that if you ask the right question, then it will magically heal his wounds. That’s why he wanted us. He thinks that we have magic.”

“Do you know the question?” Hotch whispered.

Reid shook his head, “But I know what he wants. Fall back.” He held his gun out to me, which I reluctantly took. “It’ll be fine…” he told us before walking into the hallway with his hands raised. “Stay calm, Mr. Garner.”

“Ask the question, Ser Percival, if Guinevere is incapacitated.”

“I told you, I’m not Percival and Y/N isn’t Guinevere. My name’s Spencer and we work for the FBI. You know my mother, Diana, from the hospital. Do you remember?” He kept walking down the hallway, closer and closer to the room Randall was in. “I think she might have made you think that your daughter is a grail and that we’re knights sent to rescue her.”

“No. Your mother was very specific—”

“My mother is a paranoid schizophrenic who would forget to eat if she wasn’t reminded. She doesn’t know real from fiction, just like you, Mr. Garner. We’re not characters in a story. We’re real people who have come to help you and your daughter.” Reid finally reached the door and carefully pushed it open. I tried to crouch down low to get an angle on Garner, but Reid was entirely in the way. I couldn’t see anything. “Don’t you want to help your daughter?”

“My daughter doesn’t really exist. She never did.” Leather creaked again and I could tell that Randall had spun around in his chair, but I still couldn’t see him. “Ask the question!” he demanded with more force.

“Hey, guys…” Spencer called back to us calmly. “Maybe you guys should go wait downstairs.”

“What?” I hissed.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Morgan responded to Spencer.

“Ask the question! Heal me!” Mr. Garner shouted.

I couldn’t hear anything else that was being said. They were too far into the room and their voices had lowered so that their conversation was just theirs. I didn’t know if Reid was getting anywhere with Randall, and I didn’t know if we were going to get the location of Rebecca. Now that we had the bastard, all we needed now was to find his daughter.

Reid started running back down the hall, headed straight for us, yelling, “Run!”

Next thing we knew, the office Mr. Garner was in exploded, shaking the entire house. Reid dove to get further from the blast, and Hotch turned and covered my head with his arm. After the explosion, Hotch and I stood up straight again and made sure that the other was alright before looking over to Morgan and Reid. Morgan was putting out a fire that caught on Spencer’s legs while also helping him up to his feet.

The fire from the explosion started to spread along the hallway, making its way straight for us. We didn’t have much time before the whole house would burn down. I made a dash for the side of the house, calling for the SWAT team and JJ to hurry back downstairs, warning them of the fire that was spreading. Hotch and Morgan were pulling Reid along with them towards the stairs.

“What the hell was that?” Hotch asked.

“He had a bomb,” Reid responded, coughing the smoke out of his lungs. I went in front of them and started racing down the steps. “Wait— Stop, stop, stop, stop… Rebecca—”

“Reid, there’s no time for a search.”

Spencer shushed Hotch and pushed his hair out of his face so that he could think more clearly. “Randall was the fisher king, and this is his castle… Rebecca has to be here…” He snapped his fingers when a lightbulb went off in his mind. “The basement! She’s in the basement!”

Everyone started running downstairs, chasing after Spencer who decided to take the lead again. The boys ran into the basement while JJ and I made sure all of the SWAT team got out safely. We weren’t about to leave a man behind after all of this. Once they were all out, JJ and I stood on the grass in front of the house to watch as it burned. I was staring at the front door intently, praying that they would het Rebecca and come out soon, because if they were going to waste another minute inside, I was going to go back in to find them.

Just as I thought it, though, Reid and Morgan came stumbling out, but not Hotch. I ran back up to the front of the house and caught Morgan. “Where’s Hotch?” I questioned. He was coughing too hard to answer. All he could do was point into the house. “Hotch!” I called, continuing up to the door. “Hotch!”

When I was about to take a brave step into the house, Hotch came stumbling out with Rebecca in his arms. I moved out of the way and followed him back into the grass where he gently put her down. I grabbed his shoulders and turned him to face me.

“You okay?” I asked worriedly.

He nodded. “You?”

I nodded with a sigh of relief.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Morgan called. “Fire department's on their way! We should get Rebecca to the hospital!”

He was right. Randall was gone and Rebecca needed to get treatment. She had been trapped in that basement for two years— who knew what he did to her, even if she was just his daughter. The fact that his delusion was so strong that he couldn’t even recognize that they were family meant that he could have done horrible things to her. Things that I didn’t want to consider. So the best thing to do was make sure that some doctors could check on her.

JJ, Morgan, and Reid took Rebecca in the car we arrived in. Hotch decided that he was going to stay to make sure the fire would be contained and that the SWAT team would clear the area safely. In the car, however, there was no room for me when they had laid Rebecca down next to JJ in the backseat to make sure that she was comfortable. My only option was to stay with Hotch and wait to get a ride back into town.

When the fire department showed up, they drove onto the grass and tried to maintain the fire spread, attempting to keep it away from the woods surrounding us. As Hotch and I watched, my phone started ringing. I turned around, took a few steps out of the way, and answered the call.

“Y/N?” It was Gideon’s number, but it was Elle’s voice. She had woken up after surgery. She was okay. “Are you there?”

I didn’t realize how silent I had been while just thinking about the weight that lifted off of my chest when I finally got to hear her voice again. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m here, Elle.”

“Did you catch the son of a bitch who did this to me?”

I glanced over my shoulder to look at the burning house. “He’s gone.” I bit at my nails and kicked the gravel under my feet nervously. “Are you okay?”

“Never felt better,” she laughed shortly before wincing in pain. “When can you come visit me?”

“I’m on my way right now. I promise.” I snapped in Hotch’s direction to catch his attention before pointing to my phone and mouthing Elle’s name to him. He nodded, said goodbye to the chief of the fire department, and came over to me. “Hotch and I will be there in a few minutes, okay?” Elle hummed an agreement on the other end. “I love you, Elle.”

“Whatever you say, loser. Just get here as soon as you can,” and she hung up.

I rolled my eyes and bit back a smile. The SWAT team had room for us in one of their trucks and offered to drop us off at the hospital. It was a kind gesture, one they really didn’t have to give us, but they said that they didn’t mind since it was on the way back to their office. In the truck, everyone was just as silent as when we first arrived at the house. Even when they dropped us off at the hospital, they only wished us goodnight in quiet murmurs before we closed the back of the vehicle and they were off again. Hotch and I didn’t watch them drive off. We immediately hurried into the hospital and headed for the room that Elle had been assigned to.

When we got to Elle’s room, I saw Gideon sitting beside her, reading something about the case, and she was staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. As Hotch and I entered, however, Gideon stopped reading and Elle broke her trance to look over at us standing in the doorway. She smiled at me as best she could considering the facts. She had only just gotten out of surgery and she was in a lot of pain, and she would be for a long time. The physical and mental wounds of being shot at point blank range wasn’t anything that usually disappeared overnight, no matter how hard Elle would try to convince herself and us otherwise.

Gideon squeezed Elle’s hand gently before standing from his seat and taking his leave from the room, still refusing to look up at me. Once he was gone, I stepped further into the room and took a seat next to Elle’s hospital bed.

“He’s dead,” I told her. My vest was still on and my hair was still pulled back out of my face, which was a tell tale sign that we had just gotten back from a scene, but the fact that Hotch was covered in soot was another sign that something had happened. “We found the girl. She’s going to be okay.”

“That’s good,” Elle smiled.

Hotch was still standing in the doorway, watching Elle from a distance as she slightly struggled to breathe with the oxygen they were pumping into her nose. He gulped and looked at the floor. “I’m going to head out and make sure that the rest of the team is alright.” He glanced at Elle shortly, like he had only mustered enough courage to do so for a few seconds, “I’m glad that you’re here. I’m sorry for sending you home like that.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Hotch,” she insisted, shaking her head to encourage her point. 

Hotch nodded like he was trying to convince himself that she was telling the truth, but it wasn’t quite sticking with him yet. He switched his glance to me, “Are you going to stay here tonight?” I nodded. “Do you want me to bring you a change of clothes?”

“If you don’t mind.”

The left side of his mouth curled into a small, shy smile. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” He waited for Elle to look away for a brief moment so that he could steal a second to whisper that he loves me. I whispered it back to him and his smile brightened before he left.

Elle looked at me with a grin, “So… Hotch, huh?” I glared playfully at her, daring her to be careful. “I can’t believe I owe Morgan $20. Is it too late to break up with him?”

I smiled but scrunched my brows in curiosity. “$20?”

“I thought that you would end up going out with him. He didn’t think it was possible. Maybe he knew about you and Hotch this whole time and just wanted my $20.” I hit her good arm gently. “Ow!” she laughed.

“It’s a good thing we’re in a hospital, otherwise I would have killed you.” The joke didn’t quite land the way I thought it would. “Sorry,” I doublebacked.

Elle squeezed my hand. “I’m just glad that you’re here and that you’re happy. That’s all a sister could ask for.”

“I love you.”

She smiled behind the oxygen and the pain coursing through her veins. “I love you, too.”

[chordwrites]

An Immortal Hero and a Villain’s Dilemma

Content Warning: Some gore, *attempted* assisted suicide, discussions of death, probably unhealthy romance/friendship/codependency depending on interpretation

“Please, I can’t keep this up. I can’t always be the last one standing. I’ve tried every possible method on my own, but maybe if you help me— ”

[Villain] sat in their recently opened cell, staring at the hero who was down on xir knees and presenting [Villain]’s weapon to them. The magic field around the cell that kept [Villain]’s powers at bay had been turned off, and it’d be so easy to take their weapon back from [Hero] and flee.

And yet, something in [Hero]’s voice kept them rooted to the bench of their cell, whether it was the way [Hero]’s tone never changed, despite the desperation of their plea, or how [Hero] hastened through the last few words as if xe was running out of time, though they both knew that [Hero] had all the time in the world.

Time. That was why they were here.

They heard the door handle shake, followed by a knocking on the steel door leading out of the cell room. The hero’s blasted team. “[Hero]? [Hero], what’s going on in there? You shouldn’t be alone with them.” Perhaps the two were running out of time, or at least running out of the moment.

“Please, [Villain], before the team gets in,” [Hero] spoke over the banging of metal, though xir voice remained level.

Villain clenched their fist, but grabbed it with their other hand and shoved it hard against their side before they did anything they’d regret. “You expect me to—”

They cut themself off. [Villain] had spent years trying to kill [Hero], but everyone knew they weren’t really trying. It was all just a game. [Hero] knew that… didn’t xe? Maybe it was real for the other heroes and villains, but [Hero] and [Villain] were different. They were friends, right? What was one supposed to say in such a situation?

“You… have so much to live for,” [Villain] said.

Shit. Guess there was a reason they weren’t a psychiatrist like damn near every other supervillain in the city.

[Hero] laughed, the facade finally breaking as their face contorted. “Yeah, I know I do. Everything is great, perfect even. I save people in trouble, and the people I work with have become like family to me. But I’ve had all of this and more in the past, and I’ll lose all of it, just like I always do. I’ll find a good life again, I’m sure, but I always have to live knowing it won’t last, and I can’t keep building a life over and over only to watch it be ripped from me.” Xir eyes glazed over, seemingly lost in memories, but xe shook xir head and gripped the blade more tightly. “No hero or civilian is going to do it for me, but you can.”

Of course. They weren’t friends: they were nemeses. And of course a villain wouldn’t have any problems killing their hero. But there was something else there. [Villain] was truly the only person [Hero] believed would, in xir mind, help xir.

The knocking turned frantic. “[Hero]? [Hero]! Open the door! [Villain], if you’ve hurt them… ” Then, quieter, but just as hurried, one hero spoke to another. “[Other Hero], see if you can get the controls working again.”

[Villain] tried to put themselves in [Hero]’s shoes. They struggled to imagine living forever while all of their loved ones passed them by time and time again. What would they want? Unlike [Hero], [Villain] never had many people in their life who they cared for, and who cared for them.

Except [Hero].

Or that was what they had thought until now.

[Hero] didn’t avert xir gaze from [Villain]’s, and [Villain]’s stomach turned. This wasn’t what they wanted. This wasn’t victory. This was surrender. This was [Hero] winning the game and leaving [Villain] alone. How could [Hero] even think of doing this to them?

[Villain] took a steady breath.

Losing [Hero] would be… [Villain] couldn’t imagine a world without them. But [Hero] wasn’t afraid of losing one person. Xe was afraid of losing everybody, over and over again. [Villain]’s only point of comparison would be the idea of reliving [Hero]’s death forever. Watching xir grow old and die without them for eternity. Yes, [Villain] believed death would be preferable to the hell [Hero] was living in now. If only [Hero]’s salvation weren’t [Villain]’s own damnation.

[Hero] must have noticed a change in [Villain]’s expression, seeing that they were truly considering xir proposition, because xe looked up at them with a sad smile.

“[Villain].” Soft and sweet, xe said their name, like xe had a thousand times before.

The manipulative jerk.

[Villain] didn’t say anything and willed their mind to blank. If they thought too much about what they were about to do, they knew they wouldn’t go through with it. [Villain] stepped forward, and took their axe from [Hero]’s outstretched hands. They helped [Hero] kneel forward so that the task would be completed with as little pain as possible.

[Villain]’s heart pounded to the beat of the banging at the door, and though they felt like they might be sick, they raised their arms above their head.

It wasn’t clean, nor was it pretty. [Villain] tried to move as quickly as possible, but the slightest hesitation of the blade altered the angle and momentum.

Blood splattered across [Hero] and [Villain]. [Hero] yelped, hands clawing at the ground as worried shouts could be heard from outside the door.

[Villain] stepped back, their grip on the handle loosening, but [Hero]’s pained breathing and cries snapped them out of their daze, and they swung the blade down once again to force it the rest of the way through.

[Hero] was dead before they finished carving through their neck.

[Villain] yanked the head away from the rest of the body, gulping for air and staring at [Hero]’s remains, though their vision was swimming.

The door swung open, and four heroes rushed in, weapons and powers at the ready.

The weight of the head in [Villain]’s hand unbalanced them. It was much heavier than it should have been, and [Villain] wanted to drop it—to throw it away and never think about this night again—but they held on and bore the weight.

The burden lessened, and [Villain] didn’t think much of it until the weight disappeared completely and the head crumbled to dust, slipping through their fingers.

[Villain] could hear shouting, but they couldn’t tell what was being said. They stared at their hand, now dusted with a grey ash. [Hero] was gone. How did they feel? Relieved it was done? God no, they had just killed someone important to them, maybe the only person important to them. But at the very least, [Hero] wouldn’t suffer anymore.

The villain and heroes stood in silence, and [Villain] waited for the inevitable.

“Thank god,” one of the other heroes sighed.

[Villain] snapped their head up. They could be relieved, but the heroes? No. The heroes didn’t grasp the gravity of [Hero]’s situation. They never must have, for [Hero] to have been so desperate. [Villain] scowled, but soon found their gaze directed toward the focus of the team: [Hero]’s body.

[Hero] lay still, but xir neck grew longer.

Bones grew, tendrils weaved over them, and skin swiftly covered it all. First the neck, then the chin, then the face and head. [Hero]’s chest jerked and [Villain] tuned into [Hero]’s musical wheeze.

They… failed. The tightness in [Villain]’s chest dissipated.

“No. No no no no.” [Hero] clutched their head, shaking all over.

The tightness returned.

Two team members leaned over [Hero], while the others stood protectively between [Hero] and [Villain].

“We tried to warn xir not to talk to you alone, but xe trusted you. Get the fuck away from us.”

Yes, xe had trusted them, hadn’t they? And they failed xir. And to make matters worse, they were happy about it.

“No,” [Hero] gasped.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry. You’re safe now,” one hero muttered empty reassurances.

“No.” [Hero]’s breath was still ragged, and xe raked xir hands across one of xir teammates before shoving them aside, using the momentum to bring xir into a kneeling position. Xe crawled across the floor back toward [Villain].

The team gawked. One of the heroes rushed forward only to be yanked back by another. None of them seemed to know how to respond, and [Villain] didn’t blame them.

“Try again, please! Please. Maybe if we destroy the body completely… ” [Hero] continued to crawl, reaching an arm out toward [Villain]. “Please.” [Hero] sobbed, falling forward.

And [Villain] caught xir, kneeling on the ground themselves.

It was [Villain] who [Hero] clung to as xe sobbed, and it was [Villain] who held onto xir and vowed to save [Hero], whatever that might mean. [Villain] resisted the urge to throw the team a smug look, but they didn’t think they entirely succeeded.

[Villain] wouldn’t leave [Hero] alone.

Either [Hero] would die, or [Villain] wouldn’t.